Pretending Not to Know
Summary: A case of mistaken identity could get Gary killed. This very short story is an EE/Angel's Dance crossover. WARNING- This story is rated PG-13. Read at your own risk!
Disclaimer: Early Edition and Angel's Dance characters belong to their creators. No copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made.
Author's Notes: If you'd had asked me a few years ago whether I'd have ever imagined writing this story, I would have responded definitely not. But then again, three years ago I also would have never imagined that I would ever "meet" Tony Greco. Now that I have, and in a bizarre twist of fate for me (with words and images prowling around my brain and refusing to leave me alone), I write, what is for me, a most unusual story.
Author: Tracy Diane Miller E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
Pretending Not to Know
Chapter One
Tony Greco wasn't a man for introspection. Talking about one's feelings, even "thinking" about them, in a way was viewed as an indictment against one's manhood. If he even had a "feminine" side, he certainly wasn't eager to embrace it. Raised on a deadly diet of verbal insults and physical abuse by a cold, heartless, iron-fisted father, the only thing that young Tony knew growing up was that he was a failure, a loser, and a disappointment. He knew this because these were the labels that his father had constantly drilled into his head. What the elder Greco couldn't convey to his son through a never-ending stream of profanities hurled at the boy, he'd reinforce his disappointment and anger with merciless beatings. Tony was expected to take whatever his father dished out. He had been conditioned a long time ago to believe that he deserved such treatment. The boy had also been conditioned not to cry during his punishments. Crying was the ultimate display of weakness. He would show his father that he wasn't weak.
Years of this torture had succeeded in erecting a wall around Tony's heart. He never allowed himself to become close with anyone. He used women as if they were his own harem of insignificant, irrelevant concubines groomed to fulfill his physical needs. Tony had never let love enter into the equation.
Early on the young man had developed an acute fascination with guns along with a chilling adeptness at firing them. Such a talent would prove useful when he entered Uncle Vinny's world.
His induction into Uncle Vinny's world, a world of mafia loyalties and power, was Tony's first taste of what it meant to belong to a "family". Tony had taken a bullet intended for Vinny's nephew. His act of bravery had not gone unnoticed by Uncle Vinny. Based on his nephew's recommendation, Uncle Vinny had told Tony that he had confidence that the younger man could handle an important hit (that of an accountant poised to testify against Vinny). As a token of that trust, Uncle Vinny handed Tony a small box containing a ring. Taking the gift, Tony realized that he had "married" into the family. He was to go to California for his training with skilled assassin Rossellini and then he'd return to Chicago to perform his "duty." He'd prove his worth. Tony would make Uncle Vinny proud of him.
Except that he didn't.
Somehow everything got all screwed up, all confused. All he was supposed to do was kill Angel Chase, some insignificant broad whose name he had selected by "lottery" from the phone book. Her death was supposed to be his "rites of passage", his test case before the big hit. He was the one who was supposed to be in control; he was the hitman, after all.
But it was Angel who was in control. It was she who had invaded his dreams and had left him sweaty with unspoken desire.
Love and pain.
Love was pain. Love was always pain. Tony learned that a long time ago and while he had never understood that, he had always accepted it as the truth. As much as he desperately tried to deny his feelings, so twisted and perverted were they, Tony soon discovered that he loved Angel. No, he couldn't be in love with her. He needed to kill her. He had to kill her.
He couldn't kill her.
Rossellini had once told him that killing would be the most intimate act that he'd ever experience. Yet, Tony's mind began tormenting him with a different kind of thought of intimacy with his intended target. Suddenly, the young hit man, the protégé in training, the anointed prince to a powerful crime family, became the victim.
The vigilant spraying of the shower teased his tired muscles. The water forced his flesh to ripple in gratitude. If this shower was meant to cleanse him, to baptize him of his demons, the act of showering became a futile task. Tony turned off the showerhead allowing the water to retreat unceremoniously back into the device. Droplets of water clung possessively against his skin and accentuated his Adonis-like form. He reached for a towel, draped the cloth over his lower body, and exited the shower.
That was when his life changed forever.
With his back towards her, he heard her voice. It was a determined voice, a voice that demanded answers. Then Tony heard the telling click of the gun.
"Angel." He whispered.
Moments later, he sat squirming in a chair with his hands duct taped behind him. These constraints, as well as his near nakedness as he felt the towel strategically placed over his body loosen, made Tony feel more vulnerable than he had ever felt in his entire life. Angel grilled him with questions about Rossellini's whereabouts. He stubbornly vowed not to tell her anything.
But it wasn't the gun that she had wielded with all the skill of a professional that ended up as her best weapon against him. Instead, her torment, her way of disarming him, was wickedly sensual and he had no choice but to submit.
Tony Greco was a goner.
* * * * * *
An injured Rossellini watched in disbelief as his young protégé confessed to Angel that he had discovered his path. In a heartfelt, impassioned testimonial, Tony told Angel that he loved her. He admitted that she was unlike any other woman that he had ever known. She was his equal. He wanted to have children with her. He wanted to grow old with her.
Angel said nothing. Seconds later, she raised her gun and fired two shots at him-one to the head and one to the heart.
Tony Greco was dead.
* * * * * *
Three weeks later.
"Meow." Thump.
"Go away!" Gary bellowed. He grabbed the pillow and held it over his head praying that he could drown out the cry of his possessive messenger.
"Meow."
No such luck.
Defeated, Gary threw back his bed covers, rose from the bed, and proceeded to the door. His footsteps were as heavy as a guy walking towards the guillotine.
Gary flung open the door. Cat offered another "meow" before surrendering the Paper and running into the loft. Gary flashed Cat an annoyed look before bending down to pick up the Paper. He closed the door. Flipping through the Paper, Gary saw several stories involving "routine" saves-- slip and falls, school fights. It was going to be a busy day, but fortunately, none of his saves were life-threatening for the intended victims.
Gary managed to accomplish his tasks with finesse, and surprisingly, without verbal or physical abuse. As he headed back towards McGinty's, the young bar owner had the nagging feeling that he was being followed. Gary silently berated himself for being paranoid.
It happened so quickly. Before he entered McGinty's, Gary felt a cold, hard, metal object pressed into his back.
"Lo-look, my-my wallet is my front pants pocket." He stammered.
His revelation was met with a wry laugh.
"It's good to see you again, Tony. You are a man full of surprises. I don't know how you survived our last encounter, but Uncle Vinny wants to talk to you." Angel said.
Summary: A case of mistaken identity could get Gary killed. This very short story is an EE/Angel's Dance crossover. WARNING- This story is rated PG-13. Read at your own risk!
Disclaimer: Early Edition and Angel's Dance characters belong to their creators. No copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made.
Author's Notes: If you'd had asked me a few years ago whether I'd have ever imagined writing this story, I would have responded definitely not. But then again, three years ago I also would have never imagined that I would ever "meet" Tony Greco. Now that I have, and in a bizarre twist of fate for me (with words and images prowling around my brain and refusing to leave me alone), I write, what is for me, a most unusual story.
Author: Tracy Diane Miller E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
Pretending Not to Know
Chapter One
Tony Greco wasn't a man for introspection. Talking about one's feelings, even "thinking" about them, in a way was viewed as an indictment against one's manhood. If he even had a "feminine" side, he certainly wasn't eager to embrace it. Raised on a deadly diet of verbal insults and physical abuse by a cold, heartless, iron-fisted father, the only thing that young Tony knew growing up was that he was a failure, a loser, and a disappointment. He knew this because these were the labels that his father had constantly drilled into his head. What the elder Greco couldn't convey to his son through a never-ending stream of profanities hurled at the boy, he'd reinforce his disappointment and anger with merciless beatings. Tony was expected to take whatever his father dished out. He had been conditioned a long time ago to believe that he deserved such treatment. The boy had also been conditioned not to cry during his punishments. Crying was the ultimate display of weakness. He would show his father that he wasn't weak.
Years of this torture had succeeded in erecting a wall around Tony's heart. He never allowed himself to become close with anyone. He used women as if they were his own harem of insignificant, irrelevant concubines groomed to fulfill his physical needs. Tony had never let love enter into the equation.
Early on the young man had developed an acute fascination with guns along with a chilling adeptness at firing them. Such a talent would prove useful when he entered Uncle Vinny's world.
His induction into Uncle Vinny's world, a world of mafia loyalties and power, was Tony's first taste of what it meant to belong to a "family". Tony had taken a bullet intended for Vinny's nephew. His act of bravery had not gone unnoticed by Uncle Vinny. Based on his nephew's recommendation, Uncle Vinny had told Tony that he had confidence that the younger man could handle an important hit (that of an accountant poised to testify against Vinny). As a token of that trust, Uncle Vinny handed Tony a small box containing a ring. Taking the gift, Tony realized that he had "married" into the family. He was to go to California for his training with skilled assassin Rossellini and then he'd return to Chicago to perform his "duty." He'd prove his worth. Tony would make Uncle Vinny proud of him.
Except that he didn't.
Somehow everything got all screwed up, all confused. All he was supposed to do was kill Angel Chase, some insignificant broad whose name he had selected by "lottery" from the phone book. Her death was supposed to be his "rites of passage", his test case before the big hit. He was the one who was supposed to be in control; he was the hitman, after all.
But it was Angel who was in control. It was she who had invaded his dreams and had left him sweaty with unspoken desire.
Love and pain.
Love was pain. Love was always pain. Tony learned that a long time ago and while he had never understood that, he had always accepted it as the truth. As much as he desperately tried to deny his feelings, so twisted and perverted were they, Tony soon discovered that he loved Angel. No, he couldn't be in love with her. He needed to kill her. He had to kill her.
He couldn't kill her.
Rossellini had once told him that killing would be the most intimate act that he'd ever experience. Yet, Tony's mind began tormenting him with a different kind of thought of intimacy with his intended target. Suddenly, the young hit man, the protégé in training, the anointed prince to a powerful crime family, became the victim.
The vigilant spraying of the shower teased his tired muscles. The water forced his flesh to ripple in gratitude. If this shower was meant to cleanse him, to baptize him of his demons, the act of showering became a futile task. Tony turned off the showerhead allowing the water to retreat unceremoniously back into the device. Droplets of water clung possessively against his skin and accentuated his Adonis-like form. He reached for a towel, draped the cloth over his lower body, and exited the shower.
That was when his life changed forever.
With his back towards her, he heard her voice. It was a determined voice, a voice that demanded answers. Then Tony heard the telling click of the gun.
"Angel." He whispered.
Moments later, he sat squirming in a chair with his hands duct taped behind him. These constraints, as well as his near nakedness as he felt the towel strategically placed over his body loosen, made Tony feel more vulnerable than he had ever felt in his entire life. Angel grilled him with questions about Rossellini's whereabouts. He stubbornly vowed not to tell her anything.
But it wasn't the gun that she had wielded with all the skill of a professional that ended up as her best weapon against him. Instead, her torment, her way of disarming him, was wickedly sensual and he had no choice but to submit.
Tony Greco was a goner.
* * * * * *
An injured Rossellini watched in disbelief as his young protégé confessed to Angel that he had discovered his path. In a heartfelt, impassioned testimonial, Tony told Angel that he loved her. He admitted that she was unlike any other woman that he had ever known. She was his equal. He wanted to have children with her. He wanted to grow old with her.
Angel said nothing. Seconds later, she raised her gun and fired two shots at him-one to the head and one to the heart.
Tony Greco was dead.
* * * * * *
Three weeks later.
"Meow." Thump.
"Go away!" Gary bellowed. He grabbed the pillow and held it over his head praying that he could drown out the cry of his possessive messenger.
"Meow."
No such luck.
Defeated, Gary threw back his bed covers, rose from the bed, and proceeded to the door. His footsteps were as heavy as a guy walking towards the guillotine.
Gary flung open the door. Cat offered another "meow" before surrendering the Paper and running into the loft. Gary flashed Cat an annoyed look before bending down to pick up the Paper. He closed the door. Flipping through the Paper, Gary saw several stories involving "routine" saves-- slip and falls, school fights. It was going to be a busy day, but fortunately, none of his saves were life-threatening for the intended victims.
Gary managed to accomplish his tasks with finesse, and surprisingly, without verbal or physical abuse. As he headed back towards McGinty's, the young bar owner had the nagging feeling that he was being followed. Gary silently berated himself for being paranoid.
It happened so quickly. Before he entered McGinty's, Gary felt a cold, hard, metal object pressed into his back.
"Lo-look, my-my wallet is my front pants pocket." He stammered.
His revelation was met with a wry laugh.
"It's good to see you again, Tony. You are a man full of surprises. I don't know how you survived our last encounter, but Uncle Vinny wants to talk to you." Angel said.