Jacked Up

-{Interlude: Darkness Stirs}-

~~~~~

2012, Date Unknown

Buffalo, New York

Exact Location Unknown

Several young men stood outside the door to their boss’s room, speaking in hushed voices.  Each was worried, both for their boss, and for their lives.

“I ain’t talkin’ to him, you talk to him!”

“Are you crazy?  No way I’m goin’ in there!”

“If anyone’s crazy, he is!  No one in their right mind locks themselves up like that for so long...”

Eight days ago, members of the Boccino crime family had killed rival mob boss Giovanni Dibenedetto and his wife, Carmen, in a drive-by shooting.  The following day, a series of police raids had crippled the Dibenedetto family’s remaining operations, leaving the organization in shambles.  Leon Dibenedetto, Giovanni’s son and the sole remaining blood relative of the Dibenedetto’s, had hidden himself away for days after the events, not so much as answering the door.  His personal gang of street punks, mostly the young adult children of the crime family’s many enforcers, were left completely in the dark, and lacking the brains needed to lead themselves, had been left in a state of limbo.

The punks had decided that enough was enough, and came to Leon’s home to coax him out.  Unfortunately, in his absence, rumors had begun to spread about him.  The subject tended to differ- some said that he was obsessed with the occult, others said he was spending every cent of his inheritance on revenge, but they all agreed on the cause- his parents’ deaths drove him insane, and now he was more psychotic than ever.

So, as the punks bickered about who would face the supposed mad man, the youngest of the gang, a sixteen year old by the name of Joey, rubbed his forehead in annoyance.  He and Leon had been somewhat close, at least more so than most of the punks he hung out with.  Running a hand through his curly, dark brown hair, Joey wondered how exactly the rest of the guys had descended into such a state of indecision after just one week.

Sighing, he pushed his way to the center of the group, raising his hands to silence the others.

“Guys, come on, we all know Leon.  I mean, yeah, he’s crazy, but he ain’t that crazy!”

“Well you go talk to him then, tough guy!” spat one of the older punks.

“As a matter of fact, I will!”

The thugs grew silent as Joey turned to the door and grasped the handle.  He paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder to the others.

“Well? Fuckin’ do it, man,” one of them muttered, the others offering faint mumbles of agreement.

Suddenly regretting his decision, Joey took a deep breath, and opened the door, stepping inside.

The room was a dimly-lit mess.  Cardboard boxes filled with dusty old files and books were haphazardly stacked in the corners, with various papers scattered across the floor.  At the far end of the room, a spray-tanned nineteen year old stood hunched over a table, staring at the pages of a worn leather manuscript.  Joey could hear him muttering to himself, halfway growling, even.

“Shoulda known she was trouble from the start, fuckin’ bitch...”

Joey edged closer, treading lightly.

“Fuckin’ whore’s behind everything, fuckin’ everything.  Shoulda known...”

“Leon?” Joey spoke up, careful not to raise his voice, “You feelin’ okay, boss?”

His boss ignored him, still staring at the manuscript.

“Leon...  We’re all worried about you, man,” Joey continued, “I know that what happened...  I know it hit you hard, man.  We all do.”

Slowly, Leon looked over his shoulder.

“She did it,” he growled.

Joey stepped back slightly, confused.

“... who?”

“That bitch from the bar,” he reiterated, “She did it.  I know she did.”

Joey, glanced to the side, spying several photographs and newspaper clippings on the wall.  Each of them featured the same face and the same name.

"Denise Hartman."

“She wiped out the Russians in Newark, y’know?  The Dumovitch family” Leon continued, turning to face Joey, “They covered it up.  No idea why, but they did.”

“Who covered it up?”

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!”

Joey staggered backwards at the outburst as Leon whipped around, arms spread wide.  Leon’s expression was one of pure rage, his pupils dilated and lips curled into a snarl.  Between that, his unkempt hair, and the look of the room, Joey was actually starting to believe the guys outside.

Leon was losing it.

“The... The DEA was a part of it...  And some gang-bangin’ spic motherfuckers, too.  I done my homework.”

“Leon, we all saw what happened,” Joey started, “It was the Boccinos that-”

“No it wasn’t,” Leon growled, pointing a finger at Joey, “They were the fall guys.  I just...  I know it.”

“Leon...”

“What, I mean you’re tellin’ me it’s a coincidence?  That this broad, who just happens to have already fucked over one crime family, just happens to show up in town and try to kill me, then MY PARENTS just happen to... to...”

Leon trailed off, voice cracking slightly.  His posture softened, and he turned away, staring off into space.  Joey, meanwhile, considered what his boss had said.  He remembered the girl Leon was talking about, vaguely.  However, Joey distinctly remembered that it was Leon that pulled a gun on her, not the other way around, and even after she disarmed him, the girl had never actually tried to kill him.  Leon wasn’t making any sense, especially with all of the conspiracy bullshit.  A DEA coverup?  Single-handedly wiping out a crime family?  That was the sort of thing you saw in action movies and video games, not real life.

Joey didn’t want to believe it, but Leon had snapped.  He wouldn’t have been surprised if the poor guy was on drugs.  It would explain the paranoia and anger issues, at least.

Leon turned around, a cold look in his eyes.

“I’m gonna find her,” he stated, his voice wavering, “I don’t care who she is, where she goes, or what she does.”

Leon turned away, walking back to his seat.  He sat back down, hunching over the leather tome once again.

“I'm gonna find her, and when I do, I’m gonna kill her.  And ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me.”