Saturday, January 28, 2012

Sheepdog-17

Guiscard sighed. He quaffed his drink and set his glass down with a dull thud.

“Shit.” Guiscard said, “That complicates things. You killed them all, didn’t you?”

“No choice. It was them or me.” Ken said nonchalantly, “I prefer to keep breathing.”

“You might have gotten away with just the Angels, as they can be a fratricidal bunch, but there is no one that either Los Zetas or the Synidicate will let this slide. You made them look bad, and-“

“-neither of them can tolerate that, because it’s bad for business. Been there, did that.”

Guiscard refilled their glasses. “That’s what puzzles me.”

“It was the first step of the plan: draw out the opposition by attacking their strategy. The three of them wanted to establish some form of partnership that allowed the creation of a trans-continental network for their drug and gun rings. This meeting, as I guessed, was the point of failure.”

“So, when they send in the cleaners, you-“

“-will kill them, take their stuff, and then send back their heads. I want to force them to waste their time and resources on this matter, to force them to deal with me, until they spread themselves so thin that they become vulnerable elsewhere.”

“Knee deep in the dead and still coming, that’s the plan?”

“You got it, Guiscard. I will force them to deal with me, personally if I can- I will force the issue, all the issues, and make myself too big to ignore- and such match their ‘too big to fail’ mentalities.”

Guiscard looked upon Ken, disturbed.

“I’ve done this dance so many times before that it’s as predictable as the sunrise. I know how these bastards think, and I have no problem with exploiting it. How do you think I’ve succeeded for as long as I have? It’s only when someone on the other side gets outside of that box that I run into any real trouble.”

Guiscard’s look darkened.

“Yes, I am serious. I’m putting myself directly on the firing line, again, first and foremost. I’ll tell the right folks to clear out, take a long holiday, and move their assets with them until the maelstrom I’m about to bring here is gone. I’m a dick, but I’m not a heartless asshole.” “You can’t help but go all-in, can you?”

Guiscard again quaffed his drink. “Always in the fight, always at the center, where the action is, bringing the pain- that’s you, Ken.”

“I know what it takes, old man. All enduring change comes at a price, and the only currencies accepted are blood, bone and fire. It doesn’t matter who pays the price; all that matters is that it’s paid. I prefer to make those sick sons of bitches pay the bill- that’s all.”

“That explains the stockpile of guns. You’re going to war.”

“No.” Ken said, flatly, “The war came to me. I don’t start the fights. I just finish them, and I always do so permanently.”

No comments:

Post a Comment