Slimy Pete's jaw seemed to ricochet under the fist that was connecting with it. This would seem unsual, except that Slimy Pete lived up to his name, owing more of his looks to frogs than people. Of course, this is not to say that it didn't hurt. Just that, no matter how much you hit Slimy Pete, he always bounced back. Which wasn't pleasing St. Nikki at all.
"Pete, I have this intellectual quandary." Pete, not the most intellectual of the Spring Court's shadier side, wasn't the most qualified to answer questions involving thinking, but then, St. Nikki wasn't interested in answers. He was too angry for that. He paced on his paws, his canines gnashing as he spoke, his eyes flared with rage.
"See, not that long ago, I was saying to my friends, 'Hey, Slimy Pete, he wouldn't try and sell me out to the Winter Court, spoil my little racket', but not only does he prove me wrong, he tries to have my ass hauled off by our thankfully absent ex-Lords and Ladies." Pete paused in his constant pacing to glare at Pete once more, who gulped. "Now this, as you might expect, makes me real unhappy. And normally, when I'm unhappy," his fist lashed out, and Slimy Pete's jaw bounced once more ", I hit something."
St. Nikki grabbed Pete's copious cheeks, and stretched them "Of course, the magnitude of what you did doesn't just make me angry," a kick this time ", it makes me furious, and even if I hit you" (a fist) "again" (an elbow) ", and again" (a knee) ", and again" (another fist) ", it's not going to make me any happier, because the sight of your face is making me angrier and angrier."
He gestured round, at the factory below them, where workers had earlier been busy making toys "See, this is what spring, to me, is all about. Pleasure, but transient pleasure. These toys," he continued, picking up a teddy bear ", are nice, they make kids happy, but" he paused to rip an arm off, a leg, and finally a head ", like all pleasures, they don't last. But they're dirt cheap, because we make 'em, and we want kids happy. But you, Pete. You don't want anyone happy, and this shows, because you broke the biggest rule in our lovely group, the one to which we all nominally belong."
St. Nikki pushed his slavering fangs in front of Slimy Pete's face for emphasis, and barked out every word, his fur bristling with rage "YOU DON'T SELL YOUR BROTHERS OUT, AND YOU DEFINITELY DON'T DO IT TO OUR SLAVEMASTERS!"
Panting with rage and effort, Nikki pulled himself back, straightened his suit, and sighed. Pete, normally just slimy, was now literally slick with fear.
"Pete, you could make all the excuses in the world, you could sweet talk me, but that still wouldn't get over the intellectual problem that, every time I saw your face, I'd get so mad I'd have to rearrange your face a few times just to be merely seething. So..." he pulled out a silenced 9mm, and levelled it at the wide eyed Pete "...I'm going to take a little pleasure in making sure I don't get angry again, and nobody's going to complain."
The shot rang throughout the empty warehouse.
St. Nikki sighed. He wondered if the Spring Court was for him anymore, with all the vile things he sometimes did. But then he smiled, as he held the broken teddybear in his hands, and it became fresh again. At least he made little kids happy, for a while, and he wasn't breaking any laws.
"Ho frickin' ho."