This is likely the last Snippet. First draft is in the can, folks.
So, we had eight guys hurt, five bad enough that we needed to get them upstairs and looked at by a real doctor. They had about fifteen guys dead, eight or so knocked out one way or another, and two, three who could talk. Better than what I figured going in, but these moldmakers were real sloppy. A couple of them were even upset that we were there.
“You’re gonna pay for this,” one of them started to say, just before I shoved a rag into his mouth. He and his buddies all glared at me, but didn’t do anything else. The ropes and handcuffs all three were now sporting probably helped with that, though.
“Now, don’t say anything you’re gonna regret later,” I said with more calm than I felt. “This isn’t a smash-and-grab and the cops will be by later to capone you all good and proper. Or were you gonna go yell for Kermie?” I leaned against a handy table. “Go ahead. Yell for him.”
“Sorry, he’s busy,” yelled Lucas from the next room. “Can I take a message?”
I spread my hands. “See what I mean? You three are out of a job. Keep it up, and soon you’ll be out of sunlight for the next twenty years.”
One of the two ungagged moldmakers looked smart enough, in a seedy kind of way. “’Keep it up?’ What, we have a choice?”
“Sure,” I said. “You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll cut away enough of the ropes to let one of you escape before the cops show up. Just one of you, though. I ain’t a charity.”
“Which one?” said the other ungagged guy.
“Whoever impresses me the most,” I said.
And with that they were off. Even the gagged guy was ready to talk, at that point.