“Three years, three fucking years and not a fucking word, nothing. And now, you come here, to my home, and expect me to give you money. Well, I won’t do it Conrad, I just won’t!”
“You completely miss-understand where I’m coming from Mortimer. I’m not giving you a choice in matter, this is not a negotiation. It’s simple, either you pay the money, or we have problems, and by that, I mean you.”
“Threats will do little against me, how dare you think so…..”
“Fuck you, the money, before this becomes more than just a conversation,” he says, with a wry smile.
Leaping to his feet and thrusting a pointed finger towards the door, he yells, “Get out and never set foot before me again!”
“W-W-What did you just say?”
“Seriously? I’m pretty sure you heard what I said, but if you missed it, I said no, I’m not going anywhere.”
“How dare you, get out now! Get out before I do something we can both never come back from!”
“Who’s the one threatening who now?”
He charges at him, his eyes wild, his face twisted, saliva trailing being him, as it flows from the corner of his mouth. The two hit each other is a fury of fist, blood, and scream. Conrad drives a knee up into his face, sending him reeling backwards, followed by a sea of red, he crashes to the ground and within moments, Conrad is upon him, a knife at his throat.
“Don’t make me do this, for I will not falter.”
“Then do it, because that’s the only way you’ll get anything is when I’m dead and buried,” he says, spitting a wad of blood into his face.
“Someday, I hope, you will forgive me for this,” he says as he slices the blade across his throat.
“Rot in hell, you’re no son of mine!” He yells, as his blood quickly flows from the tear, Conrad smiles.
“Funny you should say that, that was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.