This part is short, I know, but I only promised five hundred words a day, and it is late. Anyway, this is the third installment of Richard's story. Hope you enjoy.
They stopped outside the alley where Richard had met the wolf. The wolf got out, and Richard followed, not taking another glance at the badger and the rabbit pulling away. "Well?" Richard asked as the wolf began walking.
"Well what?" The wolf paused to eye the fox.
"My money. You promised me five hundred when the job was done."
"You fucked up, kid."
"What?" Richard was incredulous. "You got what you wanted, and we got away easy. They were still two minutes away when we left!"
"I said I'd pay you if you could get us in without raising the alarm. You didn't."
"You have what you want." Richard was seething. "It made no difference. They'll assume it was some malfunction. A clean job. I want my money."
"Or you'll what, kid?" The wolf turned to face him, leering. "You're a pipsqueak. I say you didn't perform, and people who don't perform don't get paid."
Richard bared his teeth. He was short, yes, even for a fox his age, but that didn't change he had done everything he was asked to do. He deserved it. He was not going to be denied. Not again. "My. Money."
"Go home, kid. Run back to mommy and daddy. Ask them for your money."
That was the last straw. Richard's muzzle pulled into a snarl. He could see the amusement on the wolf's face at his rage, but the wolf quickly sobered when Richard pulled the pistol he had in his jacket.
The wolf quickly took stock of the situation. It wasn't his first time staring down the barrel of a gun, but he had to admit the kid had surprised him. The safety catch was off, the kid had a firm, two-handed grip, and the gun didn't waver. The wolf didn't show it, but he was mildly impressed. He would have never guessed the kid had it in him.
"You sure you want to do that, sonny?"
"A simple deal, you said. We go in, we go out, I get five hundred credits, we never see each other again. Now, you give me my money, or I swear you'll never see anyone again."
The wolf took a long, measured look at the pistol. A small part of him noticed it was a nice piece of work, but the rest just noticed that it still hadn't moved a centimetre. "Fine, kid." He pulled out his wallet--slowly, just in case--and counted out five hundreds. "Straight cash." He threw it on the ground. "Don't spend it all at once." Without another word, the wolf turned and walked off into the night.
Richard lowered the pistol as the wolf rounded a corner. He flicked the safety back on and wiped a hand across his brow. He hadn't been entirely sure what he would have done if the wolf had said no. He was loathe to murder, but he desperately needed the cash, and he had put himself on the line for that wolf. He holstered the pistol and examined the bills. They were genuine. He put them in his wallet and sighed. It was late. Eating would have to wait until the morning. He glanced ruefully at his stomach. He was small, yes, but even smaller than he should be. Food had been hard to come by, but this would keep him eating for a while.
The fox turned and walked down the street. There was a disused park nearby. A bench would serve as a bed. In the morning, he would treat himself to some eggs. He went to sleep with a smile on his face and drool dripping down his muzzle.