Guilty (BWWM)

Snakes

Past

March 26, 2013

3:00p.m.

The room was quiet. Tense.  For what seemed like an eternity no one uttered a word.  They simply watched on as Bleu paced to and fro stoically.  Not one emotion was displayed on his face, yet everyone knew there was bound to be an explosion sooner rather than later.  Bleu calmly lit a cigarette.  The scent of tobacco mixed with the fear permeating from the men in the room as he blew out a large cloud of smoke in their direction. 

Bleu stalked toward his metal desk and leaned on it.  He smiled, ominously contrasting with the atmosphere.  "Gentlemen," he said casually as though this was a conversation about the weather.  "It has been brought to my attention that some of you have forgotten what the hell it means to be loyal and--essentially-- have lost your fucking minds."

Los stood tall behind Bleu, giving the outward appearance of a statue.  On the inside he was a bundle of nerves.  His heart was pounding so loud he was sure that it could be heard through the silence.  Yet he remained still, game face intact as his eyes landed on Slim and Rocky.  

Rocky looked straight ahead, arms crossed at the wrist in front of him, no guilt evident in his features.  Slim would've been believable, but the frequent bobbing of his Adam's apple gave way to his uncertainty.  Bleu's been doing this for a long time, long enough to notice those slight nervous twitches.

"I'm going to come right out and say it: one of you motherfuckers are going to die in this room today.  I sincerely hope you told your families you loved them before you left the house this morning."

The row of six men looked at one another hoping that someone would confess.  Each and every one of them had someone they wanted to return to, yet, as expected, no one said a thing.  Bleu chuckled at this, taking another pull from his cigarette.  "Esto es gracioso.  I don't think you all realize how serious this shit is,"  he pulled his gun from his waistband and cocked it.  "so how about I show you."  Without giving anyone time to think, he fired, hitting the man in the middle right between the eyes.

"I'm adding a new rule, if nobody wants to own up to shit, all, every. Single. One of you will die here!  I suggest somebody get to fucking talking."

Los watched as Slim's eyes darted nervously around the room.  Shit, he thought.  He locked gazes with Rocky and as subtly as possible, nodded his head.  Rocky swallowed, before stepping forward from the straight line of men.  "Boss,"  he said huskily trying not to give way to his own guilt.  "I overheard Slim having a conversation about you with someone on the phone.  I think that might've been the cop he was talking to."

Bleu stepped closer, invading his personal space, carelessly blowing another thick cloud of smoke directly into his face.  Rocky fought back the cough building in the back of his throat.  "This true?"  Rocky nodded, staring directly into Bleu's intense, cold eyes.  "Why the fuck are you just now speaking up?"  

Slim began to panic, trying to form words to plead his case, but Bleu cared nothing for his incoherent nonsense.  He raised his gun.  "B-boss, no...wait-" A clean shot went through his left eye, his blood decorated the concrete floor adjacent to the wrongly executed body.  Bleu tossed his leftover cigarette butt onto Slim's twitching corpse before returning to the desk.

"Mystery solved, now you all can get the fuck out."  He muttered.

No one spoke, yet the remaining men noticeably relaxed.  Los continued to keep his game face on, as did Rocky-- who was surprised that their back up plan to sacrifice the rookie actually succeeded.    Just as the men were headed towards the door, Bleu caught their attention once more.  "Oh wait there's one more thing-"  They all turned around to witness Rocky's skull get cracked from the impact of the butt of Bleu's gun.