Mark Thomasson
"They can deploy a hundred person army..."
Mark slipped the phone into his back pocket, he went to his overstocked closet and grabbed a button-up completely at random and threw it on. He idled into the bathroom and started to do a little trimming of the beard, not much, but enough to get rid of overnight growth. Unplugging the clippers, Mark proceeded to grab the pack of Marlboro Black lying on the countertop and lit up, right there, in the goddamned bathroom. He actually intended to deliver the payment to his brother before three, but he would make a point. All of the talk Alex spewed about no longer being afraid of him and having the upper hand if he decided to knock over Alex's business, Mark had enough of that s**t. Alex knew damn well what he was capable of, and he also knew he didn't ******** around when it came to money. If he couldn't have it, nobody could. From downstairs, a knock on the door echoed vaguely up the stairwell. Mark briskly made his way downstairs to answer the door, he knew who it was, but he didn't intend to have any guests this particular day. Opening the door, Mark stepped to the side as a large box of small arms, mainly handguns and the occasional stashed pair of brass knuckles, was brought into the house by two of his men. "Very nice. Jimmy, Brian, bring the rest of the shipment to the Maw, if you don't mind." A congratulatory order, that's what just happened, the 'Maw', which was a codename for a large weapons cache on the other side of town, was about half of Mark's arsenal, the rest was in his cellar, underneath his estate. This, was exactly what Alex was denying himself, Mark was a very dangerous individual, even disregarding the fact he had his own ******** police force waiting for orders whenever he felt like giving them. As Jimmy began to walk back to the truck, Mark ripped a nearby painting off of the wall and snatched a loaded handgun out of the hidden recess the painting hid oh so well. He put the barrel of cold metal against the back of Jimmy's head just as he was about to walk through the door. "And Jimmy, you'd better listen and you damn well better listen good because if you don't carry out the orders I'm about to give you I'll find you and blow your ******** head off in front of all your friends and family. Go to the stash downtown, fill a duffel bag with stripper singles. Now, you're going to rig a brick of plastique in the bottom of the duffel to go off as soon as Alex's ******** trash bring it into that chop shop, kill all his men, and I'll let you live for another payday. Now get the Hell out of here." Mark was intent on making a point in this little gang war, it was inevitable anyway, so he might as well get a head start on the competition. He kicked Jimmy into the snow and slammed the door. On his way back up, he dropped the gun down the stairs with the safety on, stray bullets were unnecessary, for now. "Hey Em! Call up some of the the underling wives to prepare a little feast for tonight. I'm declaring war today."
"...They'll never catch me alive sipping White Lightning."
