A crack echoed down the alley. Pain flared in Rizzy’s hip. He crumpled to the cobbles, bashing out a tooth on the uneven stones. Blood streamed from his nose and mouth, but he knew this wasn’t it. Not yet. The Capo would never let him off this easy.
- start -
No, no. This was just the beginning of the pain. Rizzy watched his own blood fill the gaps in the cobblestone - he envied its ability to move. It would honestly be better if he died here, all things considered. This assignment had lost him his family, his friends. He hadn’t talked to his partner in what was it, 2 years? God knew if his partner was even with the Bureau anymore...
No. This was just protocol. Another part of the mission, one that might soon be over.
Rizzy was lifted, or at least that’s what it felt like - blood had found its way into his eyes. The blindness might have helped the pain from the next few blows, but he wasn’t entirely sure - it all hurt like hell. The beating continued, and Rizzy tried to count how many bones he heard breaking. The echo from the alley made it harder to count, but Rizzy was pretty sure it was all of them.
He was vaguely aware of the large goons now holding him up, but they were nothing - just walking, talking meat that did what you told it to. They might have a few bodies to remember at night, but the real threat was the man standing in front of him - the one currently holding the baseball bat that Rizzy had very recently came to know quite well.
Marco Leone - 6th Borough Captain of the Rosa mafia family. Favorite nephew of the current Matriarch, and highest on the list of people you don’t want to find yourself in an alley with late at night. The man wasn’t all too physically imposing, coming in at a solid 5’9” 195 lbs - Rizzy could even look down on him on a good day (One that most likely didn’t involve taking a Baseball bat based-beating).
It wasn’t even some ridiculously high body count that made Marco so damn unsettling. The man wasn’t opposed to using violence (Exhibit: Rizzy.), but had put a hard freeze out on all killings in his borough the moment he came into power. It was more effective than decades of Bureau work had ever been. Moreover, other Capos were starting to follow suit.
No, the thing that scared Rizzy most about The Capo was his compassion. He’d spent his entire career learning how to deal with murderers, thugs - all sorts of scum of the earth types of people. He had been taught that the world was tough, that it would chew you up, spit you out and call your mother something terrible. Yet here this man was, holding a baseball bat that had just almost certainly broken a few of Rizzy’s ribs, crying.
The son-of-a-bitch was crying!
“I’m so sorry, dear Rizzy.” The Capo’s free hand pulled out a hankercheif (silk, handmade no doubt) and wiped the blood from Rizzy’s face. “Despite my many changes to the organization, the Elders have not let go of all of their “traditions.”
“This is one hell of a welcome, Marco.” Rizzy spat some blood, and tried to smile. “Sorry. Capo - I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“No,no,no.” Marco threw the hankercheif to the ground, and started walking towards Rizzy. With a gesture the two goons eased their grip and their Captain took position as Rizzy’s crutch - shouldering the weight of his injured side. “There are no titles in the Inner Circle - We are brother’s now.”
Rizzy could only wince in reply.
“I know, I know.” The man was now helping him out of the alley. “We’ll have The Surgeon fix you up. Better than even before. I promise this to you.”
Rizzy knew that he shouldn’t, that this man could not be the compassionate mafia reformer that he claimed to be, but nevertheless. As the mobster carried him out from the alley, into a waiting car - staying with him the entire time.
Rizzy couldn’t help but believe in Marco Leone.
-----
3 years ago Marco Leone came into power and implemented his “no killing.” rule.
Murders plummeted. It took the Bureau six months before they had even figured out why. Special Investigator Alfonso Rizzeti remembered when some crook came running into the 6th Borough office - asking for “asylum”.
“Youse gotta help,” The man’s eyes were bloodshod, his pupils wide. His focus kept darting around, like a deer looking out for a wolf. “I’ll confess and everything, you just gotta keep me away from the Rosa.”
The man had killed a local business owner in a robbery gone wrong. They normally would have just locked the junkie away in holding but Rizzy had a gut feeling. Something his partner always said you had to follow, no matter where it led. Though the man was halfway into his third marriage, so his wisdom was always taken with a grain of salt. But there was something there, and Rizzy couldn’t shake it. He agreed to interview the perp.
“Why are you so afraid of the Rosa Familia?” Rizzy asked.
“They delete people, man.” The man was coming down hard. “The latest Capo, he’s the son of a Witch!”
“Okay, this is the last time I listen to Carl Vester.” Rizzy stood up to leave.
“Its true!” The man stood up in sync, slamming his hands onto the metal table. “Think about it - when was the last time you Bureau chumps went out for a murder, huh?”
Rizzy paused at the door. “Continue.”
“So you really don’t know.” The man smiled and sat back down. “Its the new Captain. Marco Leone. He sent out a borough wide Order. No Killing. None.”
“Murder hasn’t stopped completely,” Rizzy made his way back to the chair. “What happens if you go against his rule?”
“I told you, cop. He deletes you.”
“What does that even mean?”
“You think I know? you think I’m willing to find out?” The man’s eyes checked the door, and each corner of the room. He leaned in, as if someone else could hear them. “All I know is, anyone who kills ends up gone. Goodbye. Never even existed.”
“So he’s good at hiding bodies...”
“Are you even listening? Like you never even existed. That’s what people are saying. No one remembers the last time they saw ya - they can’t remember where you lived. All that’s left is your name. Witchcraft. has to be.”
“Thank you for your information.” Rizzy finished his notes and motioned for some uniforms. “These men will escort you to a private holding cell.”
Rizzy had never seen a man cry tears of joy while being locked up - but that was just the first of many things Rizzy had never, but was about to see.
The next day, Rizzy went down to records. He pulled the case files for all murders in the last 6 months. There were 5. Five murders, in a borough that usually averaged 24. All of them had gone cold. If there had been any leads, they had all dried up in only a few days. He checked the cases out for Specials work - there had to be more.
There wasn’t. He had hit up every witness, next-of-kin. He even pressed some low level mobsters for info. The conversation always went the same:
“That guy? didn’t he kill so-and-so?”
“Yes, do you know the last time you saw him?”
“Bureau didn’t pick him up? I thought you had - can’t say I really remember.”
“Know where he liked to hang out?”
“Its funny, I thought i did - but thinking back on it that is some other schmuck.”
The mobsters had even apologized for being so unhelpful, and promised to let him know if they could remember anything more. This wasn’t people being kept quiet - he had seen that before. These cases went ICE cold. And faster than any case in the history of criminal investigation. He hated to it admit it, but there was only explination that made any sense:
Marco Leone was deleting people.
Rizzy could feel it in his gut.
- end -
Cool concept. I have to wonder about the logical coherence of it: if it's perfect deletion, then afterwards, no one should have any means of detecting it (nor even any reason to try). If it's imperfect deletion, though--as this installment implies--then that's different. Clearly some traces are being left behind, leaving you to eventually clarify exactly what it means to be deleted. Because if it's imperfect, maybe it can be undone...
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