*If they take everything else away, all that is left is vengeance*
"I'm not sure what you want me to do?" The Man questioned after the woman had laid out her story to him. Mr. R had already heard it sometime before but stayed in the room for the retelling. "The man has already struck. There is nothing to be salvaged here."
"I want revenge," Valerie Coombs responded intently. The Man knew of her vaguely; she'd been a fashion model and spokeswomen for a variety of products when she was younger, but that had been years ago. Now she was thirty and burned up. That was apparently before she had become an internet porn sensation for a series of violent rape videos.
According to Ms. Coombs she had not been a totally willing participant, at least in the beginning. Once she had been lured into the life, she found she couldn't get out. Exactly what the Man was supposed to do about that wasn't very clear to him.
"I'm not in the vengeance business. This isn't a problem I can solve. I can't turn back time and undue the things he's done and it sounds like the two of you aren't in business anymore."
"He destroyed me," Valerie insisted. "He left me nowhere else to go but being a slam-queen; a slut who gets beaten up and slapped around."
"You get paid for this. It is your job. Can't you quit?" the Man persisted.
"And do what?" Valerie countered. The Man took a deep breath.
"Is me finding a way to deal with this man going to make your life easier?" The Man persisted.
"Yes; knowing this man has gotten what is coming to him," she stated.
"And what would that be?" The Man asked. Valerie looked confused.
"I don't know. That is why I came here," Valerie admitted. Mr. R. cleared his voice.
"I've crossed paths with Tony Johnson on two separate occasions. Your predecessor was able to convince him to resolve the situation in my favor, but we let him off with warnings. I want an end to this situation," Mr. R. told him.
"I don't do wet work," The Man stated firmly.
"My friend, I am not telling you to do this; I am asking you to do this for me as a favor," Mr. R. said. The Man didn't know what to say. He feared this would end badly, but he owed Mr. R not only his livelihood, but his life. The man known as The Man would be some drunk in a bar if it wasn't for Mr.R.
"I'll do it Sir," The Man nodded. "I believe Ms. Coombs and I will need to work out the details."
"Call me Valerie," she requested.
"Well Valerie, let's go out for lunch and we can talk about Tony Johnson. Anything and everything you can tell me will help."
(Four days later)
"Oh, you're awake Mr. Johnson. That's good. You are probably feeling nauseous and dry mouthed. Here let me give you some water." The Man proceeded to do just that.
"Who the fuck are you?" he rasped. Johnson could feel the leg and his handcuffed behind his back. All he had on were his boxers. He had no recollection of how he got here.
"That's not important. One thing that is relevant to you is that you've pissed off one very important person."
"Who?" he growled. The man had little fear, noted The Man.
"You will know that soon enough," The Man continued. "The thing that is important to you right now is that you know where you are, what has been tattooed to your chest, and the realization that you don't read or speak Spanish."
"What the fuck ... where am I?" Johnson sounded concerned.
"Guatemala, Mr. Johnson. To be more precise, you are outside the Lacenica Correctional facility in the remote jungles of this country. Only people associated with this prison ever comes out here. I am pretty sure the US Embassy hardly knows this place exists. There are no phone calls to the outside world. You are totally alone."
"It doesn't matter. I'll get out," Johnson promised.
"Not likely; see not even the warden speaks English. Likewise your money has been frozen ... you've been linked to a child pornography ring back in the States. Some very skilled forensic accounts are working pro bono on sniffing out all your hidden accounts." The Man continued.
"Fine; you've got me. How do I get out of this?" He grumbled.
"You don't. Every month I'm going to get an update on your condition, plus a time-date stamped video of the inmates having fun with you," The Man explained.
"Screw that. I'm not afraid of this place," he responded by flexing his mighty physique. "I'll end up running this prison."
"Not likely; see a serious Latino street gang in the US has tattooed you with their 'traitor's' mark, plus I've added the nice little script in Spanish on your chest that says 'I like raping little boys and little girls', so I doubt very much you will be popular with the inmates. You are going to be their Yankee bitch," The Man shrugged. Johnson surged against his restraints, but larger and stronger men had tried the same thing and failed. The Man wasn't taking any chances.
Johnson began looking more concerned.
"What do you want?" he seethed.
"Oh, I'm only waiting for my employer to arrive. They wanted to see you before you go inside. They are not allowed in there for reasons that will be obvious," The Man told him.
Joe, his mercenary buddy came and gave The Man a nod.
"Who is that?" Johnson asked indicating Joe.
"She's not important to you; who is coming is," The Man said in a voice devoid of compassion. Valerie walked through the door Joe was holding open.
"Valerie? What the hell is going on here? Tell this asshole to let me go," Joe demanded.
"Tony," Valerie addressed Johnson, "you took my life away. I lost things I can never get back. You took my dignity, my respect, and my reputation. You turned me into a whore."
"Don't give me that," Tony spat, "I made you a ton of money too."