Whitney had been watching everything over the security screens with Parker and the Widow. Needless to say, she was less than pleased. First he tells her to kill and now she’s knocking on their front door and killing her men. Not his men, her men. Trained, loyal men, who her father begrudgingly sent over to her and for what? Spider food. Whitney sneered at the screens before swatting the chair away on her way out, rolling her eyes at the man at the door. “Keep your eye on them.” she said when she’d had enough of them.

She went down to rec room, knowing full well Parker would probably invite her up into their home. The men greeted her as she expected them to and as they always did; with sideways glaces and little respect. She walked up to the bar and slapped the counter with a gloved palm. “Vodka, on the rocks.” she said loud enough for the barkeep and a few others around the counter top to hear. But he was yammering on with a small group of others, and she huffed audibly before taking her knife from her thigh and jamming it into the counter top, which got their attentions well enough. “Are you deaf?”

The bartender swallowed and shook his head, muttered some sorry excuse for an apology and went to get her drink. Some drunken buffoon thought he’d be smart and make a comment about her mask. “What’s the point, s’not like you can drink it anyways.” he said loud enough for most of the room to hear, and his friends crowded around him laughed at his joke. Whitney breathed out a laugh through her nose and shook her head a tiny bit, turning around to face him.
“You think you’re funny, huh?”
The guy grinned at her and shrugged. “I try. Seriously though, why don’t you take off that mask and toss back a few drinks? You do it with the boss man, why not with us? While you’re at it you can take off that suit.” There were a few ‘oooh’s’ from the crowd and Whitney ran her tongue over her bottom lip, seeing red.

She raised an eyebrow and walked up to him, leaving her knife in the bar counter as she closed the gap between them, her golden face a few inches from his red one. “You wanna see what’s under here?” she asked, barely above a whisper but it was so quite you could hear a pin drop. She reached between her legs and slipped out her other, larger knife and slid the tip up his thigh, smirking when she felt it stop. “You wanna fuck around with me?” she asked, leaning away and as quick as a flash slashed between his legs, the scream he emitted music to her ears. She slammed his head into the counter of the bar and jumped up onto it, taking the bottle of vodka from the bartenders hands and smashing the bottle across his face.
“Lighter.” she said to the bartender, who was frozen to the spot. “Lighter!” she demanded, and he scurried off to find one as the man clutched at his head and tried his best to run. Whitney snatched the heavy zippo from the bartender and flicked it on, tossing it at the man as he ran. Everyone gasped and stood back as he screamed, his head instantly bursting into flames as he sank to his knees, pleading for someone, anyone, to help him.

Whitney let his dying scream hang in the air for a good thirty second before she spoke again. “I know most of you don’t know who I am. I hear who you think I am; Masked Whore, Boss’ Plaything, Ugly Cunt.” She sneered at all of them underneath her mask. “But the only thing you need to call me is Madame. Boss will also suffice. When The Hood isn’t here, I am in command. Not you, me. I may be the only woman here, but that does not mean I am here to warm your boss’ bed. I am here because I am damn good at what I do. On top of this shitpile I help to operate I have more than a dozen establishments under my name in Europe. The Hood asked me here because I know how to run a business, not because of my pretty face.” she said, and she saw a few of them exchange weary looks. “The key to good business is good employees. You haven’t been very good employees. And know this; you are all replaceable. Every. Single. One of you.” She paused to let her words linger before speaking again. “You have a nice set up here, you can’t deny it. All you have to do to keep it is 1. Do your goddamn job and 2. Respect your employers. Those consist of The Hood and myself. The end.”

She jumped down off the countertop with all the grace of an Olympic level gymnast and walked through the parted crowds as she spoke her last words. “If you don’t want to end up as fish food, you will do what we say, when we say it, with no lip. Or you’ll end up like this balless, brainless fucker.” she said, kicking the corpse on her way out.

“Clean this mess up!”