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Amends

Part 4

I lay on the floor with Ahmed’s gun in my hand.  Blood leaked from my fingers where they’d been cut on fallen glass.  Ahmed lay a short ways back, half in and half out of the bathroom, on his back.  He’d fallen hard, and was groaning.  I forced myself to my feet, tucking the empty gun into my pants.  He stood as well, glaring at me with hate filled eyes.  He didn’t seem to know what to do next.  I reached into my coat, and his eyes went wide-
-I took out my wallet, and opened it in front of him.  I held up two thousand dollars in cash.
“It’s a nice gun, and I’m sure it will be worth the cost.”  I said.  “Oh, throw in the ammo for it, if you would.  How about it?  This is a bit more useful than pride, wouldn’t you think?”

We parted ways, Ahmed two thousand dollars richer and utterly confused, but still broiling with fury.  In the end, I hadn’t changed anything, even though I’d held back and didn’t even pull my gun.  With the money I’d given him he’d just get another gun and go get himself killed by the first Ligelli guy he came across.  I sighed as I stumbled down the dark and frigid alley.  Thinking about the big picture only made you depressed.  Forget about the future.  I told myself.  Focus on now.  You have to live now.  I felt like I was dragging a car behind me.  Every step sent a jolt of sharp pain through my wounds, and I found myself closing my eyes whenever I didn’t pay direct attention to it.  I was a mess.  I wouldn’t stand five seconds against the Ligelli’s.  I sighed.  I was almost there.

Last Resort

Ahead was a brightly lit mansion, as familiar to me as my own.  A tall fence enclosed it, a guard station set beside the gate.  Inside was one man.  Behind the gate, probably two more, on patrol.  No, that was under normal circumstances.  Tonight, there would be more.  Tonight I would have my work cut out for me.  I stepped forward, out of the shadows.  The door on the guard station swung open, a young man stepped out.  Jonas, a gruff loud bastard who was always doing his best to intimidate me.  Good.  I never liked him anyway.
Chik.
“Hey-”
* *
I fired twice, the black gun in my right, the silver in my left.  Two bloody holes popped out of Jonas’ right shoulder.  He screamed, his hand lifting the gun from-
*
The gun flew out of his hand.  I stepped up and half turned, swung both of my gun’s.  The pommels smacked his head hard, and he dropped with a whimper.  He would live, but he might not like the next few weeks.  I stepped up to the gate, and smiled.  I might have lost my gun in the river, but I still had my keycard.  In all the recent chaos-
Beep.
-Miguel hadn’t thought to reprogram the gate.  It slid open.  I stepped through.
Pop.
Two shots, silenced.  One tore past my right sleeve, just missed.  I didn’t see the other.  I did see two men, on opposite sides of the house, taking cover behind the corner wall.  I crossed my arms, taking aim-
* *    * * *  *    * *    *
       *     *    **     *    *   *    *
I let the bullets fly, and they drowned out the thunder and both men fell to the ground.  I’d avoided their vitals, but I couldn’t say for sure where I’d hit them.  I hoped they’d live, but I couldn’t waste time now.  I moved as quickly as I could to the front door.  I ejected the spent magazines and reloaded.
With a crash the door flew in as I smashed my boot between the frames.  It may have even been locked.  I strode in.  Four men waited for me.
Each bullet sounded like a brutal note in a barbaric melody.  I almost closed my eyes at the sound.  Gunfire really was music to my ears.  I moved like lighting, firing at each man methodically, ignoring their shots so that mine would hit first.  Even so, one hit me hard in the right arm, and it hurt so bad the black gun fell limply from my hand.  I fired and they collapsed on the ground, moaning in pain.  I stepped over their prone forms and stumbled on.
In the hall, I fell against the closest wall and groaned in agony.  My arm was on fire.  I grit my teeth so hard I swear they cracked.  No time.  I thought.  No time.
A woman dashed out of the room ahead.  She was dressed in a black suit and skirt, and her hair was pulled back tight out of her eyes.  Ah, Jessica, the woman who’d insisted on being made a soldier.  I’d always given her a hard time about it, and she’d always striven to prove me wrong.  She had me cold now, my gun dangling uselessly towards the floor.  Then her eyes went wide with surprise, and uncertainty.
“Treno- ah!”
Her confusion cost her.  I shot her in the hip, then stepped up and smacked the gun out of her hand and into the next room.  I stuck the barrel in her throat and shoved her backwards into the room opposite.  I shut the door on her, and moved on.
Ahead of me stood the door to the master bedroom.  Miguel might be there…and Verona.  As I reached it I tripped and nearly fell.  My vision was red and blurred.  I but my injured hand on the knob, blood drizzling out like a fountain…
I twisted, and pushed through.

“They’re coming here!?  They’re already here!  I can here the shots right outside my door-”  A young man stood across the room, shouting furiously into a phone.  He trailed off, mouth hanging open as his eyes met mine.
“Hey there, Miguel.”
The phone dropped out of his hand.
Clik.
I thumbed the hammer, aimed at his heart.  I was so messed up now that I was leaning against the wall just to stand, but even so I held his life in my hand.  I lifted my gaze, searched for her-
“Treno…”
-and there she was.  Verona.  Dressed in a black evening gown, golden hair tumbling artfully past her brilliantly blue eyes.  Her eyes….
They showed fear.  Fear, and something more.  Resolve?  I looked down-
Chichink.  She pumped the shotgun she held leveled at my gut.  I looked around the room, laughed.  A love triangle, now arranged in a ritual of death.  But whatever happened, she would survive.  I bit back a gasp of pain.  Well, that was good.  That’s what I wanted…
“Drop it Treno.”  She said, trying to sound tough.  Her voice cracked.  “I said drop it!  I mean, I’ll kill you if have to…”  She trailed off, a sob escaping her.  I held the gun steady, looking Miguel in the eyes.  They were like dark pools, showing nothing, a vague and pointless smirk on his lips.  He was always like that, never showing fear, no emotion but the smiling poker face he always wore when faced with adversity.  In all the time I knew him, he’d worn that face, but for a few handful of times when thing’s had been good and he’d let down the mask and become the friend I’d used to know.  My finger shook, and I suddenly remembered him bragging only a few days ago that in all his days of crime, he’d never been shot.  Well, I could change that.  Right now.  All I had to do was pull the trigger.   “Drop it!  Don’t you dare hurt him!  Please, I don’t want to kill you.”  Big fat tears were streaming down Verona’s face, but the double barrels she held were steady as a rock.  I smiled.  She’d learned well, and it was me who had taught her to use a gun.
“Calm down Verona.  Treno isn’t going to hurt me, are you old pal?”  Miguel said, making a casual gesture.  He looked so at ease, completely unconcerned by the gun leveled at his heart.  “Come on, buddy, put down the gun.  You don’t want to kill me.  There’s been a misunderstanding here-”
“A misunderstanding!?”  I laughed.  “Really?  Did your goons misunderstand when you told them to send me to the bottom of the river?  Did I misunderstand when they shot the shit out of me?  Huh?  You tried to have me killed Miguel!”
“Yeah, I did.”  His smile vanished, but his eyes were still unreadable.  Across the room, Verona gulped down a sob, the gun still held steady. She looked so fragile, I wanted to go to her and hold her close and tell everything would be okay…but that was a lie.  Nothing would ever be okay again.  I shook my head to clear it.  It was so fuzzy, I could barely think, my eyes were drooping closed.  Blood poured out of me like a fountain.  I couldn’t stand without the support of the wall beside me.  I tried to focus, to think on what I was doing.  What had Miguel said?  Suddenly, it seemed like I didn’t even know why I was here.  I ran through my head a million things I wanted to say, to ask, to demand the truth, but it all really came down to one thing.
“Why?  Why Miguel?  Verona, why?  What did I do to deserve…this…”  My vision was fading, Miguel was just a shadow to me now, but his eyes were clear.  Slowly, his eyes shifted from their mirrored pool.  His face twisted into a expression I don’t believe I’d ever seen on him before: pity.  He pitied me.  Damn.
“You brought this on yourself Treno.  I’m sorry that I was the one to give the order, but you had to be brought down.  If I hadn’t been there to speak for you, the boss would have taken you out long ago.  I chose to do this during the coup, because I felt that if I couldn’t save you, than it had to be me who ended it.  And for that I am sorry.  But,”  he stood up straighter, staring right back at me.  “I believe what I did was right.  I really had no choice.  You were destroying everything I’d worked for for so long, Treno.  You have to understand that.”  And suddenly, I did.
“The…Mercutio’s?”
“Yeah.  You really messed things up, ya know?”  He said, still with that sad look in his eyes.  “We had everything we needed here.  The city under our control, the money pouring in, and we had plenty of room to expand out in the suburbs.  Their was no need to take on Mercutio.  As long as we each kept to ourselves we both profited, and what could be better than that?  The little fight our guys had out on the river was nothing, it could have been smoothed over with a little persuasion and maybe a wad of cash.  But you wouldn’t accept that.  You didn’t want peace, you wanted vengeance.  You escalated everything, and by the time it came to my attention it was beyond fixing.  And then, you killed the boss’s godson.  His family.  Once you did that, any talk of negotiation was over.  You as good as declared war for us.”  He sighed.  “We don’t want war Treno.  Pride is not worth it.  No matter what I did, I could never make you understand that.”
“They…disgraced us…they had to pay…”  I mumbled, but in my head my thoughts were swirling.  Had we been disgraced?  I couldn’t remember anymore.  Was it important enough to kill over?  To start a gang war over?  It didn’t seem important now.
“I spoke with the boss of Mercutio.  I offered him anything he wanted, but he refused to listen.  Blood had been spilled, and he wouldn’t except anything but blood in return.  Your blood, Treno.  I’m sorry.  It had to be done.”  Miguel was looking at me with pain, loss, pity, resolve, and sorrow all at once.  Or maybe that’s what I was feeling.  I turned, whole body shaking, blood pouring down over one eye, to her, to Verona, my love.  The tears still streamed down her cheeks, but she now looked more composed, holding herself steady.  Good.  I wanted her to be strong…
“And you, Verona?”
“I… I did love you Treno…”  She said.  “But, at the same time, I was so scared of you.  Treno…I could never be at peace with you.”
“Right…I understand…”  I was so tired.  My knees buckled, but I held myself up.  My grip on the gun tightened, and I lifted it from where it had drifted down.  I aimed it right at Miguel’s sad eyes.  Time to end it.

An explosion of sound filled the air.