It was sunny when Frances got inside the room. As Benedict looked up from the window he saw a sunlit cloud drifting across the blue sky. The room was peaceful when he had just got out. He left Frances when his boss summoned her to make a deal. Benedict never expected she'd knock the hell out of him. He quickly slammed the door open after he heard a loud shattering of glass and found his boss laying down on the floor. He crouched down as he shouted,
“Hey! I need help here!”
Then two men in their black suits came to help him. They were both tall. One was dark, muscular with deep eyes. The other one was on average height and was asian-looking. Benedict lifted him up as the both of them supported him.
“Call our doctor,” he said as he handed the boss over to them. He immediately ran towards the open window and found Frances running for her way out.
“You stupid woman” he uttered and swore, then leaped out of the window. He dashed his way following her.
The woman has always been a pain in the ass for the organization. First, she blew one of their highest earning drug cartels, and now she is about to expose his boss's real identity. There is no way he'd let that happen.
As he ran towards the gate, he saw her disarm one of the bodyguards in a very offensive way. She bends his hand away from her, taking the colt m1911a1 out of his grasp and swept his legs and he fell down on his back. She clenched her hand into a tight ball and thrust it towards his throat and then to his chin making him unconscious...dead rather. The gun came up effortlessly, and Frances realized just how ready she was to fire it. She aimed the gun towards the guy who was about to take his gun out of his holster and she started shooting him and he laid down dead. Benedict wasn't surprised when she successfully took the gun from the guy considering she was a police woman. He expected that since the first time he had heard of her. There was always something with regards when facing an officer. Something that would take captive one's ego. But not Benedict, not even the slightest regret he endured as he faced her.
He put on a hold and paused his flight when she pointed the gun at him. He extended both his arms out with palms forward.
“You idiot!” she grumbled.
“If only I knew you were part of this organization, I should have killed you back in Carolina.”
Slowly, he shook his head and fixed a grin on his lips.
“You wouldn't do that Frances. You wouldn't do that to the man you love,” he uttered.
“I once loved, Benedict, once loved. Luckily, I found out your true identity, if it didn't happen I'll probably regret it because I know I was going to marry you!” she snarled. He took a step but paused immediately when she threatened to kill him mercilessly.
“This wouldn't happen if you just let me be someone you believe I am,”
“What for? for me to regret being with you for the rest of my life and keep having nightmares till I sleep?” she asked.
“Okay, you regret meeting me. How about meeting that teacher? Was he the most amazing person you met?” he asked as anger began to rise up inside him.
“I regret meeting the both of you, you scumbags! Especially that Roy Williams! That fake teacher! Fake decent person, I don't even know if his real name is Roy!” she answered, still pointing the gun at Benedict.
“At least you hate him more than me,” he said, still smiling.
“I equally disgrace the both of you, you liars!” she answered. This wouldn't have happened if she didn't investigate him. He once thought, was his love not enough for her to not doubt him? He loves her, and she knows it and she believes it. But he can't blame her. She's a cop doing her police job. But she can't blame Benedict as well. He was a criminal, doing criminal things.
“What are you gonna do?” Benedict asked
“Are you gonna kill me?”
She didn't answer. Despite the anger he sees in her eyes, he knows she is still in love with me.
“If that's the only way to avenge my father's death then I'll put a bullet inside your head and blow your organization–”
“Ah Frances! How many times have I told you, we were not responsible for your father's death, it was that cop,” he answered, scratching his head, pissed off by the fact that she still wouldn't believe him.
“Of course I know that. But how do I get rid of this anger when I wasn't the one who killed him!” she yelled.
“That's why I came to your life Frances. I wanted to get rid of that anger in your heart and replace it with love.”
“Stop fooling me Benedict!” Frances answered.
“Love, please,” begged, Benedict as he knelt down in front of her.
“Let's go back to the first time we meet and forget that this ever happened. I want you, love, and you know that. I want you to be the one that I first see whenever I open my eyes.”
She started smiling as she still wept. His words brought tears in her eyes, in her sparkling blue eyes. There was nothing she ever loved than being with him, feeling the warmth of his chest against her face, the euphoria brought by being with him. But it never took long. Behind the wrath he saw in her eyes before, Benedict still hopes she'll forgive him and come back to him.
He should have pursued her if it wasn't only because of the sneaking guy with an empty bottle behind her. He slowly walked towards her.
“I want you to be the last person I see after I fall asle–” he paused when the guy slammed the glass against the back of Frances' head and she fell down, lying unconsciously. Benedict looked down at her with mixed feelings. He bent down to reach for the gun.
“Thank you,” he said to the guy wearing a suit.
“You're welcome sir–” he wasn't able to finish what he was about to say when Benedict pulled the trigger of the gun aiming at him.
“You asshole!” he snarled. He wanted to keep the gun away from him but he didn't mean to knock Frances out. He was undeniably frustrated at her, but he still didn't want anyone to hurt her.
Benedict slowly lifted her up at his shoulder.
***
Three months ago in one of those overwhelmingly beautiful resorts of New York City. They were all seated on the chair inside a giant room. The interior was architected with modernity and beauty. Low lights with hanging chandeliers. Walls made of soft limestone and stairs made out of well-furnished mahogany plank, mixed with the dark brown furnitures made it even more soothing. Just looking at the exterior, the indication of such architectural experience was spot on. Three giant entrances and on top of each were giant fixed windows. Benedict glanced at the people wearing suits seated on those arranged chairs. It felt so strange. How come most of the guys attended were the guys he does not usually see. He figured perhaps the boss wanted it this way. He stopped in front of them and gestured for them to minimize their voices. They obeyed and the room grew silent.
“Good evening gentlemen,” greeted by him. Seated in the front row were the executives.
“Are the executives complete?” asked, Benedict. They glanced at each other, searching for other executives.
“Yup, we're complete here” one of the executives answered. He should have started, but he then realized there was something missing, someone is missing. Benedict glanced at the seat on his back which was reserved for someone. The underboss was missing. Maximo Fargo was missing. How irresponsible of him, doesn't he know that the declaration of the new boss is exactly at seven. Benedict peered at his watch. Luckily, there was still three minutes left before the declaration starts.
Maximo "The executioner" Fargo. Fifty six years old, ten arrests, five for murder, five for illegal used of drugs, one conviction, five days in jail. He was one of the underbosses of the late Capo, but when the boss died, Maximo’s position did not change at all. There were two traditions of the family in terms of choosing the next crime lord. First is the choice of the association among three underbosses. Second, in order for the family to not disparate, the crime lord should stay alive, and the only way for him to stay alive is to choose anyone on the lower rank and hide his identity. That is why the next kingpin came in with a plain white mask on his face. There were three chosen underbosses. That includes Maximo Fargo. The second is Dante "The Kid'' Giovanna. The youngest of all the underbosses in history of the crime family. Full blooded Italian but speaks english. Thirty two years old, two arrests because of murder. Third is Carlos "Big Boy'' Grahams. Forty five years old, sixteen arrests all because of murder, one conviction.
He glanced at Carlos, he folded his hands across his fat stomach as he leaned back in the chair and exhaled a curling smoke from his mouth. He was wearing a brown fedora. Benedict looked back at his watch and it was already seven so he decided to start the declaration. He then gestured to minimize their voice again as the room was filled with noises.
“Tonight is a mixed feeling for me,” he uttered over the quiet room.
“It has been a disappointment knowing our recent boss passed away. But his death was also a solemnly reverent way to die. Ten years of serving the family, most of those days were almost his death. And now this has to come.”
He shifted to silence, showing respect.
“But that should not be the reason for the destruction of the family. We are the strongest crime organization in all of new york and we can't just be destroyed that easily,” said Benedict. All nodded as the inspired feelings rose unto them.
“This very moment, for the family to stay strong. I introduce to you and declare...the newest boss!” I shouted as their shattering voices came along with me. Exhilaration in simply being among the crowd. They broke into a loud cheering when the boss stood beside me. I knew him for almost my whole life. I was one of the executives when I found out he was chosen as the next leader. The next morning, he came into my house and asked me to be his right hand. He accepted his offer and now he is about to declare him as the godfather. One of the members came and handed him the small black box. He opened it and took the small blade, Italians usually use. A stiletto blade with a red handle. He returned the box to the man and held out the masked man's hand.
“Words aren't enough to ascertain that you will serve the family well,” he said to him as he placed the blade to his palm.
“Neither does actions. Your blood shall testify us what your insides are telling.”
Benedict slid the blade against the boss's palm and his scarlet liquid flowed out of his flesh. His blood stuck on the knife and Benedict raised it for the family to see. He placed it back inside the box and glanced at the boss as he wiped his blood and put pressure on it. One of the members stood up and shouted,
“Long live the family!” the room answered with cheering and smiles were everywhere. Shouting, jamming against each other, shoulder to shoulder, stepping on toes. It would have been happy if it's not because of Maximo. Benedict darted glances around to look everywhere and found a mysterious man wearing a trench coat and a fedora. Behind him were two other guys in suits. Then comprehension came to him as the clacking sounds of racking guns allowed just the slightest idea to make headway to his mind. He dashed his way and leaped to cover the boss when Maximo and his companions pointed their tommy gun and started firing through the air behind them. The room shattered in scream and yell. The deafening sound continued, ear-shattering roar as they were about to kill everyone inside the room. Benedict took the revolver out of his pocket, aimed it towards one of the shooters. The trigger bit into the calloused pad of his first finger. Fired once, or twice perhaps. The bullets pierced their way towards his abdomen, causing gaping holes in its wake that quickly filled with blood and gushed out. He laid there dead. The other turned to him. He was about to pull the trigger but Benedict fired first and he laid beside the dead man. He rolled their way towards a group of furniture when Maximo started firing at them as he swore. He called out his other bodyguards. Then another group of people came in.
“I don't want to see anyone escaping this building,” he said to one of his bodyguards. With the boss behind Benedict, they sneaked for their way out as he still made glances behind. They started for the elevator, looking at every side just to be sure harm is nowhere near. Then a guy came out of the room and Benedict fired twice. The first bullet came to his throat and the second to his head. The guy fell down. He took cover inside the elevator as the guy's companion filled the empty air with pellets behind him. The door closed and finally he was able to let out a sigh of relief.
“How did this happen Benedict?” the boss asked, gasping for much needed oxygen.
“I don't know boss, I never expected this would happen,” answered Benedict.
“That fucking Fargo,” the boss swore.
“I want him dead Benedict, dead.”
Then the door opened. They still took cover, checking for danger within the bounds of possibilities. When they realized they were no longer at harm, they went out of the resort and the members on their side met them. The boss went inside the limousine. There were about five cars and Benedict was certain there was no way Maximo could get out of the restaurant alive.
“Kill him immediately,” he ordered the guy and got in beside the boss. He examined the restaurant as they drove away inside a black limousine
