bad blood ;
INCOMING CALL: UNKNOWN.
He lets it ring twice before connecting. An ID isn't necessary; this is a call he's been anticipating for a long time. The voice on the other end of the line hasn't been heard in over two months, but he remembers it like it's been two hours.
"Hello, Michael."
"Put my brother on the phone."
"Your brother's indisposed, but I can tell him you said 'hi.'"
"If you hurt him --"
"What? You'll kill me? As much as I love hearing you whisper sweet nothings, I have a deadline to meet. So why don't we just skip the foreplay and get right down to business before you cost Lincoln his head, how does that sound?" Without allowing Michael to interject, she continues fluidly, "Fantastic. It's simple: you are gonna forget all about that little card and everything that goes with it, or I recommend you start making arrangements for a closed casket funeral -- because I can promise you, Michael, you'll be burying your big brother in pieces. And in case that's not enough incentive, I'll even throw Burrows Junior into the mix just to spice things up. Am I making myself clear?"
Despite the internal storm raging with a ferocity that makes his vision swim, Michael's every syllable is steady and controlled. "And how do I know you're not bluffing, and he's not dead already -- ? Put him on the phone, now."
"I'll send you a picture, for old time's sake. I'm sure you were sentimental enough to hold onto Sara's."
"Mention her name again and it'll be the last thing you ever do."
"You have 24 hours to make a decision before I contact you again. Stand down, or Linc and his head are going to part ways."
The line goes dead before he can say another word.
