3. The Assault

Drama

von  Mutter

In a dark alleyway, a lone figure appears and walks slowly towards the left. More figures, about half a dozen, become visible behind the solitary man.
They quickly approach and surround the man.
A fight ensues.
A little later, all of the assailants apart from one are down. The lone character presses the last attacker against a wall, trapping him with his lower arm.

THE MACHINE (hisses): Do you know who I am, you little piece of shit?

ATTACKER (barely able to breeze): No, I don’t.

THE MACHINE: They call me “The Machine”. Do you happen to know why I was sent over here?

THE ATTACKER (wheezes): I have no fucking clue.

THE MACHINE: I was sent to do some cleaning. To scrub the Dublin outhouse, scrub it well and good. Should I start with you, you little scumbag?

THE ATTACKER: *coughs*

THE MACHINE: Who sent you? Here, I mean, to me?

THE ATTACKER: They call him Mr. Trout. I have no idea what his real name is.

THE MACHINE: Where would I find this Mr. Trout?

THE ATTACKER: Downtown. We were to meet him in a little pub off Grafton Street.

THE MACHINE: And you, little rascal – are you of any more use to me now?

THE ATTACKER: …

THE MACHINE: Guess not, then. Bleeding Jesus, but you are a bunch of amateurs.

The Machine drops the last attacker to the floor. He walks slowly away, to the end of the alley.
The Machine whistles softly.

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