#bawda writes

[bawdabaw]

Snippet of writing to show my skillz. This is from the story @thatsmyfetish and I are writing, Of Suds and Fine Suit Coats about Unseelie mobsters. I'm drawing it to turn it into an online comic.

Holmgren is the leader, a rogue prince of the Dark Court and he owns a restaurant called the Babadock in the city of Vestal, New York. It was recently hit for robbery by some vampires and this scene is him dealing with the problem. Cade, Pastel, and Devon are Unseelie on the crew. Simon Morgan is the new kid, a human and sidhe-seer, and he's Fetty's character.

Reblog, like, comment, or message me or @thatsmyfetish ! Anons accepted. Just enjoy!

It'd been a long night. First, huntin' the basterds down, then questioning and punishing them. After all, it was extremely unlikely that a plan to hit the Babadock would have gone underway without a whisper filtering through the Otherworld channels. And Holmgren had bargains with those he expected to keep him abreast of any such hints and gossip. 

His suspicion that his own men had been bought off had proven correct. Two sidhe sat tied in chairs, wings broken, faces and bodies a mess of bloody cuts, burns, and shadow bites. Both dead, heads lolling on their necks, loose and lifeless, merely sitting up straight because of the structure of the chairs they were strapped to.

A third sidhe, a pixie, sat still alive, trembling in his restraints, sobbing bloody and pleading for forgiveness. His wings were broken and he was bruised heavily from the beating he'd taken. "It were oh-oh-only three days, m'lord," the pixie whimpered sadly. "I needed the money and it was only supposed to be a burglary.... I figured, it were you...what could they possibly do? Nobody can hurt the Dark Bargainer... They'd get caught and killed and no one would be the wiser. I'd have the money and nothin' bad would happen..."

Striding up to him, in a button up shirt, collar undone and sleeves rolled up, Holmgren smoked placidly, looking down at the pitiful, fearful creature with dispassion and apathy. "Ye thought wrong, Galen. After all, our bargain wasn't a choose and tell type of arrangement. Ye owed me all yer secrets, all yer knowledge. Every murmuring ye had on the street was supposed to be mine. And ye broke it."

Smoke in a slender snake curled up from his spiced cig as he reached down to touch the brand of 3 bats marking Galen's chest, laying exposed by his torn open shirt. "I release ye from my debt...and my protection. We are nothing to each other now."

A kick in the balls to the pixie who's face crumpled and he wept in humiliation and sorry, knowing he'd failed. After all, Holmgren could have taken retribution through the mark if he wanted. The contract obeyed his will and the boundaries he had set. The fact that he removed it meant Galen wasn't even worthy of paying the price the normal way. Letting go of the pixie, Holmgren looked over his head to the fiery standing behind him and merely nodded. Then he stepped back and turned away as Cade reached forward to grasp the pixie on the side of the neck and a burst of hot light and flames came from where his skin touched the little Unseelie. The pixie screamed as he was burned, finally going quiet and slumping when he was dead, the side of his neck and shoulder just a mass of smoking, melted flesh, bits of it charred in the shape of Cade's long fingered hand.

Finishing his cigarette, Holmgren started to put on his suit jacket again. "Don't call the cleaners fer this. If their contacts among the blood suckers learn they were tortured and killed for information, it might show our hand too early. And everyone knows I use the brownies. Best to keep the cleanup as tight as we can."

"Aye," Pastel said, with only the barest sigh. It was gonna be a night of hard work but he was here for it. "I'll make sure they'll never be found."

"Take Morgan with ye."

"The new kid? ...Devon can dig holes faster."

"I don't care about speed. I want him involved. See how he does with handling the dead," Holmgren said, drawing one last time on his cig before flicking it away.

Cade grinned, "Ye think he'll get sick? Get a bit shy?"

Holmgren shrugged, smirking as well. "He might. It'd be a simple test of his resolve for this kind of business. Also, I want ye to get a read on him, pix. Ask him questions, get him to loosen a bit, see who he is underneath, yeah?"

Pastel nodded, itching the back of his head. "Soft interrogation. The kind where he doesn't even realize. I gotcha. Anything I'm looking for?"

"Just anything off or that doesn't sit right," Holmgren said with another shrug. "Report everything to me, afterwards."

Agreeing to that, the pix was left to deal with the bodies but his first order of business was to text the human.

*Yo Morgan! I need your help with work tonight! Dress in street clothes. I'm pickign you up in half hour!*

When Pastel showed up to Simon's place, he pulled up in a thick, black SUV, his high riding baby with the roomy back. Pastel wore an olive green bomber jacket, jeans, blue and yellow shirt, with a newsboy cap on his head. Not the most disguising of gear but enough to make him not stand out. Despite the nice ride, candy wrappers littered the front of the vehicle and Pastel was eating dark chocolate caramel pieces(basically sticky caramel squares with silky chocolate creme inside) from the console between seats. Behind him and behind the last bench seat in the back, the bodies of the three fae laid piled together, laying on plastic sheets. On the backseat were several large kettlebell weights with folded up lengths of rope ready for use. Two for each body.