Pezzonovante - Literally translated as a .90 caliber, mafia term for a Don
Infamita - Something that is wrong
A few weeks after the death of Chimaera and a half-hearted police search for the murder, Brad found himself back in the game, he had been in Kennedy for about a year and half since his troubled in North Yankton, he now just blended into the crowd of people who lived in Kennedy and relied on crime to get through the city. He checked the date on his phone calendar and it read 3rd July 2005 before he picked up the incoming phone-call, it was from Joe. He wondered whether another mess needed to be cleaned up or some protection given to a pezzonovante.
"Hey Joe"
"Brad I need your help with something" Joe asked
"Shoot, what is it?"
"I need somebody to go liberate a package from Narco-90, this package I have heard is pretty good" Joe said guardedly
"Sure man, where is it?" Brad queried
"It is at Manny's Salvage Yard, down in Southern Kennedy"
"I'll be on my way" Brad said starting to hang up "Wait, just a minute what does the package look like" Brad asked
"The package is a red shipping container"
Joe hung up and Brad thought about what the package could be. In his mind, he believed that it was a large shipment of drugs, presumably coke as that is what Narco-90 dealt with. A shipping container of coke would be worth a hell of lot street value, Brad could understand why Joe wanted it. Brad found himself driving down to Southern Kennedy and realised that if this was a Narco-90 there would be a lot of guys and charging in head-on would be almost suicide.
Brad reached the yard and it was a true American salvage yard, there were old cars, Japanese and American stacked 10 cars high into the air. Brad also noticed that there was a small office building of to the side, presumably where people came to do business with Manny, this was at the mid-point of the horseshoe in the way that Manny's yard was formed. Brad believed that the shipping container must be at the end of the horseshoe in the clearing surrounded by cars. Before leaving his car, Brad checked his P99 was full of ammunition before he flicked the safety off.
Brad's plan of action was to go silently into the yard and take the guards and quietly as he could, Brad felt that avoiding direct confrontation would allow him the best chance of survival on this job. Brad creeped into the yard and there were two guys standing right in front of him, Brad ducked in behind a wreck of a car. The two guys weren't that good as guys, they were just sort of standing around smoking. Once Brad jumped on the first guy, the second would roll around an attack him, he had to be quiet in order to stop any alarms being raised.
He shifted his weight sideways, aligning himself with a worn, torn car-seat before firing a shot from his handgun out of it. He watched as it sliced through the first guy's head and his knees started to weak but by then Brad was already moving with his trusty penknife in his hand. Brad launched himself at the second target, pushing him into the ground before quickly bringing the knife down onto the throat, slashing the vocal chords. Brad then grabbed the head and angled his knife for just behind the ear before making a surgical incision, the blade went in deep and the guard stopped struggling. Brad yanked the blade out and saw it was covered in blood, not liquid red but more foamed with white flecks.
Brad however did not notice, a guard positioned on top of the office building who began firing hot lead as soon as Brad had downed the first guy. Brad rolled sideways, dodging the bullets before he found his feet and reeled off four shots in quick succession, he watched as the guard fell to the floor. Brad pushed forward knowing that his stealthy approached had failed, two more guys came round the corner and Brad let off more rounds before they could raise their AKs and get a shot off. Brad heard gunfire from behind him, it sounded like a barrage of weapons, guns of different staccatos and barks formed a symphony of gunpowder and cordite. Brad threw himself behind cover behind one of the piles of cars. He needed more firepower.
Brad saw the AK dropped by one of the guards patrolling Manny's yard. He crawled his way over and checked the gun, it had full ammunition and a mag ready to go. Brad pushed the firing lever down once so it would go into full auto mode. Brad turned back round, the sound of guns coming ever closer before he opened up. There was no precision in this murder, just desperate survival and a spray and pray hope that came over Brad. He pushed forward into the storm of bullets letting some of his own fly.
Everything suddenly fell silent, there was no weapons barking or people running, nothing just the sound of Brad's breathing and the traffic that had been passing Manny's yard. There was a smell of gunpowder in the air which was thrown together with the perfume of cordite. The smell of death itself was interesting with its tribal bloodiness and the smoky smell of the modern world.
Brad rounded the corner and saw the shipping container, it was a dark red colour and looked battered with the metal sides having many dents and scratches. Brad opened the door to the container and was surprised by what he saw. He felt things that he wouldn't usually associate with a criminal job.
Inside of the container Brad saw a group of Latina girls, all of them looked defeated as if they had accepted an all too common fate for women from these countries. They were covered in their own bodily wastes and had slashes, much the same to ones from a knife, over their bodies. They looked to be only teenagers by Brad's eyes, perhaps the oldest being only eighteen. He felt pathos for these girls, they had been through such torment that would have broken hardened criminals, instead they were just ordinary people subjected to the schemes of others, the sadistic schemes. They were incredibly vulnerable and Brad felt a certain degree of protectiveness to them, an instant emotion to help those in need.
None of them had rushed out of the container, all of them had backed into the far corner, trying to put as much distance between themselves and him, Brad tossed away his AK47 in disgust at Narco-90 and this flesh-peddling industry as a whole. Brad never thought that he could be repulsed by crime, he always believed it was like life, it had good and bad on both sides, one man's gain was another's loss but this seemed to be wrong and repulsive. He did understand the contradictions of a criminal moralising about good and bad as he was on the bad side of things when it came to the black and white of the law but morally the law was grey, it considered the damage to people not the morality of the action. He knew he was a criminal but he still had a conscience which was turning into a morally grey state as he became hardened to these crimes but even he felt that this was wrong.
Brad tried to encourage them out by showing he was friendly through his conciliatory tone but none of these poor women moved forwards possibly as they believed that Brad was the same as their tormentors, the Narco-90 network. Brad slowly advanced forward, still friendly and touched one of them on the shoulder that he was friendly. However this caused all of them to call out with fear and anger, their voices tremulous as the cacophony of voices sounded their response. The Latin phrases spoken at him signalled fear, he couldn't speak Spanish but he could tell when someone was fearful.
Brad didn't notice but Joe was walking through the battlefield, the broken bodies left by Brad's survival and their death. Joe reached the container and touched Brad on the shoulder. Brad recoiled and stepped back.
"Thanks Brad, we'll take it from here" Joe said calmly
Brad pulled a gun on Joe. "What are you going to do with them, you gonna force them to fuck any fucking bastard with enough coin to buy himself some company. If you do that bud we have a problem, nobody should force these girls into anymore shit, they have already been through some fucking traumatic experiences." Brad exploded, his emotions were evident much like a tornado on the horizon.
Joe was cool, not really showing much from his face that wore a mask of cordiality very well. "Relax Brad we aren't going to do anything bad, we hurt their business and that's what we wanted to do" Joe said calmly
"Yeah, I know that but what are you going to do? Put these girls to work on the streets, make sure they get STDs by 20, depression by 21 and death by 22" Brad raged
"Brad get your fucking head out of the fucking sky, we are criminals. Death and consequences are our game but even still we are Italian. We aren't morally abject, we object to this infamita" Joe said before hesitating. He continued "Listen man, these girls are going to be used to count our money and nothing else"
Brad didn't know whether he believed Joe but he knew the truth and the truth could bring him down. He watched the girls go, hopeless and to a new owner. As he watched them go, Brad promised himself that he would never deal in the sex trafficking game.
