Chapter 4 (Loverboy - Working for the Weekend)
"Concentrate, goddamnit!" I desperately tried to ignore Coach Wills shouting his head off from my corner and kept on focusing on my opponent instead.
I was fucking concentrating, even more so since the start of the second round.
I couldn't go for the win, I couldn't make it too obvious, but I honestly didn't want to go down.
Going down meant getting your lights knocked out and every single fiber of my body was fighting the idea of willingly getting punched,...but when the Boss wanted you to go down.
…fuck it!
Hands up I aggressively went on the offensive, closing the distance just like Coach Wills wanted.
My headgear thankfully did a decent shop of keeping most of the noise out as I was desperately trying to concentrate. I had to walk into the right punch at the right time.
Now or never, before I lost my nerves.
I began a quick but easily recognizable combo, two stiff japs, and then I telegraphed a sloppy bolo punch, left hand coming up in a circular motion around his solid cover-up aimed at my opponent's head.
Left hand over-extended, right hand just a touch too low, slightly off-balance, an invitation for every pro.
Instantly my vision was filled by my opponent's glove, and in what had to be my last lucid moment I desperately tried to relax, to move with the force and soften the devastating hook by the tiniest of margins.
…
My head bounced off the canvas…
…
3…
…
Had to get up, right?
…
7…
Gaze fuzzy, I felt my arms struggling to support my weight as I tried to get up.
9…
And then a bell rang.
I didn't expect the next blow to come my way in the makeshift infirmary of the casino hotel, which in hindsight had turned out to be pretty naïve I reckoned.
Ice pack firmly held against the swollen and bruised side of my face I watched with one eye as the door opened and Coach Wills entered.
Feeling unsure and slightly awkward I waited for him to get the ball rolling and see if he suspected anything, which became increasingly obvious when he ignored me in favor of putting my gloves in the sports bag he held in his hand.
That done, he headed back for the door only to stop and finally look at me with an eerily blank face, that slowly began to worry me.
"I expect you to return the shorts fresh and clean to the gym by Monday, you can clear out your locker then as well," he said flatly, and I rocked back stunned.
"Ey, hey, Coach," I stumbled at first before I fully grasped what he was implying. "What do you mean?"
"You are out!" He confirmed firmly, squashing even the slightest doubt, at what was going on. Shaking his head, I finally saw contempt, that had to have been lurking under his skin, shine through.
"It was decent, but I fucking trained you!" He snarled before he visibly restrained himself with one deep breath.
"Fucking waste of my time," were the last words I heard before he slammed the door behind him.
It was rather telling when only a few moments later Mateo strolled in with a very satisfied expression and good naturedly gave me a mock punch to the shoulder.
"Get dressed, I give you a ride home."
A sharp pivot on the ball of my left foot, hips and body rotating while my right arm swung downward was followed by my shin solidly connecting with the heavy bag where I imagined an opponent's rips would be.
Again, but faster.
Again, this time aimed at the imaginary head.
Slipping into an orthodox stand my fists blurred into a solid 1-2-3-2, stiff jap opening my opponent's defense, heavy right cross, left hook, and another heavy right cross, ending with some light footwork that gave me some space again.
Feeling bold today and the desire to finish the workout with something spectacular I went in a final time. A very decent flying knee, that landed not quite at head height.
Quite proud of my badass display I ignored the tired and wobbly landing and grabbed my towel from my nearby weight bench.
My weight bench in my little personal gym in Peppe's basement, that I managed to cobble together in the year since Mr. Wills had kicked me out.
I still didn't know how to feel about that one, which didn't mean I wouldn't do it again, because I would do it again, and again, because if the boss wanted something done, well in your own personal interest, you better get it done, and done right while you are at it.
So far, the benefits even outweighed the negatives anyway.
The time I had previously spent at Wills's gym was now filled with Somchai explaining and teaching me the basics of Muay Thai to the best of his abilities as taught to him by his father, and me going ham in my own little basement gym.
The handful of jokes at my bruised face at school had been a non-issue since I was basically only interested in keeping my grades somewhere acceptable and to simply get my last year done. When you had guys like Mateo who was like the cool older cousin or Paulie as the badass uncle, and Bobby as the nice uncle, I honestly didn't care that much about any of the 'kids' in school.
Maybe except Adriana with the long blonde hair, but that was another matter altogether.
The most notable and in my opinion most positive change had been in our entire family dynamic, even more so since I had confided to Uncle Peppe what I had been up to with Paulie and occasionally Bobby.
I obviously had cleared it with Paulie beforehand as I hadn't wanted him to face the music blindly or even alone, but I had argued, that there shouldn't be any secrets in the family and that it would be the all-around better and safer option to just come clear with Peppe of our own volition before he would hear it from someone else.
Oh, he had been annoyed, very annoyed even, when he had heard, that I knew multiple ways to deal with a body, our rules and lingo, and other peculiarities. After some drinks, the annoyance, however, had thankfully turned into something akin to pride and something calculating. It wasn't long after that I had been put under Paulie officially and jumped several people in line, that had been vying for any kind of recognition.
This was particularly noteworthy as I could never become a made guy, a full member, go beyond associate, as I simply had the wrong lineage with my father not having been of full Italian heritage.
It had rankled me something fierce when I had learned that particular nugget, but the feeling had come and gone because otherwise, I would have to blame Grandpa Wilhelm, and I simply wasn't going to do that.
Plus, according to Paulie Jimmy 'the Gent' was only an associate, too.
More worryingly, I thought as I switched the lights off and made my way up the stairs and to our apartment, was the fact, that there was a real chance, no matter how small, that there might not be a Panessa family by the time I would be ready for the ceremony given the crazy shit happening everywhere.
There was a reason we were going to have a business dinner at Five o'clock in the evening with the sun still high up and bathing Gotham in a light, that Bob Ross might call picturesque.
I shook my head, if things kept going like this, I might even see business done during fucking brunch.
Yes, a certain someone was seriously putting a strain on a couple of our practices.
For quite some time there had been rumors in certain circles, that someone or something was cracking down on organized crime. More and more strange stories turned up in the newspaper. A jungle sprouting and burning down during a single night in Robinson Park, a deranged scientist apparently the culprit. A crazy clown taking and brutally killing hostages.
But not just here, last year Superman went public when he saved a plane. After regular news from Central City of a 'red flash' saving people and apprehending criminals, THE Flash also went public not long after.
And finally, these rumors here had a name that could get attached to them, people were openly talking about Batman in Gotham. People knew nothing about him, given Superman and The Flash, they weren't even sure if and what powers he could possibly have.
Rather tellingly "The Roman" recently even went so far as to put a million-dollar bounty on the head of the Batman and his catty lady friend.
Shaking my head at the sheer craziness I entered our apartment and was immediately hit by a smell, that instantly made my mouth water.
Not able to deny me the little detour into our kitchen I spotted Piero, a chef from the pizzeria downstairs, that had been drafted to prepare this gorgeous smelling dinner for our esteemed boss, his underboss, and loyal consigliere.
I saw him smirk when he caught me staring jealously into the heated oven, where the three prepared meals were kept warm and ready to be served.
"I made a fourth chocolate budino for you. It's in the fridge with the other three." he clapped me good-naturedly on the shoulder and started to point out what I needed to know for this evening.
"The Lamb Scallopinis with Pepper & Onion Agrodolce and pan-fried potatoes," he said slowly, knowing that I would be salivating just hearing the name. "are in the oven as you can see, the Ramazotti for after the meal is here, as is the wine. The desserts are in the fridge, don't forget to put the small spoons on the table when you set the table." he reminded me just to be sure.
"Will do." I nodded and he nodded as well knowing, that I would do my job to the letter.
"When everything is said and done, just dumb the dishes into the sink. Mateo will send someone tomorrow morning." he finished, clearly and rightfully satisfied at his creation for the administration.
Inhaling as much of the smell as possible I chanced a glance at the clock.
"I better go and prepare." I said to Piero, who nodded in agreement, "I'll be downstairs, and good luck." another friendly clap on the shoulder and he bid me farewell.
20 minutes and a thorough shower later, the table was set, and I finally gave myself a last once over in my wardrobe mirror.
Shiny black shoes, black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a black west topped off with a black clip-on bow tie.
Straight posture nicely filled out and black hair neatly combed over. I was definitely one hot piece of ass.
My roguishly good looks however couldn't hide my tenseness.
Back in the day, such a meeting would have been done down in the restaurant, where currently a sizeable amount of muscle was enjoying themselves, but given the current climate, big windows on street level weren't deemed safe enough anymore. Even more so since this was going to be an intensely private family meeting.
Panessa only.
It was just going to be Tomasso, Claudio, Peppe…and me.
My presence, it had multiple facets. It was a sign of utmost trust and appreciation to be allowed anywhere near that table today. I was, and this scared me a bit,…incredibly proud. Mandragora, the boss of bosses in Sicily, probably didn't even know I existed, signore Galante, the boss in Gotham after Franco Bertinelli got killed, might have heard of me, but I, a 18-year-old 'boy', was allowed into the inner circle of the Panessas', one of the Five Families.
The other message for me was a lesson. I was allowed to be here, while the higher-ups went along with their business, but only to do my job and nothing else. It was a reminder, that I didn't forget my place.
What had me uncomfortable on this seemingly joyous occasion, was made apparent when the three men stepped into the apartment, and I deferentially accepted their overcoats.
Habits were one thing, but the greying hair on Tomasso and the dark bags under Claudio's eyes really hammered home just how much pressure Batman and Dent were putting on the families.
Peppe stepped in last and gave me a small encouraging smile, which I returned with a grateful nod.
They sat, I served, and wordlessly refilled the wine when required. The meal was a quiet affair, where I kept myself as unobtrusive as possible.
It was a somber and heavy silence, that was only perturbed by the occasional clinking of the silverware, and I was glad when I was finally able to clear the table and we could get to the meat of this whole endeavor.
"I spoke with Professor Valentin." Claudio finally began, and I immediately had to stifle a grimace.
Lazlo Valentin, a forensic doctor of the Gotham City Police Department, and also our…highly competent family physician.
Paulie called him Professor Piggy, because of the horrible pig snorts he did when he laughed, but never to his face. He had freely and without a hint of shame admitted to me, that he was never going to fuck with that man, for the simple reason that he gave him the absolute creeps.
We paid for his services with drugged gangbangers, that we brought to his little clinic, and with the disposal of body bags. Pauli had confessed, that he had looked once into one of the body bags and that he hadn't been this close to hurling since childhood.
"He recommended a Dr. Dekker, who's currently employed by Wayne Enterprises." he continued, unaware of my unease.
"We really want to go that route?" Peppe asked almost resigned, eyes on Tomasso, who sighed tiredly. Maybe this was a recurring argument.
"Talk is that Pasquale hired a cybernetically enhanced enforcer as a bodyguard, the Russians get cozy with an old KGB Monster, and just a stone's throw west we have lunatics like that King Snake with his crazy bitch." Tomasso finished heatedly, revealing just how much this apparent arms race worried him.
Claudio turned to his brother, apparently trying to give Tomasso a second to calm down again.
"Everywhere we look lunatics seem to sprout like weeds, and some of them even started to carve out territories for themselves." he paused and gave Tomasso a quick glance.
"Peppe, we feel the strain." he hesitated for a second but looked ready to continue. Tomasso beat him to it, however.
"We can't afford to waste our resources on this little neighborhood Downtown with the Odessa and the Triads already growing bolder every day," he said frankly, and Peppe leaned back as if struck. Even I stared wide-eyed. This was my neighborhood, my home, too.
"You expect some egghead," Peppe answered agitatedly. "To magically hand us our own Superman. How exactly do you intend to convince this Mr. Mircale to work for us?" he asked, clearly implying that we weren't exactly the surest bet or biggest fish around.
I saw him lean back again, clearly satisfied when Tomasso didn't immediately answer. Apparently, this was the big crux of the matter.
The dining room was deathly quiet, even the city noise from outside was gone given the hour and the closed curtains. Meanwhile, I had my unseeing eyes fixed on the center of the table, my mind racing at a breakneck speed.
I hadn't realized just how messed up the city was starting to become; just how bad we were faring. But we had a man, a chance...a fighting chance!
Author Note: This is in the middle of Batman's second year, our protagonist is 18 years old and about to finish high school.
I'm writing this to encourage people to comment and spitball ideas. I'm a comic-casual, I'm basically writing this story with multiple wiki-pages always open, so please comment your thoughts regarding where you might see William go from here since I'm always looking for inspiration.
Thank you.
