# Welcome To The Family

Title: Welcome To The Family
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon, Moe
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: SurpriseVisitor
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Welcome to the Family
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A right on this corner, a left on the next. I had made this journey a hundred times over since my transfer to Volcano High, and I was practically on autopilot. As I turn the corner, I nearly run into someone else walking down the sidewalk.
“‘Scuse me,” my mutter before I go to move on. The person I nearly bumped into steps in front of me. They’re wearing a long black trench coat and a hat that went out of fashion nearly a century ago.
“You Anon?” His voice is rough, raspy and moderately accented. Raptor Jesus, not this shit. Not today. My hand tightly grips the knife in my pocket.
“Not interested in whatever you’re selling. Move.”
“I think you should be.” The right half of his coat shifts to the side and the barrel of a gun pokes out, pointed straight at my chest. A jolt shoots across my spine, and my entire body freezes in place. A pair of footsteps sounds behind me, and something dark is draped over my head and wrapped taut around my neck, blocking my vision and threatening to strangle me. I try to struggle but the bag yanks my head backwards and someone jabs me in the kidney, forcing me to my knees. A car rolls up to the curb. A door opens, I’m practically thrown inside and it closes behind me.
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I don’t know how long I rode in that car, but eventually it comes to a stop and the door opens again. I’m dragged out and lead around by the neck for a while, then forced to sit in some sort of chair. A pair of straps come around my wrists and latch me in before the bag is finally removed. The room is large, dark save for a single, dim light from above, and mostly empty, each sound echoing off of the walls multiple times. Front and center of me is an aging, brown Tyrannosaurus wearing a pinstripe suit and staring me down with a cold fury, as well as at least half a dozen other figures standing around us.
“U-Uncle Moe?” He leans over and one of his tiny arms strikes me across the face.
“You’se eva call me dat again, and I swea’ on my life I’ll stick ya like a damn pig. Capiche?”
“Y-yes U-...Moe…”
“I SAID, ‘CAPICHE’?”
“YES SIR MISTER MOE!” I desperately scream. Moe brings his voice down to just above a whisper.
“Good. Good. Now, onta business. Jus’ what tha hell you been doin’ wit my little Lucy, eh?”
“Um, uh...d-dating her?” Moe cracks a smirk.
“Heh. You boys ‘ere dat? ‘Datin ‘er’. Heh.” The silhouettes in the room reply with their own chuckles and snickers.
“You’se wouldn’t lie to ol’ Uncle Moe, now would ya boy? Ya know what happens to punks that lie to ol’ Uncle Moe, right?” To accentuate his point, Moe moves behind one of his cohorts and then returns, dropping a pair of buckets right in front of me, smelling of...cement mix?
“N-No sir, Mister Moe, I’m...not lying.” My voice is almost impossible to keep steady, my panic rising with every second spent in this place.
“Ahh, good, good. We’d have a problem if you we’re. And ya treatin’ my lil’ princess good, right?”
“Of...of course, mister Moe…”
“Ya sure, punk? Cuz if I was to ‘ere ‘bout some punk treatin’ my lil’ princess poorly…” He trails off, certain that my imagination would be much worse than any threat he could come up with.
“Y-yes…?”
“I dunno, you’se don’t sound so sure to me. I mean, would’ja really be ‘ere right now if’n ya did nothin’ wrong?” Moe’s voice is gleefully malicious, like he enjoys threatening people with gruesome deaths.
“If’n I heard that some punk was out dere pumpin’ and dumpin’ my Lucy, dere’d be Hell to pay, see?” The silhouettes all echoed Moe’s ‘see’ with their own ‘yeah, see?’
I’m being accused of pumping and dumping someone even though I’m a virgin. This is some of the most hellish irony I’ve ever experienced.
“Especially if dey were lyin’ ‘bout it.”
“M-mister Moe, I...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ah, that’s alright kid. I’m pretty good at joggin’ folk’s memories, ya know?” He snaps his fingers, and one of the figures runs off into the room, returning with a wheeled cart. The cart is littered with all sorts of sharp implements, pliers, wrenches, and other tools. He picks up a metal grabber and holds it up to the dim light, his grin growing as he surveys it. It makes a menacing clacking noise as he toys with it. His gaze turns back towards me, filling me with abject terror.
“How ‘bout now, punk? Know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout now? Or am I gunna have ta get ‘creative’?” My panic crescendos at all the implications of that last word and I reflexively scream.
“I’m sorry Mister Moe!”
“Sorry for what, punk?!” Moe screams in reply.
“I’m sorry for pumping and dumping Lucy!” I shut my eyes and prepare for the worst. I can only hope my confession soothes Moe’s bloodlust enough to make it quick.
Moe’s fist bangs on the cart, causing all of the implements to clatter, and then a deep, hearty and mirthful uproar erupts from Moe. His assistants join soon after, all offering their chuckles and guffaws at my upcoming death. Seconds feel like minutes, filled with a terrible cacophony of laughter all directed at me.
“Ya see boys? That’s why ya’s gots ta be careful with dese kinds’a interrogations.” Moe leans over me, undoing the straps around my wrists, still chuckling to himself.
“Ya scare someone good enough, they’ll say anythin’ ya want. Even if it ain’t true.” He yanks me out of the chair and pulls me into the best hug he could manage, pounding his fist into my back.
“Welcome to da Family, Anon!”
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