Trollheart

Boss of Bosses

Ah yeah, think ya got it all figured out, huh kid? You've been with the firm, what – a year now? Oh, sixteen months, ya say? Well well. And now you're just about ready to take over. Gonna go up against me, huh?

Yeah, yeah, you're the one with the gun. Think a gun makes you a big man, do ya? Ya got a lots to learn, kid. If ya ever lives that long that is. Nah, not a threat son. Don Angelo Di Marco, he don't make threats.

Kinda remind me of myself when I was younger, kid, you know that? New on the job, fulla piss and vinegar, ready to take on the world. I know that feelin'. Why should ya work for me when ya can have it all for yourself? Just what I was thinkin' back then about my boss. Old guy was losin' it, lettin' insults pass, not collectin' on debts, showin' – Jesus Christ! Showin' mercy! I ask ya, right? Time the guy was put outta his misery. Time for, ah, new blood, capische?

Yeah I had the same idea, kid. I was in your place, standin' where you are now, but I didn't use no gun. Nah. See, I knew somethin' about this Family that you don't. We been here forever. We got secrets.

Lemme tell ya a story. What? Got somethin' more important to do? You're about to take out the Boss of Bosses, an' ya don't wanna hear his final testimonial? Hell, ya owe me that much, right? Sure ya do. Right then, ya gotta come with me then, back about – oh, fifty years ago I guess it would be now. Heh. No, I guess I don't look my age, true. All this good livin', you see. Good to be the boss.

Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah. I was standin' where you are, facin' my boss. Folks always thought there was somethin', you know, different about Don Vito. His enemies had a nasty way of vanishin', an' nobody ever found no bodies. But that wasn't strange; happens in any crime syndicate. Lots of places to bury people – or parts of 'em – where they ain't never gonna be found. Nah, the really weird thing about Don Vito was his aversion to the day. Never rose till the sun went down, conducted all his business at night. If he had deals to be done in daylight, well, he had agents to take care of it. Didn't eat much either – well, when I say not much, I means nothing. Not so much as a scrap of food. And for an Italian, well, he sure avoided goin' to church. Never set foot in there, not once.

Sure, I knew why, but then, I was part of the Family. And we were loyal, and sworn to secrecy. Sworn to protect the Family.

But I was about to break that oath of loyalty which had been the hallmark of our Family for – well, for longer than you can imagine, kid.

I was young an' foolish, full of my own confidence.
Invincible.

I broke into Don Vito's office – not hard, for a man of my talents, I assure you – and I was waitin' for him when he came back from a meetin'. His eyes popped when he saw me. Not exactly friends, him and me – members, you might say, of opposin' factions within the Family. Well he looks down at my gun, up at my eyes, over at his three goons, who all go for their weapons.
And he laughs.

He sneers. Don't this punk kid know who he is? Does he really think a gun is going to have any effect on a guy like Don Vito? The goons, taking their cue from the boss, begin to laugh too. They're waitin' for the signal, but they ain't never gonna get it.

I squeeze the trigger and hit him square in the heart.
Don Vito laughs as, instead of hot lead slammin' into his chest and ruinin' his expensive Brooks Brothers suit, water spurts out of my gun.

Don Vito laughs.
The goons laugh.
Then Don Vito stop laughin', and starts screamin'.

He's clutchin' at his chest, flappin' at it, slappin' it with his palms. Black smoke is risin' from the folds of his shirt, and a nasty, cookin' smell is in the air. Don Vito looks at me with eyes that suddenly realise what's happenin', as the smoke gets thicker and heavier, and red and orange flames start to leap from his chest, his neck, his hands as the water trickles down his body. I fire a few more shots, and Don Vito sinks to his knees, his entire head wreathed in fire, skin meltin' down what's left of his face, his body already crispin' on the Axminster.

One of the goons rushes to him, one comes at me. I take both of them out with a few shots. A few bullets impact my body, but I shrug them off. The two of them begin to smoke like their boss. The third one has turned and run. I take careful aim at his back. The gun sputters and coughs, but nothin' comes out.

Empty.

Cursin', I reach in my pocket, pull out the small glass vial with the holy cross embossed on the side, refill the pistol, and go after him. I catch him halfway down the stairs.

I spray his back, emptyin' the gun into him, and he literally erupts in flame, cindered remains fallin' down the steel steps. He don't even got time to scream.

I walk back to the office, kickin' apart the ashes of the man who was once Don of the First Family, crime boss of all New York, and I stride to his desk. I pick up the phone, and give the code word.

You ever heard of the Night of the Long Knives, kid? No? Ya oughta pay more attention to your history. See, there was this guy, Adolf Hitler. He wanted to take over his country, but there were guys in the way, guys he didn't trust. Gotta have trust in this business, right? So what does Hitler do? He does what any good mob boss would do. He removes the threat, makes sure there ain't nobody to stand in his way.

This here is my Night of the Long Knives, kid.

Oh yeah, your accomplices are all bein' dealt with as we speak. One of them gave you up.

Loyalty, kid. Ain't got loyalty, ain't got nothin'.

Tell ya what, kid, I couldn't be bothered bitin' ya. Why don't ya do me a solid an' point that gun at your head? Go on, that's it. All ya gotta do now is pull the trigger.

Yeah, I'm real sorry too kid. Only got this desk French polished today and now I'm gonna have to have your brains cleaned off it. Ah well. I got people for that.

Good to be the Boss.

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018