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[color=Silver][color=Gold]"Y'know, Mister Cranston, I can't help but feel like at least some of this is on me,"[/color] I say, feeling the man's leg wriggling in my outstretched arm.

[color=Bisque]"Christ, I-I-I didn't do nothin'!"[/color] the fat balding man in a suit way too expensive for him blubbers, the blood rushing to his head turning his face red as he dangles upside-down in my grip. Ten stories below him, a shiny new Rolls catches a sunbeam and gleams brightly. [color=Bisque]"I was j-just followin' our contract!"[/color]

[color=Gold]"Uh-huh,"[/color] I sneer. [color=Gold]"Then maybe you wanna tell me why I got a call from little old Missus Thompson in Apartment 22D? Sweet old lady from the sound of it, says she's retired, livin' on a fixed income, tryin' to take care of her grandkids. She calls me just about ready to burst into tears, askin' me where the hell I get off callin' myself a hero while drainin' good people of money they can't afford to lose."[/color]

[color=Bisque]"B-b-but you're a Hero for Hire,"[/color] the landlord protests, [color=Bisque]"Everybody knows you d-don't work f-f-for free!"[/color]

[color=Gold]"That's right,"[/color] I nod, [color=Gold]"Everyone knows we're no charity. I get those sorta calls all the time, wonderin' why my associates an' I charge a reasonable rate for our services, when people like Iron Man do what they do for free. I told her the same thing I tell everyone: we're not Tony Stark. We don't have unlimited money to cover damages, medical bills, legal fees, all that. So we ask for a reasonable, affordable rate so we can continue to offer premium protection to all our clients."[/color]

Mister Cranston nods. [color=Bisque]"S-s-so what's--"[/color]

[color=Gold]"Missus Thompson doesn't accept that, though,"[/color] I cut him off, [color=Gold]"Tells me she's gonna lose her home, that she an' her sweet little grandkids are gonna be out on the street 'cause that fee's too much for her. Apparently other folks in this building are sayin' the same thing, too. Now the word is goin' round that Heroes for Hire is a shake-down operation, just another protection racket like all the punk-ass gangs we run off."[/color]

Mister Cranston can see how unhappy I am, and he's starting to sweat.

[color=Gold]"All that raised my eyebrow. So I asked Missus Thompson how much she's paying."[/color]

[color=Bisque]"Three hundred a m-month, j-just like we agreed on!"[/color]

[color=Gold]"Three hundred a month [i]for the whole building,[/i] asshole,"[/color] I correct him. [color=Gold]"You got at least four hundred, four-fifty people livin' here. So each individual tenant would be payin' less than a dollar apiece. See, we protect a lot of buildings in this neighborhood, an' the idea is we sell more for less. By keepin' our rates low, we get more folks willin' to do business. So we get to cover all our expenses an' make a comfortable living, while the people livin' in buildings like this get top-shelf heroics for less than a cup of coffee."[/color]

My grip on the man's ankle tightens a little. Not enough to actually hurt him, just enough to let him know I'm not happy.

[color=Gold]"[i]Unless,[/i]"[/color] I say, [color=Gold]"some greedy-ass landlord looks on the Heroes for Hire website, sees that we've got a Neighborhood Rate that just says $300 a month, an' decides to start charging $300 [i]per tenant[/i]. So y'know what? That part's on me. I shoulda been more specific. My bad."[/color]

[color=Bisque]"Y-yeah, it was j-j-just a m-misunderstanding!"[/color] he pleads.

[color=Gold]"I thought that,"[/color] I nod, [color=Gold]"Give you the benefit of the doubt. But I looked in our records, found your payment history. You've been givin' us the correct amount, the $300 for the building. So where's the rest of that money goin', Mister Cranston?"[/color]

I glance over the ledge of the building, and looking at the Rolls parked in his reserved spot, I give a low whistle.

[color=Gold]"That's one nice set of wheels, man,"[/color] I say. [color=Gold]"Looks pretty new, too. Same with that suit you're wearin', an' that watch on your wrist."[/color]

I let my grip slip just a little bit, enough to let him drop maybe a half-inch before I catch him again.

[color=Bisque]"Oh God!"[/color] Cranston cries. [color=Bisque]"I-I'm sorry, okay, I'm sorry!"[/color]

[color=Gold]"Damn right, you're sorry,"[/color] I say, casually carrying him back from the ledge and dumping him on the rooftop. [color=Gold]"An' your sorry ass is gonna make this right. You're gonna give back [i]every single cent[/i] you've been skimmin' off these people. You're gonna apologize, in person, to every tenant in this building, and then [i]maybe[/i] I don't press charges against you for defaming the business I bust my ass to maintain. An' that's [i]if[/i] your tenants don't take your ass to court first."[/color]

[color=Bisque]"Y-you can't j-just--"[/color]

My phone buzzes, and I put up a hand to silence the pudgy landlord.

[color=Gold]"Cage here,"[/color] I answer. [color=Gold]"Uh-huh.....right. We got anyone in Lower Manhattan right now?....uh-huh....well, see if we can get someone in the area. I'll send for the car an' make my way to Brooklyn; that block's got paying clients. Be there in five."[/color]

I end the call, and shrug.

[color=Gold]"I got work to do, Mister Cranston,"[/color] I say as I walk past him towards the stairs. [color=Gold]"You got til the end of the week to make this right, or we're gonna have a few more words."[/color][/color]