Twisted City Read Online Free PDF Page B

over the car’s roof and smashes the club right into Short
Pudgy’s head, knocking him out cold.
    Mongoose
lands wrong and falls on his back. The bull flies around the car before
Mongoose is able to get to his feet.
    “ Aaahhh !”   The bull yells.
    Mongoose
rolls to the side as the club is brought down by his head, breaking the club in
half. Mongoose swings the ax but the bull catches it by the handle, yanking it
out of Mongoose’s hand and pitching it to the side. Mongoose swings the pipe,
this time hitting him on the head but only to piss him off even more. The
second swing causes the lead pipe to join the ax. Mongoose quickly whistles as
loud as he can before he is snatched up by the neck and slammed into the side
of the car. He is then slammed again and again until the bull pins him onto the
hood of the car and squeezes his neck. The bull’s eyes are red and mad with
rage, teeth clinched with spittle and strings of saliva dripping from his lips.
    Mongoose’s
face turns into different shades of purple and blue, the world starts to tunnel
into blackness. Just as life as he knows it is about to be
extinguished a dark streak flies across his vision. The grasp around his
neck is released and he catches his breath with a burning rush of air. He hears
a bunch of hollering and growling somewhere on the ground below him. He focuses
and sees Max, tearing into the bull’s face.
    He
doesn’t call Max off. He lets him have his fun.

11
     
    “So
you are meaning to tell me that a boy killed Chaos, Tattoo, and Celeste, and
then whooped the two of you, singlehandedly, and then took our food? A boy!”
    “Actually,
boss, a dog attacked me,” Bruno says.
    “A
dog,” Vincent says blandly.
    “Well,
yeah, a really mean dog.”
    “Of
course it was.” Vincent scoffs. And to Pan, he says, “And what about you? Did
the boy and his dog nearly beat you to death and eat you alive as well?”
    “No.
Not exactly,” Pan says, flush faced.
    “Well
then, what?”
    “Bruno
hit me in the head with his club. But it wasn’t his fault. We were trying to
get the boy –”
    Vincent’s
hand shoots up, silencing anything further. “I don’t want to hear it!” Fuming,
he slams his fist down onto the arm of his chair with each ford. “I! Don’t!
Want! To! Hear! It! I send the five of you out to do something as simple as
finding some good food and bringing it back to me and you can’t even do that.
Tell me something, how many people have you two killed? Hm ?”
    Pan
shrugs his shoulders. “Lots of people.”
    “Yeah,
a lot,” Bruno agrees.
    “So
it’s nothing new to either of you, is it? It comes to you naturally, right?
Someone puts themselves in our way, causes trouble in the midst of my doing,
you kill them, right? Easy as pie, right? So how is it that a boy and
his doggie kills three of my men and injure two?”
    “This
wasn’t just any boy.”
    “Or
dog,” Bruno adds.
    “He
was fast.”
    “Like
lightning,” says Bruno.
    “And good with weapons.”
    “With very sharp teeth.”
    “And
there was no fear in him, no fear at all. It was almost like he was toying with
us.”
    “Toying with you,” Vincent says dully. “You
make him sound as though he’s some kind of trained warrior. Where do you
suppose he came from? Japan?”
    Bruno
responds. “He didn’t look Japanese. More like eastern European; blondish hair,
fair skinned . . .”
    Vincent
curls the fingers of both of his hands over the edge of the smooth wooden
surface of his chairs armrest and white knuckles them. “Shut it, you idiot,”
Vincent scolds Bruno. “I don’t care what he looks like or where he’s from! I
want him and my food brought to me and I don’t care what it takes, just get it
done. Otherwise we’ll just have to feast on the two of you instead.”
    Pan
starts to say something but stops. He starts again, nearly saying it, but holds
back again.
    Vincent
tries to control his impatience. “For crissake , just
say it.”
    “We
don’t even