The Gentleman in Black

A man dressed in an all-black suit and tie strolled into a dimly lit room. Slowly he removed his suit jacket and eyed the other occupants. He placed his jacket on the back of the chair and sat down.

There were three other men. Two were standing on opposing walls to the left and right of the mysterious gentleman. The third sat in a chair before him, bound by every knot that could keep a man incapacitated.

Though he was in a less than imaginable position – one most would find extremely uncomfortable – the bound man seemed to be… unfazed by it.

“I’m trying to decide,” began the immaculately dressed fellow, “whether I want to slit your throat with a machete and watch you bleed and die a slow and painful death… or shoot you in the head and get it over with.” He tilted his head to the side. “I’m finding myself completely repulsed by the look of your face.”

No one spoke. The bound man sat silently, waiting for any idea of what would come next. Surely, this man would not just talk about killing him without a reason as to why! Right?

“Seeing as I am a sensible man, I will allow you to choose. Or… you can be a good boy and give me the answers to every fucking question I have for you.” He picked at a piece of lint on his slacks and dusted it away. “If you do that without fight, then maybe – and I mean maybe – I’ll let you walk away with only a bullet in your leg and an ugly limp.”

“What do you want to know?”

They both stared at one another, each with calm demeanors. Neither gave an ounce of emotion nor made a single move or sound.

“Multiple loads of my product have been sold, yet the money is not in my pockets. Care to explain?”

“I don’t know” said the man in ropes. “I am not in charge of the sales of finance. I just collect and deliver.”

He stared at him, not a crack in his face betraying him to portray his thoughts.

“You only collect the cash?”

“Correct.”

“When you collect the funds, where does it go?”

“I am… not sure. It is above my pay grade. I gave it to David as instructed. Anything else beyond that is also beyond me.”

Taking in the attitude of the man, he noticed he was too calm. He looked to be a man with nothing to hide. A man who spoke the truth.

“To David?”

“To David,” confirmed the man tied to a chair.

 Interesting.

He stood and moved the chair to the side. The man standing guard on his right retrieved it and returned to his former position.

“I only have one remaining question for you, Roscoe.”

“Boss?”

“Last week, one of my men – no… actually, there were four – they were killed while doing business. Do you know who they were?”

Roscoe frowned and shifted in his restrictions. “Wasn’t that Jenkins, sir?”

“Yes, it was indeed,” he said turning his back to Roscoe. “It was Jenkins, Brent, Chase…” he turned back to face Roscoe and glared.

It was a shame.

Roscoe’s demeanor did represent an innocent and honest man, that he could tell. But it was truly a pity. It was a pity because it meant he would be losing a man with one hell of a poker face.

If he were smarter, it would not have to end this way.

Such a fucking shame!

“Sir?”

“It was Jenkins, Brent, Chase and David. Roscoe, the very man you claimed to have delivered my money to, somehow ended up dead right at the time you were supposed to make the transfer.”

Roscoe’s eyes widened a fraction. His throat expanded as he made a slow but hefty swallow. There it was, the crack in the foundation that was his calm.

His work was never fun unless there was fear.

“You know, Roscoe? I commend you. I really do. Your entire act would have gone right over my head had I not been smarter than you. You were calm and collected as if you had nothing to lose. It was almost believable that maybe – just maybe – you were clueless as to the reason I brought your dumbass here. But you see… I have been blessed.”

“Sir, I –

“I have been blessed with the power to spot bullshit a mile away. I could see through your lies so well they were indiscernible. What kind of fool do you take me for? How fucking idiotic do you think I am?”

“I-I can explain!”

“I don’t think you can explain anything to me,” he said calmly. “You no longer have the answers. Not when every single word that comes out of your mouth is and forever will be bullshit!”

He turned around and threw his head back. Releasing a sigh, he folded his arms.

“I trusted David. He was loyal. He was determined. Most importantly, he was dedicated. He is one of the few that have been by my side since day one. He both cared for and helped build the empire I have today. I would label him as one of my closest friends. How do you think he got a job so close to me?”

He faced Roscoe with great dismay.

"He told me that you were skipping out on me, but you knew that, of course. That had to of been the reason you killed him. Why else would you kill your mentor? The very man who took you in when you broke your ass out on the streets.”

The gentleman reached into his pocket and pulled out a hair tie. He pulled his long silk black locks back and tied it into a messy bun.

“He is the only reason you have seen my face today. His death by your hands is the reason I decided to kill you personally. I promised his wife that I would see to it that his life is avenged. If I am anything, I am a man of my word.”

One of the guards proceeded to hand him a gun, but he waved it away with a shake of his head. 

“No” he said. “a bullet would be too easy of a death for this fucker. Far too swift. “He rolled up his sleeves above his elbows. “David would have wanted more from you, don’t you think?”

Before Roscoe could respond, the man in black began to beat him. He continued, ruthlessly, face contorted in anger as blood splattered across it. 

“That man,” he began as he held Roscoe’s head still before planting several punches to his jaw. “He had a wife and three daughters. A wife that will never be held by him again. Three daughters that he will never watch grow up and walk down the aisle. And... it is all due to your greed!”

Tired, he took a few steps back. His chest was heaving heavily as his stamina was brought to its limits. Wiping his wrist across his chin, he looked over his handy work. Roscoe’s face was unidentifiable. His eyes swelled, his lips busted, his nose cracked to the side, and he was sure he broke the guy's jaw. It may need some wiring.

But he will never get it fixed.

You cannot operate on a dead man.

Just as he was about to torture the man some more, one of his guards placed a hand on his shoulder. He froze.

"Boss, you have asked me to remind you of your meeting before you got carried away. If you continue, you will be late."

Sighing out, he gave a curt nod. "Of course."

He held his hand out to one of the guards so they could place a pistol in his hand. When no one did, he turned to the men, annoyed.

"You said a bullet was to good for him", one of the guards said.

"Then what do you suggest I do, then", he said glancing at Roscoe from the corner of his eye.

"Axel, sir."

Raising his brows, the boss was intrigued. Why hadn't he thought of that to begin with?

"Very well. Clean this up,” he said. “Axel does not like a messy operating room. Have Roscoe cleaned up as well. Tell Axel that he can do whatever he pleases. We do not need this mistake of a man for anything else."

"W-wait", Roscoe coughed out. "Please! No! I am sorry! I will do anything you want. I will work to care for the family! Anything! Please don't! Anything but Axel!"

"I have to get ready for another meeting.” The man began to exit the room as Roscoe screamed behind him for mercy. 

A man such as him didn't deserve to even think of the word mercy.