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     The door blew open; shards of wood hit Paul in the face, but he didn't flinch. These guys, these punks, were not going to get to him. It was going to take a lot more than some weak scare tactics to get to him these days.
     "Can I help you, gentlemen?" Paul asked as he wiped several pieces of wood off his forehead.
     "Well, look at you," Marcus said. "You've got some balls of steel, now don't ya?" He laughed as he slapped his partner on the shoulder. Johnny laughed, although he wasn't sure what he was laughing at, exactly.
     "Titanium, actually," Paul replied as he took a sip of his wood chunk laden tea.
     Marcus stopped laughing, slamming his hand down on the table. "You think this is a game?" he said, leaning in towards Paul.
     Paul sipped his tea again, refusing to make eye contact. As he set his tea down, Johnny came around the table opposite Marcus. Paul just stared straight ahead. "Like I said, is there something I can help you with?"
     Marcus pulled up a chair. He took several deep breaths as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, you have certain skills that makes you very valuable to peoples that we represent." He reached into his pocket and laid a velvet pouch on the table.
     "What am I to do with that?" Paul asked.
     "I bet you'll figure something out," Marcus said as he stood up and lightly smacked Paul on the cheek. "By Friday." Johnny turned and began to walk out slowly, watching Paul and the pouch.
     "And if I don't?" Paul called after Marcus.
     "You know what happens," Marcus replied not breaking his stride. Johnny chuckled as he shut the broken door.
     Paul knew this had to end. He had to get away from his mob ties, his deviant life style. But it seemed as though death was the leading option with not much else a distant second. But was it his death that would break the tie, or could others die to set him free?


End Fiction.