{Ambreigns}

[10] Rats In Cardboard Boxes

Roman's P.O.V

~~~

Dean and I talked for a short while longer, but I could tell he was exhausted so I told him to go back to sleep. He was reluctant but within five minutes he was out cold. I sat in the chair by his bed for what seemed like hours, listening to the periodic beeps of the machines he was hooked up to.

I was drifting off myself when the soft buzz of a vibrating phone dragged me back into the room. A dim, blue light was illuminating the inside of Dean's duffel bag. Curiously, I picked it up.

'Payment was expected two days ago, Ambrose. Be behind 5th street at 8 or I suggest you start packing.'

I read the message over a couple of times then glanced at Dean, passed out in the bed. If these were the guys that we'd ran into at the mall a couple of weeks ago, I was guessing that they didn't want to meet up for a polite conversation.
I checked the clock. 7:05pm. I sighed and pushed my hair back. Guess that gives me 55 minutes to get there.

~~~

I unzipped my jacket as I approached the back of 5th street. Not to sound big-headed or anything, but I thought 'maybe if these see how jacked I am, they won't try and jump me'. Side-stepping a couple of garbage cans and various pieces of broken furniture, I assessed the area.

My first thoughts were, this place is a fucking shit hole. There was one exit; where I'd just walked in. The ground was rough and uneven, made of concrete which was barely visible underneath all of the cardboard and black rubbish bags. It was surrounded by tall, run-down houses and garages, which looked empty but were almost certainly bursting with drug addicts and sellers.
The Feds would have a fucking field-day in this place, I thought to myself, mostly trying to distract myself from the impending sense of doom.

I kicked an empty box across the concrete, only to soon find out it wasn't, in fact, empty. A large rat made an unnaturally loud squeaking sound and scampered over my feet. I jumped back and shuddered.
The growing sound of a crowd of voices attracted my attention. I watched a group of half-a-dozen men walk in through the alleyway I had, only minutes ago.

The man in front, who I recognised to be the one who had spoken to Dean in the mall, slowed slightly at the sight of me but kept approaching. The others soon caught on and stared at me.

"You're not Ambrose." The leader spat when he reached one or two feet before me. I eyed up the group in front of me and didn't take a step back. The guy staring me down stood at eye level and had a frankly pitiful tribal tattoo scrawled up his neck.

"No shit." My gaze didn't waver as I spoke confidently back. A couple of his followers shifted uncomfortably at the growing tension.
The leader narrowed his eyes a little but laughed.
"You might want to watch your tone, boy. Anyway, I don't give a fuck who you are, just hand over the money and hope you never run into me again."

He elbowed the man to his right and the smaller guy stepped forwards with an arm outstretched.
I stared down at his hand and huffed.
"Look, I hate to break it to you junkie pricks, but the only thing I'm here to give you guys is some advice. Or maybe even some black eyes, if I think you really deserve it."

The guy before me scowled a little and continued to stare at me.
"Oh, really? And what advice would that be? Please, enlighten us."

I smirked a little, watching him get angrier and angrier as my amusement grew.
"First of all, you're not getting any money. Not from me, not from Dean. Second of all, if you even happen to walk on the same side of town as Dean again, I'm gonna take this fist-" I moved my enclosed hand under the enraged man's chin, sparking a reaction from the crowd behind him.

"And I'm gonna shove it so far up your ass, that I can work your mouth like a fucking puppet and personally apologise to Dean, for thinking that your dumbass, pathetic selves are even worthy to be within a fifteen mile radius of him. Do you understand?"

I didn't break eye contact as I delivered my threat, mentally patting myself on the back for not stuttering once. I registered that the man's breathing had quickened in pace and I smirked in achievement. He quickly shoved my fist away.

"You think you can fucking talk to me like that? If your faggot boyfriend has problems with money, he comes and sees me himself, he doesn't send his son of a bitch, pussy-" I cut him off with a hand locked-tightly around his throat. Several men behind him jumped forwards but a quick glare sent them back.

I leaned close to his ear as his feet scrambled about beneath him, desperately trying to stay on the floor.
"I strongly suggest you reconsider what you just fucking said to me. Look around. I don't know about you, but I haven't seen another living person for about a mile back. I'm guessing it would take about..."

I pretended to think and looked up before locking eyes with him again. "Let's say, if you're lucky, two weeks, for the smell of seven rotting corpses to reach the nearest housing estate. And by then, all of the rats that live in this shit hole, will probably have gnawed your faces beyond recognition.
So to sum up, if I fucking killed you all with my bare hands for threatening Dean like you just did, I'd probably never be caught! Care to reconsider those slurs you just used?'

The crowd had backed away several feet by now. The man in my grasp was staring at me with a horrified expression, pulling weakly at my arm. I released him and watched him fall to the floor before pushing himself back. A couple of hands pulled him to his feet.

"Fine. No repayments. But tell Ambrose we're never selling to him or any of his friends again. And you-" He swallowed hard and started walking backwards, "You stay the fuck away from me."

I watched them swiftly leave and then looked around, shoving my hands into my pockets. That went well. I waited a minute or so then started making my way back to the hospital.

~~~