Steven groaned as he walked into the loan office, holding his side, sporting a black eye, messy hair, and a bloody nose, not his blood. He looked around the office, hoping it was indeed as empty as it seemed. With a painful sigh of relief, he walked to the medical cabinet, getting the first aid before heading to the back room.

"That could have gone better...So much for my sweet tongue...Heh-heh..ow!."

A simple talk became...not so simple. It all started when there was suspicion of foul play in a property they own; A host bar renamed Shangri-la. A place where the clientele had fat, deep pockets, nearly as big as their bellies and deep as their secrets. There have been rumors about the runner Connie put in place being a bit more comfortable with certain customers outside of the bar. Customers, they weren't exactly used to seeing around their city. 

No problem, as long as they opened their pockets, they ignored it. As for the runner, let them have fun. As long as they remember their place, no need to chase rumors. Then, once too many times, the weekly total has been lower than its usual amount, its predicted amount. The rumors of the bar runner making moves against his team, his family, because of his new friends started to ring true. 

Now, while no one took this blatant act of disrespect kindly, Connie, his 'queen,' was exceedingly annoyed. Shangri-la was something, Connie...Procured from its last owner. It was her pet project; this spot was something she brought in, and since then, it’s been a little moneymaker and info bank. Having the runner get out of line made her look bad. She decided on visiting the runner of the establishment herself.

His gracious lady giving them a chance to get in line without broken pride or bones. How he admired her elegance and civility, even when dealing with these kinds of riffraff. Still, he couldn't allow her to be bothered with such tripe matters.  

No need for her to dirty her hands or give them her time. It was precious and needed with more pressing objectives. Still, a lesson had to be taught, and dues had to be paid. He'd do it himself as a favor to her. She won't even have to worry.

It was supposed to be a simple sit-down, almost a parlay. 

Supposed to be...

*a Few hours ago* 

Steven got out of his black Lincoln continental after parking across the street from the Shangri-la, not before his ritual, though. He pulled down his driver-side sun visor and smiled lovingly at a picture of his lady in a black bikini. A candid shot he took on the family's last vacation to their island villa. She'd kill him if she'd ever found out, but hell, in this life, he could die anyway; might as well have something sweet on his mind if it comes to that.

With a breath, the mafioso walked into the bar.

"Ain't this a bitch."

His timing was either fucked up or on the money cause his surprise visit coincided with the goddamn snake in the grass giving their money to some zoot suits wearing little shits he never saw before. 

"Really, Sam? These mother fuckers got our money."

The nine of them turned to him, standing at the doorway. The face of shock on Sam's face and fear-based anger on the other eight. It would've been funny...If he hadn't seen what he saw. With a kiss of his teeth, he walked calmly towards Sam, and he supposed the head of the group of nobodies, fishing some black leather glove out the back pocket of his slacks.

"Know you're blind in one eye, but you didn't see us finding out about this."

Sam was an older mustachioed man, pencil-thin; always with a suitcase, brown three-piece suit, and a comb-over. He also was an ex info broker. He got caught up selling the wrong info and was chased all through the city by a hitman. Would have been dead if he never ran into this very bar and met Connie..or if the hitman never made her drop her egg for Prairie oyster.  In the end, Sam got to keep his life, Connie got a runner for her bar, and the hitman…was no longer available for services.

So to see the man his lady saved openly betray them, well, Steven was not in the mood for a parlay. Steven took the money he was handing them out of the punk's hand and placed it in his pocket. Leaving them stunned before turning to Sam, eyebrow arched.

"Hey..Steve... I was just-

"Betraying Connie...Betraying us."

Sam took a deep breath before settling into a glare. As Steven was about to comment, a hand rested and gripped his shoulder. It was large, and it belonged to an equally large man in a green zoot suit. Steven took a look around at the rainbow of zoot suits. Indigo, violet, cobalt, black, brown, gray, yellow, red, and...

"Get your jolly green giant ass off me."

Green squeezed hard on his shoulder before talking.

"Now now..don't yo--Kugh!"

Steven did not care for his words and showed it by ramming his elbow into his grimy mouth, making him swallow the five front teeth he knocked out. Green fell back, hitting his head on the nearby table, leaving him unconscious..or dead. It really didn't concern Steven, not like the blood green left on the elbow of his white button-up. Steven, in a quick spark of anger, stomped on greens pointy nose, breaking it and eliciting a moan from the pale skin giant...

"Oh, come on...Have some class! Bastard, blood stains are hard to come o-ugh!'

Steven stumbled back as Red's skinny little fist popped him. His nostrils flared as he touched his left eye, feeling the tenderness. He nodded as Red, Yellow, Violet, and Cobalt stood ready to fight. The other three were busy dragging green out the way, and Sam was hiding behind the counter.

Steven stood ready, his fist up, held at face level.  His left leg slightly pointed and held forward, bent at the knee. 

"Fucking zoot suit skittles bastards."

That set them off as red ran forward first, throwing a wild right hook towards Steven's skull, only to grab the offending arm and pull red close. He grabbed red's tan face in a vice-grip before slamming his skull to the counter's metallic edge, denting it. Steven grimaced as he let red crumble upon himself.

' yikes...Gotta remember this is my lady's place. She'll be pissed once she sees that.'

As Steven thought to himself, Violet attempted to lay a stiletto kick to his throat. He barely ducked the attack, feeling the air from the would be blow mess up his hair.

Steven delivered a harsh straight to the guy's solar plexus, making Violet double over before ramming his knee to the afro bearer's nose. Another k.o.

Yellow and Cobalt nodded before attacking together, Yellow with a straight kick to Steven's chest and Cobalt with a left hook to his mid. Steven grabbed the foot before grimacing and coughing in pain at the punch... Losing his grip and being kicked back to the wall. 

Steven breathed deeply as he rubbed his chest, looking closely at Cobalt's hands…

'Bitch has knuckle dusters hidden in her sleeves. Ok...Her first.'

Steven stood straight and stepped forward before grabbing two nearby ketchup bottles, wielding them like batons. The two laughed before attacking in unison again. Cobalt struck with an axe kick, causing steven to dodge to the left when yellow fist flew towards his skull, a knuckle duster on it.  

Steven batted the fist downward, breaking the bottle on the back of their hand, before stabbing the palm of it with the bottle. Yellow screams of pain were silenced almost instantly by the second bottle being broken against their temple, knocking them over to Cobalt before they joined Red on the floor. Shards of glass ledge in their face, mixed with blood and condiment.

Cobalt looked fearful as she stared at Steven, broken bottle in hand. She took a step back before swallowing it down, going for a desperate flurry of punches. 

"Wild, unorganized, useless. How the hell did I let you get a hit on me?"

Steven sighed at the thought, dancing through her assault effortlessly before catching both her wrists and head butting cobalt, breaking her nose. As she groaned, he twisted her arms behind her back, holding them against her upper back. He kicked the knees from under her, making Cobalt buckle onto them. Before she could protest, he had the business end of the broken bottle press on her windpipe. He crept down to her ear and spoke in a cold whisper.

"Here what's gonna happen. You are gonna to leave your friends here cause you're a coward. Say it."

Cobalt growled in protest before winching as Steven gave the bottom of her chin a jagged bloody cut. He didn't say anything as he looked expectantly.

"I'm a coward."

"You're not gonna run with these fools anymore cause you're a coward.."

"I'm a coward." She teared up and held her head down; defeat washed over her.

"You're going to give me the location of your hideout and your brass knuckles. You're then going to walk out of here and out of this lifestyle. Cause…

"I am a coward." Cobalt cried, heartbroken.

"And cowards don't belong in the world of mafia. Take your life and blend among the other normal civilians…Coward."

He let the girl's wrist go before holding his hand to her. Cobalt almost took it when he spoke.

"Knuckle dusters and info"

She sneered as she took off the weapons and handed them to him. He placed them on his gloved hands, trying them out with a few swings; whistling in satisfaction, he turned to the girl.

"Info."

"East Ridge Blvd. The old cookie cat factory near the pier...cacan't miss it."

He nodded before he did help her to her feet.  He nodded his head towards the door, looking at her.

"Go."

Cobalt nodded as she walked out, wiping the tears from her crystal blue eyes. She stopped when he heard him clear his throat. She turned to see him looking back at her.

"Not gonna thank me. For letting you live, unlike these fools."

Cobalt's eyes widened, breath caught in her throat as the tears ran anew. In her eyes, he was a monster...A gentle-looking monster.  She grinded her teeth and grabbed the bottom of her coat as she looked down, shame and fear destroying her heart.

"Thank you for my life, sir!"

"Hehe. You're welcome..Go.."

Cobalt walked out of the bar sobbing, hatred for the mafia world and herself evident.

With her gone, Steven turned his attention to Sam, who quickly grabbed a pistol as Steven walked around the counter and stalked toward him,  Fist tight, knuckle dusters on, and the bottle still in hand.

Sam shakingly held the gun in his hand, scared as hell. "Steven..Come on, man...Don't  make me shoot you." 

Steven didn't say anything as he twirled the broken bottle in his hand, still walking forward, smirking. 

Sam took a chance and pulled the trigger.