Two weeks prior
“Thanks for the ride, Tommy” Hector said, having stepped out of the car to head into the subway
“You said you needed to get some train tickets. It was the least I could do”
Hector and Tommy had driven out to the subway, Hector having made up his own plan for getting out of the Falcone family. He was going to get a train ticket for him and Ernesto, get out of the city as far as they can, and hopefully get Frederick if he could. He stepped down the stairs toward the bottom looking for the ticket stall down below, his cigarette in between his lips and his coat over his shoulders to hide his arm. But what he didn’t take into account was the empty subway system. No one was down there. At this time of the evening, and no people. That was enough to get Hector suspicious. It was only until he reached the last step did they come out. Armed goons, Falcone’s very own men. Seven of them all lined up and waited for him. And each one of them had guns aimed at him. His eyes trailed all the goons, but he had already planned for this. With a single movement of his arm, he fired three bullets, each one striking the men without a word. No words were needed. Hector had seen the intent to kill in mens faces before and this time was no different. He just never thought he’d have to be the one that Melvin called the hit on. Three bullets, three headshots. Three of the thugs fell down, the others scrambling for cover. Hector took cover behind one of the pillars, only popping out to fire two more bullets, each one hitting their target, leaving just two thugs. One was dumb enough to run out to him. This gave Hector a chance to shoot him and take his gun, and without much fear, approached the other guy, waiting for him to pop out before firing into his skull. It was a perfect blend of patience, and knowing when to jump out. Hector was no slouch to killing someone. He had taken many lives in his time. But if he could save the lives of his nephews, he could at least consider that something. He could consider that a victory on his part. He rushed back up the stairs, hoping to get a cab and get to Ernesto as fast as possible. If he was in danger, the possibility of him being in danger was clear. But to his surprise, Tommy’s car was still there, waiting for him. And the window was rolled down, but the car was dark. Hector knew Tommy was in there, but he wasn’t prepared for one of his friends to betray him like this. From the car window, a rifle fired, striking Hector in the chest, directly in the heart. He stumbled back, doing what he could to raise the gun up to shoot, but this was no good. He knew he was done for. And with another bullet striking his chest, Hector was sent tumbling down the stairs, falling all the way back down with the other bodies waiting for him below. And even then, in his last moments of life, his thoughts were of his nephews. Of how he failed them.
“This place is a lot tackier than I remember,” Ernesto replied dryly, looking up at the Falcone building. Being a mild five story office building, he was perfectly fine with it being a quick get in and get out job. Turning back over to Mikey, still clutching his chest in pain, he asked, “You sure you’re-”
“For the last time, I’m alright, kid” Mikey said, though his heavy breathing and pained expression conflicted with his answer. He turned to Ernesto and replied, “The real question is are you alright? In the head? This is a suicide mission, Ernesto”
“You can’t kill someone that doesn't exist” Ernesto replied dryly, sliding the mask down onto his face, the wicked grin of the oni mask looking back at Mikey before he stepped out of the car, leaving a confused and disturbed Mikey to care for himself. Ernesto marched to the door, seeing it as the last time he would ever have to enter this building, the last day he would ever associate with the Falcone family. For years, he was a puppet, a tool for the family to be used and abused. Like his uncle. To him, it didn’t matter if he lived or died. All that mattered was that one way or another, he would be free. He took hold of the doors with both hands, and he breathed in. And then, the loud bang of an explosion. The explosion that rocked the city forever.
Frederick sat on the bed of his dorm room, having been unable to concentrate for a while now. He told his professors that he didn’t want to fall behind. Despite the death in the family, he assured them he would be able to catch up. But he couldn’t. All he could think about was Hector. How could he have been killed like that. He was fine the day he met him, and then suddenly, he dies in a gang shooting. Even though Frederick doubted it, he wondered if Ernesto had something to do with it. If not intentionally, did he anger someone, did he get involved in more trouble. He knew that Hector was not among good company either, but he was careful, compelled, and always had a plan. He was the opposite of Ernesto in many ways, but similar in the worst ways. As Frederick was slumped on his beds, books and papers surrounding his floor, there was the faint knock on the door. He stood up, making his way over and opening it. He was hoping that it was either his roommate to let in or someone he could send off. But to his shock, he was Becca. Even after their incident with Brendon, they had still talked on and off again. Not dating, not after that night, but it was clear that Becca was full of regret for what had happened. Frederick, though, was a bit more cautious, but he asked, “Hello, Becca”.
“I.. uh… I heard about what happened to your uncle, Fred. I’m… I’m so sorry.” She stammered, unsure of the right words she could say. She didn’t want to say he was a good man. Rumors had spread about him, about his job, and she wasn’t sure if she could lie about that. So she tried to find the right words, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine” Frederick said, being a little dismissive. But he looked over at Becca. He could see she was trying. And he couldn’t fully blame her for that night. She was already here, apologizing, so with a sigh, he opened the door and asked, “Do you want to come in?”
Becca looked over, shocked at the question he had asked. Not that he was so sudden, but that he had offered in the first place. She was almost intimidated like a cat caught in a corner all of a sudden, but she gave a light nod and took a step inside.
“Fuck! Fuck!” A man was shouting, storming up the stairs as fast as he could, but to no avail. The stairwell just acted as a straight passage toward him. A burst of fire like a backdraft flew up at him, the flames scorching his flesh. His screams broke through the cracking of fire as he rushed down the hall, startling the other guards, all armed with assault rifles and shotguns, prepared for whoever it was coming up for them. They weren’t expecting a man in a red goblin mask, stepping upward with a handgun, loading the clip with bullets of his own. It was uncertain, but they could have sworn that they saw rings around the bullets, glowing brightly like a fire. The guards stepped back, as if waiting for him to make the first move.
“What the fuck is that thing?!”
“I don’t see a flamethrower.”
“No molotovs or explosives or anything!”
“Is it a demon!?”
Ernesto looked over at the group, all huddled at the end of the corner, giving a sigh as he spoke, “Five floors of you guys and you all just huddle up here in one spot. That’s pretty nice of you. Makes it easier!”
“Fucking shoot him!”
Without hesitation, the men began to shoot at Ernesto, who was only able to take cover behind the stairwell. He used this cover to give him a chance to concentrate on something special. He gave a chuckle as he added, “Man, I always wanted to pull this off!”
With enough confidence and time, he jumped up from the stairs, holding his hands out as he screamed a battle cry, sending the ball of fire towards the crowd of guards. The ball passed through each one, burning their flesh with the power of the sun before crashing through the wall, creating a perfectly sized hole, as if it had melted through it more than anything else. All that remained of the guards was their feet and shoes cut at the knees. Not even their skeletons remained. Seeing the chaos caused by one blast, Ernesto chuckled a demented chuckle. “Holy shit! Just like Street Fighter! That was fucking radical!”
With no guards left, Ernesto stepped out toward the office. He ducked through the hall, seeing the living room that the guards would occupy as he shouted, “Melvin, you greasy bastard! Come on out!”
But Ernesto was taken by surprise when the wall next to him was blown apart by a shotgun blast, coming through the door opposite of him. This didn’t anger him. It only made him happy. He wasted no time, firing a bullet through the door and hearing the shout from Melvin. Ernesto walked over casually, lacking any care or planning. He knew that he got him. What followed next was a loud “POP!” followed by the agonizing scream from Melvin. Hector opened the door, seeing that he had gotten Melvin in the arm with his bullets, the elbow to be exact. He was clutching the stub that was his arm, the bullet having exploded inside of his arm and blowing it toward the other side of the room. Ernesto chuckled as he replied, “Yeah, amazing new magic huh? Boy, you sure picked the worst possible time to piss me off, Melvin. Tell me, how was four months of being on the top. How did it feel living off of the hard work of my uncle and me.”
“F-Fuck you! You goddamn traitor!” Melvin shouted, clutching his arm. He looked up at the grinning mask staring down at him before he shouted, “Your uncle was a worthless bit-”
Ernesto didn’t even give him the time to finish. He fired into his knee, hearing the whirring of the bullet from within his kneecap. The pain was bad enough, but once the bullet exploded, separating his knee from the rest of his body, spreading blood all over the white carpet, it made Melvin scream in agony. Ernesto looked down at him and added, “I could just shoot you in the head, but nah. That’s too good for you. You took my damn life away, and my uncles life. You’re not deserving a quick death!”
“D-Don’t do this, Ernesto! Look, I made a mistake, but look! I can work this o-”
“Blah blah blah blah! Melvin… I’m not a businessman. All your men are dead. You got no one left in this building. And anyone else who's still alive, that works for you, is going to die. I don’t care who they are. Other thugs, crooked cops, even if it's the mayor. They’re all going to die. I got no records, and who’s going to believe someone can actually shoot fire from their hands. I don’t care what you got to offer me, Melvin. You’re already dead, Melvin. Now say ‘aah’”
“You fucking we-!”
But Melvin was interrupted when Ernesto sent his fist toward his mouth, breaking at least two teeth in the process as his hand gripped his lower jaw. Ernesto chuckled as he added, “Now no biting. This is going to be really painful.”
Melvin witnessed before his eyes as Ernesto’s hand started to glow a bright orange, the feeling of heat coming from his hands, the growing heat that felt like an oven boiling the inside of his mouth, his throat, his entire body. He could feel his insides cooking from within, and it was horrible agony. And through it all, the face of that grinning mask staring back at him as Ernesto mocked him with glee. To Melvin, this was torture, this was actual hell. But to Ernesto, this was his dream come true.
“Come on, you Italian fuck! Let’s cook this big ol’ belly like a meatball!”
And as Ernesto reached the end, already seeing that his hands had completely melted through Melvin’s jaw, he pulled it back, tearing the jaw from his face like it was paper, watching as his gut burst out with is now boiling, fried guts spilling out onto the white carpet, the entire floor now stained red in a river of blood, bubbles rising as it boiled on the floor, steaming up. Ernesto looked down a the mutilated body of his old boss, his old tormentor. He gave a sigh as he turned toward the door, “Welp, time to go”
“Yes, on route right now. Be arriving in five minutes” Joel replied in his police car, already speeding towards the scene of the explosion. Calls were already coming in from passersby, neighboring businesses and some witnesses. Reports of an explosion. It was a feared terrorist attack, but the blast seemed harmless. It was the mass of gunshots that followed afterward that got people worried. But hearing about the fires that were taking place from within, mixed with the knowledge that this is a mafia owned building, Joel had an idea who this was. The Phantom had struck again, and he had been far more reckless this time. He wanted to get there soon. Before anyone else got in the middle of the fight, and before those mysterious followers got there. He wasn’t sure what their role in this all was, but if he could get the Phantom, he could blow everything wide open.
Ernesto made his way down the stairs, passing by the abundance of corpses that he had made. At least thirty seven dead, including Melvin, Benny and Tommy, in one day. He passed by an abundance of bloody corpses, some blown up with bullets that he had, with missing heads, only noticeable by their brain matter and teeth. Some set on fire and burnt to a crisp, some weren’t even bodies anymore, just ash. One thing was certain, Ernesto was sure to leave none of them alive. He didn’t want to risk them coming back. He wanted to make sure that they were purged. As he walked past the last of the bodies and stepped out through the blown open doors, he approached the car, making his way to it as he called out, “Alright, Mikey, I’m taking you to the hospital now. And for fucks sake, if you say no-”
But as Ernesto opened the passenger door to get in, he was greeted by something else. A bullet from a six shooter striking him in the chest. He was so careful not to get hurt, to not leave any blood spilt at the scene. But here he was, getting shot by someone he had trusted to protect. And looking up at the pained expression of the old man, Ernesto groaned, stumbling back in pain.
“Sorry, kid” Mikey replied, his hand shaking as he held the gun. He was holding it as best as he could. But he was not able to shoot. Was it that he couldn’t kill Ernesto, or was the blood loss too much for him. All that he knew was that he couldn’t pull the trigger a second time, and fell back, losing consciousness soon after. And Ernesto was not too far behind. He fell backward, clutching his chest in pain, the sounds of sirens being more audible now. It was only until he heard them, did he realize that he had never heard New York so quiet until that moment he stepped out of the Falcone building for the last time.
Ernesto struggled to open his eyes, looking around him. He wasn’t sure how long he was out for, his eyes looking around the white room he was in. He knew it was a hospital, but where, he wasn’t sure. He never needed a hospital. His eyes looked around before he looked over at Joel, having sat there, acting as guard for the whole time. He looked at Ernesto before he spoke, “Finally awake, Phantom?”
“... Who the hell is The Phantom” Ernesto asked dryly, looking around the room before asking, “Where’s my mask? I need my face, ya know?”
“Confiscated for evidence. There ain’t nothing on you. No records, no birth certificate, no ties to other family, you’re completely off the radar. The perfect kind of killer. A killer without an identity.”
“No identity, huh?” Ernesto replied, not sure what to make of that.
Joel leaned back in his seat, looking over at Ernesto as he spoke, “59 victims. That’s how many people you’ve killed. You’re practically a walking bomb that kills people everywhere you go.”
“Isn’t littering a crime in New York, officer?” Ernesto replied, staring at the wall as he added. “I’m doing my civil duty of taking the trash out of this city. You know that those men were Cornello and Falcone thugs. Along with their bosses. They all deserved to die.”
“Even if they were criminals, that doesn’t excuse you for killing them. What about Cornello’s daughter and her child? Did they deserve to die too?”
“No!” Ernesto replied immediately. Even that was something he could never forgive himself for. But he added, “It was a mistake on my part.”
“A woman and her baby are dead, shot through the chest and you call that a mistake on your part?!”
“Can you call it anything else?”
“I call that murder. That’s what I call that. I want answers. Why’d you do it? And just who the hell are you?”
Ernesto slowly turned his head to Joel, giving a grin as he spoke, “I got no identity, do I? How do you know I won’t bullshit you.”
“You’re a criminal. I don’t trust you already” Joel said, “But unlike you, I have respect for human life. Even if you’re scum, you’re still human. Gives me something to call you.”
Ernesto chuckled dryly, turning to face the wall as he added, “How nice. You’re the second person who has ever treated me like a human… You can call me HECTOR.”
“Hector, huh?” Joel repeated unenthusiastically, but he accepted it regardless. He clasped his hands together before asking, “Tell me, how did you do it? And why did you do it? Why kill all those people?”
“Why not ask Melvin?” Ernesto joked, “He wanted me for a reason.”
“Melvin Falcone?” Joel asked, only he would not get his answer.
Simon walked in through the door, his hands outstretched as he spoke, “Joel, the fuck are you doing in here?”
“Talking to the suspect” Joel added, turning back to Simon. “I’m certain I got this. He’s connected to this all”
“Regardless, you can’t go grilling witnesses right here and now. Besides, the chief has a call for you at the front desk.”
“What’s he want this time?” Joel asked
“I don’t know, but he sounded really serious.”
Joel gave a groan as he replied, “Fine!”
He stood up, and pointed to Ernesto, “Don’t go anywhere, HECTOR. I’ll be back.”
“Well hopefully you make it back soon. I’d like to get some food soon.” Ernesto replied in a joking tone, much to the annoyance of Joel. And with that, he took a step out, closing the door behind him. The moment his footsteps faded out, Ernesto wasted no time trying to stand up. How long was he out for? A few days? A few hours? It was hard to say. But he knew sticking around here would only get him in more trouble. He planted his feet on the ground, feeling the numbness in his leg, as well as taking notice of the bullethole in his chest, which was already starting to ache, but it was far from fatal. That was all he needed to know. He stumbled toward the wall with the window, looking down through it. With a sigh of relief, he saw he was on the first floor, a simple procedure. Though blowing up the wall would be fun, Ernesto knew that the time was right to be careful rather than to be reckless.
Joel approached the group of police on the phone at the front of the hospital, taking it from their hands and holding it up to his ear as he asked, “What’s it, chief?”
“Joel, pull out of the case right now. This case is a mess. We’re taking you off it now.”
“What are you talking about?!” Joel shouted, shocked at the prospect of being told to quit now. “I’ve got the suspect in the hospital right now. All I’m asking for his time to get a confession out of him.”
“That’s not the point, Joel” The chief replied on the other line. “This case is bigger than you or I can understand. We don’t deal with stuff like this. This isn’t your run of the mill homicide. This is terrorism, conspiracy, something that the mafia is involved with. DHS agents are already coming to take him away. They’ll do the rest. You’re a good detective, Joel. A damn great one. But you did all you could. This is in their hands now. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, sure.” Joel replied, putting the phone up and resting his back on the wall. He looked over at Simon, who couldn’t help but give a cocky smirk as he said, “Feeling that need for a smoke yet”
“How ‘bout you blow smoke out your ass” Joel mocked, but was taken by surprise at what he saw next. Two men, one of them he had seen before. The same man he saw at the burnt house years prior. And with him was a more young, more clean cut man, both of them heading down the hall. And at that moment, Joel rushed over toward them, shouting, “Hey, hey, what the hell are you doing?!”
“Oh, you must be Detective Joel Cooper from the NYPD. We heard about you.” the older one said. He took out an ID from the Department of Homeland Security on it, with his face and name plastered across it. The name was Leonard York. He put the ID away before speaking, “We’re with Homeland Security.”
“Bullshit! You’re saying you forgot about me and what I did? You forgot how you were at the burnt house with that Korean lady! Saying you were just civilians looking into things. And how you were stalking me outside my apartment! I could understand hiding your identity, but spying on an officer? Bullshit your DHS!”
“Look, you can say whatever you want. The point is, we’re in charge of this investigation now. So please, if you would leave us to our work.”
The two men ignored Joel as they approached the door to HECTOR’s room, opening it up to find nothing. Nothing but an open window, but no one else inside. And with this, the older man replied, “Fuck, this is bad.”
The two men turned back to speak to Joel, but he was already walking down the hall, heading toward the exit without giving them another word.
Ernesto was sitting in a cab, thankful that he was able to keep his pants with some cash in it. He wasn’t sure where he could go at this point. He couldn’t go back to the bar. It was probably crowded with police looking for evidence. He was certain that he couldn’t speak for anyone else for help. He knew that Hector always had a plan, but just thinking about Hector, it made the ever joking Ernesto start to hurt within. And that’s when he came to his own conclusion. He’d go and see Frederick, see if he would want to leave New York with him, escape from all this. To him, this was the only thing he had left. After all, Frederick was the only family member he had left.
Joel was already walking down the hall of a different hospital, this one being all the way out in Manhattan. This is where the one surviving member of the Falcone Massacre, kept far from HECTOR for his own safety, if only suggested by Joel. Knocking on the door, he heard a faint reply. “Door’s open.”
Joel stepped inside of the room, moving passed the guards that stood outside, expecting someone in a worse state. But this survivor, he seemed just fine. Aside from the wound in his chest, his white hair was well kept and he had this smile greeting him. Joel stepped over as he asked, “Micheal Luca, right?”
“Correct” Mikey replied with a nod.
“Look, I’m sure you want a warm greeting and all, but I don’t got much time, so I gotta cut to the questions.” Joel replied, crossing his arms before starting. “First, how did you survive the attack?”
“Hard to say.” Mikey answered with a light shrug. “Maybe I got lucky. Maybe Ernesto trusted me enough. More so than the average gangster.”
“Did you say Ernesto?”
“Oh yes” Mikey replied. “Why, thought names were the first thing you get.”
“He told me his name was Hector.” Joel added on top of that, curious as to the fake name. He had assumed that much, but this was different.
“So he’s using the old man's name… interesting” Mikey spoke
And that was what caught Joel’s attention. He had read over the names of people involved in this case so many times, but he never considered one of the thugs that died in the gang shootout to be connected in someway. It would make sense that Ernesto knew Hector Menendez, but why would he use his name to hide his. A spur of the moment? No, he knew him specifically. A friend? A family member? What was the connection between the two. But before Joel could ask the questions, the door behind him was thrown open. The guards had come in, looking at Joel with somber expressions beore they replied, “Joel, you’re going to have to come with us to the station.”
“What do you mean?” Joel replied. “I’m investigating.”
“Not anymore you’re not” One of them replied. “The chief has something for you in particular.”
Ernesto stands amongst a crowd in a packed train, feeling like a fish in a can. He never felt so uncomfortable before in his life. But at the same time, he never did much traveling outside of the building in his life. This was the furthest he’s ever been outside of the city, and it was actually a breath of fresh air compared to the attic. But as his eyes slowly moved around the train, his vision obstructed by the hood he wore over his head just in case anyone got suspicious or if cops came onboard, his eyes fell onto a newspaper that someone had left behind. And on it, the bar was a picture of it. OR rather, the skeleton of what it once was. Burned down the night prior. And not just that, the words on it. “Two bodies found within. One of them named Benjamin Queen and the other an unknown body.”. How did the place get burned down, Ernesto thought. He didn’t burn it down himself. He was certain of that. And he knew there was only one person in the building. And he knew he was the one to kill Benny. How was it that there was a second body in there? Was someone trying to frame his death? It looked to be that way. Regardless, it didn’t matter to Ernesto. He had no reason to go back there. And when he met Frederick, it would be all he needed to show that it was fake. That was all he needed to do. Show himself to Frederick. The sun was setting. It would be sundown by the time he arrived. He was ready to greet his brother with a smile.
Mikey looked out at the setting sun from his window. He had no reason for the TV. It just annoyed him more and more. He was just thinking about if he did the right thing. He wasn’t sure if shooting Ernesto was right. Right for who though? For the right of others? For Ernesto’s own good? For his own safety? What if Ernesto came back to finish him off? Was he going to kill him then and there? All these questions raced around his mind. But they all stopped when he looked over at the door opening, the sight enough to put fear into his heart again. This giant man, wearing an overcoat over his body, bandages over his face, staring down at Mikey like he was a child to him. He looked down at him without a word and spoke, “Mr. Luca. You are sentenced to death. Don’t take this as a personal grudge. I don’t kill out of hate or spite. But you’re a risk. You spoke to Mr. Cooper. Who’s to say you won’t speak again.”
“I..I...I’m sorry” Mikey replied, short of breath, the fear of this man, this colossus, taking his life, it was enough to instill fear in him. He spoke, “I...I won’t talk, I swear.”
“That’s a lie, Mr. Luca. You spoke to Mr. Cooper. You proved you can’t be trusted.”
“P-Please… I… I-I don’t want to-”
His words were cut off by the sudan speed of his hand gripping his throat, squeezing the older man’s neck like it was dishrag, and yet barely any effort for the massive man. Mikey struggled, even tried to shove the man off by his face, but the large man didn’t even budge. He just kept squeezing and squeezing, watching as Mikey’s eyes rolled into the back of his head before he finally stopped moving, his eyes bulging out in terror and fear, his body now limp there before him. With a sigh, the large man took the phone from his coat pocket, pressing the button on it before he spoke, “It’s Jericho… The job’s taken care of.”
“Are you serious!?”
“You storm into a private room, and you don’t follow orders, Joel. This job is far too big and you keep pushing and pushing” The chief replied, putting a cigarette out in his ashtray.
“So what, you’re taking the word of some two-bit fucking coats over someone who’s busted their ass working for you for years?!” Joel replied sternly
“Joel, you don’t get it. They are bigger than you or I can understand. I’m doing this for your own good.”
“My own good?!” Joel mocked. “I get on a case that I’m close to solving, had the suspect in the same room, ready to confess… And then you say I’m fired. That’s for my own good.”
“If it stops you from getting involved in this case, then yes.” The chief answered. “Joel, if you keep this going, who knows what they’d do to you. You’re a good detective, but you're stubborn and you refuse to give up.”
“Yeah, I do.” Joel repeated. “That’s why all the other officers are pussyfooting around issues, not taking in real crimes cause we let shit like this happen. What good is that to all the victims that were killed?”
“That’s not for you to worry about, Joel. Please, your gun and your badge. You don’t want me catching you poking your nose in this business.”
Joel looked at the chief with absolute shock, disbelief, and anger. He didn’t even bother being graceful, tossing the badge and gun that he once respected onto the table like it was trash. The thing he worked twenty years of his life for, thrown out like that. He stormed from the office, shamed, forever losing his right as an officer over some petty act to hide the truth.
Ernesto was hiding behind the tree of the university. To some passerbys, he must have looked like a creep. News of the bar, of the incident at the Falcone building, it had already reached the campus. No doubt, Frederick had already heard. Ernesto wasn’t sure where Frederick was, he was just waiting at this point for him to turn up. He could only imagine the joy that he would see on Fred’s face when he jumped out, alive and well. This thought alone was enough for him to go through with it. And sure enough, there he was. Walking down the path, speaking with three other people. One of them was Becca, the other two being friends of his that he met at college. And he was… laughing. He was happy with them. Chatting casually with them, holding hands with Becca, just having fun. Ernesto thought to himself, “Why is he so happy? He should be sad that I’m not around.”
These thoughts rushed through Ernesto’s mind. But the more he thought, the more he put himself in Fredericks shoes. Your brother, a killer, who caused so much suffering to others, so much misery, even caused your uncles death in a way, is gone. To Ernesto, Frederick was his little brother that he always relied on. But to Frederick, Ernesto was the burden that was finally lifted. Or that’s what Ernesto thought. Seeing Frederick happy here, happy that his one tie to the crime family was severed, that was something Ernesto couldn’t take from him. Not now. With a sigh, Ernesto hid behind the tree, sad, but content. Glad that at leat someone could escape that life. Ernesto knew that it wouldn’t be him to escape it. He knew he was too far in now. There was no going back. He was a killer, a murderer. And he would kill again. He promised that he would. He would kill anyone that was tied to the Falcone family. To any crime family. But Frederick, his life was finally normal. With one last look, Ernesto made his way off, his hood over his head, walking in the opposite direction, never to see Frederick again. Just a phantom now.
~2 Years Later~
Rikki moved back to New York some time ago. He was a mess, filled with debt, drug addicted, and with lots of legal issues. He existed as a living dead man now, unaware that his troubles were about to have a sudden end. As he stumbled up the stairs to his apartment building, intoxicated on meth, he stumbled into his apartment room, seeing someone standing there, waiting for him. Rikki looked over and spoke, “W-Who the fuck!?”
“Rikki boy!” The hooded figure spoke, his hands outstretched, “What a shock. I didn’t expect to see you. You got thin. Real thin.”
Rikki was certain he was having a drug induced trip. The man wore a white jacket with the hoodie up, with his hands gloved. But the noticeable feature, the grinning red goblin mask he had on.
“W-Who the fuck are you!? Get outta my-”
But he was interrupted when the person grabbed him by the face, spinning him around to smash his head into the opposite wall before speaking, “No yelling! I hate it when people yell. Gets on my nerves. Don’t tell me you forgot your friend HECTOR!”
“H-Hec, who?”
“Hmm, gotta lay off the drugs, pal. It’s bad for you. Like you should have probably not come back to New York, getting involved with drug dealers.”
“W-What are you, some vigilante?”
“Nah. Vigilantes are in it for justice. I don’t care about no justice. I just care about taking out the trash. And sorry, Rikki the Rat. You’re just trash.”
“The Rat?” Rikki replied, having forgotten that nickname after it was told to him years ago. And in that moment, in that brief realization, he knew who this was. But it did not last long, before his body was sent ablaze in a second, the man standing over him with his hands over the burning corpse, watching as it was burnt to ashes. To HECTOR, this was a common thing, a thing he did every night if he could. And it was easier every time. But one thing was different this night. One little difference. He turned over to see a man slumped in the hallway. He knew the apartment was home to junkies and prostitutes, but something about this man seemed more clean. “Probably a drunk” HECTOR though. But the man, despite his disheveled appearance, looked more… formal, in a sense, if not sick. HECTOR gave a chuckle as he said, “Don’t worry, this bastard deserved it.”
And with that, HECTOR hurried toward the open window, diving through it, leaving the man on the ground to pass out, leaving the once Rikki the Rat’s body a pile on the floor, and leaving another name to his long list of deaths. His old life was over. He was free. His own idea of free. He was finally leaving his mark on this world, and he was far from over
“Thanks for the ride, Tommy” Hector said, having stepped out of the car to head into the subway
“You said you needed to get some train tickets. It was the least I could do”
Hector and Tommy had driven out to the subway, Hector having made up his own plan for getting out of the Falcone family. He was going to get a train ticket for him and Ernesto, get out of the city as far as they can, and hopefully get Frederick if he could. He stepped down the stairs toward the bottom looking for the ticket stall down below, his cigarette in between his lips and his coat over his shoulders to hide his arm. But what he didn’t take into account was the empty subway system. No one was down there. At this time of the evening, and no people. That was enough to get Hector suspicious. It was only until he reached the last step did they come out. Armed goons, Falcone’s very own men. Seven of them all lined up and waited for him. And each one of them had guns aimed at him. His eyes trailed all the goons, but he had already planned for this. With a single movement of his arm, he fired three bullets, each one striking the men without a word. No words were needed. Hector had seen the intent to kill in mens faces before and this time was no different. He just never thought he’d have to be the one that Melvin called the hit on. Three bullets, three headshots. Three of the thugs fell down, the others scrambling for cover. Hector took cover behind one of the pillars, only popping out to fire two more bullets, each one hitting their target, leaving just two thugs. One was dumb enough to run out to him. This gave Hector a chance to shoot him and take his gun, and without much fear, approached the other guy, waiting for him to pop out before firing into his skull. It was a perfect blend of patience, and knowing when to jump out. Hector was no slouch to killing someone. He had taken many lives in his time. But if he could save the lives of his nephews, he could at least consider that something. He could consider that a victory on his part. He rushed back up the stairs, hoping to get a cab and get to Ernesto as fast as possible. If he was in danger, the possibility of him being in danger was clear. But to his surprise, Tommy’s car was still there, waiting for him. And the window was rolled down, but the car was dark. Hector knew Tommy was in there, but he wasn’t prepared for one of his friends to betray him like this. From the car window, a rifle fired, striking Hector in the chest, directly in the heart. He stumbled back, doing what he could to raise the gun up to shoot, but this was no good. He knew he was done for. And with another bullet striking his chest, Hector was sent tumbling down the stairs, falling all the way back down with the other bodies waiting for him below. And even then, in his last moments of life, his thoughts were of his nephews. Of how he failed them.
“This place is a lot tackier than I remember,” Ernesto replied dryly, looking up at the Falcone building. Being a mild five story office building, he was perfectly fine with it being a quick get in and get out job. Turning back over to Mikey, still clutching his chest in pain, he asked, “You sure you’re-”
“For the last time, I’m alright, kid” Mikey said, though his heavy breathing and pained expression conflicted with his answer. He turned to Ernesto and replied, “The real question is are you alright? In the head? This is a suicide mission, Ernesto”
“You can’t kill someone that doesn't exist” Ernesto replied dryly, sliding the mask down onto his face, the wicked grin of the oni mask looking back at Mikey before he stepped out of the car, leaving a confused and disturbed Mikey to care for himself. Ernesto marched to the door, seeing it as the last time he would ever have to enter this building, the last day he would ever associate with the Falcone family. For years, he was a puppet, a tool for the family to be used and abused. Like his uncle. To him, it didn’t matter if he lived or died. All that mattered was that one way or another, he would be free. He took hold of the doors with both hands, and he breathed in. And then, the loud bang of an explosion. The explosion that rocked the city forever.
Frederick sat on the bed of his dorm room, having been unable to concentrate for a while now. He told his professors that he didn’t want to fall behind. Despite the death in the family, he assured them he would be able to catch up. But he couldn’t. All he could think about was Hector. How could he have been killed like that. He was fine the day he met him, and then suddenly, he dies in a gang shooting. Even though Frederick doubted it, he wondered if Ernesto had something to do with it. If not intentionally, did he anger someone, did he get involved in more trouble. He knew that Hector was not among good company either, but he was careful, compelled, and always had a plan. He was the opposite of Ernesto in many ways, but similar in the worst ways. As Frederick was slumped on his beds, books and papers surrounding his floor, there was the faint knock on the door. He stood up, making his way over and opening it. He was hoping that it was either his roommate to let in or someone he could send off. But to his shock, he was Becca. Even after their incident with Brendon, they had still talked on and off again. Not dating, not after that night, but it was clear that Becca was full of regret for what had happened. Frederick, though, was a bit more cautious, but he asked, “Hello, Becca”.
“I.. uh… I heard about what happened to your uncle, Fred. I’m… I’m so sorry.” She stammered, unsure of the right words she could say. She didn’t want to say he was a good man. Rumors had spread about him, about his job, and she wasn’t sure if she could lie about that. So she tried to find the right words, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine” Frederick said, being a little dismissive. But he looked over at Becca. He could see she was trying. And he couldn’t fully blame her for that night. She was already here, apologizing, so with a sigh, he opened the door and asked, “Do you want to come in?”
Becca looked over, shocked at the question he had asked. Not that he was so sudden, but that he had offered in the first place. She was almost intimidated like a cat caught in a corner all of a sudden, but she gave a light nod and took a step inside.
“Fuck! Fuck!” A man was shouting, storming up the stairs as fast as he could, but to no avail. The stairwell just acted as a straight passage toward him. A burst of fire like a backdraft flew up at him, the flames scorching his flesh. His screams broke through the cracking of fire as he rushed down the hall, startling the other guards, all armed with assault rifles and shotguns, prepared for whoever it was coming up for them. They weren’t expecting a man in a red goblin mask, stepping upward with a handgun, loading the clip with bullets of his own. It was uncertain, but they could have sworn that they saw rings around the bullets, glowing brightly like a fire. The guards stepped back, as if waiting for him to make the first move.
“What the fuck is that thing?!”
“I don’t see a flamethrower.”
“No molotovs or explosives or anything!”
“Is it a demon!?”
Ernesto looked over at the group, all huddled at the end of the corner, giving a sigh as he spoke, “Five floors of you guys and you all just huddle up here in one spot. That’s pretty nice of you. Makes it easier!”
“Fucking shoot him!”
Without hesitation, the men began to shoot at Ernesto, who was only able to take cover behind the stairwell. He used this cover to give him a chance to concentrate on something special. He gave a chuckle as he added, “Man, I always wanted to pull this off!”
With enough confidence and time, he jumped up from the stairs, holding his hands out as he screamed a battle cry, sending the ball of fire towards the crowd of guards. The ball passed through each one, burning their flesh with the power of the sun before crashing through the wall, creating a perfectly sized hole, as if it had melted through it more than anything else. All that remained of the guards was their feet and shoes cut at the knees. Not even their skeletons remained. Seeing the chaos caused by one blast, Ernesto chuckled a demented chuckle. “Holy shit! Just like Street Fighter! That was fucking radical!”
With no guards left, Ernesto stepped out toward the office. He ducked through the hall, seeing the living room that the guards would occupy as he shouted, “Melvin, you greasy bastard! Come on out!”
But Ernesto was taken by surprise when the wall next to him was blown apart by a shotgun blast, coming through the door opposite of him. This didn’t anger him. It only made him happy. He wasted no time, firing a bullet through the door and hearing the shout from Melvin. Ernesto walked over casually, lacking any care or planning. He knew that he got him. What followed next was a loud “POP!” followed by the agonizing scream from Melvin. Hector opened the door, seeing that he had gotten Melvin in the arm with his bullets, the elbow to be exact. He was clutching the stub that was his arm, the bullet having exploded inside of his arm and blowing it toward the other side of the room. Ernesto chuckled as he replied, “Yeah, amazing new magic huh? Boy, you sure picked the worst possible time to piss me off, Melvin. Tell me, how was four months of being on the top. How did it feel living off of the hard work of my uncle and me.”
“F-Fuck you! You goddamn traitor!” Melvin shouted, clutching his arm. He looked up at the grinning mask staring down at him before he shouted, “Your uncle was a worthless bit-”
Ernesto didn’t even give him the time to finish. He fired into his knee, hearing the whirring of the bullet from within his kneecap. The pain was bad enough, but once the bullet exploded, separating his knee from the rest of his body, spreading blood all over the white carpet, it made Melvin scream in agony. Ernesto looked down at him and added, “I could just shoot you in the head, but nah. That’s too good for you. You took my damn life away, and my uncles life. You’re not deserving a quick death!”
“D-Don’t do this, Ernesto! Look, I made a mistake, but look! I can work this o-”
“Blah blah blah blah! Melvin… I’m not a businessman. All your men are dead. You got no one left in this building. And anyone else who's still alive, that works for you, is going to die. I don’t care who they are. Other thugs, crooked cops, even if it's the mayor. They’re all going to die. I got no records, and who’s going to believe someone can actually shoot fire from their hands. I don’t care what you got to offer me, Melvin. You’re already dead, Melvin. Now say ‘aah’”
“You fucking we-!”
But Melvin was interrupted when Ernesto sent his fist toward his mouth, breaking at least two teeth in the process as his hand gripped his lower jaw. Ernesto chuckled as he added, “Now no biting. This is going to be really painful.”
Melvin witnessed before his eyes as Ernesto’s hand started to glow a bright orange, the feeling of heat coming from his hands, the growing heat that felt like an oven boiling the inside of his mouth, his throat, his entire body. He could feel his insides cooking from within, and it was horrible agony. And through it all, the face of that grinning mask staring back at him as Ernesto mocked him with glee. To Melvin, this was torture, this was actual hell. But to Ernesto, this was his dream come true.
“Come on, you Italian fuck! Let’s cook this big ol’ belly like a meatball!”
And as Ernesto reached the end, already seeing that his hands had completely melted through Melvin’s jaw, he pulled it back, tearing the jaw from his face like it was paper, watching as his gut burst out with is now boiling, fried guts spilling out onto the white carpet, the entire floor now stained red in a river of blood, bubbles rising as it boiled on the floor, steaming up. Ernesto looked down a the mutilated body of his old boss, his old tormentor. He gave a sigh as he turned toward the door, “Welp, time to go”
“Yes, on route right now. Be arriving in five minutes” Joel replied in his police car, already speeding towards the scene of the explosion. Calls were already coming in from passersby, neighboring businesses and some witnesses. Reports of an explosion. It was a feared terrorist attack, but the blast seemed harmless. It was the mass of gunshots that followed afterward that got people worried. But hearing about the fires that were taking place from within, mixed with the knowledge that this is a mafia owned building, Joel had an idea who this was. The Phantom had struck again, and he had been far more reckless this time. He wanted to get there soon. Before anyone else got in the middle of the fight, and before those mysterious followers got there. He wasn’t sure what their role in this all was, but if he could get the Phantom, he could blow everything wide open.
Ernesto made his way down the stairs, passing by the abundance of corpses that he had made. At least thirty seven dead, including Melvin, Benny and Tommy, in one day. He passed by an abundance of bloody corpses, some blown up with bullets that he had, with missing heads, only noticeable by their brain matter and teeth. Some set on fire and burnt to a crisp, some weren’t even bodies anymore, just ash. One thing was certain, Ernesto was sure to leave none of them alive. He didn’t want to risk them coming back. He wanted to make sure that they were purged. As he walked past the last of the bodies and stepped out through the blown open doors, he approached the car, making his way to it as he called out, “Alright, Mikey, I’m taking you to the hospital now. And for fucks sake, if you say no-”
But as Ernesto opened the passenger door to get in, he was greeted by something else. A bullet from a six shooter striking him in the chest. He was so careful not to get hurt, to not leave any blood spilt at the scene. But here he was, getting shot by someone he had trusted to protect. And looking up at the pained expression of the old man, Ernesto groaned, stumbling back in pain.
“Sorry, kid” Mikey replied, his hand shaking as he held the gun. He was holding it as best as he could. But he was not able to shoot. Was it that he couldn’t kill Ernesto, or was the blood loss too much for him. All that he knew was that he couldn’t pull the trigger a second time, and fell back, losing consciousness soon after. And Ernesto was not too far behind. He fell backward, clutching his chest in pain, the sounds of sirens being more audible now. It was only until he heard them, did he realize that he had never heard New York so quiet until that moment he stepped out of the Falcone building for the last time.
Ernesto struggled to open his eyes, looking around him. He wasn’t sure how long he was out for, his eyes looking around the white room he was in. He knew it was a hospital, but where, he wasn’t sure. He never needed a hospital. His eyes looked around before he looked over at Joel, having sat there, acting as guard for the whole time. He looked at Ernesto before he spoke, “Finally awake, Phantom?”
“... Who the hell is The Phantom” Ernesto asked dryly, looking around the room before asking, “Where’s my mask? I need my face, ya know?”
“Confiscated for evidence. There ain’t nothing on you. No records, no birth certificate, no ties to other family, you’re completely off the radar. The perfect kind of killer. A killer without an identity.”
“No identity, huh?” Ernesto replied, not sure what to make of that.
Joel leaned back in his seat, looking over at Ernesto as he spoke, “59 victims. That’s how many people you’ve killed. You’re practically a walking bomb that kills people everywhere you go.”
“Isn’t littering a crime in New York, officer?” Ernesto replied, staring at the wall as he added. “I’m doing my civil duty of taking the trash out of this city. You know that those men were Cornello and Falcone thugs. Along with their bosses. They all deserved to die.”
“Even if they were criminals, that doesn’t excuse you for killing them. What about Cornello’s daughter and her child? Did they deserve to die too?”
“No!” Ernesto replied immediately. Even that was something he could never forgive himself for. But he added, “It was a mistake on my part.”
“A woman and her baby are dead, shot through the chest and you call that a mistake on your part?!”
“Can you call it anything else?”
“I call that murder. That’s what I call that. I want answers. Why’d you do it? And just who the hell are you?”
Ernesto slowly turned his head to Joel, giving a grin as he spoke, “I got no identity, do I? How do you know I won’t bullshit you.”
“You’re a criminal. I don’t trust you already” Joel said, “But unlike you, I have respect for human life. Even if you’re scum, you’re still human. Gives me something to call you.”
Ernesto chuckled dryly, turning to face the wall as he added, “How nice. You’re the second person who has ever treated me like a human… You can call me HECTOR.”
“Hector, huh?” Joel repeated unenthusiastically, but he accepted it regardless. He clasped his hands together before asking, “Tell me, how did you do it? And why did you do it? Why kill all those people?”
“Why not ask Melvin?” Ernesto joked, “He wanted me for a reason.”
“Melvin Falcone?” Joel asked, only he would not get his answer.
Simon walked in through the door, his hands outstretched as he spoke, “Joel, the fuck are you doing in here?”
“Talking to the suspect” Joel added, turning back to Simon. “I’m certain I got this. He’s connected to this all”
“Regardless, you can’t go grilling witnesses right here and now. Besides, the chief has a call for you at the front desk.”
“What’s he want this time?” Joel asked
“I don’t know, but he sounded really serious.”
Joel gave a groan as he replied, “Fine!”
He stood up, and pointed to Ernesto, “Don’t go anywhere, HECTOR. I’ll be back.”
“Well hopefully you make it back soon. I’d like to get some food soon.” Ernesto replied in a joking tone, much to the annoyance of Joel. And with that, he took a step out, closing the door behind him. The moment his footsteps faded out, Ernesto wasted no time trying to stand up. How long was he out for? A few days? A few hours? It was hard to say. But he knew sticking around here would only get him in more trouble. He planted his feet on the ground, feeling the numbness in his leg, as well as taking notice of the bullethole in his chest, which was already starting to ache, but it was far from fatal. That was all he needed to know. He stumbled toward the wall with the window, looking down through it. With a sigh of relief, he saw he was on the first floor, a simple procedure. Though blowing up the wall would be fun, Ernesto knew that the time was right to be careful rather than to be reckless.
Joel approached the group of police on the phone at the front of the hospital, taking it from their hands and holding it up to his ear as he asked, “What’s it, chief?”
“Joel, pull out of the case right now. This case is a mess. We’re taking you off it now.”
“What are you talking about?!” Joel shouted, shocked at the prospect of being told to quit now. “I’ve got the suspect in the hospital right now. All I’m asking for his time to get a confession out of him.”
“That’s not the point, Joel” The chief replied on the other line. “This case is bigger than you or I can understand. We don’t deal with stuff like this. This isn’t your run of the mill homicide. This is terrorism, conspiracy, something that the mafia is involved with. DHS agents are already coming to take him away. They’ll do the rest. You’re a good detective, Joel. A damn great one. But you did all you could. This is in their hands now. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, sure.” Joel replied, putting the phone up and resting his back on the wall. He looked over at Simon, who couldn’t help but give a cocky smirk as he said, “Feeling that need for a smoke yet”
“How ‘bout you blow smoke out your ass” Joel mocked, but was taken by surprise at what he saw next. Two men, one of them he had seen before. The same man he saw at the burnt house years prior. And with him was a more young, more clean cut man, both of them heading down the hall. And at that moment, Joel rushed over toward them, shouting, “Hey, hey, what the hell are you doing?!”
“Oh, you must be Detective Joel Cooper from the NYPD. We heard about you.” the older one said. He took out an ID from the Department of Homeland Security on it, with his face and name plastered across it. The name was Leonard York. He put the ID away before speaking, “We’re with Homeland Security.”
“Bullshit! You’re saying you forgot about me and what I did? You forgot how you were at the burnt house with that Korean lady! Saying you were just civilians looking into things. And how you were stalking me outside my apartment! I could understand hiding your identity, but spying on an officer? Bullshit your DHS!”
“Look, you can say whatever you want. The point is, we’re in charge of this investigation now. So please, if you would leave us to our work.”
The two men ignored Joel as they approached the door to HECTOR’s room, opening it up to find nothing. Nothing but an open window, but no one else inside. And with this, the older man replied, “Fuck, this is bad.”
The two men turned back to speak to Joel, but he was already walking down the hall, heading toward the exit without giving them another word.
Ernesto was sitting in a cab, thankful that he was able to keep his pants with some cash in it. He wasn’t sure where he could go at this point. He couldn’t go back to the bar. It was probably crowded with police looking for evidence. He was certain that he couldn’t speak for anyone else for help. He knew that Hector always had a plan, but just thinking about Hector, it made the ever joking Ernesto start to hurt within. And that’s when he came to his own conclusion. He’d go and see Frederick, see if he would want to leave New York with him, escape from all this. To him, this was the only thing he had left. After all, Frederick was the only family member he had left.
Joel was already walking down the hall of a different hospital, this one being all the way out in Manhattan. This is where the one surviving member of the Falcone Massacre, kept far from HECTOR for his own safety, if only suggested by Joel. Knocking on the door, he heard a faint reply. “Door’s open.”
Joel stepped inside of the room, moving passed the guards that stood outside, expecting someone in a worse state. But this survivor, he seemed just fine. Aside from the wound in his chest, his white hair was well kept and he had this smile greeting him. Joel stepped over as he asked, “Micheal Luca, right?”
“Correct” Mikey replied with a nod.
“Look, I’m sure you want a warm greeting and all, but I don’t got much time, so I gotta cut to the questions.” Joel replied, crossing his arms before starting. “First, how did you survive the attack?”
“Hard to say.” Mikey answered with a light shrug. “Maybe I got lucky. Maybe Ernesto trusted me enough. More so than the average gangster.”
“Did you say Ernesto?”
“Oh yes” Mikey replied. “Why, thought names were the first thing you get.”
“He told me his name was Hector.” Joel added on top of that, curious as to the fake name. He had assumed that much, but this was different.
“So he’s using the old man's name… interesting” Mikey spoke
And that was what caught Joel’s attention. He had read over the names of people involved in this case so many times, but he never considered one of the thugs that died in the gang shootout to be connected in someway. It would make sense that Ernesto knew Hector Menendez, but why would he use his name to hide his. A spur of the moment? No, he knew him specifically. A friend? A family member? What was the connection between the two. But before Joel could ask the questions, the door behind him was thrown open. The guards had come in, looking at Joel with somber expressions beore they replied, “Joel, you’re going to have to come with us to the station.”
“What do you mean?” Joel replied. “I’m investigating.”
“Not anymore you’re not” One of them replied. “The chief has something for you in particular.”
Ernesto stands amongst a crowd in a packed train, feeling like a fish in a can. He never felt so uncomfortable before in his life. But at the same time, he never did much traveling outside of the building in his life. This was the furthest he’s ever been outside of the city, and it was actually a breath of fresh air compared to the attic. But as his eyes slowly moved around the train, his vision obstructed by the hood he wore over his head just in case anyone got suspicious or if cops came onboard, his eyes fell onto a newspaper that someone had left behind. And on it, the bar was a picture of it. OR rather, the skeleton of what it once was. Burned down the night prior. And not just that, the words on it. “Two bodies found within. One of them named Benjamin Queen and the other an unknown body.”. How did the place get burned down, Ernesto thought. He didn’t burn it down himself. He was certain of that. And he knew there was only one person in the building. And he knew he was the one to kill Benny. How was it that there was a second body in there? Was someone trying to frame his death? It looked to be that way. Regardless, it didn’t matter to Ernesto. He had no reason to go back there. And when he met Frederick, it would be all he needed to show that it was fake. That was all he needed to do. Show himself to Frederick. The sun was setting. It would be sundown by the time he arrived. He was ready to greet his brother with a smile.
Mikey looked out at the setting sun from his window. He had no reason for the TV. It just annoyed him more and more. He was just thinking about if he did the right thing. He wasn’t sure if shooting Ernesto was right. Right for who though? For the right of others? For Ernesto’s own good? For his own safety? What if Ernesto came back to finish him off? Was he going to kill him then and there? All these questions raced around his mind. But they all stopped when he looked over at the door opening, the sight enough to put fear into his heart again. This giant man, wearing an overcoat over his body, bandages over his face, staring down at Mikey like he was a child to him. He looked down at him without a word and spoke, “Mr. Luca. You are sentenced to death. Don’t take this as a personal grudge. I don’t kill out of hate or spite. But you’re a risk. You spoke to Mr. Cooper. Who’s to say you won’t speak again.”
“I..I...I’m sorry” Mikey replied, short of breath, the fear of this man, this colossus, taking his life, it was enough to instill fear in him. He spoke, “I...I won’t talk, I swear.”
“That’s a lie, Mr. Luca. You spoke to Mr. Cooper. You proved you can’t be trusted.”
“P-Please… I… I-I don’t want to-”
His words were cut off by the sudan speed of his hand gripping his throat, squeezing the older man’s neck like it was dishrag, and yet barely any effort for the massive man. Mikey struggled, even tried to shove the man off by his face, but the large man didn’t even budge. He just kept squeezing and squeezing, watching as Mikey’s eyes rolled into the back of his head before he finally stopped moving, his eyes bulging out in terror and fear, his body now limp there before him. With a sigh, the large man took the phone from his coat pocket, pressing the button on it before he spoke, “It’s Jericho… The job’s taken care of.”
“Are you serious!?”
“You storm into a private room, and you don’t follow orders, Joel. This job is far too big and you keep pushing and pushing” The chief replied, putting a cigarette out in his ashtray.
“So what, you’re taking the word of some two-bit fucking coats over someone who’s busted their ass working for you for years?!” Joel replied sternly
“Joel, you don’t get it. They are bigger than you or I can understand. I’m doing this for your own good.”
“My own good?!” Joel mocked. “I get on a case that I’m close to solving, had the suspect in the same room, ready to confess… And then you say I’m fired. That’s for my own good.”
“If it stops you from getting involved in this case, then yes.” The chief answered. “Joel, if you keep this going, who knows what they’d do to you. You’re a good detective, but you're stubborn and you refuse to give up.”
“Yeah, I do.” Joel repeated. “That’s why all the other officers are pussyfooting around issues, not taking in real crimes cause we let shit like this happen. What good is that to all the victims that were killed?”
“That’s not for you to worry about, Joel. Please, your gun and your badge. You don’t want me catching you poking your nose in this business.”
Joel looked at the chief with absolute shock, disbelief, and anger. He didn’t even bother being graceful, tossing the badge and gun that he once respected onto the table like it was trash. The thing he worked twenty years of his life for, thrown out like that. He stormed from the office, shamed, forever losing his right as an officer over some petty act to hide the truth.
Ernesto was hiding behind the tree of the university. To some passerbys, he must have looked like a creep. News of the bar, of the incident at the Falcone building, it had already reached the campus. No doubt, Frederick had already heard. Ernesto wasn’t sure where Frederick was, he was just waiting at this point for him to turn up. He could only imagine the joy that he would see on Fred’s face when he jumped out, alive and well. This thought alone was enough for him to go through with it. And sure enough, there he was. Walking down the path, speaking with three other people. One of them was Becca, the other two being friends of his that he met at college. And he was… laughing. He was happy with them. Chatting casually with them, holding hands with Becca, just having fun. Ernesto thought to himself, “Why is he so happy? He should be sad that I’m not around.”
These thoughts rushed through Ernesto’s mind. But the more he thought, the more he put himself in Fredericks shoes. Your brother, a killer, who caused so much suffering to others, so much misery, even caused your uncles death in a way, is gone. To Ernesto, Frederick was his little brother that he always relied on. But to Frederick, Ernesto was the burden that was finally lifted. Or that’s what Ernesto thought. Seeing Frederick happy here, happy that his one tie to the crime family was severed, that was something Ernesto couldn’t take from him. Not now. With a sigh, Ernesto hid behind the tree, sad, but content. Glad that at leat someone could escape that life. Ernesto knew that it wouldn’t be him to escape it. He knew he was too far in now. There was no going back. He was a killer, a murderer. And he would kill again. He promised that he would. He would kill anyone that was tied to the Falcone family. To any crime family. But Frederick, his life was finally normal. With one last look, Ernesto made his way off, his hood over his head, walking in the opposite direction, never to see Frederick again. Just a phantom now.
~2 Years Later~
Rikki moved back to New York some time ago. He was a mess, filled with debt, drug addicted, and with lots of legal issues. He existed as a living dead man now, unaware that his troubles were about to have a sudden end. As he stumbled up the stairs to his apartment building, intoxicated on meth, he stumbled into his apartment room, seeing someone standing there, waiting for him. Rikki looked over and spoke, “W-Who the fuck!?”
“Rikki boy!” The hooded figure spoke, his hands outstretched, “What a shock. I didn’t expect to see you. You got thin. Real thin.”
Rikki was certain he was having a drug induced trip. The man wore a white jacket with the hoodie up, with his hands gloved. But the noticeable feature, the grinning red goblin mask he had on.
“W-Who the fuck are you!? Get outta my-”
But he was interrupted when the person grabbed him by the face, spinning him around to smash his head into the opposite wall before speaking, “No yelling! I hate it when people yell. Gets on my nerves. Don’t tell me you forgot your friend HECTOR!”
“H-Hec, who?”
“Hmm, gotta lay off the drugs, pal. It’s bad for you. Like you should have probably not come back to New York, getting involved with drug dealers.”
“W-What are you, some vigilante?”
“Nah. Vigilantes are in it for justice. I don’t care about no justice. I just care about taking out the trash. And sorry, Rikki the Rat. You’re just trash.”
“The Rat?” Rikki replied, having forgotten that nickname after it was told to him years ago. And in that moment, in that brief realization, he knew who this was. But it did not last long, before his body was sent ablaze in a second, the man standing over him with his hands over the burning corpse, watching as it was burnt to ashes. To HECTOR, this was a common thing, a thing he did every night if he could. And it was easier every time. But one thing was different this night. One little difference. He turned over to see a man slumped in the hallway. He knew the apartment was home to junkies and prostitutes, but something about this man seemed more clean. “Probably a drunk” HECTOR though. But the man, despite his disheveled appearance, looked more… formal, in a sense, if not sick. HECTOR gave a chuckle as he said, “Don’t worry, this bastard deserved it.”
And with that, HECTOR hurried toward the open window, diving through it, leaving the man on the ground to pass out, leaving the once Rikki the Rat’s body a pile on the floor, and leaving another name to his long list of deaths. His old life was over. He was free. His own idea of free. He was finally leaving his mark on this world, and he was far from over