“Screw you!” the dry one answered. The wet one did nothing but piss and moan.

“Just getting a little information, that’s all,” He took his gun and struck the man’s bleeding ankle. He screamed in agony, “Now want to tell me who you are? While you’re at it, tell me who sent you.”

The man’s face paled, “You’re not him.”

“I’m the man you delivered that nice little death letter to. I can’t say that made my day any sunnier. Now would you like another knock on that tender ankle of yours? It’s amazing how much it hurts to have an injury aggravated, isn’t it?” He pressed the barrel of his gun into the wound for emphasis.

“I don’t know! I swear!” He shouted, “We were just told to come here and pay for the goods. If Bob gave us trouble we were to take care of him.”

“Do I look like a Bob to you?” He asked.
He shook his head, “They only told us where Bob would be. If you’re not Bob who are you?”

“I’m Rick,” Rick answered.

The man grimaced, “Well, Rick, you just stepped in some deep shit.”