Anvil Submission: The Missive

The Brawn

Blood spat on the ground, peppering the dirty alley way. The full moon spilled through the crack between the two buildings, revealing the violent act, but the cacophony of the busy streets drowned out the truth. Three men in suits and fedoras stood around a fourth man bleeding from his nose; two of the suits held the bleeding man while the third massaged and cracked his bloody knuckles. The bleeding man was gasping for air, blood trickling down to the alley floor.

"Please..." the bleeding man exhaled, "no more..."

The bloody knuckles turned into a fist and rocketed to the bleeding man's stomach. He lost his breath, his chest caving in on him, forcing him to the ground despite the two suits trying to hold him up. One of the suits kicked the bloody man as they lost their grip on him going down to the pavement.

"You think he's had enough Carlo?" asked one of the suits to bloody knuckles, more out of boredom than concern. Carlo took off his fedora, popped his neck, and rolled his shoulders. He gave a deep long sigh as he scratched his head with his free hand. His eyes shone deep and grey in the pale moon light. Carlo slowly squatted down to the bleeding man's level.

"Here's the deal," Carlo started, "I had other plans tonight, but then the Don sent word that I had a job. We all know why I'm here, but more importantly, YOU know why I'm here."

The bleeding man whimpered on the ground, crumpled in the fetal position, thinking it would save him from further pain. Carlo rolled his eyes, then grabbed the man's chin so they were looking eye to eye.

"Do us both a favor," Carlo said, "Stop what you're doing. Because if the Don has to send me to deal with you a second time... there won't be a third... ya understand?"

The bleeding man's eyes went wide with horror and he slowly nodded his head in reply. Carlo gave him a small nod in return and let the man's chin drop back to the ground. He returned his fedora back to his head and straightened up his suit. Looking up, deep into the light of the moon, an old sadness crept over Carlo. Deep clouds rolled over the light of the moon, obscuring its light from him.

"You guys go on," Carlo said, "I think I'll take a walk. Just let me grab my coat from the car."

The wind was the first thing to stir up in the streets. Loose paper and empty cans tumbled and rolled down the pavement as the storm began to close in on the big city. Carlo took a final drag from his cigarette before flicking its carcass to the concrete. The rain started with a drizzle, creating the sounds of footsteps on the empty night streets. Carlo walked with those footsteps as they grew more numerous, into an empty crowd. He turned his coat collar up to the storm as he walked alone with his thoughts and deeds.

Carlo finally made it to the bar, The Private Stock. He pushed the door open, hearing the familiar friendly bell. The bartender, Ike, was cleaning glasses behind the bar. A sleeping drunk snored away in front of the bartender. A small group of men playing cards in a corner table looked at Carlo with a glance before returning to their game. Carlo took slow steps until finally making it to his table. He took off his fedora and coat, resting them on his chair. He lit a fresh cigarette and took a long thoughtful drag before letting out the smoke. Ike came over with Carlo's favorite drink, gave him a small nod, and returned to his place behind the bar. Carlo took his seat and began a night of sobering contemplation.

A few hours passed, the drunk stayed at the bar, but the game ended and the gentlemen left. Ike remained behind the counter, cleaning his bar, and Carlo was at his spot, drinking his favorite drink, smoking his favorite smoke, and wondering where his life was going. Carlo heard the bell of the door and he turned around. The finest Italian suit in all the city stood at the door. It was his old pal, and his boss, Lupo. They both looked at each other, acknowledgement in their deep grey eyes. Lupo walked over.

"I thought I was gonna catch you at your place, working on your art," Lupo started.

"Had to clear my head a bit first," said Carlo, taking a sip of his drink.

There was a pause between them, then Lupo said, "Are you worked up about the job you had earlier?"

Carlo remained quiet.

"Buddy!" Lupo exclaimed. "The man was no good; he's a pedo! The police chief asked for a favor. They couldn't nail the guy, so he asked me to take care of it. No one gives a shit about him, why should you, eh?"

Carlo rebutted, "It's not the man, Lupo, it's the job. It's... getting to me a little... guess I'm... getting soft."

Carlo shot the rest of his drink and signaled for Ike to bring him another. Lupo paused for a moment, waiting for Ike to finish Carlo's order.

"I know your job isn't easy," Lupo started, "but I gave it to you because you're the only one I trust to do it. You and I go further back than anyone else I have with me; I can't do this without you. We're thicker than blood. And I can't bare the thought of anything getting in the way of your art. Whatever you need, just say the word and it's yours!"

Carlo couldn't help but look up at his boss, into those reflective grey eyes he was familiar with and smile.

"How about...," Carlo started, "having a drink with an old friend?"

Lupo smiled back and signaled for Ike to bring another glass.