“All you ever had to do was stay the fuck away from me!” Mickey suddenly snapped. “You just couldn’t help yourself, huh? You crazy piece of shit, you really can’t stop, can you?”
“Fuck you, Mickey!” Roger scowled furiously, and his eyes were getting damp. “Don’t you do this. I am not fuckin’ crazy. This is real. What we have, this, this, this is fuckin’ real. Don’t you fuckin’ do it. Don’t call me that.”
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” Mickey sneered cruelly. “I’m done with you. Do you hear me? We are fuckin’ done.”
“No,” Roger protested weakly, falling behind. “You don’t… you don’t really mean that. Come on! No. You’re upset, I get it. Just apologize, and we can figure this shit out later.”
“Do I have to make it an order?” Mickey scoffed. “Tell you that your master never wants to see you again, call you a good boy when it finally clicks in that thick asscrazyhead of yours? Is that what it will take for you to get the message?”
Roger was visibly stung, and he stopped dead in his tracks. “You son of a bitch.”
“Yeah, and? Shouldn’t that be ‘you son of a bitch,sir’? Try again.”
“No, no, no.” Roger shook his head, and he grunted angrily. “You’re not my master. You’re not my fuckin’ anything, do you fuckin’ hear me? You’re not even my damn friend. You’re fuckin’ nothing!”
“Now you’re getting it.” Mickey grinned savagely. “I don’t give a fuck about you. You were a fun piece of ass for a short while, now we’re done, and I wanna get back to fuckin’ Alistair’s so I can figure out how I’m gonna kill Salvatore.”
Mickey was too angry to care about the damage he was doing. He was in so much pain, and the only thing making him feel like he had any control was hurting Roger.
Roger suddenly smiled. Even though it was sad, it was still so beautiful. He sighed, his shoulders dropping defeatedly as he whispered, “Fuck you, Mickey.”
Mickey kept on walking, refusing to look back, but he didn’t hear Roger’s footsteps after a few moments. He turned his head to see what he was doing, but Roger was gone.
He looked all around, and there was no sign of him.
“Well, fuck.”
* * *
In the weeks that followed, the streets of Strassen Springs ran red.
The Luchesi brothers had declared war on each other and the Gentlemen. The alliance between Cold and Cristian was over, and no one was safe now.
While Christian and Matteo fought each other, Cold began a series of targeted assaults on them both, taking out any and all Luchesi strongholds he had knowledge of. He’d worked for the family all of his life, and he knew exactly where to hurt them. With Jules, Jerry, and Mickey at his side, it soon became a regular slaughter.
The Luchesi numbers were dwindling, and Cold’s influence with the city’s police was growing fast. Many of them were tired of being under the Luchesi family’s heel and were more than happy to look the other way. Cold was very appreciative and made sure to thank them generously for their assistance.
The loss of Slick Rick’s was small compared to the progress they were making, and Cold soon controlled the entire southern half of the city. Although they were doing well, Mickey was still mourning the loss of his grandfather.
He hadn’t even been able to have a funeral. He couldn’t go claim his body because the police were looking for him in connection to the massacre at the church. Granted, the police were not looking that hard thanks to Cold’s new influence, but it was still a risk they couldn’t afford to take.
Going back to the apartment to clear out his arsenal had been risky enough, and Mickey hated seeing his grandfather’s empty room. It reminded him of what he’d lost, and he almost cried when he saw the keys for Pops’ lady hanging by the door on his way out.
He didn’t feel right taking them, but he didn’t want the cops or anybody else to have them either, so into his pocket they went.
There they’d stayed, and Mickey swore to himself he’d never let them out of his sight.
Crybaby had woken up and tried to escape the safe house twice to join the other Gentlemen in their fight against the Luchesi family. It was only after Cold threatened to chain her to the bed that she agreed to stay put and focus on her recovery.
Jerry and Jules stayed close to Cold and took the brunt of the dirty work. Mickey was eager to do his part, but Cold would sometimes leave him behind to watch over Alistair and Rowena. He didn’t like being given babysitting duty, but he knew it was an honor to guard those most precious to their Boss.
Even when one of those people stubbornly insisted on ‘gangster tea parties’ with a stuffed shark when they were supposed to be in bed. A gangster tea party, Mickey learned, was when Princess Snaggletooth hosted a tea party for all her stuffed animals and whacked anyone who didn’t attend.
Mickey was put in charge of the whacking.
Duncan and Pym, meanwhile, lacked a certain flair for violence against both stuffed animals and the living, and they were relegated to more simple tasks. They ran out for food and supplies, made sure Doc Brown had whatever he needed for Crybaby’s care, and did anything else Cold asked of them.
Duncan was more anxious than usual, and he constantly offered his condolences for Mickey’s grandfather. He didn’t stop offering until Mickey told him he was going to shoot him in the foot. He knew Duncan meant well, but every single time was another reminder Pops was gone.
