Strass currently lay face-up, eyes half open, mouth parted slightly like he'd died mid-plea.
His body had begun to settle, arms limp, one leg twisted under the other. Blood had spread around him in a warped halo, sticky and dark under the harsh overhead bulb.
Gary stood near the edge of that stain, his shoes now rimmed in drying red. He didn't look down. Just watched the movement around him.
The minions moved quickly—one set rearranging furniture and tossing debris into corners, while another pair carried in a black bag and dropped to a crouch beside Strass's body.
One of them grunted as he gripped under the dead man's shoulders. The other took his legs.
Zzzrrk—flop~
The body slid limply into the bag, the sound of it muffled by the thick plastic. The zipper followed. Rrrrrp~
