[attr="class","taketwoapplicationtab2bot2"]
Part I
You were born in April on a rainy day that made your father nervous. Rains drowned the land, he'd said, but your mother insisted that with rain came life. It was something your mother liked to bring up when your father's cautious nature clashed with her aggressive ambition. They balanced each other out and you grew up a terrifying mix of the two. You learned how to push and how hard, but also when to back off and cut your losses before they numbered too high. Your judgement was something sharply honed and something that would carry you far in life.[break][break]
Your childhood is full of a home bustling with people and faces and business deals you know you shouldn't listen in on, but do anyway. You grew up wanting little and having much. Always you are surrounded by love and always there is food for you to eat and clothes on your back. You have few friends, though, outside of your close knit family. Those at school shy from you, whispering to each other of the things your family does. Loneliness seeps into your bones and makes you ache from the inside out, but you bite your lip and carry on. Until someone picks a fight with you. They disgrace your father, your mother, your
family and with your small fists you disgrace their face. In the end, though, you come out worse than they did and your parents scold your harshly. You know better than this. They taught you better than this.[break][break]
Your parents teach you how to throw a punch and take a hit, but it is Acadia who teaches you how to break bone. "If they hit you," She squeezes your shoulders firmly, "you hit them right back and put them in their place." Your mother watches from a distance, sharp eyes urging you forward. She works the books, not her fists, and so when your father is too cautious to push your lessons further, she has Acadia do so in his place. They argue over it some nights, but he concedes to her victory in the end, because with the business they're in, it's best if you know how to defend yourself.[break][break]
Part II
You know the family business. You know too much, perhaps, for someone who isn't actually part of it. In order to save up money for a car you work at a restaurant owned by the family. As a front you learn many of the dealings that happen in back rooms after hours. It is here that you become familiar with weapons. The capo who runs this area, who runs this restaurant, likes to sit you down and teach you about the various firearms that pass through his hands. Before you're even eighteen, you can take apart and put back together a semi-automatic handgun without thought of which piece goes where.[break][break]
It isn't until after you graduate high school that you are welcomed into the family's bloody fold. You start out at the bottom as everyone else and you work under the same capo, Sally. Now, though, instead of lessons in the kitchen, it's lessons in the middle of nowhere, with no one for miles around. A variety of guns jump in your hands and you practice with them until they become extensions of you and then you practice even more. You develop a love for guns. You work hard under his care and you learn the nasty and dangerous business of arms dealing. A lot of it is checking manifests with the contents of shipments and making sure they match up. Menial work until things stop matching. Then, things get messy.[break][break]
Part III
Crack.[break][break]
Blood runs too much, too fast. It's on your hands, on your clothes. The stench of gunpowder in your nose, his blood on your tongue, and a voice in your ear saying "Voski, Voski, we have to
go." It's the middle of the night, but a gunshot always attracts attention, even far out as you are. You stumble dazed at first, but you force a sort of clarity into your mind. Now isn't the time to falter. You wipe the gun before throwing it as hard as you can into the dark of the woods. A car pulls up both you and Sally duck into it. Quickly, you are driven away by a man whose face you don't remember. You take a deep breath and think. Why are you so shaken?[break][break]
1, You've seen corpses before. It's nothing new, a dead man's face, new or old.[break]
2, You've seen men die at the hands of your family. Already, you are familiar with the physics of death. A bullet to the head or chest. A knife to the neck or several to the gut. You've seen it before. This is nothing new.[break]
3, The police are in the family's pocket and your method practiced and guided. Nothing will be pinned on you. They may speculate, but they'll never move against the family.
[break][break]
So, just what are you scared of? The only new thing here is that the roles were switched and you held the gun while Sally watched on. This isn't anything you haven't seen before. This is nothing new. [break][break]
Part IV
"Katchadourian, no—!" He shouts at you, wide eyed and terrified, but it is too late. Already you're pulling the trigger. Already, the gun's jumping in your hands. He collapses under the decimating force a bullet through the brain. Liar, cheater. You
trusted him. You
loved him as
family and he took that and spat upon it. Traitor, treasonous rat— You hate the tears in your eyes. You hate the way your hands tremble and your heart twists and aches. You hate how you cry to your wife and how his face haunts your nightmares for weeks. Stay away, stay away. You did what was right, so stay away! How could he have betrayed the family? How could he have sold out his own friends to the police and sent them to their deaths? You hate how you did not notice it. You were so close to him, but never once did you think he would betray you like this.[break][break]
You can't rationalize this away. You tell yourself that you cannot expect yourself to know everything, especially about someone who outranks you, but still the guilt chews at you. You pick apart your memories in search of a clue, a hint, any sort of sign that you should have caught. Maybe, if you'd noticed, the police wouldn't have stormed that safe house. Maybe, if you'd seen this coming, the family would not have suffered such loss. You blame yourself and in your guilt you throw yourself into your work. Over time, what was your grief and guilt turned to a quiet and tightly controlled anger.[break][break]
Part V
"What do you think about Katchadourian?"[break][break]
"Which Katchadourian? The father or the son?"
[break]
"The son."[break][break]
"Voski, then. He's a nasty thing. Vicious and ruthless: Definitely not someone you want to mess with."[break][break]
"But...he's not unreasonable. He looks out for others and does this neighborhood good and, in the end, no one gets hurt except those who had it coming. Keep respectful and don't fall behind on your shipments and you won't have to worry about a thing."
[break][break]
Part VI
"Where's the shipment?" You take a long drag of your cigarette and blow a plume of smoke. There is a man sitting in front you behind a rich mahogany desk. Two men flank you and another stands by the door behind you. [break][break]
"I told you—"[break][break]
"You told me a week and it's been three. Where's my shipment?"[break][break]
"I don't know!" He snaps and you nod to the men at your side. They move on him and pin him to his seat. You grab his hand and press it down on the surface of the desk, prying his fist undone and splaying his fingers out. He struggles, but fails to break away. "No, stop!" He cries out as you set a knife's blade at the first knuckle of his pinky finger.[break][break]
"Where's my shipment?"[break][break]
"I don't—" His own screaming tears apart his sentence and before he's done you're already putting your knife on the next finger.[break][break]
"
Where is my
shipment?" He doesn't answer, so you cut off his ring and middle fingers. And then you grow impatient and settle your knife at his wrist. "I actually expected you to break after the first one, so I brought this knife. It's not big or sharp enough to cut through this much bone, but don't worry, it'll take a couple of tries but I will take the rest of your hand if you don't tell me where my shipment is." He looks at you wide eyed and horrified and to that you simply smile.[break][break]
"I sold it to Imum!" He shouts suddenly and there is a suffocating silence in the room for a moment.[break][break]
"You
what?!" You shout as you shove the knife point into his wrist. He screams in pain, but you just shout over him as you dig in further. "Out of all the people in this country, you chose to sell it to Imum? Have you no idea who they are? You've sold an entire shipment of guns to terrorists! All those shipments that were short, were those guns going to Imum as well? Answer me!" He stammers out an agonized yes with a heavy nod of his head. You click your tongue and release your hold of him, leaving his hand secured to the desk by way of your knife through his wrist. You turn away, pace the room, and think. Voski, how will you fix this? You're
capo. This is your racket, your mistake, your problem. Acadia is don, so of course you'll consult her, but at the end this is still your issue to fix. Your mind races for a solution. Imum is too radicalized to let go of the guns they now hold and going in guns blazing will only create a heavy body count on both sides that far outweighs the worth of the guns. Imum is quiet, though, and right now they're still known only in the underground. Perhaps, given the choice—[break][break]
Part VII
"Hi!" You shout casually at the inconspicuous guards as you approach with several men at your heels. You rest an M16 across your shoulders and when a guard moves, you point it his way, tsking loudly at him. "No, no, don't do that. Don't move. Who's your boss. Are they here? Oh, there you are. Hello!" You point your gun at her then and the dozen or so men behind you take over threatening the guards with their own assault rifles. "It's come to my understanding that you've got our guns, so we'll be taking those back. Now, you
could try to shoot us here and now! We
could play a game of who has the most or the biggest guns." You give a shrug, "But let's not do that. Neither of us wants that. I don't want to die and you don't want a war with
la famiglia. Think of the press! Oh, I imagine it'll make international headlines!" They think on it for a moment.[break][break]
"That's only if any of you get away to tell someone." She threatens and you think, oh, she's not half as stupid as you'd hoped. That's fine.[break][break]
"Well, this is, one, a city. One shot or a dozen, people will know and it'll make big waves." You point out smoothly, "And this whole interaction here between us? It's being uploaded to a dear friend I have in the news industry. Stop looking around like that, you won't find the cameras. I'm not
sloppy. Shoot me or any of my men and this all gets sent out to every news outlet in the world."[break][break]
"It'll look like a shoot out between gangs."[break][break]
"It will until they print 'Team Imum, terrorist organization' on the front page headlines." You say, "You know, in the history of the world, I don't think there's been a 'team' that has so blatantly killed people. With the others, people died merely as a consequence. You, on the other hand, murder. I wonder, if you start making waves now, how fast will the Association come down upon your group? And how fast will your boss come down on
you?" And she is silent, this local leader, for several minutes.[break][break]
"Fine. Take the guns." She gives in and you smile wide. A couple of your men break off, guns still at the ready, and enter the building. After several minutes, one steps back out to give you a thumbs up, confirming the shipment secured again. Several more later, they come through with the pallets held by pairs of machamp and once they are far behind you, the woman speaks again: "You have your guns, now leave quietly." Her voice is sharp and authoritative, worthy of a leader, and she stares you down with a heavy and unwavering weight. Maybe if she wasn't a terrorist, you might've gotten along. Too bad. [break][break]
"Of course, of course. I keep my word. Now, it's been a pleasure doing business with you and I do so hope we never have to do this again." You back away slowly, eyes never wavering from your enemies. Only when you're sure they're not going to shoot you the moment you turn away do you put your back to them and make a full and hasty retreat.[break][break]
Several cars come to pick you up and Acadia is in one. You slide in next to her. She looks at you only to ensure that you're not injured. She has a camera in her hands and she examines the replay of your negotiations closely. [break][break]
"They chose to give us back the guns in order to continue their low profile, but this won't work again." Although the video will tell her as such, you skip to the part she cares about, "I'll make it known among our suppliers what'll happen if they try to sell to Imum again." She nods, satisfied, and you travel in silence the rest of the way back, but that's how it always is.[break][break]
Part VIII
Business, it seems, always makes its way into your home and so Acadia sits in your living room on your sofa, asking for reports, numbers, and advice, and you sit across from her. Your home is small and cozy compared to the amount of wealth you have to your name. Mansions, you decided, were for aunts, uncles, and cousins, but it's just you, your wife, and your pokemon, so you settled small. Somehow, having Acadia here makes it seem oppressively small, as if it is not good enough to house her, even momentarily. There is a lull in the discussion, so you stand up and pour a drink for both you and the don. "I'm going to retire." You say suddenly. Acadia is quiet, but then she stands and approaches. [break][break]
"You're not even forty yet." Acadia takes a filled glass from you before you can make an attempt to hand it to her. Her sharp eyes bore into you, but you stare right back into them. You've grown up with those sharp eyes, they won't make you bend and break as they do others.[break][break]
"I have plenty of money saved up, I'll support myself, so I won't be a burden on you or the family. I want to spend more time with my wife." You explain, "We're married, but with her work and mine, we rarely see each other."[break][break]
"Are you tired of your work?"[break][break]
"No, and I don't think I'll ever be. But I miss my wife and that matters to me more. Someone else can take over being capo, but I don't want someone taking over being her husband." She paces and you continue, "I'll pick someone to take over and train them, of course. Help them make their bones, if need be. Thinking about Eun Ha Park. Unless you have a different idea." For a long moment, she is quiet, thinking and weighing her options carefully as she must.[break][break]
"I trust your judgement." She relents, "I look forward to the new capo. To your future retirement, then." And she raises her near full glass to your half empty one. You meet the gesture and you both drink. You wonder, now that it's all said and done, is this the right decision? How will you return to simple domestic life? How will you sate the hunger in the pit of your soul or the thirst that makes your throat ache and tighten? Oh, just what will you do now?[break][break]
Part IX
"I'm retired, you know this."[break][break]
"That's fine. That won't change."
[break]
"You want me back, but I can stay in retirement?"[break][break]
"Just what are you asking of me, Acadia?"[break][break]
"Be my consigliere."
[break]
( Stop. Pause. )[break][break]
( What was that? Repeat. )[break][break]
( "Be my consigliere." )[break][break]
( Again. )[break][break]
( "Be my consigliere." )
[break]
"You're serious."[break][break]
"Of course. I wouldn't joke about this."
[break]
( Remember: )[break]
( 1, The taste of someone else's blood in your mouth. )[break]
( 2, The way a man dies. Eyes unfocusing, chest stilling. )[break]
( 3, The sound of bone breaking. Feel it in your hands. )[break]
( Do you remember? )[break]
( Breathe. )
[break]
"Alright, I'll do it."
