Chapter 51 — Tossing Frank to T-Bag Counts as "Solving the Debt"
The voice came from behind him.
Frank Gallagher.
Of all places, of all moments… he just happened to be standing outside The Alibi Room.
William hadn't planned on it being this easy —
but if trouble comes walking to you, why complain?
He grabbed Frank by the collar one-handed,
lifting him the way someone would lift a misbehaving poodle.
"Perfect timing. I need something from you."
Without waiting for a reply, William opened the BMW's back door and threw Frank inside like a trash bag.
"SON OF A F—! What the hell are you—?!"
This was the same man William had paid last night to enjoy a free session.
No gratitude.
Just profanity.
Frank's voice alone was enough to give someone a migraine.
William pondered for two seconds…
then let his hand do the thinking.
Chop.
A swift karate-style strike to the side of the neck —
Frank slumped instantly, unconscious.
"Much better. Now if only there were a way to keep him silent forever…"
And then —
a lightbulb.
William smiled.
---
Half an hour later.
South Side Hospital
The head nurse spotted him immediately.
"If you're here for Bianca, she's on the night shift. Come later."
"I know. I'm not here to see Bianca."
She paused, confused.
"You sick?"
"Something like that. Heading to the doctor."
Since it sounded reasonable enough, she didn't pry.
Once she left, William studied the floor directory.
Neurology → Third floor.
Moments later, he stood in the neurology wing.
Wheelchairs everywhere, spouses and parents hovering anxiously.
It didn't take long before William found what he was looking for.
A young man, early twenties, sitting in a wheelchair, eyes clear but speechless — diagnosed with neurogenic aphasia.
A rare stroke-related disorder that destroys the brain's speech center. Fully conscious, fully sane… but unable to form words beyond stutters and sounds.
A mother wept beside him.
"My poor boy… why did this have to happen to him…"
William leaned closer, putting on a concerned expression.
"Hey… what happened to him?"
The boy's mother finally had someone to vent to, and the sorrow poured out of her like a broken faucet.
William nodded sympathetically.
"Oh… poor kid. I hope he gets better soon."
He patted the boy's head — and at that exact moment, activated the Disease Transference ability.
The aphasia was quietly erased from the boy's brain
and stored safely inside William's "disease vault."
The child would start speaking normally very soon.
Which meant it was time to get out.
The last thing William wanted was to be mistaken for a miracle healer in a country where believers multiply faster than rabbits and every third person thinks God personally DM-s them.
He slipped away.
Ten minutes later…
The previously mute boy in the waiting room suddenly blurted:
"Mom, that nurse's melons were HUGE."
His mother froze.
Then—
"OH MY GOD! JESUS HAS TOUCHED MY SON!!!"
Her screaming drew half the neurology department over.
William, meanwhile, was already in the parking lot.
Sitting in his BMW, he transferred the aphasia from the vault into Frank Gallagher's body.
Then he drove to North Wallace.
There was only one suspicious vehicle parked outside the Gallagher home: a battered pickup with two men inside, watching the house.
The debt collectors.
William lit a cigarette, walked up, and knocked on the window.
The motorized window rolled down a few centimeters.
A dead-eyed man glared at him.
"Fuck off."
The official American greeting.
He started to roll the window up —
but William casually pressed his palm against the glass.
RRRRRR–K—K—K—
The motor stalled and died.
Both debt collectors stared.
"What the fuck is your problem, man?"
"You didn't even ask what I wanted," William replied. "You just decided I'm here to start shit."
Then he pressed slightly harder—
BANG.
The glass pane dropped back into the door.
Window motor destroyed.
Even the big one in the passenger seat went instinctively for his gun.
William ignored him completely and looked at the driver.
"You're looking for Frank, right?
He's in my car."
He pointed to the BMW.
The two men blinked, exchanged a look, and hurried out to verify.
They opened the back door.
Frank, unconscious inside.
They turned back to William.
"…Alright. What's the catch?"
William shrugged.
"No catch. Your debt, your business. Break his arms, break his legs — do whatever the hell you want. Honestly?
If you take a kidney you might get some profit out of him."
Then his tone sharpened.
"But you leave Fiona and the kids out of it.
No more visits. No threats. No more involvement.
Deal?"
The two men looked at each other again.
The driver smirked, showing those yellow cigarette-stained teeth.
"A romantic, huh? Sure. You brought us the guy — this is strictly between us and Gallagher. We don't bother the family again."
Every word out of his mouth was a lie, of course —
but William didn't plan on giving them a second chance anyway.
"So? Deal?"
"Deal."
The big one slung Frank over his shoulder and tossed him onto the pickup bed like luggage.
A system chime rang instantly:
[Ding! Task complete — Help Fiona resolve Frank's debt.
Reward unlocked: Spanish Language Mastery]
Perfect.
As the pickup door was closing, the driver handed William a business card.
"We might do business again someday. Keep in touch."
William glanced at the name:
Theodore Bagwell
…Wait.
That name was way too familiar.
No way.
He looked up at the beady-eyed, permanently smirking man.
"Maybe...T-Bag."
That made Theodore squint.
"…How the hell do you know most people call me that?"
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