A dark room lit only by a single flickering lamp swinging from the ceiling is both the first thing and last thing he'll see.
The brunt force of pointed blows working his midriff, each a reminder of his failure.
The boot to the instep, crushing every bone in his foot, just another point in the vig.
Typically Varry didn't like being so rough on a collection, people have issues after all, but not this punk.
He'd drained every cent from his family's trust fun, leaving them homeless, and even attempted to pawn his daughter's kidney to pay back this loan.
The panther's pity well had bottomed out.
The girl was in the other room, unsure of what she'd been brought here for. She'll be safe in protective custody soon, away from this shitheel.
As he worked the last couple of thousand dollars out of the punk's mouth, a solid gold filling and a really nice watch. This would cover the last of the principle but that poor child out there meant Varry had a couple more points of interest to collect out of this guy.

Once the coast was clear, he drug the deadbeat out before the boss, dropped him at her feet, and lit himself a cigarette.
Opal had it from here, and for the first time all day, he almost felt sorry for this little shit. She wouldn't be so gentle.


Opal:
Varry:
Art: