A/N: thanks to Sid Hawk for the chapter idea. I don't think I followed it exactly, but I went with something along those lines. Hope you like it!
Leone mansion, in the business district of the city.
Joey Leone waits patiently for the arrival of his scheduled visitor. He is joined in one of the many lounge areas in his elaborately decorated home by his business partners and associates Luigi Goterelli and Toni Cipriani. Luigi's man Mickey Hamfists ploughs his way into the room. A sheepish looking young man clad in a black leather jacket and green cargo pants follows.
"So. . ." says Joey, "Where's my good news, huh?"
The man shrugs his shoulders and stares at his shoes, avoiding eye contact.
"I didn't think so. I paid you big bucks to kill those guys, and thanks to your crappy workmanship we lost one of our best leads down there. Mr Wong, despite what the rest of the Triads or Mafia want to believe, was a close and personal friend of mine. You tell me how it is fair that he dies, and the guy who murdered my father lives? You tell me how that is fair!"
The man steps back as Joey lunges at him, but Mickey holds Joey back..
"C'mon, Joey," says Toni Cipriani, "I'm tellin' ya he's a good kid, ya know? Give him another chance. We all make mistakes, Joey."
At this, a small boy, probably around seven or eight, dressed smartly in a white shirt and bow tie strolls into the room, followed by a woman, wearing far too much make-up, a short skirt and high heels.
"Joey," she squawks, "I'm taking little Joey Junior out for a while."
"Alright, Misty." he sighs.
She blows him a kiss. He catches it half heartedly. She and her son leave through the front door.
"See, Joey," continues Toni, "even you make mistakes."
Joey sits silently for a few seconds.
"Alright, kid," he says finally, "you get one more chance. You, Toni, Luigi and Mickey go back over and pay those guys a visit."
"What about you, Joey?" asks Luigi.
"I'll go about my own lines of inquiry."
They start to vacate the room.
"On second thoughts, Hamfists," Mickey turns round, "Hamfists you stay here. I have something else for you."
"Okay, boss." says Mickey Hamfists.
The trio get in an unmarked Mafia Sentinel parked in the driveway in front of Joey's mansion and begin the long drive across town in silence.
Meanwhile, back in the new and improved Ammunation, the three of us are staring at the body of the now deceased Mr Wong.
"Tsk. What a waste."
"And he was about to give us vital information!" says Gator.
"Would you two stop whinin'!" yells Phil. "It's no big deal."
"No big deal? Phil, this guy is. . .was one of the most respected members of the Triad family. Of course it's a big deal!"
"I guess we should give the body back to the Triads." says Gator.
"Are you crazy?" Phil shouts. "What do you expect to say? "Oh, by the way, here is the corpse of your leader. He died from a sniper bullet in the back in our building. It wasn't us though! Honest!" Come on, Gator, try to be realistic."
"Well what are we gonna do?"
"You, are going to put the body into a car, and take it to the crusher."
"But that's all the way across town!"
"All the more reason to go now."
Gator mumbles to himself as he drags the lifeless, limp corpse outside and throws it into the trunk of a car. When I notice what he is doing, I run out after him.
"Hey! That's my Greenwood! You're not crushing that!"
"C'mon, man, it's a piece of crap – you don't even use it!"
"Use your car!"
"My car? My car is a 1986 model Banshee. A rarity these days. You would happily sacrifice one of those to save this rust bucket?"
"But it's not even your car – you stole it from some guy this morning!"
"That's not the point. The point is – shut up, I'm taking your car!"
"Hey, kid," yells Phil, "just let him go. You can get a new car."
"Whatever."
I watch as Gator drives off in my precious car, knowing I'll never see it again.
The rear bumper falls off.
Wow.
It really is a piece of crap.
Gator holds the wheel of the car lazily with one hand, while resting the other out the rolled down window. It is a beautiful Summer day, around two o'clock. There isn't a cloud in the sky, so the scorching sun beams down through the dazzling blue sky, and the wind gently ruffles the leaves in the trees. Gator cruises along the straight country roads, nothing but one long drive directly ahead, lined with huge green trees for as far as the eye can see.
Above him on the overhead motorway a few hundred yards ahead, the trio in the Sentinel have pulled into the side of the road.
"Piece of shit!" screams Toni as he smashes his fists off the dashboard.
"Oh, yeah Toni. Hit it. That'll really help." mutters Luigi.
"You want some of this too?" Toni makes a fist.
"Let's just call up and get a tow truck."
"No! We can't!"
"Why not?"
"We can't show up to kill these guys on the back of a freakin' truck! What are ya, dumb?"
"Then what are we gonna do? Huh? Mr. Smart ass?"
"Steal a new car."
"On the free way?" snorts Luigi. "Be my guest."
Toni pulls the silver handle to open the car door, which is abruptly torn off by a passing motorist.
"On second thoughts, maybe we should call that company. We can get a ride to Transfender or somethin'."
"Can't we just go straight there?" asks Luigi.
"Dammit, I wanna make a good impression!"
"What are they gonna care? They'll only live to see us for a few seconds anyway."
"Just get on the damn phone! And you –" he points to the silent passenger, "quit yer laughin' or I'll toss you out the car too, capiche?"
The man in the back nods quickly and stretches, preparing himself for a long wait.
"Uh. . .yes. . .hello. Um. . .we need to be towed. We have some. . .uh. . .important business to attend to. . .so. . . sure, I'll hold."
Toni and the other passenger sigh together.
About an hour later, Gator arrives at the car crusher. He drives down the gravel slope, and parks his car over the X marked in red paint on the ground, before exiting the vehicle. He walks a few steps towards the small control room, and is grabbed fiercely from behind.
The captor wraps one arm tightly around his victim's head, and punches him full force in the jaw with his brass knuckles. Gator slumps over, unconscious. He is thrown into the back seat of the Greenwood with the door closed behind him, as the attacker walks towards the control room.
"Nice work, Hamfists," says a voice, "but I think we want him alive right now."
Mickey nods, and sits in Joey's limousine.
Joey, dressed in a pale blue sweater with the sleeves rolled up, and dirty blue trousers walks over to the Greenwood and looks at Gator.
"I had a feeling I would find you here." he says to the body. "You may prove very useful, my friend. I dare say your life depends on it."
He snaps his fingers and Hamfists appears. Joey motions with his hands, and Hamfists hauls the body back to the limousine.
Joey moves to the trunk, and opens it.
He stares down at Mr Wong, seeing the empty but accusing stare in his white eyes. Joey bows his head down.
"Don't worry. Your death won't go unavenged."
It hurt him to see one of his friends, stuffed carelessly into the trunk, even more so because he felt partially responsible for his death. Joey sighed and wiped away a tear. He placed a rose into the trunk of the car, and sent it away.
He got into the passenger seat of his luxury limousine, the sound of the car crusher a distant hum, the life of his friend a distant memory.
Hamfists sat in the back, pistol loaded and ready in case Gator tried to be a hero. Gator, still unconscious, lay sprawled out along the back seat, breathing slowly, occasionally coughing. Joey sat silent in the front with his hands on his lap and his head bent forward. The chauffeur decided it best not to ask questions, and simply concentrate on driving.
Phil Cassidy and I sit at opposite ends of the large conference table, the best money could buy, as requested by Phil after the tragic loss of his old one.
"Any thoughts on who's been messing with us, Phil?"
"Ah, I've made too many enemies over the years to pick out anyone, kid What about you?"
"Nah, I tend to kill people I don't like, so. . .I don't see anyone living long enough to want revenge on me."
"I think we may find out soon enough who's behind it all. They can't stay silent forever, we're too crafty for all that stealth shit."
"You think so?"
"Nah, but it's definitely the right attitude to have. Make yourself invincible, don't expose your flaws, and nothing and no one can take you out. Be on your guard anyway."
"Got a piece?"
"Ah, there's a crate upstairs. Come on."
I follow Phil to the second floor. The sign above the door once read "Cosmetics". Now, Phil had scribbled "trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again", and had drawn a crude picture of himself holding a gun. Gator and I had tried to dissuade him but he simply grunted and waved his gun threateningly, so we let him be. To him, this place is his own little war camp, thirty floors of ammo, guns, explosives and hard liquor. Good for him.
He pries the lid off the crate with a crowbar, revealing an assortment of guns. I pocket twin Uzis and grasp a Desert Eagle in my hands, while Phil opts for an M4. He had developed a method of firing it with his one hand, by pressing the butt against his breast. He always said that with skill like that and two arms, he would be unstoppable. At the time, Gator and I agreed once again. I prefer not to argue with gun wielding men of questionable sanity.
Phil covers the crate with a thin sheet of green material to "camouflage it" and we return downstairs to the main conference area next to the entrance.
Feeling the gun in my hand fills me with mixed emotions. I feel safe now that I can defend myself, but guns always lead to danger, and I know it can't be far off. I sit quietly, loading the gun every once in a while to be safe.
A noise from outside distracts me. It's a sort of roaring, thundering noise, but it sounds distant.
"Hey Phil, you hear that?"
"Yeah, let's check it out."
We stand near the double doors, and open them a crack. Outside, a large Packer truck carrying a Mafia Sentinel stops.
Slowly, two men in black suits step out of the car. The one in the front has a shotgun and the other has a pistol.
"We have come to kill you." says the man with the shotgun.
"Really, how do you expect us to take you seriously when you arrive in a tow truck?" Phil smirks.
"I told ya we shoulda got it fixed!" Toni whispers to Luigi.
"Shut up, you're ruinin' it!"
The passenger steps out of the car slowly, creating an impression that he's not to be messed with. He stands by Luigi.
"Well then," says Phil, reclaiming the attention, "let's do this." He cocks his gun – an amazing feat for a one armed man – and aims it.
He fires a shot near Luigi's foot to startle them, and ducks and rolls back behind the door.
"Kid, take a car and try and lead some of them away. Three on two aint fair. I can take two of em on, but I need you take the other one."
"Got it, Phil!"
I run inside and grab Gator's keys for his Banshee. I fumble with them in my hands as I run outside, and drop them on the ground. I bend down to get them, but a black shoe comes down on my hand. I look up, the young man from the car stares down the long barrel of his Colt Python at me.
Shit.
"KID, DUCK!" yells Phil as a hail of bullets soar my way. The man dives to the ground and gives me a chance to run. I toss the drivers out of the Packer truck and gear up. The truck lurches forward reluctantly, and Luigi and Toni tumble off the back.
I manage to get the truck doing fifty on the freeway not too far ahead. I make a quick check to see if I'm being followed, and see the stranger with the leather jacket throttling after me in Gator's red and white 1986 Banshee. Perfect.
He weaves through traffic, skids round corners, but constantly has to slow down to save himself from launching off the back of the Packer.
The chase is on.
Back at Ammunation, Phil retreats to the now fully functional elevator, and presses a random floor.
Outside, Toni and Luigi pick themselves up off the road and enter.
A voice crackles over the tannoy.
"So you want to play? How about some Hide and Seek?"
Gator wakes up in an alien environment. He is in a dark, windowless room, furnished only by a table and two matching chairs, one of which he is bound to. His head aches, and feels heavy and difficult to keep upright.
A familiar looking man enters the room. Joey.
He takes a seat across from Gator, cracks his fingers and neck, and clasps his hands on the table.
Another man in a blue/purple suit enters with a bat. Gator already knew what the bat would be for.
Joey stares across the table, his fiery gaze burning into Gator, making him feel extremely uncomfortable. The light flickers off his face, adding more menace to his already ghastly grin.
"They say every man has his price." he says. "Let us find out yours."
"Who the hell are you?" yells Gator loudly.
Joey presses his fingers to his lips. "Shh. There is no need to shout, Blake."
"How the hell did you know my real name?" whispers Gator suspiciously. "No one knows my real name!"
"I know a lot about you. But that is not why you are here."
"You're damn right! I'm here because this jackass beat the shit outta me!"
Mickey swings the bat so it comes in contact with Gator's face.
"Please, Mickey, we want Mr Blake here to feel welcome. No pressure."
"Please man," whispers Gator, "drop the Blake thing. Please?"
"Very well, Gator. Tell me, are you happy, Gator?"
Back at the Ammunation building
"Confused, gentlemen? I suppose that is understandable. You have thirty floors to search through."
"Where the hell are you?" yells Toni.
"Keep searching for now. You give up far too easily."
Somewhere in Joey's mansion
Gator has been beaten to a pulp now by Mickey, with Joey's approval, for refusing to cooperate. His face is swollen and blue, his eye sockets a deep shade of purple, his lips tinged red with blood.
"Are you ready to listen now, Mr Gator?"
Gator spits blood onto the table in front of him. Joey nods to Hamfists, who smashes the bat off of the back of Gator's head with a malevolent sounding crack.
"Let us try again, Mr Gator. Are you ready to cooperate?"
Gator swallows a mouthful of blood. "What do you want?" he mutters.
"Join me."
"What? Never!"
"Why not?"
"You're a corrupt, evil fucking bastard, that's why!"
"But tell me, Gator, do you get the respect you deserve from your co-workers? Do they treat you equally?"
"Well, no, I guess not. Phil always makes me do the boring jobs. But they're good guys, you know? I don't really mind."
"Are you sure you don't mind? Doesn't it get frustrating, Gator? Don't you feel like all you are there for is to take care of the dirty work? They use you, Gator. Do you think that is fair?"
"Well, no. But -"
"I treat all my men equally, and with respect. I never bully my workers or make their lives hard. It's easy street, baby, and they love it. So. . .join me."
"Well. . ."
On the freeway
He's still following me.
The road is less busy now, occupied only by a few cars in sight. To be honest, I'm getting a bit bored driving. . .Think I'll stop now.
Yeah.
I slam my foot down on the brake, and hear the sound of screeching tyres behind me. There is a slight jolt, presumably from the Banshee driving over the Packer.
Ah, that's what it was. I see the Banshee soar through the sky ahead, and plummet into a river. It is quickly submerged.
My phone rings, and I answer.
"Hey, Phil."
"Hey, how ya doin'? Ya busy?"
"Not really."
"You wanna come back and help me sort out these two assholes, then?"
"Sure, whatever." I hang up and put my phone back in my pocket. I turn the truck round and head back.
I see a shadow reflecting on the road in front. I stare hard through the windshield to see what is causing it.
I blink.
"Ah! Shit!"
When I reopen my eyes, I see the head of my pursuer hanging over the window.
He climbs onto the bonnet with his jacket over his hand and brass knuckles over his jacket.
He goes to punch the window, but I start the wipers and throw him off guard. I make a quick turn to the left and watch with satisfaction as he slides off the bonnet.
I sigh with relief.
After a few seconds of driving, I begin to hear a repeating thumping noise on the car door, and eventually a hand penetrates the window.
I steer in close to other cars in an attempt to break him off, but he continues to hold on.
I take one of the Uzis out of my pocket.
His hand disappears from sight. Maybe he heard me load the gun.
I shouldn't have to worry, anyway. Ammunation is in sight, and I will be there soon.
I hear the glass shatter behind me, but before I have a chance to react, a leather sleeved arm extends through the sunroof and seizes me by the throat, and begins choking the life out of me.
My eyes water, the road ahead turns blurry and I can't see where I'm going.
I blink, clearing the water away from my eyes in time to see the enormous bulk of the Ammunation building hurtling towards me.
The hand is slowly released from my throat.
I open my car door, raise my hands over my head, and dive.
I roll upon landing, in time to see the Packer collide with the building.
His body lies motionless in front of it.
I run inside. "Phil," I whisper into my phone, "I'm in."
"Gentlemen, you have searched long enough. You will find me on the roof, ready to settle this."
I feel an eerie presence in the building all of a sudden. I have to find Phil. He will be on the roof, of course. That is where he always handles business of this sort.
I go to the elevator but it is in use. There's no way I'll have time to climb thirty floors, so I wait.
The roof is surrounded by a small, foot high wall. Like that would stop anyone falling. Phil gazes over the edge to the minuscule world below. Those people, they have no idea about what is going to take place. Many of them have no idea about the true corruption of the city, the Mafia, the Yakuza, the Triads, it's all a rich tapestry of seedy underground rackets and violence. If only they knew. . .
Phil spits over the edge and goes to wait by the elevator, armed with a sawn off shotgun, illegally acquired of course.
He holds it in his outstretched arm casually, as if he has done this sort of thing many times before.
He knows what he is doing. He knows the true corruption, and he knows the only way to stop it is to blow the shit outta it before it does the same to you.
The elevator whirs and clicks behind the iron plated door. Soon the door would slide open, into that life or death moment he longs for. The adrenaline and the action are what he craves.
Ping.
The elevator gives off a cheery tone, almost muffled by the rumbling of the door opening. A man walks out.
Click.
"Ah. Luigi, aint it? I must say, it will be a pleasure to blow your brains all over the floor."
Luigi stands in shock.
The stairway door bursts open with an incredible force, revealing the scowling figure of Toni Cipriani, silhouetted by the light of the sun, his trademark shotgun held firmly in his grip.
Click.
"Drop it, Phil."
Phil visibly shakes a little – the horror of him being told to surrender. . .does not. . .work.
"Not on the ground, Phil." Toni's voice becomes a sort of whisper. "I want you to drop it over the edge."
Phil sighs, and releases his grip on the shotgun, sending it plummeting down to Earth.
He sags a little.
"Well, I never thought I'd be the one to kill Phil Cassidy. Really, I didn't."
"And you won't."
"Huh?" says Toni, without turning round.
Click.
Toni feels a chilling sensation as the neck of my gun is pressed against the back of his head.
"T. . .Toni," stutters Luigi. "Be. . Behind you. . .it's -"
Luigi's words are cut short by a blow to the face from Phil, who grabs the pistol out of his hand, and pivots round behind him, gun aimed squarely on his head.
Click.
"Heh heh! Nice going, kid!" chuckles Phil. "Now we got em!"
"I don't think this is over, Phil."
The almost deafening sound of helicopter blades circulating fills the air. Papers and dirt fly everywhere. My jacket billows in the wind behind me. The helicopter stops, and hovers a few feet higher the roof and a few feet away from it.
The door slides open, revealing Joey Leone in a greasy mechanic's suit, his hair slicked back with gel.
He lets the wind ruffle his clothing. Behind him, Gator and the man that had been chasing me were standing, under the watchful eye of Mickey Hamfists.
"You murdered my father! And you killed my best friend!" Joey yells over the roaring sound of the chopper.
"Joey, we didn't kill him!"
"Then, YOU!" He points to the man in the leather jacket. "YOU killed him! I'm gonna rip your fucking heart out and show it to you!"
"Joey, Wong was about to rat you out to us. That guy did you a favour by killing him. Wong couldn't have been a true friend."
"Damn. . ."
We wait through the silence, Toni and Luigi visibly trembling now as we continue to hold them still.
"And speaking of friends," yells Phil, "these two are gonna get it now!" Phil presses the gun harder into Luigi's neck.
"Go ahead." says Joey flatly.
"What?" says Phil, confused and a little upset. Joey was supposed to be mad at that and start a war, not give up.
"I said go ahead. I don't need them. I have real loyalty right here. In Blake."
Gator walks to the front of the 'copter beside Joey.
"Blake? Your name's Blake? Ahahahaha!" laughs Phil.
"What the hell are you doing with him, Gator? You're on our side!"
Gator stares at his feet with his head hanging.
Joey hands him a Colt Python. He looks up, his gun hand trembling.
"Go ahead, Gator." whispers Joey. "Take your pick."
Gator steadies his hand, and aims the gun at Phil, then at me, and at Phil again.
Gator sighs.
"Sorry." he says.
I close my eyes.
Bang!
I'm still alive. Oh, god, he must've hit Phil.
I open my eyes again slowly.
I dread to look, but I force myself to look in Phil's direction. I fear for the worst, but there he is, standing, jaw-dropped.
Gator is standing with the gun in his hands, sobbing slightly. His face has blood on it.
The other man is standing with a triumphant look on his face and his Colt Python held above his head.
The headless body of Joey Leone lies under him, thick, sticky blood oozing from his wound, brain matter splattered all over the wall of the chopper.
It is enough to make me physically sick.
Gator hasn't moved. He is still standing, looking at the ground hundreds of feet below him.
Toni and Luigi hold looks of puzzled disbelief.
"Gator, get over here."
Gator takes a deep breath, and lets it out with a sigh. He begins to take a step, but the helicopter jerks, causing him to slip.
"Gator!"
I watch as he falls forward, his hand grasping the top of the building for support.
"Phil, save him!"
"Uh. . .I'm kinds busy." he motions towards the man still in his grip.
"Oh. . .yeah."
I stare at his hand, watching him struggle to hold on. I move my gaze to the helicopter, where a man who was once my enemy is standing. I stare into his eyes pleadingly.
He nods, and leaps onto the roof. He then extends his arm and pulls Gator to his feet. Gator collapses onto his knees immediately after, then falls completely unconscious.
I watch the man in the leather jacket.
Toni laughs. "Heh. I knew that guy was good. If only that heartless bastard had given him a chance. Serves him right, what happened to him."
"Shut up!" I dig the gun in deeper.
"Sorry."
I look at the man again. "What's your name?"
He shrugs, and gets back into the helicopter.
"Well. . .thanks."
He nods to me, and shuts over the door. I see him take over the controls, and fly away into the distance.
"Wow. Glad all that's over."
"Uh. . .kid? We still have these two to worry about."
"Oh, yeah."
"What are your lives worth?" asks Phil with a smirk on his face.
"I can get ya girls. Lots of girls."
"Uh huh."
"And, I guess now that Joey's dead, I become the new Don." says Toni. "That means I practically run this city. I can get ya what ya want."
"And what's that?"
"Money!"
"Hey, kid, I like where this is goin'. What about you?"
"Sure, whatever."
"Besides, this was all Joey's idea. We didn't wanna kill you."
"You didn't?"
"Nah, we hated Salvatore as much as you did, kid, and I never could trust a Triad. As a matter of fact, I really respect you."
"Alright, you pleaded your case. You can go."
"Alright, swing by my mansion sometime."
"What about Joey's wife and kid?" asks Luigi to Toni.
"Oh come on. You really think he was her only husband? That's not even his kid. Where do you think she was going all the times she went "out"? She was taking little "Joey Junior" to see his other daddies. It must be hell for that kid. One minute it's Joey Junior, then Harry Junior, Marty Junior, Mike Junior. I wonder if he'll even notice Joey is dead. Besides, Misty only uses these guys for money."
"Did he know that?"
"Nah."
"Heh heh. Dumb bastard."
"You got that right."
Slowly, we release our grip on the two, still keeping our guns on them. We walk them to the elevator carefully, and let them out the door.
"You two'll do pretty well outta this." says Toni. "Believe me."
We close the door, and take the elevator up to the roof to get Gator.
We carry him down and lay him on a couch until he regains consciousness.
He slowly sits up.
"Hey, Blake." says Phil.
"Hey, Gator, what made you abandon us?"
"I'm sorry, guys." he says, a little dazed. "I guess I forgot who I really was."
"You almost shot me, Blake." jokes Phil.
"And I'll do it again if you don't shut up with the Blake shit fatass!"
"Alright, alright. . ."
"But anyway, when I got that gun, I knew I couldn't do it. His promises were nothing but sweet words, I forgot for a sec that you guys offer me more than that. Friendship. And even if it means doing all the dirty work, I still wouldn't change for the world."
"Well that's good." says Phil. "Cos this place is a mess. Clean it up, I'll be upstairs getting drunk."
"Yeah, me too."
I follow Phil up the stairs.
Gator looks at the Colt Python, still in his hands.
He checks the clip.
"Heh. Not even loaded." he says to himself, before collapsing backwards onto the couch.
A/N: Wow. That was a long chapter. I really didn't expect that, the previous one was really just a little challenge I had set for myself to try and write over four thousand words (which I did) but I didn't expect to ever write that much for a chapter again, and now here we are – just short of five thousand words. (five thousand and sixteen if you include this summary) Well, thanks for reading and reviewing everyone. If you want to suggest a chapter like Sid Hawk did, please send me it as an email or put it on my live journal so not to spoil the story for anyone who reads the reviews. (not that he did, or anything.).