The overcast sky seemed to roll like the waves at the harbor. The dark trembles of the water reflected within me. It's been 10 years since I left this place to live in Venice. Still, Gotham hadn't changed in the slightest. Just as bleak and ominous as ever. A slight smile found my lips as I rode through the city in luxury. Steam or smoke billowed from the rooftops, adding to the gloomy atmosphere. It couldn't have been more different than Italy. At 21 years old, I've finally returned home and to the closest family that remained to me, my uncle Salvatore Maroni.
"Gianna." The large man held out his arms for a bear hug as a greeting when I finally arrived. I gave a simple curtsy and kissed his cheek traditionally when he released me. "It's good to see you again. My sister's only child. You look like your mother even more than when I last saw you." Smiling fondly and patting my cheek, he took my arm with his and led me inside his restaurant.
"I see you haven't changed much, Uncle Sal." I responded, to which he laughed. One of his men held out chairs for us and we sat together.
"Are you hungry, Gia? Anything you want, just name it."
With a nod of gratitude, I replied sweetly. "I wouldn't want to be too much trouble... May I see a menu?" I asked one of the attending men.
Uncle Sal gave him an affirmative nod and the man withdrew into the kitchen. "Hey, get back to your duty and stop gawking around." I very faintly heard the man say, but my attention was soon back on my uncle.
"How have you been?"
Shrugging nonchalantly, he answered, "I've never been better."
A menu was handed to me, I smiled in thanks to the man who recieved it. "Well that's quite a vague answer." I chuckled softly to myself.
Uncle Sal either didn't hear me or acted like he didn't. "Have you met someone- a woman?" I asked more specifically as I flipped a page and glanced up to him.
He smiled warmly, "I certainly would have told you if that were the case. Is Veni worried for me?"
"Oh no, she knows you well enough to not worry about those things." we laughed together. I held the menu out for someone to take it and I addressed the person with my order. I looked back at my uncle; suddenly I saw how time had changed him. Laugh lines cornered his mouth, but worry marks were permanently etched into his forehead as well.
"I just thought I would ask.. I.. haven't heard from you in years uncle Sal.."
The table grew quiet as I looked down towards the table, biting my cheek and feeling my fists grow tight. It had probably been five years since we had spoken. It was understandable really, he had gotten so busy with his work. I had a life in Venice, but finally I felt the need to return. It was time. Passed time, honestly. "I kind of thought you had forgotten about me." My soft words sounded cold and deadpan, hanging in the air.
"Gia.." I glanced up once more, feeling fire behind my eyes. "Leave us for the moment." He addressed the men in the room. A few stood outside for a cigarette break, the others retired to the back room. My teeth worked madly at the inside of my cheek, an angry habit that has stayed with me for years. He looked back at me and his eyes had softened sadly. Eyes he couldn't express freely in front of others. "I never forgot about you." His tone sounded like a declared oath.
"Did you forget the promise you made me?" The thoughts were out of my mouth before I could catch them. "Do you know who is responsible for my parents death? For your sister's death?" He made a hard fist on the table, angry at my challenging tone, but understanding the ferocity behind the words.
"I didn't forget. But things are complicated here in Gotham, you know this place is different."
"Are you telling me you know who killed them?" I demanded, fists gripped around the arms of my chair. "And you haven't done anything?"
"I don't know yet who killed them, but the man who ordered their death is the most powerful man in Gotham. He's practically untouchable."
In sweltering anticipation, I leaned forward. "And his name is..?"
He watched me with a hard stare, a begrudging twitch worked over his mouth when he spat the name. "Don Carmine Falcone."
My eyebrows raised as I reclined just slightly. So it was him... Don Falcone.. I closed my eyes for a couple seconds as his face etched in my mind. Or what I remembered about his face anyway. I could see his lighthearted laugh and stern fatherly-like finger as he gently chided me out of my father's study.
The man my father worked for, the man who had him and my mother killed. Falcone. Something inside me at that moment had uncoiled. Even though I hadn't seen or even thought of that man in years, it suddenly seemed to make sense. Somehow, in a twisted fashion. But that was Gotham.
Now I see why Uncle Sal created his own crime enterprise when he sent me away. I let out a long breath and opened my eyes, a delicate smile gracing my face. "So.. dear uncle, what is the plan?" His scheming smile put my heart at ease. His men were called back into the room, our dinner was served and we enjoyed the rest of an otherwise peaceful evening. Not many of those would be left to us.
"I can't keep doing this. Why are you having me taking notes and counting bottles? You know I can do more than take your restaurant's inventory! What are we doing about Falcone?" Desperate and irritated, I cornered my uncle in the private study of his home. He had set me up in his family restaurant, Belmonte's, to take inventory as well as a couple other small businesses he owned. Every day, I had a new business to go to and record, then I was told to return straight back to his house.
He raised his hands with a shrug and carefree smile. "Hey, I'm sure you can. I heard from the players back home and they had nothing but good things to say. I have lots of faith in you, but you have to learn business- this business- from the bottom up."
I bit my lip repeatedly, trying to hold on to reason. Letting out a sigh, I dropped my gaze to my hands, clenched angrily on the table before me. He was right of course; I had to make my worth known.
But Sal would never give me enough responsibility for my decisions to actually count or matter. I'd already been here for weeks without a
glimmer of hope in moving up. I would always be his precious little niece, requiring shelter and safety. And the safest job was inventory and shipment.
It didn't seem to matter what I had been doing before I arrived in Gotham. Gotham wasn't normal, he continually reminded me. Here, the criminal families were in charge. Falcone had the cops in his pocket. Any and all crimes were commonly overlooked, especially when it came to business. Maroni controlled ports. He got the drugs and booze in the city, keeping the masses under his thumb. They were merely competitors in this game. And I was just a piece. Not truly worth much for an offensive strategy, but I would be some pretty serious leverage against my uncle if I were compromised. And so, I'm stuck reading and writing and wasting away.
I felt his heavy hand on my shoulder. "Chin up, Gia. You'll get there. You're still young, you know." I looked up at him with a skeptic look. "This is the Maroni syndicate. How can I make people respect me on my own if I'm counting bottles and pushing pencils?" I ran a hand through my medium dark curls and let out another sigh, turning away from him. His chuckles behind me were starting to irritate me. "You've got that Maroni blood, alright." Suddenly, it occurred to me.
I turned back toward my uncle swiftly. "I need a gun." His eyebrows furrowed in amusement.
"A gun, Gia?"
"Yes," I straightened my back with resolve. "a gun. I know how to use one. I can clean it and load it. It may not be likely for me to use it, but at least I would have one if I needed it." My logic was sound and he didn't seem to want to deny me.
He smiled and clapped his hands once, "Frankie, let's have it. The lady wants a gun." I tried not to let my smug satisfaction show as Sal's right hand man passed it to him. He pulled back just as I reached for it. "Gia." His tone was serious. I looked into his dark eyes, reflecting his somberness. "Only for your protection, you hear me?"
I held up my hands defensively, plain expression on my face. `"I hear you."
A couple weeks later, Falcone's men robbed the restaurant. The day started off normal enough. My duties were to check up on a couple of uncle's higher class bars and at the last minute, he asked me to check in on his restaurant too. Sal suspected a man in Belmonte's skimming off his drug profits and since I was so eager to gain more responsibility, he allowed me to witness the counting and distributing as well as my normal inventory count. I walked into the restaurant as Rick was shutting the blinds. It was just past 2, so the drug money count would be taking place soon. To the outside world, we were making preparations for dinner.
I smiled and greeted the hostess as she was leaving, a sweet girl named Alicia, and made my way to the kitchen, where a dark haired man was washing dishes, back turned to me. "Pablo. How are you today?" He startled at my greeting. "Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up like that." I let out a small laugh.
"Oh, Miss Gianna, I-I didn't know you would be here today." He said. Pablo was an odd sort of guy. His black hair and curved nose gave him the look of a bird. He had an injured leg, made apparent by his intense limp when he walked around the kitchen, but I had never heard him complain of it once. He seemed nice enough, and I made it a habit to befriend all of my uncle's employers. It's harder to betray someone you actually like. "Well, I wasn't meant to come in until 6, but it seems that the restaurant is a bit understaffed so I was asked to come in and help." My excuse came easy enough. Any worker would admit to being understaffed. I couldn't let it be common knowledge that someone was stealing from Sal. He gave a sheepish smile and nodded.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked with a polite smile. Honestly, I hadn't expected him to ask me to put away some clean dishes for him, but since I had asked, I complied. He excused himself for a moment, with an apologetic smile, but it seemed pretty forced. I scoffed when he left the room. "Leaving me in here to do his job." I rolled my eyes as I placed sparkling glasses onto their appropriate shelf. Rapid gun fire pierced my ear drum. My heart dropped into my stomach as I seized the gun strapped to my thigh.
The next thing I knew, I was in the walk-in freezer, Pablo was clutching my free hand in his right hand and a duffel bag in the other. "Whats happening?" I asked, in a sort of daze. How did we get here? "Shh. I only saw 2, but heard more. We have to stay hidden here." He whispered to me urgently. Goosebumps lined my body as I stared at the back of the freezer door. I wouldn't last long in here.
"You can't go out there, it's too dangerous!" He seemed to read the thoughts on my face. The gunfire had stopped and I raised the gun to aim at the door, shivering.
"Do you think they will come look for others?" My voice was steady, but soft. I was prepared to blast anyone who tried to get through that doorway. I only hoped there wouldn't be many. I needed to get out of this freezer. He looked at me seriously. "Be silent and hope not."
Something in his voice made me reconsider my escape. I could fire a gun, but I had never really shot anyone before. This walk in freezer was totally insulated. There was no way out if the robbers decided to search the restaurant for others. I glanced at Pablo, "Did anyone see you?" My tone was almost a hiss, trying to keep quiet, but needing to be expressed urgently. He shook his head in silence, but his eyes seemed to speak for him, "Wait."
And I did. I held my breathe and froze in position, with his hand still gripping mine, I realized. Staring at each other, his eyes serious, not reflecting the fear I suddenly recognized within myself. I wondered for a millisecond if he had been in many positions like this.
'Be silent and everything will be okay." His gaze wasn't fearful though, it was fierce and penetrating. That look was more reassuring than anything he could have said. The room didn't seem to be so cold anymore.
The door suddenly burst open, Paolo's hands shot straight into the air as I snapped my gun forward, aiming at the man in the doorway.
I immediately recognized him to be one of Sal's men and lowered the gun, letting out a relieved cry, "Thank god."
We were extracted from the freezer and set in the front room. Four bodies were scattered around the room, including Rick laying flat out on the table, blood staining the white table cloth beneath him. My stomach rolled as it threatened to vomit. 'Keep it together, Gia.'
I was whisked away from the restaurant, without finishing my duties. After an absentminded ride through the city, we arrived at Sal's residence. Three men escorted me from the black SUV to the front door. Sal opened the door and pulled me into a crushing embrace upon seeing me. "I'll take it from here." He spoke to the men and closed the doors behind us. "Gia. You aren't hurt?" He surveyed my face and arms, relief spreading across his face. I shook my head.
"I don't know what happened." I explained before he could ask. "I heard gun shots. Pablo ran back into the kitchen almost as soon as it started and he took me into the freezer to hide. I didn't see anyone else." I started to get angry with myself. Why did I hide? I had a gun and an advantage. They couldn't possibly know that I was in the back.
Sal noticed the changed expression on my face. "Gia. You did exactly what I would have wanted you to. I would rather you be safe and unhurt instead of killed or taken."
I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek. This was my moment, I realized, and I had blown it. I could have made myself more useful by seeing the men behind the attack. Or at least how many there were, what their voices sounded like, anything. But instead I hid with the dishwasher in the freezer. At least he grabbed a bag from the room before fleeing. He couldn't prevent the robbery or stop it, but at least he did something. Clenching my fists, I spoke quietly, "I just.. need some time to myself." He sighed and pat my shoulder comfortingly.
"I need to go anyway.. I have someone meeting the mayor and I need to be available to hear t. news." He straightened the lapel of his suit, an arrogant smile on his face. It almost made me feel a little better. Although we suffered a hit today, we could keep moving on and continue our work. That thought brought me a sense of peace as I changed my clothing and requested one of my newly appointed body guards to take me to the gym. I need to throw a few punches myself. There were only a couple people there, but they left after seeing the two men hulking around behind me. After a couple minutes, even I became uncomfortable in their presence. "Don't just watch me. Either go do your own thing or watch the doors." They silently complied. Finally, I was alone. I attacked the hanging punching pillar with everything I had.
Moving to Italy so soon after my parents death was hard. Feeling abandoned by my uncle and unwanted by my distant relations, I started getting into a lot of fights. Girls, boys, teens or adults, it hadn't really mattered to me. I just wanted to punch people and hurt them. While the men in my family were amused by the little spitfire they received from Gotham, the women were mortified that I could come home so bloody and bruised, ready to start another brawl.
"That's not how little ladies behave." So I became a little lady. Dresses and polite smiles, quiet voices and silky hair. Despite my initial reluctance, I actually enjoyed being seen as dainty and sweet. My aggressive phase was seemingly over and everyone was pleased. Even the men who had seemed to enjoy my fighter's will were happier that I had assumed my feminine role in life. At 14 years old, family members started trying to set me up with their friends' sons or some neighborhood boy or another. That ended soon after one of those boys tried to force me into a kiss and I knocked him out with one hit.
One of my older cousins thought that was the most hilarious thing he had ever heard. "She literally punched him right in the kisser." He would tell to anyone and everyone. "Bam, he was out cold. That's Gia for you though." Danny was the one who first invited me to work with him. Making deliveries and distributing for the boss back home. I hope he is still doing well, I thought.
The punching bag was swinging wildly and I was out of breath. My skin was mottled red, all up my arms and from my knees down. Getting myself a drink of water, I sat down to breathe. I wonder what would have happened if I didn't cower in the freezer. I could've died, I could've saved everyone, I could've seen who did this. It wasn't like me to sit and hide. It wasn't like me to run from a confrontation. I went through the scene again, running full speed on a treadmill. Gunshots rang through the other room. My gun was in my hand, suddenly. Pablo came dashing in the door just as I was approaching it, seized my hand and took off towards the freezer. I don't know why I followed him. I don't know why I stayed. All I could think of was getting out of that freezer and facing whatever was out there. I didn't want to die in the cold. What changed my mind?
Rick's still and passive face flooded my thoughts next. As if that were the moment I started to think again. The other three men were bodies in the background of my memory. "You are alive. You lived." I murmured to myself as I prepared to leave. "This is life now, Gia." I tried to tell myself on the drive home. "This city is full of death, especially around men like the Dons." And I was Don Maroni's neice. It was suddenly clear to me why he had kept my arrival a secret. Why he only trusted a few of his men to know about me. I could soon be targeted just for being related to Maroni. How many more days like today would there be? Would I always have to hide?
I couldn't live this way. Protected... Precious... No. That was only a part of me. Sweet and delicate, angry and vicious. I was a coin, constantly spinning. I would never be satisfied with just one side of me face up. I would do what it takes to bring down Falcone. I laughed to myself in derision. "What are you supposed to do?"
I mocked my own thoughts while lying in bed that night. Suddenly, the answer became quite clear. "I have to get out of here."