Albert sits tied to the chair while everyone, but Andy, waits for him to open his eyes. But Albert couldn’t open his eyes. So tired and fatigued, Albert feels his engine beginning to choke and stall.
“Albert.” A sweet young woman’s voice says to him from inside his own head.
The touch of the hand around his chin begins to feel soft and feminine.
“Albert, honey. Open your mouth.” She has an English accent.
Her image is blurry but beautiful. She comforts Albert. For a moment he feels free. Albert is a little baby and he sits in a high chair. This young woman has a spoon full of food in one hand and Albert’s chin in the other. She is trying to feed him, but Albert is not hungry. Albert wants out of the chair so he can play.
“You have to eat Albert.” She says sweetly. But Albert instantly realizes that he is tied to the high chair. Baby Albert begins to cry.
Adult Albert lets out a moan of pain sending tiny vibrations into Joe’s hand. The mom tied up struggles against Raptor but has absolutely no luck. Andy struggles against Walter but also has no luck. Walter moves the spoon towards Andy’s left eye with intent on removing the frightened orb from its socket.
“You have to eat your solids, Albert. You’re teething you are.” His mother says to him.
Baby Albert struggles a little in the high chair. He wants to play. His mom can read his mind.
“You can play later honey. I’ll look after you my precious. But you need your strength. You have to eat something, Albert.” She said before disappearing.
Albert decides to be a good boy. He opens his mouth as wide as he can and bites down on the spoon. The spoon turns into the base of the Joe’s thumb. A small salty chunk of meat separates into Albert’s mouth. Albert opens his mouth and lets the chunk fall from his lips as his chin hits his chest again and he closes his eyes. His mom and every memory of her is gone. The black hood falls back over his head.
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST,” Joe recoils examining his bloodied hand.
“AAGGHHHHH! WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK! FUCKIN’ BIT ME. STUPID LIMEY MOTHERFUCKER BIT MEEEEE!” The anger and pain in Joe’s voice is startling to everybody but Albert and Walter.
“What are you in grade school Albert?” Walter said looking up at the two men unintentionally stopping himself from what he was about to do to Andy. Joes’ anger pushes him instantly into that zone that always made him look stupid.
“JAWBREAKER HUH! JAWBREAKER…I’LL TEACH YOU TO FUCKING BITE ME. YOU WANNA BITE ME?!?!?” Joe yells angrily.
Joe pumps his shotgun and points it down at Albert’s head.
“No, DON’T!” Walter screams.
KA-BOOM!
Blood, bone and shell fragments paint the cold concrete floor like a canvas turned to art in half a second. Albert didn’t make a sound. Walter drops the spoon to the ground, releases Andy from his grip and walks towards Albert’s chair. Raptor releases the girl and simply stands next to the Tala. Joe “The Head” backs away from what he just did. Walter kneels down to get a better look at what is left of Albert’s face. It appears as though the shell entered the right cheek just below the upper-jaw line. The bottom lip, the tongue and the lower jawbone are gone. The upper-jaw is visible under the now half-shredded black hood. Walter can see without any trouble the roof of Albert’s mouth all the way back to his tonsils. The scraped up skin of Albert’s large neck is only intact just above his Adam’s apple. The rest is gone and his upper-lip has retracted like a curtain, leaving his top row of teeth visible at all times.
“Jeez, Head.” Walter looks to the Joe with a mixture of surprise and praise. “You fucked him right up. Bitch can’t even scream properly. Creative!”
“It was an accident,” Joe replies. “I meant to blow the fuckers head off, ya know? Look at my hand.” Joe holds out his left hand. “He took off the flesh from right under my thumb. My thumb and trigger finger have gone numb.”
“Don’t you mean your picker finger?” Walter jokes. “That’s not the hand you choke your chicken with is it?”
“Funny!” Joe replaces his Godfather impersonation with sarcasm. “Sorry, Wally.”
“It’s all right, Joe.” Walter assures straightening up over the profusely bleeding Albert.
“What the hell is going on in here? Don’t you guys know the city is at war with itself?” A commanding and degrading voice booms from behind Albert and instantly causes all who are not bound already, to become rigid with fear. Two men let their footsteps be heard by all in the warehouse as they walk ever so much closer to what must be the center of the place. Walter stares past Albert and appears to be the only one that is not afraid. When it is apparent that the two men are close enough to hear him, Walter speaks.
“Picked him up like you told ‘em to, Mel…” Before Walter can finish Mel has already rounded Albert’s chair and can see what has happened. Mel interrupts.
“Fuck! What the hell you’d guy’s do to his face?” Mel demands looking from Walter to Joe down to Joe’s smoking shotgun barrel to Joe and then back to Walter with a look of angered bewilderment. Melvin Maroni holds out his arms in his expensive grey suit as if to say, well?
Mel is not as tall or strong looking as the gunmen in the room or the gunman who has silently accompanied him into the warehouse. Mel pulls his dark sunglasses off his face. His hair a short, black business arrangement with graying on both sides of his forehead. Melvin’s tan is a little lighter then his nephew, but his demeanor is all too threatening. His capabilities as a businessman and executioner proceed him. He has a thin dark moustache, which drapes around his lips straight down to his chin in the shape of a giant staple. Mel bends over by Albert’s right side and examines the missing half of Albert’s face more closely. About two seconds go by before Mel recoils to an upright position.
“Well Joey? Unless Albert here cut himself shaving or something I’m going to assume the mess on the floor is your doing.”
“Yeah, boss.” Joe replies like a child caught with his hand in the cookie-jar.
“So, didn’t I say keep him alive so I could talk to him.” Mel asks.
“He is still alive, boss.” Joe foolishly responds gesturing to the low groan coming from Albert’s exposed and bleeding gullet. Walter hangs his head in disappointment as if he knows what Melvin is about to say.
“HE CAN’T FUCKING TALK YOU ASSHOLE. HIS TONGUE IS ON THE FLOOR.” Mel screams so close to Joe’s face, Joe recoils nervously. Mel lowers his voice and continues, “So unless you know how to reattach the lower half of Albert’s face, I’d say our chances of discussing the weather are pretty fucking slim. Agree?
“Yeah boss. Sorry…he bit me and I…I over-reacted, you know?” Joe says in the same ‘poor me’ tone.
“Oh poor baby,” Mel says unsympathetically like a parent trying to embarrass a child searching for sympathy. “Get yourself a band-aid and some ‘ouch-free’ ointment and that will make it all better. And if that don’t dry your eyes then we might have to chop it off…starting at your pecker.”
Everyone still standing laughs loudly, except Joe and Mel.
Mel walks over to Andy, bound to his mother, bound to the steel chair. He stares into both of their frightened eyes. He then looks to Reid and Tala just standing there in front of the table of arms.
“This the hooker and her son?” Mel asks already knowing the answer.
“Yeah.” Walter replies walking towards them. “Informant handed them over on a silver platter. Free of charge.”
“That right?” Mel says in a tone that implies something is disappointing him.
“What was the plan then, Wally?” Mel asks rhetorically while picking up the spoon from the floor. “Torture the boy in his mother’s arms while Albert there, watches?” Mel’s guess is right on the money and Walter can’t deny it.
Mel knows Walter better than anyone else in the room. Mel turns his back to Andy and his mom and faces Albert with an irritated expression on his face. Albert’s head hangs so low now that his jaw is gone that his hood almost slides off his head. His long buttoned trench coat is stained badly with his own blood.
“Finish him.” Mel demands. Reid and Tala grab their shotguns off the table and move around Mel, Andy and the girl. Joe, bitten, embarrassed and angry, moves next to them and holds the pump to his shotgun in his unharmed right hand. The man they call Casper, moves around Albert and stands to Joe’s left. David pulls out his custom Desert Eagle and takes aim at Albert’s body. Walter moves aside to Albert’s right, he is unarmed. In his last moment of strength Albert lifts his head and stares blindly, his eyes still covered by the black cloth. Reid, Tala, Joe and David otherwise known as Raptor, Wolf, Head and Casper click the bullets into the chamber of their guns…
Ca-click! Ca-click! Ca-click! Click!
…And…
“I SAID FINISH HIM!”
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