“Street Serenade”
The downpour hammered the corrugated iron roof, a discordant percussion to the mayhem unfolding within. His trench coat, already sodden, clung to him like a second skin as he surveyed the carnage. Two thugs lay splayed across the linoleum, their expressions frozen in masks of agony. A third clutched a shattered jaw, whimpering like a wounded cur. “Where's the damn ledger?” his voice, a low growl, cut through the din. The whimpering intensified, but no words came. He hefted the length of rebar in his hand, the cold steel a stark contrast to the humid air. “Last chance,” he rasped, the threat implicit in the gesture. Fear, primal and raw, finally flickered in the man's eyes. He gestured weakly towards a battered safe tucked in the corner.