Ramifications: Day 11

Word Count: 66,205

Summary of Events:

Lachlan showed the ring to Harrison, who informed him it was an icon from an old rival gang that had been destroyed decades ago, but apparently not entirely. Dom received an e-mail from his mom that annoyed him before being informed there was a TV news crew outside, whom he spoke to mostly about the Shelter's operations without their realising who was talking to them. Lachlan, having not heard from Justin in awhile, decided to see what was up and found that Justin seemed to be just ignoring him, which he was quite displeased about . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Instantly Lachlan dropped to his knees on Justin's back, which elicited a cry before Lachlan wrenched and jerked at Justin's shoulder and upper arm until he heard the pop of the upper arm bone coming out of its socket, which prompted another cry.

"You're not dead and you're not in lockup," Lachlan said, lowering his head close beside Justin's ear. "What gives?"

"Get off me you whelp," Justin swore through his teeth.

"I called Angelo," Lachlan said. "He told me I could do whatever I want."

"You're bluffing," Justin swore.

"You wish," Lachlan said.

He straightened up, drew out one of Justin's knives, and drew its broad side across the back of Justin's neck.

"You don't have the balls to kill me," Justin swore.

Lachlan put the knife back and dislocated Justin's other shoulder.

He then hauled Justin to his feet, pinned him against the wall with his right hand, and sent a hail of hard lefts at Justin's face, chest, and abdomen, finishing off with a hard knee to the fly of Justin's swimmers.

Promptly, Lachlan pulled the swimmers down to Justin's ankles, took one of Justin's knives, and made cuts into the inside of Justin's thighs close to the top before drawing out the other knife.

With calm and steady hands Lachlan drew the narrow, sharp edges of both blades down Justin's chest, flanking his breastbone.

Reaching the bottom of it, Lachlan paused and looked Justin in the eyes.

Justin's face was pale.

"You said something about balls?" Lachlan asked casually.

Justin shook his head.

"I didn't think so," Lachlan said, smiling.

Instantly he turned the knives so their points were toward Justin's abdomen and shoved them in until they hit bone; he then lifted Justin off the floor, jammed his knee up between Justin's legs, pulled the knives back halfway, shifted them, and drove them through Justin into the wall behind.

Taking out his own knife, Lachlan made a quick, deft cut and looked at Justin's pain-contorted face.

"You're the one who doesn't have any balls," Lachlan said.

"Siri," Justin managed to croak. "Call for help."

Lachlan turned to the mobile on the table. Its screen was illuminated, informing him that it was, indeed, dialling 000.*

He tossed the mobile to the floor and stomped his heel into the screen.

"They come even if you hang up on them," Justin wheezed.

"I know," Lachlan replied offhand, striding toward the kitchenette. "They'll need to come anyways."

Rummaging around, he found a glass pitcher, which he filled with water, and a jar of used cooking oil standing beside the stove.

He pulled out a frying pan, dumped the oil into it, and lit the burner, which he cranked to high.

It didn't take long for the oil to heat up and catch fire. Lachlan stepped back beyond the dining table and tossed the pitcher. It shattered onto the stove and the water hitting the fire caused flames to go everywhere."

*000 is the Australian equivalent of 911.