Kingdom

[Vercetti21]

 

IV:

Downtown Woes

 

 

“Chicago is in chaos. Uptown, you’ve got the mob running things just the way they like. Bertucci’s guys are all over the f*cking place. Meanwhile, the Irish are still trying to get a piece of the pie, and the Lombardi family is likely looking to appoint a new leader.”

 

I flick the burnt cigarette out of my fingers and watch as it thumps against the pavement. I crush it beneath the weight of my foot. “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know, Charlie. You left one important detail out, though.”

 

Charlie glances over at me as we continue to scale along the busy sidewalk. “What’s that?”

 

“Cops. There’re too many guys in this department that I don’t trust. You and me – we’ve been partners for years – but some of the others…”

 

“What are you saying, Dean?”

 

“I’m saying we’ve got to be careful who we share information with. No one likes a rat, not even criminals; the lowest of the low. These streets,” I lower my tone to a whisper. “They’re plagued with lawlessness, don’t get me wrong. But it isn’t anarchy. Look around you; everyone is bounded by a code. A code to have morals and be righteous and all that senseless sh*t… you think anyone actually wants to be bad? No, no, no – see, criminals aren’t complicated. They kill and steal and betray each other to get what they want; they’re obligated to be selfish in order to survive. That’s what creates the lawlessness. But cops – cops are different. Cops who fiddle around with the ethical line, who try to bend the law to their own selfish pursuits, are doing nothing more than trying to play God. They’re actually making an effort to do the wrong thing, and even worse, they’re trying to justify it.”

 

Charlie smirks under his breath. “You know, I’ve never thought of it that way, Dean.”

 

I flick my lighter open and ignite the embers of a fresh cigarette. Taking a long, thoughtful drag, my head eases back into my shoulders and a cloud of smoke floods the thick, afternoon air. Charlie notices a hotdog vendor across the street and anxiously turns to me. “Say, let’s grab a bite to eat. I don’t think I can talk much more on an empty stomach.”

 

I nod. “You go ahead. I’m going to put a call-in to the Chief; check the status of things.”

 

Charlie chuckles to himself. “You worry too much, Dean. Like I said, your obsession with this case ain’t exactly healthy.”

 

My eyes follow him from head to toe as I slowly size him up. “You weigh too much, Charlie,” I taunt. “And your obsession with food ain’t exactly healthy.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, f*ck you.”

 

We share a brief, mutual laugh before he turns away and paces across the intersection towards the hotdog stand. We may never exactly see eye-to-eye on things, but Charlie is like the brother I never had. There’s a sibling rivalry that exists in our partnership, and there’s something comforting about that. He’s the only family I’ve got.

 

With the cigarette resting between my parched lips, I dig around in my pocket for some loose change. Noticing the nearby payphone, I make a mental note of the exact change, drop a few coins into the dispenser, and lift the corded device to my ear. The dial tone hums as I carefully operate the circular dial.

 

The voice on the other end of the line sounds panicked. “Hello? Who is this?”

 

“Chief Wesley? It’s me; it’s Dean. I wanted to–”

 

“Gatsby! Get your ass to the station now. Something’s come up.”

 

“What? What is it?”

 

“Rather not talk about the details over the phone. I need to see you and Detective Haggard in my office right now.”

 

“Should we be worried?”

 

He sighs. “There’s been another murder, Gatsby. Someone else is dead.”

 

“We’re on our way.”

[Jordy.]

The use of present tense

...is, in my eyes, the best way to tell a story. No idea why, but I've always liked stuff in the present tense, and this is no exception.

Perhaps its because you feel as if you're finding out what happens, as it happens?

[Vercetti21]

 

The use of present tense

...is, in my eyes, the best way to tell a story. No idea why, but I've always liked stuff in the present tense, and this is no exception.

Perhaps its because you feel as if you're finding out what happens, as it happens?

I don't think there really is a "best" way to tell a story. Much like the debate of first person vs third person, it's really just a matter of personal preference. My logic behind choosing to tell the story in present tense is entirely based upon the setting; since the story is set in 1950's America, I feel the reader is more immersed into the experience and the era rather than looking back at it as if it's already happened. At least, that's what I get out of it.

 

Boy, I sure thought this would get more attention when I resurrected it for the second time. I'll just keep the installments coming now because I'm enjoying writing this one. Regardless if anyone reads it or not, Kingdom will be here for everyone to enjoy, should they choose to do so.

 

Next chapter coming soon.

[Oxidizer]

Sorry for the late feedback, I hadn't expected this little beauty to be updated otherwise I'd have commented sooner. Boy, am I glad you're picking this up from where you left off! I think it's one of your superior works; the atmosphere, the era? It's all sweet.

 

Most definitely keep writing this one! It's even better that you're enjoying revisiting it. I know I'll be keeping an eye out for future instalments more awarely from here-on-out.

[VCRules86]

All I can say is this is f*cking beautiful Vercetti21, It's amazing. You capture the underworld mob theme perfectly and the character interactions are excellent. Dean Gatsby is like a badass version of Eliot Ness

[Vercetti21]

 

V:

God’s Hand

 

 

On the outskirts of town, thin lines of golden, wheat grass hover above the ground, stained in a dark crimson. Here, in an empty field under an empty sky, a priest was murdered. Murdered by someone with an empty soul.

 

“Gordon Landers,” Chief Wesley sighs as he glares at the corpse before us. “Better known as ‘Reverend Landers’ or ‘Father Gordon’. The f*cking priest who resided over Lombardi’s funeral. The sh*t doesn’t get much sicker than this.”

 

The corpse has been mutilated and is hardly identifiable. Carelessly nestled within patches of tall grass, the body lies motionless and unclothed, with the exception of a priest’s collar. His rectum is ruptured, and he was likely raped before, during, or after his death. His skin, glazed in a translucent, pale blue, sags from his frigid bones like torn wallpaper, bulging in rotting clumps of tissue and muscle. Both his hands have been severed, and his head is missing entirely. A familiar odor transcends from his chilling aura: the nauseating stench of death.

 

He’s been dead for at least two days.

 

“Whoever did this must have slaughtered him right after Lombardi’s funeral,” the chief speculates. “Dumped the body out here and left him to rot.”

 

“Jesus,” Charlie gasps as he fights back an expression of utter disgust. “This is sickening. Why would anyone want to kill a priest?”

 

“Anger,” Chief replies. “Anger at God.”

 

“Or sport,” I suggest as I extract a fresh cigarette out of my pocket and carefully position it on the edge of my dry mouth. My lighter sparks and the flame is slowly carried to the tip of the cigarette. I stop, sensing that someone has been watching me.

 

It’s Chief Wesley. “You’re really going to smoke right here?”

 

My eyes travel to the butchered corpse. “He won’t mind.” I finally light the cigarette, and the police chief looks away.

 

“This is sick,” Charlie repeats. “Just sick.”

 

“Of course it’s sick,” I nod. “It’s a dead f*cking body.”

 

“No, Dean,” Charlie argues. “It’s more than that. He’s one of God’s diplomats. You know what the white of the Catholic priest’s collar represents? Celibacy. It’s a reminder of the purity of the Virgin Mary. The fact that they left the collar around his neck shows that this is just a sick joke.”

 

“Call him what you want, Charlie,” I propose. “But a Bible-thumping misfit is no more valuable to me than a crook.”

 

He pauses. “You don’t believe in God?”

 

The cigarette smoke flows freely throughout my lungs as I speak, softly. “Look around you, Charlie. Look at the world we live in. Look at what happens to innocent people on a daily basis in this town. Look at the elite ruling class; the gangsters. For once, put down your superstitious book, open your f*cking eyes, and look, Charlie. There is no God.”

 

A blank expression invades my partner’s face, and he is momentarily speechless. He glares at me in shame as if I have just committed a heinous crime. “Without evil,” he whispers, trying to catch his breath. “Without evil, there would be no good.”

 

I try to hold back the sadistic smile that quivers along my lip. “What good?”

 

Charlie closes his eyes and looks away, incapable of supporting his own religious belief with a valid argument. Slowly, he leaves my seemingly intimidating presence, avoiding a glimpse of the dead priest as he passes. Poor Charlie. I love the guy – he’s like my brother – but his childish opinions and foolish beliefs are a downfall to his lovable personality. You can’t have a logical debate with the man; it is an impossibility. You can love him for who he is on the outside, but when you truly get under his skin – when you’ve really gotten to know him, like I have – you’ll find that he’s as conformist as they come; always willing to accept the popular belief without questioning it. He’s a fool. A charming fool.

 

Chief Wesley’s raspy voice breaks the silence of the tense situation. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

 

My eyes follow Charlie as he isolates himself from the busy crime scene. “He’ll come around. Besides, he needs me. I seem to be the only person in his life who can force him to think for himself.”

 

The chief quickly shifts his attention back to the body, and the subject changes abruptly. “Who do you think did this, Gatsby? Think it’s connected to Lombardi’s case?”

 

My eyes observe the bloodied sight as I answer. “The way the body’s been mutilated – the absence of his head and hands – is definitely a signature of the mafia; albeit one I’ve never seen before. And yeah, it’s definitely connected to Lombardi.”

 

“Whoever did this must have been religious,” Chief proposes. “They were angry with God; cared enough to commit murder against Him, obviously.”

 

“Maybe.” I take a drag of the cigarette. “Or maybe it had nothing to do with his occupation – at all.”

 

A perplexed expression emerges from Chief Wesley’s face, and his eyes meet mine.

 

“When I attended Lombardi’s funeral,” I begin to explain. “The reverend made a remark – it was very subtle; very quiet, but – it was an insult.”

 

“To whom?”

 

“The Lombardi family.”

 

“And you think this is revenge?”

 

I remain silent, but his question is immediately answered with an obvious look.

 

“So you think someone in the Lombardi family whacked Father Gordon, the priest who resided over Frank Lombardi’s funeral?”

 

I nod. “It wouldn’t hurt investigating.”

 

“Where do we begin? Who’s our primary suspect?”

 

I lower my head in thought. Moments later, it rises, and the idea hits me like a freight train. “Costello. Jimmy Costello.”

 

The puzzled look across Chief Wesley’s face remains; he glares at me with clueless curiosity.

 

I flick the cigarette away and stare into his inquisitive eyes. “I need to go undercover.”

Edited March 22, 2009 by Vercetti21

[Oxidizer]

The priest's rupture got me crawling out of the woodwork.

 

Good intro to the ominous Costello and way of exploring Gatsby and Charlie's relationship further.

[Vercetti21]

Heh, thank you Oxisex. That minor detail was, of course, a nod to you.

 

So is anyone else following this?

 

Working on the next chapter now.

[Wanted Assailant]

he was likely raped before, during, or after his death.

How can you rape someone who's already dead? They have no will, and techinically it would be considered necrophilia. Ha, just pinching you.

 

Anyways, I like how the plot is shifting. Intrigung part? One is the reason why would anyone from the mob would kill and mutiliate a priest. Kinda contradicts their belief and code. And Gatsby must be really motivated enough to undercover and clean up this Lombardi stuff. He's obsessed with that one mobster.

 

 

[Eminence]

Just read it all, and I'm really impressed by the sheer atmospheric qualities it has; real nice. I'm adoring Gatsby's overall cynicism, too - adds a real depth to his character and you start empathising with him because you know exactly how he's going to respond to situations.

 

I didn't quite, I don't know, like the scene where Gatsby calls the other cops corrupt to their faces, because it didn't come off as realistic. His speech was a bit overly preachy - not in a cynical way, but in a far too well-constructed, hindsight-induced manner - and their (lack of) reactions didn't seem natural, because assuming they were corrupt, I don't think they'd stand for it, weak as they are. He seems too able to throw accusations around, whereas I'd assume if he did that in truth he may find himself next on the list to get whacked, no matter who he was.

[Vercetti21]

^ Yeah, looking back at that chapter I do tend to feel the same way. I suppose my train of thought at the time was that his accusations were correct and therefore no one challenged him, but I agree it may come off as somewhat unrealistic. I may go back and rewrite it seeing as that was quite a bit of time ago, but thanks for pointing that out.

 

Thanks for the support, guys. I'll try not to disappoint. Oh, and Wanted Assailant... this is a mystery story, ya know.

[Don Garcia aka NjNakedSnake]

Hey V, I just got around to reading that prologue, I know I suck. Good stuff man, and I couldn't help but notice:

 

 

Frank returned home to find Irene and his eldest son, James, brutally murdered. Thomas, who was only four years old at the time, was later found cowering helplessly beneath his bed.

 

However, George O’Leary was quickly “decommissioned” in a bloody massacre on the Chicago streets one drizzling night in 1942. Armed with a Tommy gun, the one-eyed Lombardi single-handedly took on a handful of O’Leary’s in what became known as one of the greatest criminal comebacks in American history.

 

The O’Leary’s again appointed a new leader: Conner O’Leary.

 

Looking at the story's banner too, you get a little inspiration from Road to Perdition? If you've already made this blatantly clear in the past, I apologize. It would be the first time for me finding out.

[Vercetti21]

Yep, Road to Perdition is the main source of inspiration for this. I made the character bios sometime last year (I think they were posted in the "Introduce Your Character" topic that the infamous longkissgoodnight created), they were just for fun, but it was all images and stills from the movie. Also, Lombardi's character closely resembles Tom Hanks' character in the film, though we haven't actually gotten to know him yet.

 

Also, if you thought the prologue was interesting, look around the net for Al Capone's obituary. Look familiar?

 

Thanks for reading, man. I should have the next chapter up this weekend, so if you decide to catch up on some of the other chapters then cheers.

[Don Garcia aka NjNakedSnake]

Ha, I wanted to say 'Frank' was inspired by Tom Hank's Frank Sullivan, but I thought a name was too small a basis to make that claim off.