19AD8 | The Mafia: Chapter Twenty-Five
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The Mafia: Chapter Twenty-Five

*This rough draft is entirely a work of fictional writing*

D is standing on a sidewalk somewhere in center city waiting for his Taxi to arrive. He is busy wolfing down a Witch Bish’s breakfast sandwich as fast as humanly possible – for what reason? No one knows, but he did get extra bacon and chili peppers on his sandwich.

After a few minutes had passed and his sandwich was all gone the Taxi driver pulls up to the curb and politely says, “Hey… sir – are you Daunte?”

D wipes his face with a wet-napkin and then approaches the car, “Yes – you couldn’t be anymore correct… people just call me D though.”

Before he can open the door to the car, the driver interrupts, “Hey sir – actually, do you mind sitting in the front seat? Someone spilled a drink on the backseats and I’m trying to let it dry off.”

D nods his head in acceptance, “Sure thing. People can be so sloppy and sloshy at times…” D then takes a seat in the front seat.

The driver pretends to reconfigure his ride-sharing app, when suddenly a man jumps into the backseat of the taxi – it’s Sly.

Sly pulls out two handguns from his double holster suspenders – he aims one at D and one at the driver, “Hey driver – do your job… drive!”

The driver slams his foot on the gas and they tail off, “You got it boss.”

Sly continues to speak, “Nice to finally see you again D – I hope this isn’t too warm of a welcoming for you.”

D stays calm and collected, “Well hello there Slyme – a simple phone call or text would have been more civil – but since you’ve been dying to meet with me… well, here I am.”

Sly points his gun at D’s skull, “Don’t try and be too smart with those words of yours. I could take down a Rhino with the amount of firepower that I’m wielding back here – so if I were you, I wouldn’t try and get too smart with me!”

D closes his eyes and smiles, “I must agree – that is an incredible amount of armed artillery that you have. However, I do find it interesting that you chose the vitality of a Rhino to explain just how much damage that you could cause with your immediately available weaponry, wouldn’t you agree?”

Sly’s anger intensifies, “What did I just say?! Don’t sit there and try to diagnose me with your psychology tactics – if I were you, I would leave that science jargon out of our conversation. Do ya hear me?”

D grins, “Well then, without further ado, I should properly warn you that I have had my Beretta perfectly angled at your driver’s kidneys since I sat in the car. If this were a chess match – it appears that I have already positioned a pawn.”

The driver speaks nervously, “What? Why? Why my kidneys?”

D speaks with a subtle suaveness, “It is almost as if a protractor fell from the heavens to angle such a perfectly impossible trajectory. Let’s just say I pull this little hairpin trigger that I have my index finger resting on… well a bullet would rupture your kidney then travel up to pierce your lungs and then ultimately end it’s destination by striking through that heart of yours. It will be very painful for you… up until your visit with the illusive grim reaper, that is.”

The driver starts sweating, “Look… I’m just the driver. I was paid to have a full tank of gas and to drive – I don’t know anything about you.”

Sly aims his gun at the driver’s head, “Your job is to drive – not talk… one more peep from you and your head gets splattered all over that windshield.”

The driver is slightly confused, “Wait… if you did that, well – we’d crash and all die probably.”

Sly is annoyed, “I said no talking. Keep driving!”

D tests the waters, “If you don’t mind me asking, how many miles to the gallon does this car get?”

Sly yells, “I do mind you asking – god damn it! I’m in control here… if I say speak – you speak, if I say drive – you drive, if I say you die – you fuckin’ die! Got it?”

D laughs under his breath, “Okay, okay, I got it. You’re in control Slyme. Where are we going? If I am to meet my demise – I’d at least like to be well informed on where we are going.”

The driver looks at D and says, “I’ve got the feeling that he’s not very good at this.”

Sly is audibly frustrated, “Shut up! If this were a game of chess it looks like I’m about to move the King – you son of a bitch. I don’t know if you heard but Romano Morena is after you… he’s offering a million dollars to whoever brings you to him.”

D looks into the rearview mirror so he can see Sly, “A million dollars? That’s it? Damn… I really thought that my stock was moving up. You know, I’ve really been reading up on candlestick growth… stocks, stuff like that. It’s fascinating that the current stock market climate is not trading based on fundamentals – I thought that went against Wall Street mantra.”

Sly responds, “Yeah… well this isn’t exactly eTrade. And I ain’t no bounty hunter, nor am I a snitch, but passing up on such an easy million dollars would be a crime.”

D closes his eyes, “Perhaps you and Dog The Bounty Hunter should start a reality show together? I think that could be really interesting. Two courageous souls doing the people’s work! Although, the more I think about it, I’m not sure how that would work because if I’m not mistaken, he only goes after criminals. I’ve only seen a few episodes so my apologies if my memory is slightly fuzzy.”

Sly awkwardly smiles, “You keep telling those jokes of yours, so funny, but you won’t be laughing soon. We’re on our way to see Mister Romano and you have no idea what he is going to do to you – do you?”

D speaks condescendingly, “Oh that’s delightful! I’ve wanted to meet him for a while now. What’s he going to do to me? I sure hope there is a nice dinner set up where him and I can discuss life’s intricacies and exploits over a few glasses of aged-wine.”

Sly cunningly responds, “You’ll be shaking in your boots – I promise you that. Romano said that he is going to tie you to train tracks and watch as your body shreds into little pieces underneath the axels of freight inertia! Then he is going to box up your remains and ship them to your family for their viewing pleasure at your open-casket funeral!”

D abruptly laughs out loud, “What is it with mafia bosses and their infatuation with illustrative ways of ending a person’s life? I mean… my gosh – who even thinks of that type of stuff?”

Sly smiles, “I’ll be standing there watching with the eyes of a filmmaker! We’re about to find out just how macho you are. We tried to tell you that this business has no room for the likes of a Karate Kid.”

D quickly replies, “Does Papa G know that you’re setting up this wonderful meeting between myself and Mr. Romano?”

Sly speaks a bit quieter, “No. Not yet – but once he learns of what I did – I’ll probably get a promotion.”

D slickly responds, “So you won’t be the janitor anymore, or?”

Sly gets angry, “I would say that my trigger finger is getting rather itchy right about now. I’m about to promote one of these bullets out of the chamber.”

D tries not to smile, “Everyone settle down, no need to act brashly – we’re all just passengers on an exciting adventure and it is in the best interest of us all to reach there safely.”

Sly is confused, “Is something wrong with you? You’re not worried? Romano is going to make an example out of you and all you have are jokes and lighthearted conversation?”

The driver chirps in, “I know that I am not supposed to speak… but he doesn’t seem worried at all. That’s just my two cents.”

D smiles, “I have a feeling that Romano is the type of man that will give me my fair time at the table. He doesn’t strike me as a man that makes emotional decisions.”

Sly responds, “Well you are gravely mistaken and the keyword is gravely. He’s notorious for being outrageous at times. What makes you think he’ll give you a second of daylight?”

D smiles, “because you can’t just treat an ally like a foe nor can you scour an untouchable without approval from all of the other families.”

Sly scratches his head, “How do you know that he doesn’t have approval?”

D replies, “I don’t mean any disrespect to you Slyme, but you just don’t understand how the macho-man game goes… chess is an artistic sport.”

*To Be Continued In Chapter Twenty-Six*

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