"You shouldn't ought'a stole from us, Cole," a gravel voiced man said, his voice echoing around the walls as Jim Cole opened his eyes for the first time since his kidnap. He squinted against the harsh light of a bare bulb, trying to focus on the figure in front of him.
"You got the wrong guy... it weren't me. I never stole from no one," Jim said breathlessly, struggling against his bounds. The rope twisted around his wrists was tight and he wasn't sure he could feel his fingers, but as he moved the sudden pain from his shoulders was too much to bear. He screamed and this vision swam for a moment. The figure infront of him cocked his head thoughtfully as he watched.
"I expect that kinda hurts, Cole. In my experience after you been strung up like that for a while you can expect that," the voice said, its tone even and flat. "Tell us where you stashed the bone and I'll have the boys cut you down. Then this'll all be over, Cole. What do you say?"
"Screw you."
As he stepped into the light, Jim could see the old man more clearly. He was hunched over and his combed back white hair was extremely thin, but his eyes were like those of a hawk; sharp and fierce. His grey pinstripped suit was old fashioned but well tailored, and the metal tip of his walking cane sounded sharply of the concrete floor as he shuffled forward, shaking his head sadly.
"Jimmy, Jimmy Jimmy... We used to be friends. I thought that counted for something. Why'd you have to go and abuse my trust, eh? It's a damned shame." The old man turned his back of the suspended man and signalled to another man waiting in the shadows. "He's all yours, Lazarus."
Jim raised his head weakly and watched as a tall and muscular figure stepped forward. Despite the pain, Jim sneered defiantly. "I didn't realise it was halloween so soon."
The new man gave him a toothy grin. He was a tall, imposing black man dressed in white overcoat and tophat. His chest and face were painted with designs in white paint and it made Jim uncomfortable to look at them directly. Instead he spat into the man's face, which was half painted white with his eyes concealed behind dark sunglasses. The grin never left his face, even as the spittle ran down his face.
"I like your spirit, my friend!"
"Get on with killing me already."
The big man threw back his head and laughed loudly. "Kill you? I am not here to kill you, zanmi. You have something I want and we are going to have a talk, you and I." His voice was deep and rich, with a trace of an accent that Jim couldn't place. Part deep south, with some French and African elements too.
"I don't know nothing... You got the wrong guy."
"So I heard you say, but you will still talk to me."
Reaching forward, the man's powerful hands tore open Jim's shirt exposing his bare chest. "What the hell?!" Jim cried out as the black man began to draw intricate symbols on him in white oil pastel. Struggling against his bounds despite the pain, Jim twisted and bucked, but the man's hand never faltered and the symbols never smudged. Stepping back, Lazarus inspected his handiwork and nodded to himself, satisfied. He reached into his overcoat and took out a silver hip flask. With a move quicker then his size would suggest, his large hand siezed Jim Cole's face, forcing his mouth open and pouring in some of the liquid from his flask. The harsh rum burned Jim's throat and he coughed as the man in the tophat took a mouthful of the liquer, then spat it on to Jim's face and chest.
"Good. Now, we can talk."
Papa Lazarus reached out his hands towards Jim, mumbling under his breath. Jim opened his mouth to say something but the air rushed out of his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath in panic. Papa's fingers seemed to sink into the sides of Jim's head and with a jerk he pulled backwards, dragging the spirit of Jim Cole out of the man's body.
"Answer me true, Iwa. where is the Loa Bone?"
"In life I stole it from Mr Bokor and sold it. The Legacy Chain have it now."
Lazarus nodded as if it was an expected answer, then turned to the old man. "I have my answer, Mr Colosimo. Our business is done."
"Not so fast, Lazarus," The old man shuffled forward, glancing at the dead body of Jim Cole and the rapidly fading spirit. "I know you want that there bone, but the deal's changed. See, it's worth a lot of money to me and I got buyers already lining up for it, so I can't affrod to have you running around trying to do me out of my business."
Colosimo smiled insincerly, as all around the room men in tailord suits, armed with machine guns, were taking up position. "It's not personal, Lazarus. Just business..."
Throwing back his head, Papa Lazarus laughed loudly. Alphonse Colosimo looked confused and angry at the man's reaction. It wasn't what he'd expected. He was used to being being afraid of him and his position in The Family. He commanded respect, and now this witch doctor was laughing at him! "What's so funny, dammit?! Do you know who I am???"
"I am sorry, Mr Colosimo, but you are a funny man." Lazarus said, removing his sunglasses and dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. "You are a stupid and ignorant man who leads men that are even stupider and more ignorant than you are. You think this business of yours is important. You think that money is the same as power. I think this is funny and it makes me laugh, because you do not know what real power is. I will show you what power is."
Lazarus' grin shone bright as the blackness flooded into his eyes, making them deep pits of nothingness. The mobsters behind him started to scream. Colosimo's eyes widened when he felt the first wave of fear wash over him as he witnessed the horror of his men being torn apart by the bodies of the walking dead. They seemed to drag themselves out of the ground with broken fingernails and clawed hands, grabbing at anything that moved as they came. He stumbled backwards as the jaws of a dozen corpses tore into the flesh of his screaming, terrified men, spilling blood over the warehouse floor and sending it arching into the air. Machine gun fire echoed deafening inside the hollow space, cutting the putrid flesh of the zombies to ribbons but not stopping them. Slowly they shambled towards their feast, driven by hunger and the will of their master. In very little time the warehouse had become a slaughter house, littered with dismembered corpses, both recent and rotting. The stench of blood and death was everywhere, and in the centre of it all stood Papa Lazarus, his bare feet leaving bloodied footprints as he stroad towards the terrified old man crouched in a corner of the building, the mad grin never leaving his painted face.
"You see, Mr Colosimo? For all your men and guns and money, you are still just a frightened man wetting his pants at the things that howl in the dark. I have been into that dark, Mr Colosimo. I have bathed in it, made love to it and brought it back with me. You have nothing that can touch me, stupid man. The best you can do is fear me and pray you do not displease me."
Alphonse Colosimo huddled himself tighter, trying to crawl further into the corner to escape the horror he'd seen in the witch doctor's black eyes. Papa Lazarus looked down at the broken mobster, seeming to drink in the man's terror before he turned away, replacing his sunglasses and walked back towards the suspended body of the late Jim Cole.
"I'm not a cruel man, Mr Colosimo. I would not leave you here so scarred and broken by what I have shown you," he said, kneeling in the cooling blood and dragging his fingertips through it. "But I am a man who believes in balance. Watch and I will show you how I can grant a man his revenge and be merciful at the same time." He gently traced his fingertips over the torso of Jim Cole's dead body, drawing new symbols amongst the white lines. The corpse twitched, then raised it head with a moan. Dead eyes stared out of a dead face, fixed on the trembling form of Alphonse Colosimo.
"I have what I came for," Papa Lazarus said with a smile, cutting the bonds of the newly raised zombie. "And now I shall leave you two alone. There is much I must do and I am sure you two have much to talk about."
Laughing loudly, Papa Lazarus opened the door to the warehouse and walked out into the cool night air. Behind him, the screams of terror and pain from mob boss Alphonse Colosimo grew louder and more frenzied until, with a final bloodied gurgle and a sickening crack, they stopped.
So, you returning with just Big G or have you plans for Blue Side too? 
))
We are? Funny, I hadn't noticed I was...
