The bar was grimy and low-rent, the kind of dive that was only frequented by dirty old men and politicans with a dirty secret. And that was how Micky The Pig liked it. He knew the girls, he knew the barkeep, and he knew most of the clientele. Not bad for a gangster's stooge. Of course, it was hard for him to enjoy the bar the way he usually did, what with getting the living daylights kicked out of him by Dancer.
"Perhaps I didn't make it clear, Mickey. You're going to tell me what I want to know, or I will take great satisfaction in pounding your face into the floor. And I'm sure Ernie O'Reilly won't take kindly to the news that his own cousin's been selling information to Rajiv"
Micky spat out a broken tooth. Damned ex-cop. Most would've been happy to retire and enjoy the pension, but not Dancer, no. He had to go around blackmailing honest crooks and forcing them to hand over sensitive information. At least Rajov gave good solid bribes.
"Are You Blackmailing me?"
"Absolutely. Now give me the god-damn name"
"Go to hell, Dancer, You'll get nothing from me"
Dancer sighed. It was going to be rough on Mickey when he'd finished. Thank god for the NHS.
"Alright then"
He pulled Mickey upright and punched him in the face, blacking one of his eyes. Then he broke a rib and kneed him in the groin. Mickey buckled and fell, wimpering slightly in pain.
"Name Please. Or I'll break another rib"
"Damn you, Dancer"
"Name"
"Alright, alright. I'll give you the name. Just give me a hand, will you?"
Dancre hauled him to his feet. Mickey gave him a sour look, letting Dancer know exactly wht he thought of him.
"The name's Zachariah. That's all I know. Find him, you'll find whatever the hell it is you want"
"Thankyou, Micky. And I'd make bloody sure not to sell anything more to Rajiv. Not if you want to make it through the next week"
