Wolf Pack

Deal with the Devil

This was obviously a man who hid his true malice behind a calm demeanor. As he lit a cigarette with a red pocket lighter, KARR could see both his eyes amd body language radiated the signs of one who was reaching the end of his patience. Thinking carefully, plotting his next move, making meticulous and calculated decisions. Everything Dillon could never hope to achieve in his roughshod arrogance. It didn't matter that this leader of theirs wasn't smartly dressed. He was still a viper.

It was almost a pity, how Dillon was the only one delusional enough not to see that he was teetering dangerously close to an edge that even an insect could push him off of.

After dragging a long breath on the newly smoking cigarette, the boss turned around with it held between his fingers. And his sharp blue eyes were cold as he let out a clouded breath. "We both know you aren't stupid enough to come back here empty handed...even if your promises are only half-baked," he commented, the last straw of his forbearance edging into view through his tone. "I can see you've got something up your sleeve. I'm curious what that might be." He took the burning end of the cigarette and pointed it at Dillon. "Particularly," he said pointedly, "When I know that smart little sister of yours is always three steps ahead. So you outright killing her isn't going to put that asset in my hands, now is it." A statement. A threatening, challenging statement.

As if on cue though, and still oblivious to the thread he was hanging from, it was Dillon's turn to smile. "Funny you should mention that. Because I do have an ace up my sleeve this time."

"'This time?'" A scoff erupted from the Dakota, the man who pulled a knife earlier. Perhaps it was an unwelcome observation to point out based on how the boss motioned for silence, but it seemed everyone was thinking the same thing. Dillon really was the weakest link among them. A mental runt of the litter with a Napoleon complex.

Nonetheless, stepping back and raising a hand, Dillon openly motioned to the car parked in the street. "Just see for yourself," he stated looking at the black TransAm with a grin that exuded confidence. "KARR? Why don't you explain to these fine gentlemen exactly what I'm talking about."

Just like that all eyes were on him, casting back and forth glances thinking Dillon must have gone crazy. The boss looked the most annoyed and unimpressed as he held the cigarette between his teeth, speaking an exasperated thought out loud as if no one else was present. "Has this damn crackhead lost it?"

At first KARR was silent, irritated by this unseemly shift in attention. Not that he hadn't guessed that he would need to do some talking. In some ways, he just despised being treated like a mere circus attraction. "He has not, in fact, lost it," he finally said, earning a chorus of startled gasps in response. "Mister Smith is correct. I can indeed contribute to your goal."

After saying his piece, everyone but Dillon looked shocked. One, even scared. Good, KARR thought as he felt pleased at that. Fear was something he could use to his advantage.

The rage? Not so much. "Dillon!" the boss snarled accusingly as he snapped a glare at the younger felon. "What in god's name are you trying to pull!?"

It was KARR who answered him, seeking to diffuse the situation before it wandered out of his control. "He is not pulling anything," he said matter-of-factly. "I am KARR. A bold and powerful new experiment." He kept back the finer details for now. There was no need to divulge sensitive information to those he wouldn't work with for long, let alone give a damn about. "I can see a man such as yourself has an eye for business," he continued with a dose of flattery. "Since Mister Smith answers to you, I imagine you can only be the orchestrator of this grand establishment. But could it not yet increase in grandeur and profit?"