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#150 Topic: Tunnel
Nov. 26th, 2006 03:51 pmRay got taken to The Tunnel once during his time in Vegas.
He’d sent people there numerous times, he was a mob lieutenant for Christ’s sake, all he had to do was look at a guy and he was as good as dead and buried.
He’d avoided giving the look as much as possible and people had started asking questions. Armando Langoustini used to kill people for a parking spot; now he wouldn’t even shoot someone for screwing up a job.
He was the King of Backslapping. Ray’d hit so many guys that it was difficult to see where his fist ended and their faces began. But no looks meant no guns, no guns meant no bullets and no bullets meant trouble for Ray.
That’s when he got the call. He was in the back of the limo with one of his latest gifts, a young blonde, with a perfect body and even more perfect lips, hoping to make it big in the ‘business.’ Armando had been chosen to test her out and she was doing everything to make sure she passed the exam. She was some cheap, dirty whore, like a thousand before her, thinking all she had to do was wiggle in front of a guy, let him have her for the snatched half hour, and she’d be set for life. Marry into the Iguana family. The name carried it all.
Ray mostly ignored it when women plastered themselves against him, gave him whatever Armando wanted, wherever and whenever he wanted it. But the novelty of that wore of quick and more often than not, Ray was wishing he was in his nine thousand square foot house in the middle of the desert, alone. Maybe his butler there too. Other than that, alone.
He figured that’s probably what gave the game away.
It wasn’t even the middle of the night. Two o’clock in the afternoon, when the sun was beating down, the driver pulled up and Ray was dragged out of the limo and through the dirt. No blindfold, no gags, he knew where he was going. They wanted him to know. The stark contrast between the light outside and the darkness in The Tunnel was almost welcomed, the damp air making the constant sweat cool on his skin. His shoulders ached even though there were no goons holding him back. At the entrance, they left him and Ray walked in alone, finally alone.
The thing about a tunnel is that it’s like a one way street. The only way you’re going to come out the other end is if you keep walking. He walked until he had a gun pressed to his temple and another into his hand.
Where’s your loyalty?
His eyes had adjusted to the lack of light almost immediately, his mind awake and alert but his movements sluggish. He raised the gun with an effort and gazed down the barrel. He saw her lips first.
Choose.
He walked out of The Tunnel alone, climbed back into the limo alone. This time it was Armando Langoustini who has passed with flying colors.
He’d sent people there numerous times, he was a mob lieutenant for Christ’s sake, all he had to do was look at a guy and he was as good as dead and buried.
He’d avoided giving the look as much as possible and people had started asking questions. Armando Langoustini used to kill people for a parking spot; now he wouldn’t even shoot someone for screwing up a job.
He was the King of Backslapping. Ray’d hit so many guys that it was difficult to see where his fist ended and their faces began. But no looks meant no guns, no guns meant no bullets and no bullets meant trouble for Ray.
That’s when he got the call. He was in the back of the limo with one of his latest gifts, a young blonde, with a perfect body and even more perfect lips, hoping to make it big in the ‘business.’ Armando had been chosen to test her out and she was doing everything to make sure she passed the exam. She was some cheap, dirty whore, like a thousand before her, thinking all she had to do was wiggle in front of a guy, let him have her for the snatched half hour, and she’d be set for life. Marry into the Iguana family. The name carried it all.
Ray mostly ignored it when women plastered themselves against him, gave him whatever Armando wanted, wherever and whenever he wanted it. But the novelty of that wore of quick and more often than not, Ray was wishing he was in his nine thousand square foot house in the middle of the desert, alone. Maybe his butler there too. Other than that, alone.
He figured that’s probably what gave the game away.
It wasn’t even the middle of the night. Two o’clock in the afternoon, when the sun was beating down, the driver pulled up and Ray was dragged out of the limo and through the dirt. No blindfold, no gags, he knew where he was going. They wanted him to know. The stark contrast between the light outside and the darkness in The Tunnel was almost welcomed, the damp air making the constant sweat cool on his skin. His shoulders ached even though there were no goons holding him back. At the entrance, they left him and Ray walked in alone, finally alone.
The thing about a tunnel is that it’s like a one way street. The only way you’re going to come out the other end is if you keep walking. He walked until he had a gun pressed to his temple and another into his hand.
Where’s your loyalty?
His eyes had adjusted to the lack of light almost immediately, his mind awake and alert but his movements sluggish. He raised the gun with an effort and gazed down the barrel. He saw her lips first.
Choose.
He walked out of The Tunnel alone, climbed back into the limo alone. This time it was Armando Langoustini who has passed with flying colors.
