"Wake the fuck up!" Prescott roared while simultaneously slapping the dog shit out of his former buisness partner, Nathan Robles. "I said wake the fuck up!" He repeated. After a short period of time it became apparent that this battered motherfucker wasn't going to wake up so rather than eye the motherfucker down, Prescott turns to his subordinate. "Dexter, go get this Muppet a cup of water." He instructed prompting the teenager to nod his head repeatedly and dissappear up the basement stairs. The entire time Dexter was gone, Prescott couldn't help but grill the motherfucker who robbed him. Eventually, Dexter returned with a tall glass of water, handing it over to Prescott who accepts it, he watches his boss fling the contents inside the glass all over Robles who reluctantly awoke from his slumber breathing heavily. It was as if he had just came up after being submerged under water for several minutes. The first this Robles noticed when his eyes popped open was the man in front of him. His eyes broadened, his heart raced as he desperately tried to get away but unfortunately, his effort was foiled courteously of the chain like restraints on his wrists and ankles. "W-what the fuck is this?" He asks nervously.
"Nate," Prescott trailed off. His intent was to create some suspense between himself and his long time buisness partner. "Where's my fuckin money?" He asks, hoping to get to the bottom of this quick. "How the fuck did you know about that?" Nate wanted to ask but instead, he kept it to himself as he simply looks up. "What the fuck are you talking about? Prescott, baby, you know me. You know I don't fuck around." He reminded the kingpin, hoping that no further harm would come to him. Prescott urged his frame forward, standing right before nate who sat in one of those chair desk contraptions you would see in a high school. Once he was standing right in front of him, the Brit cups the back of Robles' neck with his (Prescott's) right hand and slams him head first into the desk, which only causes immense trauma to the man's head. Nate winced in pain as he shot back upright, looking up at the madman with one eye open. "Come on, I worked for your father! He and I built this operation together. I'm family, p-please, please don't do this!" He pleaded, if he wasn't restrained he would have probably extended both of his hands in front of him to try to keep Prescott away.
"Come on, I worked with your father!" Prescott repeated, mimcing the battered man in a child like tone. "Shut the fuck up, Nate! No, as a matter of fact keep talking, tell me where the fuck you hid my money, those are my girls and when my girls go out there and suck dick I get paid so I'm gonna ask you one more time motherfucker, where's my fuckin money!" Robles' swayed his head dismissively, suggesting he didn't want to speak but there was something about Prescott's eyes that made him want to. He had no choice. "L-look," He staggered over his words, prompting the Englishman to raise a brow. "I-I spent it but I can get it all back! I can get it all back I swear!" Prescott didn't want to hear that shit, if there was one thing he wasn't going to tolerate in his operation, it was a fucking thief. He removed his signature stainless steel revolver from its concealed holster and pressed the nose right up against Nates' big as head. "Man, fuck that! You gotta pay for this shit!" Before Nate could make another excuse, Prescott squeezed the trigger and rocked Nathan Robles to sleep forever. "Dexter, clean this shit up." Holsteing his weapon, the wicked Englishman left leaving nineteen year old Dexter to make sure it looked like this shit never even happened.