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Amends

Part 2

Damn.  A sad story like that, it really kind of pisses me off.  Yeah, I know, I’m a hypocrite and all.  A gangster rooting for the underdog, pretty dumb.  But, well, I used to be in just that kind of position myself, so I guess I had some kind of empathy or something.  Anyways, I lay back down, tried to get some rest, but all I could think of was that damn story of his.  So an hour and a half later I suddenly said out loud, surprising even my self:
“Rommel, my man, I’m gonna pay you back for your help.  You can rest easy-the Ligelli Family’s got your back.  As soon as I take care of things with the guy that tried to have me killed, I’ll use all of The Family’s power to find the man who cheated you.  I swear it on my mother’s grave.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, his mouth twisted into a nervous grin.  He looked uncertain.  “And…when you find him?  What then?”
I smiled, but said nothing.  I raised my gun hand, index finger pointed out towards him like a barrel, then mimed a gun shot.
“Bang.”  My grin widened.
“Oh.”  Was all he said.  Rather than thank me, or get excited, or reacting in any other way that made sense, he quickly turned away.  His face was hidden from my sight, shrouded in the shadows of the bridge looming over head.  The rain poured down, picking up speed and intensity.  Thunder boomed over head, and suddenly the entire world lit up from the lightning’s strike.  The rain poured down in a torrent, the sides of the bridge were like waterfall’s now.  And then, in a voice very quiet in the face of the storm, the old man spoke.
“Please, don’t do that.”
“What’s that?”  I asked, anger rising.  Why refuse such a selfless act?  I was being a good guy here, and he dared to ask me not to?  “Why the hell not?”
“I…look, if you find him, that would be great.  If you do, please, just alert the police.  If you do that, believe me I would be very grateful.  But please, don’t kill him…”  He still wouldn’t look at me.
“I asked you why the hell not!”  I was shouting now.  I’ve always…had a bit of trouble with my anger.  Ha, I remember once when a judge ordered me to go to an anger management class…heh, he wasn’t so demanding when me and my boys paid a visit to his home that night.  Oh, but that’s another story…
He turned towards me.  His eyes were big and wide, like a child’s, and he had a pleading look on his face.  He looked like he was trying to reason with a  mad man…and that made me madder.
“Because, that wouldn’t solve anything.”  He said.  That took me aback.  Wouldn’t solve anything?  The guy would be dead!  Problem solved!
“What the hell do ya’ mean by that?”  I demanded.  My side, where the bullet had been, was aching like a spear in my side, but I ignored it.  It’s always easier to ignore pain when your pissed off.
“Killing someone…ending a life… can never change things for the better.”  He said.  He looked me straight in the eyes now, and I saw fear.  But behind that fear was something else, something that I didn’t recognize.  “Lives are precious things, not something to just throw away.  As long as a person is alive, then there’s a chance that they can change.  That they can do something good.  Even one only lives to serve as an example to others…I still think that’s worth preserving.”
“This man is the reason your out in this god-forsaken shit hole!”  I shouted, waving an arm emphatically.  “And your protecting him!?”  That look in his eyes, it was so familiar.  Like something seen so often that when looked at objectively, you couldn’t tell exactly what it was.
“I just don’t think anyone should have to die before they’re time.  We are all here on this earth for a reason-”  That look in his eyes…Miguel!  The look I’d seen so often on his face, as he spoke of his plan’s for the future.  Rising through the ranks together, gaining power, and freedom together, living on our own ideals, with no one to hold us back.  He would always look like that as he spoke.  I knew that look: it was conviction.  Total self-confidence, complete assurance that he knew what he was saying was right.  Damn you Miguel-
“-and vengeance only spawns more vengeance.  Nothing will ever change that way.  If someone was to die because of me, I couldn’t live that knowledge.  So please, Mr. Voltraine-”
-damn you Miguel!  If you were right, if what you said was right, then why did you betray me!  Why would you steal my Verona from me, the one person who made me feel human?  Why would you go behind my back and leave me out of the coup?  Why try to take everything, all the power, all the freedom, and leave me out in the rain?
WHY DID YOU TRY TO KILL ME!?
“What the fuck do you know!”  I shouted wildly at the man.  “No vengeance?  Life is precious?  I’ve killed countless men just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time!  I’ve killed worms like you just for getting in my way!  All I had to do was pull a trigger.”  I mimed the gun shot again, the pain in my side escalating as I did, but I was beyond caring.  “If life is so precious, then why is it so easily taken away?”  I pulled my knife, the blade angled out towards his face.  His eyes went wide, and he positively reeked of fear, but that conviction in his eyes never changed.
“I could kill you right now, for no damn reason, and no one in the world would care.”  I glared my death-stare at him, the look I always gave those unfortunate scum who were about to be deceased by my hand.  “How’s that for the sacredness of life?”
He said nothing.  I spit in disgust.
“Get the hell out of my way.”  I stormed out into the pouring rain.  Miguel, get ready, ‘cause I’ll show you no mercy.

My whole body ached, the pain spreading from side and shoulder tell it became my whole being, but I struggled on.  I’d stopped under a dark doorstop on a deserted street and had a look at the wounds, but true to his word the old guy had bandaged them well.  Without going to a hospital, they were as good as they were gonna get.   Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to a hospital in Mercutio territory, and I wanted to get this done as soon as possible.  Once that traitor was dead, and Verona dealt with (I still wasn’t sure exactly how I planned to deal with her), the Ligelli’s would provide me all the help I needed.  Right now, the most important thing was getting a hold of a gun.
I wandered the city streets at first, completely out of my element.  I knew the neighborhoods in the city across the river like the halls of my own house, but this was enemy territory, and even I hadn’t ventured in often.  I hadn’t been in this city for a week, since the day I’d had a little meeting with the Mercutio bosses godson.  He’d been at a five star restaurant downtown, a good Italian place, it smelled delicious.  He’d gotten out of his smooth white limo looking so smug, a blonde beauty hanging on his arm, his black suited shadows a step behind him, eyes watching warily.  And then I’d stepped out from around the corner, tipped my hat to the young man, and said Hey, how’s it going?  I’ve got a little message for your godfather.
The message was in my gun’s.  All three of them had gone down in seconds, my aim and speed as superb as always.  The girl screamed and ducked, covering her head, but I let her be.  I may be a killer, but women were sort of an exception to me.  Of course, they’d had more guy’s in the restaurant, and they’d come running, but by then I’d disappeared.  Well, not quite, one of them found me a few blocks away, but I took him out without a problem, so all‘s well that ends well.  I was back at the office an hour later, with a bottle of bourbon.
I shook my head to clear it.  For a moment, I’d been lost in dreamland.  Damn, a lot of pain and loss of blood will do that to ya’, make it hard to concentrate and you end up wasting all your strength.  I moved quickly, out into the streets again.  No one was out, this area was desolate, half empty buildings and half shady businesses.  I steered clear of the latter.  I saw a few kids run by down a dark back alley, an expensive looking suitcase and a purse in their hands.  Petty thieves, most likely, but at least they posed no threat to me.  A woman moved quickly on the opposite side of the street, huddled under a black umbrella.  The rain hadn’t let up none.  Rivers flowed down the side’s of the streets and tumbled away into drains.
After some time I managed to find downtown.  It was dark and gloomy, with almost no one out here either.  A stupid or desperate street performer sat with a harmonica under thick tree, a cardboard box set in front of him.  A dollar and some change was lying at the bottom.  I ignored him and hurried on, eyes watching every shadow warily.  A guy didn’t get to be The Family’s top gunman by being careless.
I risked ducking into a small bar, which was almost completely empty.  I kept my eyes down and spoke quietly.  The barman gave directions quickly and looked happy to be rid of me.  Half an hour later I was walking down main street towards the big suspension bridge that led to the next island, to my home city where my own Family was waiting.  Except, I didn’t know whether they were waiting with arms wide open or with their fingers on the trigger.  Things had gotten all confused during the coup.  Miguel had tried to take over, that I knew, I’d seen it coming.  But I hadn’t expected it so soon, because I assumed he’d have a role for me in the takeover.  Next thing I know I here The Boss has been whacked by Miguel’s guy’s.
And then a guy had come to kill me.  Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t been very good at it.  I’d questioned him hard, and he talked.  He told me how Miguel had taken control, killing the old Boss and all his supporters.  How Verona, my girl, had been seeing him behind my back for month’s and had told him where I’d be.  How Miguel had personally put a gun in his hands with the order to take me out.
He died instead, and I took his gun as a trophy.
I drove to a shop, a small place outside my territory that I ran on the sly.  I got what I needed from there- the sub-machine gun and hundreds of rounds I felt I’d need to make in to Miguel.  I knew it would give me an edge over the usual flunkies, most of which I’d trained myself.  Then I’d stepped on a ferry headed for the southern shore, where Verona and Miguel waited.  And that’s when the real attack came.  I thought Miguel was so stupid, sending one incompetent guy to take me out, but I was the one who was stupid.  It was just a ruse to throw me off guard, and the ferry was the real move.  Checkmate.  Miguel was a whiz at chess, and he beat me every time.  He set it all up so perfectly-me dead, him the Boss of The Family, my Verona in his bed.  He thought he’d won.  But I’m coming now, I’m not dead yet, and he would regret ever turning on me.
“Hey!”  I heard a cocky voice cry out.  “You there, where you going in such a hurry?”  I turned, a narrow alley at my side, the wide open thoroughfare deserted on all sides.  A young man with wet red hair and an expensive black suit stood twenty feet away.  He was at least a half a foot shorter than me.  He’d come out of a shop behind me, a hotel by the look of it.  A cigarette was limply hanging out of his mouth.  His eyes were sharp and watchful.  He stood in a cocksure manner, hands in his pocket’s.  His suit was open loose, a crimson tie hanging down over a blue silk shirt.  A slight bulge on one side was clearly a sidearm, probably a 9mm from the look of it.
“What’s it to you?”  I asked, looking straight at him.  If I tried to stay out of sight, or acted like I had something to hide, it would only draw his attention.  Meanwhile, I was quickly assessing the situation-the distance, the shooting conditions, the man’s stance and stature.  I still didn’t have a gun, just a knife, and he was twenty feet away…it didn’t look good.  Then it got worse.
“What’s going on?”  A deep voice inquired.  Another man stepped out of the hotel behind the first.  He was a tall and muscled black guy, gangster all the way.  He was in a suit as well, a pin striped one neatly fit, with a black tie.  Under it was a brightly colored Hawaiian style shirt.  His hair was neatly groomed, and his eyes showed a casual self-confidence that came with skilled gunmanship.  A pair of sunglasses was tucked into his breast pocket.
“I think we got a lucky today pal.”  The shorter man was grinning widely.  “This here’s the rat everyone’s been looking for.  Isn’t that right, Treno Voltraine?”  The black man with the dangerous look about him smiled at that, and took a few steps forward.  He lifted his hands and smoothed out his suit.  I noticed he wore black gloves.
“Is that right sir?”  He asked, his voice full of bravado he clearly felt he could back up.  “You’re the one who killed the boss’s godson?  If that’s really true, I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my heart…for giving me the chance to claim the reward.”  He was good-I never even saw him pull the gun, but a second later it was in his hand, a big long nosed black steel custom.   Light and rain splashed off it’s barrel… and I moved.
A loud blast sounded as he fired, but I was already dodging, into the narrow alley to my side.  I ran, and heard immediate pursuit-one set of footsteps only.  The red-head must be heading around the building, to cut me off at the other end.  The alley opened into a small courtyard between buildings, a huge fountain stood in the middle.  It was surrounded by and tables, all empty.  Dark windows stood on either side.  Down the alley was the exit out to the street.  I didn’t have much time, I moved quickly.
When he came running out of the alley, I was waiting, pressed up against the side of the wall around the corner.  He swept around the corner, aiming right, the natural side to check first.  I was on the left.  I leapt forward, threw my arm around his neck and brought up the knife.  But he was strong, and I was wounded, and he yanked my arm and spun me hard into the stony wall.  I screamed in pain as my wound opened.
He swiveled, aiming the gun towards my head.  I kicked out, hitting his shin, and he stumbled.  I rolled to the side and heard the boom of his gun.  Flakes of stone stung my face, but I heard a gasp of shock and pain as the bullet bounced right back into him.
I stood over him, my knife arched around his throat, him on his knees.  He still held his gun, but he was bleeding in steady pulses from his gut where the bullet had ricocheted.  He shuddered, the pain making him quiver and shake.  He knew he was finished.  In the time it would take him to turn and aim the gun, I would slice open his neck, and then he would be dead.  All I had to do was slide my hand…
…and the seconds dragged on.  I had to hurry.  The red-haired guy would be waiting at the other end of the alley, but sooner or later he would come to check on his partner.  I should kill him and escape, quickly.
But I didn’t want to.
What the hell is wrong with me?  I thought.  I’d never had this problem before, not since the first time I’d shot a guy.  I always killed with total ruthlessness-it’s what had kept me alive and prosperous, all this time.  It was who I was.  But now, all the sudden, I realized I was tired.  Tired of death.  Tired of the constant repercussions, of friends of family coming back with gun’s blazing, demanding an explanation for a killing I could barely even recall, so tedious was it to me.  Tired of the averted eyes, the fear, the disgust in peoples voices when they spoke of me.  Somehow, it all seemed so petty all of the sudden.
“As long as a person is alive, then there’s a chance that they can change.”
The memory came to me unbidden, of that cowardly old man, just a piece of street trash, somehow speaking with such conviction.  With that look in his eyes.  Damn it to hell, the pain must be making me crazy.  Another memory came out of nowhere, of a time a half a year ago when I’d been on the good side of these guys.  Might be, if things had gone differently, me and this guy would be sharing a drink somewhere.  Back then, Ligelli and Mercutio had been friendly rivals, neither one imposing on the others turf, content to profit separate and unopposed.  Those days had been good.  Peaceful, profitable.  Then one day, some one had changed that.  Some hotheaded moron, in a chance encounter with a Mercutio flunky, had decided to pick a fight and start a feud that would escalate into an all out gang war.  Some idiot who couldn’t think beyond his own impulses.
That idiot, had been me.
And every time Mercutio had retaliated, sending one of our guys a message, taking over one of our spots, pulling a hit, I was always there to take it up a notch.  I’d always strike back twice as hard, confident that if I made them enough examples, they would learn to back off.  And that had only made things worse.  Until finally, wanting to send a clear message once and for all, I had gone after the godson, and gunned him down with complete conviction, never worrying about the consequences.
“Vengeance only spawns more vengeance.”  He’d said.  I’d laughed… but here was proof of that, plain and simple.
“Hey, there.”  I said to the guy on his knees, wheezing at the pain of the bullet in his belly.  “You don’t want to die do ya?  Yeah, I didn’t think so.  So tell ya what, you hand me that gun, nice and easy, and I let you live.  Understand?”
He nodded.
“Then let’s have it.  Quickly now, I’ve got somewhere to be.”  He raised the gun, holding it by the barrel, and I took it with my free hand.  Just then, the red haired man ran around the corner.
Click.  Cocked and ready, I drew a bead on his right eye.  He had me in his sights too, but we were about fifty feet away, a good long distance for a pistol.  He had a good chance of missing, and me…well, I don’t miss.  He was panting from his run, the rain splattering down around him.  He looked uncertain, his eyes darted from the gun to the knife to his partner, again and again and again.  Fool, the best way to save a hostage was to shoot right away, without worrying about the hostage at all.  Well, that’s how I always did it anyway.
“Hey carrot top!”  I shouted through the pattering rain.  “As you can see, we’ve got a bit of a situation here.  Your friend here’s hurt bad…and I can kill him at anytime.  Chances are, even if you shoot, I’ll still kill you.  So what do you say we make a little deal?”
He stared back at me, now I had his full attention.  But his eyes showed only mistrust.
“I have no desire for a shootout.  I’ve got somewhere I need to be, so it’s in my best interest to avoid trouble.  And you need to get him to a hospital.  So lets act like reasonable people, and back off.  I go my way, you go yours.  Sound good?”
He nodded, his eyes still fiery with hate.
“Fine then.  I’ll go first.”  I lifted the gun, taking off aim, then let it fall-
-then instantly ducked as his bullet tore across the yard, whizzing by my ear with a sound like a swinging blade.  The gun was tumbling through the air, falling down…towards my other hand, which had already let go of the knife at my hostage’s throat.
I caught it and fired.  The bullet hit his ring finger curled around the gun’s grip, and he screamed with pain as it severed and his gun went flying.  At the same time I swung my free elbow back, into the head of the man on his knees, who was grabbing for my fallen knife.  It struck with a loud pop, and he dropped, stunned.  Across the yard, the red head was holding his hand and trying not to scream, no threat to me.  I grabbed up my knife and backed away, back into the street, keeping my sight on the pair in front of me.
Behind me, a taxi pulled up, not noticing the gun until he got close.  Then I saw his eyes widen in shock, but I was already pulling the door and sticking it in his face.
“Drive.”  I told him, and shut the door.  He took off with speed born of terror.