“He took everything from me.”
The teen shuffled his feet nervously. This was the first time standing in front of his boss, THE Boss, and the guy was much more…distracted than expected. He had no idea what the boss was talking about, but he had the feeling he was expected to respond.
“W-who sir?”
The middle-aged man at the desk slowly spun in his chair to face the kid. The rage on his face was visibly increasing, clearly he did not welcome the intrusion. The kid attempted to retract his head and appendages into his torso, to no avail. But all at once the rage left his face, which terrified the kid further.
“What's your name kid, and who the -”, the man’s eyes flashed red briefly before he took a breath and started again, “...who let you in here?”
“Um…” The kid wanted to cry. People have been killed for just being nearby while the Boss was upset. Would it happen to him on his first day in the organization? His knees buckled for a moment at the thought, a gentle puff escaping his bottom before he could regain musculature control. “Frankie was gonna show me the ropes but he aint pickin up, and i came in here but i didn’t know it was your office boss and i’m sure sorry about that boss” he said in a single breath.
The boss’s menacing smile faded. “And where is Frankie?” he demanded. “I -” the lad started, but smart as he was, he stopped before saying the fated ‘I don’t know’ that might get him absolutely pranged by the Boss. Instead he offered up desperately “I think he jumped ship, joined up with the Sixth Borough crew.”
The Boss leaped from his chair enraged, so quickly that the gas piston beneath the seat sent it in the air in commiserate surprise. With the helplessness and resignation of a toad in a storm, the young man across the room started to wet himself ever so gently.
“SIXTH BOROUGH!” the Boss screamed, as if attempting to summon the accused to attendance. “How many of my guys are those rats gonna poach?!” His head snapped to the new kid. “What was your assignment today?”
“Dead drops sir, please…” the kid whimpered, somehow 6 inches shorter than when he entered the room.
“Not anymore!” the Boss growled, “get the crew numbers from lisa in the hall and start calling every Capo on it!”
“But Boss…” the kid said, with a voice so small it seemed to be coming from the vents and not his throat, “there’s no one at the desk out there. There’s hardly anyone in the whole building i think.” The Boss stared at his in disbelief, then with a roar threw the closest thing to hand at the boys head. With a quick dodge the boy was able to literally keep his head on straight, and once he saw the object was in fact the rolodex of crew names, picked it up and fled the office.
It was an office, true, but had been converted from a large multi-office space in the corner of this dated warehouse. In better days it was full of the crew, some plotting and planning on a white board, some drinking and playing cards, some counting money from the day’s take. But with every passing day, there were fewer and fewer bodies in the room, and now, it seemed, the entire building was becoming a ghost town. And the crew’s once prolific operations, said ghost.
The boss slammed his fist on the desk in resentment. The sound echoed through the room, over the partition, and through the rest of the warehouse. He turned and looked at the photo printed out on his desk. He thought back to the speech he gave his men just days before. Right here in this room.
“We’re bumpin’ the D.A. fellas. Yeah that’s right, no kiddin’ over here. But i want to get his whole filthy organization too, and we’re doin it now. That gomba’s got bills to pay, and I intend to bring him his check.”
Those idiots. Only half of them even knew what he was saying. The other half were greedy children that couldn’t think pass their next swig from the metaphorical juice box.
“Uh Boss…” he remembered a brave one saying, “Do you really think that we can go up against the D.A.? He controls a lot of cops nowadays…”
“Yeah Boss…” another lemming chimed in, “Sixth Borough took a big bite out of us while you were at the Farm, do you think that our first big move should be that one?” Even in retrospect, he cringed at the mention of his prison time. But at the time he held firm, “Listen you clowns, this isn’t up for discussion. How are we supposed to work in this state when the D.A. ain’t even playing by the rules? Remember when the cops broke into ‘one-eyed’ Tony’s apartment and planted that gun from some robbery?” A murmur of recognition rippled through the group. “Remember when they leaked to the paper that ‘No-Hat’ Barry was cooperating with their investigation? We lost half our buyers that weekend!” A embittered grumble made its way through the group, as they started to stir in angry solidarity. “And need I bring up what he did to ‘no-nose’ Nick?” That tipped the crew over the edge, one of them leaping up and yelling “Those fudge-gunkies are gonna pay! FOR NICK!!” From that point the group devolved into chants of their fallen comrades names, along with colorful expletives directed at law enforcement. Their boss let them go for a minute or two, until he was satisfied that they had been misled from the truth: that this was a personal vendetta. That he would gladly sacrifice all of them on a spit, like so many pigs and apples, if it would mean hurting that devil of a man.
“Ok boys,” he finally interrupted. He looked around at his rag-tag crew as they wiped the froth from the corners of their mouths. “Time to get to work on this, we need info, and tons of it. Call every contact, pull every favor, this is priority A-1 until we get this oak-licker and his cronies.”
This time no affirmation, no foaming with righteous indignation, just silence. He apparently hit those morons where it hurt most: their pockets.
“Uh Boss, we aren’t that solvent at the moment,” the de facto bookkeeper of the crew chimed in. “I mean sure we all got kids or moms to take care of, but more importantly, we’re on the verge of losing some of our cleaners. We’ve already lost the tire shop on 3rd, and we’re on the verge of losing a couple of our chicken shops uptown. We’re backed up with money that needs to be cleaned, there’s no way we can risk a war with the Oink-Oinks in blue…” The Boss narrowed his eyes, along with the circumference of his fist. The bookkeeper went on completely oblivious to the danger he was facing. “I distinctly recall highlighting the vulnerabilities of our traditional fronts. The food service industry? Decimated. Commuter-reliant businesses? Cratering. I warned about this, Boss. Now, if we'd diversified, like I suggested... Remember those online pharmacies? The cryptocurrency exchanges? Those sectors boomed during the lockdowns. We could've been cleaning money hand over fist, virtually untraceable. But no, we stuck with the old ways. And now? We're scrambling, our cleaners are disappearing, and the Sixth Borough? They're eating our lunch. It's not too late, Boss. We can adapt. We can pivot. But we need to be smart about this. We need to embrace the new economy, not cling to the past. I'm ready to crunch the numbers, run the simulations, show you the path forward. Just say the word, Boss."
By the end of the day, that bookkeeper had been disposed of like a Kmart gift card. Still, his were clearly not the only misgivings. By the end of the day, half of his guys had left the crew, and taken cash and fronts with them. The cracks in the organization, and perhaps his judgement, were clearer than ever, even to him. He did his best to keep the crew together while he was in prison, but it suffered nonetheless. But the crew was the least of what was taken from him…
The Boss came back to the present, still looking at the photo on his desk. It was the District Attorney, on the day of his promotion from assistant D.A. He got the job just after his predecessor and mentor got caught up in a series of mysteriously uncharacteristic scandals, leaving the job to him with little resistance. Ever since then, The Boss had kept that picture on the wall of his cell, just to give him the motivation to one day make right what The Man did to him. The Man who, in the end, took everything from him…his freedom, his crew, his…
His thoughts drifted as he caught himself touching the photo gently. “It didn’t have to be this way,” he said to himself. Weeks ago, when he was preparing to be released, he still had hope. There was a route to happiness. There was more to be had than revenge. He could’ve had a future.
He didn’t notice the kid standing in the doorway, extremely uncomfortable. To see one of the most powerful men in the state stroking a photo of the District Attorney that put him away was bizarre to say the least. He craned his neck to see the photo a little better. Yup, that was him, the D.A. the crew had tried to go to war with. “Tried” was the operative word. With dwindling numbers, opportunistic rivals, and a highly obsessed boss, there was really no chance against the corrupt D.A. and his merry band of dirty cops. It was only out of respect for their beloved boss of many years that his men took what they could and jumped ship. A lesser man would’ve found himself deposed and replaced, violently if necessary. But there the kid stood, grateful for his chance. He knew the only reason he was allowed to join up was because the crew was on its last legs.
The kid felt loyalty and pride swell up in his chest, along with a determination not to let his new boss down. He turned to the “Plot-board” in the corner of the room, sporting a larger version of the photo his Boss was currently molesting. It was a photo of the D.A., but more specifically a still of a new program, reporting on him taking his oath of office. Just over his shoulder was a woman, very pretty, staring at him adoringly. The kid leaned in to get a closer look. There was something strange about her look, like she wasn’t aware she was in front of an audience and new cameras. She had the look of someone who only wanted one thing in the world, and already possessed it. Where some looks of love convey longing, or passion, hers only conveyed peace. If passion is a thirst, and longing a hunger, hers was a rabid satisfaction. Why it seemed unnatural in that setting, the kid couldnt quite put his finger on.
Suddenly he could feel the Boss at his back, looking over his shoulder. He froze. “Today was her funeral,” was all the Boss said.
“Who is she boss? Was she one of our hits?” This made the Boss grit his teeth, and a glint appeared in the corner of each eye. “That’s no target, that’s my wife.”
The kid gave his Boss the bad news. He called every Capo on the crew, no response. He called the runners, the fences, the front-guys, the bookie, the cap-boys, the dripdroppers, the spotters, the bagmen, the moles, the hitters, the smugs, the grifts, the splinks, and even the Tallyhonkers. “I think you and me are the only ones left…” the kid admitted.
The boss had long since smashed everything on his desk to the floor in rage, and now was brooding in his chair, facing away from the boy. “Not quite,” he said, mostly to himself. He bent down and slapped his desk phone back in place. With a single press of the button “9”, it started to ring.
“Yeah Boss,” came from a deep voice on the other end of the line.
“Are you on him?” the boss snapped.
“We’re tailing him now, he’s headed home. The driver gets 50 a day for keep me informed.”
The Boss hesitated. “Put my daughter on the phone.” After a moment, the voice of a young woman came on the line. “Yeah Papa…” she said wearily. Once again, the Boss felt his eyes sting, and he clenched his fist to steady his voice. “How ya holdin up Allie?” Silence. He sat rubbing his head tensely, listening to the sound of the road noise coming through the phone.
When she finally spoke, her voice was small and firm. “I swear to God, if you lose your nerve…i don’t know what i’ll do.”
That sentence was the cork in the Boss’s emotions, and with it said, he utterly collapsed. He chest heaved as he huffed and wheezed with grief. Although his tears were few, his nose started to run profusely, only exacerbating his laboured breathing. He pounded on his own chest, as if he could beat the failure out of himself. This is defeat, this is release of desire and fulfillment. His regret had no where left to go, and he could no longer pretend to be in control. Maybe he never was.
His face in his hands, he slowly spread his fingers apart. His tears formed a web, causing everything to look ethereal, unreal. He paused, taking some comfort in the illuminated blindness. In having open eyes, but seeing nothing. To being presented with the reality of his situation, but not having to face it. But he continued on, spreading his fingers further. The web of tears started to tear and fall away, as if a cling film stretched over the room. A few drops hit the floor, and his eyes started to clear. The picture of his now passed wife came into focus, sitting on the floor in front of him. But even in the medium of that photograph, the man who stole her obscured her from him.
“You don’t understand baby girl,” he choked out in a gruff tone, almost hiding the shakiness in his tone, “everythings gone. Everyone’s gone. There’s nothing left to gain, only risk…to you.”
“Are you saying she isn’t worth the risk?” She had the tone of a woman daring a man to step over a line. He knew better than to answer. They both knew what they had survived over the years, her most of all. He had to survive prison and loss, but her…she was so young…
She drove the stake into his heart by continuing, “Tommy is DEAD! Now mom is DEAD. All that’s left is YOU, and ME. And don’t try to tell me its not his fault. This is ALL his fault. If thats not enough reason - if THEY aren’t enough reason to finish this, then what was it all for?”
The Boss gave them the go-ahead. Their plan was in tatters, they had neither the resources or the will to give the D.A.’s system the pain and destruction it was owed. But at least they could deal with him. It started smooth as silk; they contacted the driver they turned, and paid him to redirect the D.A. to one of their last safehouses. Ironically it was a place they knew well, the home where the Boss raised his family of four. But once he was sent to prison, it became just another place for the crew to store product, stash weapons, or anything else they didn’t want discovered. It was a McMansion on an isolated lot in an otherwise normal middle-class neighborhood. Once the family moved out, the fellas moved everything that was left into the attic, and the house quickly turned into just another stash house. No doubt pillaged over the last few days as the rats that formerly comprised his crew took their severance, and then some.
The Boss kept the phone connected and listened with dulled pleasure as his daughter, Allie, and his best lieutenant, did their work. He trusted them both with his life, and had been doing so for the years he was left to rot in the penitentiary. So they were the obvious picks to pounce on the ratbag that caused all this. He listened as they dragged him out of his town car, shoved him into the house, and started tying him up. He then heard his daughter talking to him over the grainy conntection.
“We got him out the car, but there was a nurse with him, that dirt-fink driver forgot to fill us in on that part. He said he’ll drive her around for a few hours but then he’ll have to let her go, we have until then to get gone.”
“Thats fine,” the Boss said excitedly, “that’s all the time we need. Just hold him til i get there, I want to look in his greasy face one last time.”
“You two are dead, you know that?”
The Boss strained to hear the faint voice in the background. Allie responded to it, “Tie that chump up D! And gag the pig while you’re at it, he’s driving me up the wall.”
“You think you can do this…me? There is nowhere you can run for, none one…even single one house you can hide inside, I have men EVERYWHERE doll.”
“Shutup you crooked freak!” The Boss screamed into the phone, but it seemed that no one on the other line could hear him. The D.A. was speaking in a sandpapery tone, the kind of speech that makes you need to swallow just when hearing it. His jumbled, halting speech made him sound even more demented, and it was making everyone shaky. “I mean it man, shut your trap before i shut it for you!” Allie’s voice was betraying the fact that as much as she had seen and done, she was not as hardened a criminal as the rest.
“Is that right?! You come tie up the assistant D.A. like a roasts, like a sunday monday roast, uugh, like some kind of turkey roast, with…with…without MY permission?!! DO YOU KNOW WHO AM I?! How DARE it is you come into my home and do this TO US! WHERE IS MY WIFE?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY LITA?!”
About halfway through the rant Allie yelled into the phone, “Dad you better get here quick if you want your answers, there’s no way this guy wont make D kill him. He’s absolutley off his…” And that's when there was a rip and a crash, and struggling and screaming could be heard. Then the line went dead.
The Boss got the kid to drive him, the kid having happily hopped behind the wheel of the long white cadillac. Something about evening in the city, heading out to the outskirts, with the skyline stretching up behind them…it made his anger and anxiety wrestle with the unfounded feeling that everything was going to work out. That one’s baggage could fall from the shoulders like the sun falls in deference to the moon. But the city lies. The amber sky lies, the claustrophobic concrete canopy lies, the fading hum of homesick traffic lies. The city is, in fact, a hateful mill, maintaining its beauty and optimism by churning through souls, some lost, some having lost. For one to be fed, another must starve, for one to be rich, another must long in perpetuity, for one to live, another must decide to die. And we all decide to die, by signing the contract that is desire. For to ever strive, to ever dare to love, is to with our heart sign a contract with the city itself, confirming that one cannot be both so Icarian to aspire, and rapacious to think we can preserve what we gain. The heart is a golden basket, woven with dreams, but with the loosest of weaves.
As the car got closer to its destination, and farther from the city, the Boss was released from the city’s area of effect. He begun to realize the hard truth of his situation, and the beast he chose to fight. Two things were clear to him: first, that either he would die tonight, or The Man. and second, that neither outcome would solve anything. “Hey kid,” he said, wanting to escape his thoughts for a second.
“Yes Sir?”
“You gotta girlfriend?”
“Yes sir.”
“Yeah, well i had a wife, she was really somethin’,” he mused, clearly not interested in the details of a teenager’s love interest. “She might’ve ended up with that rat after he put me away, but i don’t blame her. She always knew what she was doing, even if it didn’t make sense to anyone else, you hear me?!”
“Y-yes sir.”
“I know she still loved me,” he continued folding his arm with an air of forced confidence. “ She kept my name you know. An Alexander til the day she died, yes sir. I bet that stuck in that dirty-dop’s craw like yesterday’s lunch,” he sneered with some pleasure. “That’s the mother of my children, yes sir, that pig could buy and steal everything in the world, but no one can tell me that he had her heart! Not you, not him, NO BODY.”
“Yes sir.”
“Would you fall in love with the man that was responsible for your son’s death, and your husband being sent up-river?”
“No sir.”
“Dixie fiddles you wouldn’t. Yeah it never seemed right to me. And just as i was about to get released, and could get all the answers directly from her, she dies.” The Boss slammed his fist against the door at the thought of it. The local news reported that she died after a long struggle with M.S., but that was a lie. She was fit as could be, and tough as leather. He didn’t know what happened to her, all he knew is who did it.
His cell phone chirped, and he scrambled to pick it up. “Allie, whats happening?”
“Papa, it’s all going wrong!” she was clearly out of breath, and there were sounds of moving items and dashing around. “The D.A. jumped D, and they absolutely wrecked the downstairs, i think D was trying to not hurt him too bad since you weren’t here yet. But the guy was like an animal, windows got broken, we think the neighbors heard, we have to clean the house!” She was talking a mile a minute, out of breath, and on the edge of tears. “D! The incinerator’s full! DEMITRI! I NEED YOU DOWN HERE NOW!”
“Allie, baby girl i need you to focus, you have to deal with the neighbor.” The Boss was trying to focus her, but couldn’t keep his mind from racing. If they were cleaning house, that was the last nail in the coffin for the organization. There would be no recovering from this loss, but he had to focus on his daughter. and, of course, The Man. “Leave the cleaning to Demitri, you need to make sure you guys don’t get swarmed by cops before the job is done.”
“Papa its too late, we heard the callout on the 911 tap. We have like 15 minutes tops.”
“Listen to me carefully, call 911 and say there’s a gas leak at the address, you broke out some windows to try and vent it. That’ll buy you some time, and it’ll be easier to deal with firefighters than cops. Make sure you and Demitri are prepped with a story. And if i don’t make it in time, make sure you finish the pig once and for all…by the way, where is our guest now?”
“He thinks he’s hiding in the attic. We’ll get to him next. Call me when you’re close, bye papa.”
A few minutes later the white Cadillac approached its exit and turned onto the safehouse’s neighborhood, but at that very moment police lights illuminated the dim interior of the car. “Oh my god boss, i think i was speeding, what do we do?” “Calm down kid,” the Boss sighed, emptying his pockets into the hidden pocket of the seat. “That’s no patrol car, those are friends of our guest the D.A. They could care less if you were inside the law or out. They want me.”
The car hurked and jerked over to the curb on the dark side road, acting as an extension of its driver’s nerves. The dodge charger with a single red and blue strobe light gently eased in behind them. The Boss dialed his daughter on his cell phone, while assuring the kid “you don’t know nothin’, you didn’t do nothin’, you’ll be fine kid.”
“Boss?” the kid said, with a look of determination in his expression, “I know I’m kinda quiet sometimes, but I know where my bread’s butta’d. I’m here for you 100%, anything you need, i won’t let you down.” The older man gave a long sigh. “You know what i really want kid?”
“Anything boss, name it.”
“I want for you,” he started, putting the phone up to his ear, “to go to your girlfriend tomorrow, first thing, give her a big kiss, and make sure you marry that broad one day.” He reached and grabbed the back of the young man’s neck, giving it a gentle shake back and forth to help his words sink in. “Got it?”
“Yeah boss, no problem.” they shared a brief smile at the thought, as if for a moment they were father and son. The kid for a moment reminded the Boss of his son Tommy; so eager, so ready to please, even when doing so could cost him his life.
The boss looked in his mirror. No action from the cop car yet. The phone buzzed in his ear for another moment before she picked up.
“Papa?” His heart broke a bit deeper at hearing her exhausted voice. He should’ve been there with her. She should have never gotten involved with this.
“Hey baby girl, I…how is it going over there?”
“Not good,” she muttered, “not good at all. We couldn’t finish the clean, and Demitri couldn’t find any guys to come help us. It really is just us…” Two silhouetted figures got out of their undercover vehicle, and started to approach the cadillac. “I know Allie, I know. Um, i’m so sorry, but I’m not going to make it. You two need to finish the job, without me.”
“Papa, what do you mean?”
“Well well well, if it isn’t ‘Tomcat’ Alexander himself, as i live and breathe!” The Boss’ door was pulled open and a greasy police detective in a dated leather jacket was leaning in towards him, looking him up and down like a sarcastic museum patron. “A relic if i’ve ever seen one! I thought we let Sixth Borough clean you out by now…”
“Papa…” Allie said warily on the other end of the line, “what’s happening?”
“Friends of our guest dear,” he replied into the phone, not acknowledging the presence of greaseball #1 next to his face, nor greaseball #2 who had walked to the driver side of the car, and was eyeing up the kid with great interest. “I wont make it tonight,” he continued, turning his head to sneer directly at greaseball #1, “but i’ll be out in the morning. They got nothing, they had nothing yesterday, and they can keep digging in the mud for their master tomorrow, like the DOGS they are.” that seemed to wipe the smiles off their self-satisfied faces. Greaseball #2 spit his toothpick into the car with derision, then leant back out of the driver side window and stood up to his full height. The police shields dangled from both of their necks, reflecting sparks of red and blue in the evening air.
“Papa…”
“Finish the job baby girl. I’ll see you in no time.”
“Uh, Tomcat ol’ buddy ol’ pal,” greaseball #1 interjected, “you got it all wrong. We’re not here to take you in, don’t worry about it.” The Boss looked up at the greasy smile, and his heart sank. He looked over to the kid, who was starting to grin with relief, but the boss didn’t reciprocate. “We’ve been lookin for ya since you got out, we’re just here to deliver a message from the D.A.” The Boss looked apologetically at the kid.
“Papa?”
He slowly lowered the phone from his ear, but before he could hang it up, the ball of grease grabbed it, put it on speakerphone, and gently propped it on the dashboard, with the text “❤️Alyssa❤️” shining off the faces of the car’s occupants. "I think she should hear this message too, don't you?”
Such a quiet neighborhood. Thomas Alexander chose the neighborhood carefully when deciding where to start his family. He knew he had to be close to the city, the city was as much a part of him as his drive to turn every dollar into two. But he knew that his family needed to be planted in peaceful soil. So his promised himself then that no matter where they lived, it would be somewhere where he was the worst member of the community. And he kept his promise. The neighbors hated him, especially his underhanded occupations. But his family loved it. It was so…quiet.
On this night the Alexander's once again broke the peace and quiet of the community. Such an unfamiliar sound rang out, the neighbors could hardly place it; a pop? Like a distant car crash, or the sound made before the power goes out in a storm. But wait…a second pop, and a third. Then two more. Could they be gunshots? The neighbors couldn't imagine such a thing.
One, two, three moments passed. For 3 seconds, peace was restored. But then, a much more familiar sound. Anguish. Wailing. A young woman, only in her 20s, cried out in anguish as she lost the last part of her that made her, her. She slid down the wall in the house, her body rung out like a damp rag. All her energy was redirected to her chest, as she continued to scream. Scream? She wasn't in anguish suddenly. Demitri ran to her and took her in his arms, but for the first time, she didn't embrace him back. Her head lifted to the ceiling, and her screams jumped from madness, to demands. She grabbed Demitris lips, which were pressed to her forehead in comfort, and she used them as two wet handles to wrench his face downward to be level with hers. She stared right in his wide eyes and said words.
“He lives." Demitri stared back at her. She took one hand and grabbed a handful of his hair, took a second hand and wrapped it around his square bottom jaw, and with a twist of both wrists, pointed his head up at the panel just 3 feet above them, leading to the attic. The opening was about a foot wide, with a line of urine forming around the edge, dripping periodically. Fully visible in the opening was the primate-like D.A, hair pointing in every direction, his eyes somehow both crazed and vacant. When they looked at him he ducked down, but was still clearly visible.
"I WANT. HIM. TO LIVE.”
It turned their stomach to have to watch the firefighters come to his rescue, to have to make up stories of their beloved father to the EMS workers, to have to allow the surgeon in the hospital to comfort them, as if every breath the man took was not a knife to their heart. But finally they were alone in the hospital room. And in that moment they had to face the hardest truth; that the human mind had already done the damage they wished to do. That there were no more blows to inflict, that there was no revenge to take.
Alyssa Alexander sat. The man's bedside, staring nodded him, but of the photo of her family at his bedside. Her as a little girl, next to her her brother, Tommy, who passed away mysteriously in the county jail when word of his successful court appeal came through. Above him, her father, a troubled man, was always there for his family, until the district attorney got impatient, and decided to manufacture the evidence that would finally put her father in prison. And finally, her mother, who she hadn't talked to since the day her father was convicted. But mysteriously, from the day her mother agreed to marry the district attorney, all of her family's problems went away, her father was no longer beat up in prison, and they finally had a very troubled, very painful peace.
So she sat there, next to the man who took everything from her, satisfied that she had finished what her father wanted her to do. She looked up Pat Dimitri, standing against the room, not even able to bring himself to look at the man due to his rage.
“D, we need to go. We've already been in town too long."
Dimitri punched the wall in frustration. He wasn't much of a talker, but passionate nonetheless. He had watched the crew He loved disintegrate over the last week, after spending years helping his imprisoned boss keep it going. And after all that, it was all gone. When it was all said and done, he had lost a lot too. A crew, a boss, a future father-in-law.
But still, he turned and walked over to the man's bedside. The man's eyes had been open this whole time, but his stroke had clearly taken a toll. Most the time it was like he wasn't even there. But suddenly there was a glint of recognition in his eyes, has he looked over at Alyssa. “Lita* he scraped out. This was too much for the girl, hearing her mother's name from the such a disgusting person sent her once more into tears. Dimitri wasn't having it. A large man grabbed the now invalid by the temples with one of its giant paws, and pulled his face so that he was forced to look Dimitri in the eyes.
“ You piece of trash, if you have to say one word for the rest of your life, let it be this one, my name: Dimitri. I promise you today, for as long as I live, you will not have one moment of Peace. I hope every minute of every day, you think of me."
Dimitri's then traced his finger up from the man's Temple, on to the scarred, fold of flesh above the man's ear. He pressed it lightly, it's sinking under his finger, his finger finding the seam in his skull that they used to access his brain during the surgery.
“ Dimitri" He said, while, gently depressing the side of the man's head.
“Dimitri" He repeated, pressing harder as his finger sank into the man's skull.
" Dimitri” He whispered into the man's left ear, while pressing ever harder above his right ear. The man's eyes fluttered, The left side of his face started to sag. The hospital equipment started to buzz and ping plaintively.
"well Mr district attorney,” Alyssa said with a sniff, rising to her feet from the chair, "May you have a long life.”
And he did.