The splatter was evident; he could even feel its presence on his face. The job was dirty, but the cleanup was dirtier.
“What did this poor fool do to deserve this?” Damien snickered as the words slipped out. He always had a love for carrying out orders such as this, but they made him wonder what kind of mistakes the people had made. Shifting his eyes over, he could see his reflection in a mirror. There was a reason that he had always worn black. The blood was even noticeable in his crimson hair, gently seeping onto his pale skin. Hands dripping, he cradled the lifeless head in his elegant fingers. Rocking it back and forth, a frown crossed his face. “I’m tired of looking at him. Clean it up.” his orders were direct and heartless; much like himself.
As his underlings cleaned up the evidence, Damien wandered about the still room. Pictures of life and perfection adorned the otherwise bland walls. He didn’t enjoy looking at them. They were useless distractions in his straightforward world. Rolling his head about his shoulders, he became annoyed with the pace that the others were taking to clean up. Eyes sliding back into his head, Damien reached in his side holster and whisked a slender, black, twenty-two. Acting on instinct, he began shooting; although he was only aiming for their shins.
“God, what the hell, Damien?!” it was a short, muscular man that screamed out first.
“You’re too slow. Hurry up. This smell is intoxicating.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “’Get the job done and leave.’ That’s all the Don asked of us. The job’s done, so why aren’t we leaving?” Damien’s voice rose with each word.
“Well, if SOMEONE hadn’t decided to make a spectator sport out of this guy’s head, we might have been done sooner!” cold sweat dripped down the man’s face as he let his opinion be known. Damien chuckled. It had been rather fun for him. But as soon as the laugh entered the room, it was replaced by a menacing stare.
“Just hurry up. I’ll go load the guns.” He twirled on his steel-enforced heels and glided out through the cluttered door in which that had entered not long ago. The breeze of outside air was greatly welcomed; as much as Damien adored seeing others’ blood, he abhorred its stench. With his grip around his own gun relaxing, he heaved the large suit-case looking carrier into the back of a large black van. It’s tinted windows provided the perfect area for examining his equipment without getting suspicious passer Byers. Gently lowering the case onto the bed of the van, he clicked its locked sides open and stared down at what laid before him, swarmed by foam. Its sleek exterior, its obvious firepower- it was beautiful. Donna. Such a befitting name for her. It was carved up the side of her, glimmering gently in the soft light. He smiled down at her lovingly. He cherished her more than anything else in the world. She was a gift from the Don himself for his seventeenth birthday. An act of kindness that Damien would never forget.
Chaos behind him interrupted his reminiscing, and he was forced to slam the case shut and return to his mission. Whirling around, Damien saw nothing but a mass of people crowding the doorway of the apartment building that he had just been inside moments ago.
“This could be bad….” he mumbled angrily to himself. If anything had gotten in the way, if anything had put them in danger-
In an instant, he saw the characteristic purple-dyed hair of his Capo. They were walking briskly through the crowd of concerned citizens, and Damien could see the looks of despair amongst their faces. Reading the signs, he slammed the trunk of the van shut and raced for the driver’s door. The car couldn’t have started sooner; as soon as he put it in drive, the passenger doors were flying open, men jumping in. Not waiting for a cue, Damien thrust the car forward, driving as recklessly as it took to clear a path for them. He wound through the busy streets until he made it to a labyrinth of alleyways, where he then slammed on the breaks as soon as he rounded the first corner. Ripping of his seatbelt, he turned to face the now terrified men that sat behind him.
“What the HELL happened back there?!” he had become enraged with the apparent failure of his team.
“We….well, we were cleaning up, like you said, boss, when this lady showed up at the doorstep. It…it couldn’t be helped. We had to get out of there, and I felt that a few casualties were necessary to achieve that.” the Capo stuttered in fear.
Damien narrowed his eyes at his subordinates.
“The next time I ask you to clean up, get it done right. And don’t think this little incident will go unnoticed by the Don. Oh, no.” he shook his head with disdain and turned back around to drive the group back to their base. The silence in the van was unnerving; no one wanted to risk losing an ear for upsetting their boss.
Upon returning, the group found themselves immediately whisked off into a back room in the large cellar that they called home while they found a new hideout. The ceilings were low, and the walls were infested with maggots, but it perfectly suited their needs for the time being. It’s dark and dilapidated stature warded off most of the regular population, and its location kept wandering strangers from crossing its path. Entering deeper into the building, the uneasy feeling that they had all felt earlier was somewhat evaporated; for the time being. They all knew what awaited them. With this kind of reception, they could only expect the worst.
“Ah, Damien! My boy!” it was a large, elderly man that spoke this time. He threw his decorated hands into the air and showed no obvious grudge.
“Don Incignio, how nice to see you again, sir.” Damien’s tone was strong and unfaltering; he was used to flattering those of higher rank.
“I’ve told you, Damien, you are not to call me Don. I’m your grandfather for god’s sake!” Incignio’s face began to frown. He was a family man, yet a dictator at heart. He ruled with an iron fist (along with the occasional shot gun) and seldom showed affection. The select few who gathered that affection solely consisted of his blood relatives; Damien being one of three still alive. And though Damien was a stern boy, he tried diligently to please the Don. But formalities always caused a snag.
“I’ll try, grandfather.” He began to chuckle openly, the dead silence bringing him great discomfort.
“Please, sit down, all of you.” the Don gestured towards a large nineteenth-century plush couch cowering in the corner of the room. It had been badly worn, and no one helped that fact by sitting on its back repeatedly. The group of subordinates huddled together on the battle-scarred couch, while Damien himself leaned against the remaining side arm. His face was grim, and void of any warm emotion. As for the rest of his team, they sat nervously, with sweat dripping down their faces; they could only imagine what lie in store for them after the events that had happened not so long ago.
“So……I hear you had some trouble earlier.” the Don’s face returned to its naturally stern nature. Damien gulped nervously. He had hoped that word of the incident wouldn’t reach the Don, but his hopes were severely let down.
“We…..did have some slight problems near the end.” his gaze wandered off. “But it was nothing that we couldn’t handle. The mission was otherwise a total success.” he tried to smile, but knew that there was no use.
“I’m not interested in ‘otherwise successes.’ I only want total, undoubtedly certain, with no witnesses, with no problems, success. You have failed to achieve that goal.” Incignio’s eyes narrowed in disgust. “I want total success, Damien. Can you give me total success?” the tone in his voice was rather rhetorical, and the question floated in the stale air.
“Of course, Don Incignio. I will never fail you again.” Damien bowed deeply, letting his composure waver only briefly.
“You see, Damien, it is not you that I do not trust; rather, it is your team that I find rather incompetent. I would like for you to deal with the problem immediately.” he wiped his hands with a tattered rag, as if cleansing himself of the filth of those around him.
“I see, sir. Them do you want me to…..?” his question was left hanging for the apparent reasons that his team feared most: elimination. They knew too well what the politics of this society were like, and they had become its most recent victims.
“I do, Damien. And after you’re finished, I have a job for you.”
“A job?” his tone was one of surprise; the Don really didn’t care that he had screwed up?
“Yes. A nice solo act. Just for you, my boy. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with it.” Incignio snickered wickedly. The look in his eyes hinted at something big; something bloody. Damien’s favorite.
“Yes sir. Understood.” Damien bowed deeply again, rising to turn to leave. He motioned to his subordinates, a malicious grin spreading across his face like wildfire. His eyes gleamed with excitement, and he held out his hand for his underlings to follow; hesitantly, they rose from their confined seating, and walked towards their fate.
As the group left the room, they headed into a corridor that leads to the outside courtyard. The bright and overpowering heat of the sun brought on a feeling of happiness amongst the morbidity of their dwelling. A few of the lower operatives let a smile break onto their faces, enjoying this last bit of life that they had left. Their happiness was soon shattered when Damien stopped suddenly. The eerie silence of the summer day was deafening.
“All of you- line up over there.” Damien’s words were stark and haunting. He was serious, and obviously enjoying this. “Wait- not you, Capo. You get to stay.” his hand reached out and swiftly pulled the purple haired man back, falling to his knees; all the while pulling out his sleek black gun with his other hand and firing aimlessly forward. The Capo’s eyes widened in horror as fresh blood splattered his face. Looking up to his merciless leader, he was not surprised when he saw his malevolent laughter. The Capo watched in disbelief while his former comrades were slaughtered before his very eyes. Although he had seen it time and time again, this practice always pulled at his stomach.
“Damien……why?” the Capo’s voice was soft and staggering.
“They had become useless.” Damien let a gentle sigh of relief escape his dainty mouth. “You, on the other hand, are very dear to me. Your uses never seem to end.” he smiled warmly, but the sight of it sent chills down the Capo’s spine. It was true- the pair had always been together. Ever since Damien was able to wield a weapon, the Capo had been there, right by his side. And although they had become close, the Capo still feared this side of Damien; the relentless, blood- thirsty part of him. “Is there something wrong? You look upset. C’mon, I promise I’ll get you a new team as soon as I can.” another eerie smile came upon his face.
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s just leave.” the Capo avoided his gaze with every word, like a stubborn child. He never could understand how Damien could speak of others’ lives as if they were toys.
The duo left, not one saying a word to the other. Heads turned in opposite directions, they headed back towards the main room; the Don’s quarters, to face the new assignment that lay ahead. The French doors creaked annoyingly as they were pushed open. The flicker of the dim candles set around the room set the velvet red walls ablaze, casting demonic figures on the walls.
“Don Incignio, sir, you said you had another assignment?” Damien placed his hand on his chest in a salute-like fashion.
“I do. And it’s of the utmost importance.” the Don’s face became serious and statuesque; the flicker of the lights wavering in its presence. “Although it’s a solo job, I’ll allow you to take the Capo along with you, because you two work well together.” Damien’s face lightened with relief at hearing these words. “I think you’ll have a lot of fun with this one; it’s pretty much a shootout.” the Don’s clasped his fingers together and began to flick them this way and that. “The only rules are don’t get caught and clean up when you’re done. This is an old client of ours that we need…..uh…..disposing of. She’s a rat, and she’ll go to the police in a heartbeat.”
“Then what am I to do, sir? What if she threatens to expose us?” Damien knew the answer, he just wanted confirmation of his devious plans.
“Do whatever’s necessary to accomplish your mission.” the Don chuckled menacingly.
“As you wish, sir.” the Capo could see the devilish grin on Damien’s face, even through his vermillion hair.
“Off you go, then. Don’t get into any trouble, you two.” the Don’s attempt at sarcasm was far from successful; he winked at them as they left in support.
The lights outside the Don’s dreary room almost blinded the pair; their eyes had little time to adjust. The feel of the corridor’s air, while still being far from pleasant, was always much easier to breathe in than the back rooms. Maybe it was due to all the killings that went on in the back rooms that never took place in the innocent corridor. Blood had yet to tarnish these walls.
“A new job, huh?” the Capo rubbed his hands together nervously. “He always makes us do the dirty work.” he laughed at this pathetic realization.
“It’s not that he makes us do these sorts of jobs, it’s mainly because we’re the only who can do them. You don’t see other members of the Lucrice swinging around heavy weapons like it’s nothing; they can’t.” Damien’s face grew grim. “But I think we enjoy it more than others too, so that may be a factor.”
Capo’s finally perked up, although his expression was one of both despair and happiness, all at once. “Do we really enjoy this so much? Ha! I believe you’re right, Damien.”
“What? Of course I’m right! I’m always right! You old man!” his actions reminded the Capo of his age, one that he hadn’t acted in such a long time.
“Whatever you say, Damien, whatever you say.” he laughed genuinely. Damien shrugged and marched off towards the main entrance. They were off to restock with one of their suppliers. In their business, restocking the necessities was a must; if they wanted to live.
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