“Okay, Terry.” Twiggy Banks said, “I’ll bite. Your memory is swiss cheese, but you decide these two douche-bags are setting you up to take me out, and go down for the count?”

“Right.”

“So, you call me, a particularly lethal ex-con who may or may not have left you for dead in a bathroom and warn me that you’re coming my way armed to the teeth – why?”

“I recently entered the revenge business. The scales of justice are tipped the wrong way here. I just want to right the scale.”

“Okay, here’s what you’re gonna do.” Twiggy twirled a toothpick with his tongue. “Come to me. Lead the ‘tard twins my way. I’ll take ‘em out; then you go on your way.”

Twiggy ended the call, biting his lip.

“Marcus,” he called. “Our favorite dirty cops have a new hair-brained scheme. Some nervous snitch who doesn’t trust ‘em is leading ‘em here, lambs to the slaughter. Take care of it.”

“What do I do with the good shepherd?“

Twiggy twirled his toothpick, thinking. “No loose ends. There’s only so much revenge to go around.”