“WHO – THE HELL – ARE YOU!?”

Big Smoke gripped at his phone, his loud roar ringing in the warehouse. Veins bulged over his neck and wrists, his handlebar moustache standing up in bloodhound hackles. He snarled at the air as he stormed in a circle in the living space, Scorpion, One-Eye, Gold Neck, and Silver Tooth staring with confusion.

Big Smoke wiped the sweat off his mouth and bark. “I SAID! WHO – ARE YOU!?”

[Who I am, is of little importance.] A deep voice buzzed in the phone, mixed with a strange European accent. Suppressed by a filter. [I know who you are. I know what you did.]

Big Smoke glanced at his phone, to be absolute sure. No matter how many times he checked, the Caller ID read ‘BEANIE’. Even the full number matched his contact record. The mob boss put the phone back to his ear, pointing at the air as if directly at the speaker. “Where’s my boy!?”

[Why don’t you talk to him yourself? You, get over here and talk to your old man.]

Big Smoke winced at the loud rustling noise in the speakers. He waited with a held breath, listening to the sound of a body being dragged, kicking and flailing, muffled. A gasp freed from a gag and a familiar voice broke into his heart.

[DAD! DAD! TH-THEY JUMPED ME AT THE DRUGSTORE! THEY GOT GUNS LIKE YOU! I-I, HELP! HELP ME DAD! PLEASE—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!]

“BENJAMIN! BENJAMIIIIIIIN!” Big Smoke let out a scream as tears fell from his eyes. He gripped his phone with both hands, waiting for the other voice to come back online. Once he felt the switch was made, fury fuelled his eyes again. “Listen you bastard. If you so much as pull one hair off his head, I swear to god, I will hunt you down and make sure you’re alive when I bury you at sea! YOU HEAR ME!?”

There was a pause, then the voice hummed. [Can you even shoot me over the phone line?]

Big Smoke’s face blew up red, his fingers squeezed into a shaking fists. “Wh-what do you want exactly!?”

[Diamonds. The price for your boy’s life]

“DONE! WHERE!?”

The voice with the strange accent on the line chuckled [Near midnight. The docks, pier 8. Canned fish factory, you can’t miss it. Bring the goods, no guns. Come alone.]

“Deal! Let me talk to my--”

[Click. Brrrrrrr. We’re sorry, this line has been disconnected. Please hang up and--]

Big Smoke smashed his phone into the ground, shattering it into tiny bits. He picked up his pistol, loading a fresh clip and yanked the slider to load one in the chamber. As he grabbed an AK-47, Scorpion followed. The eldest son started to load shells into his shotgun, stuffing more into his vest pockets, and pumped the weapon at the ready. One-Eye kicked up his carbine and stuffed extra magazines into the back and front of his pants. Then he tossed an UZI onto Piercing’s wounded lap. Although Piercing screeched in pain, he too checked how many bullets were in the magazine and he tried to drag himself out of bed to stand on his good foot.

Gold Neck took in a deep breath, hands patiently folded in front of him. Silver Tooth rubbed the tip of his nose as he watched the Jones. The two exchanged glances. A nod, then they walked out...to a storage room to bring back their duffel bags. Gold Neck started to count how many more grenades and C4 charges they got left, while Silver Tooth finished re-assembling his assault rifle with swift precision and added a holographic scope.

“...Hey. Silva. Goldberg.” Scorpion approached the two as he stuffed a Desert Eagle into his pants. He patted the two men on the shoulders with a light shake of his head. “I appreciate the gesture, but this is a family matter. It wouldn’t be right of me to––”

“Ssssssh.” Silver Tooth placed a finger on his lips, before touching Scorpion’s lips with it. “If you hadn’t disobeyed orders, Goldberg and I would have been rotting as P.O.W.s even to now. Your little brother is our little brother, right Goldberg?” He then nudged an elbow into Gold Neck, who returned a nod.

Scorpion was bewildered from their response. He took a moment to wipe something from his eyes and turned back to hold out his fist – to his brothers. Triple fist tap – psssssssh.

All for one. One for all.