IMPORTANT REMINDER:
If the whole concept of omegaverse and mpreg are new to you, please don't skip the Introduction.
⚠️ TRIGGER / CONTENT WARNING:
This story contains strong language, violence and explicit sex scenes that may be inappropriate to some readers.
ON TERMINOLOGIES:
Meanings of Mafia-related words/phrases with a (*) can be found in the Glossary.
With the recent amendment of the equal rights among Alphas, Betas, and Omegas (also called the ABO Amendment) in New York City, the economy has seen a steady growth over the past three years.
Omegas, once loathed in society for being born as they are, are now allowed to work within white-collar industries without the red tape. These individuals only need to follow the three cardinal rules instituted by the State:
One, Omegas must keep track of their heat cycles and must stay at home during their estrus period (for individuals with no pair-bond).
Two, they must religiously take any state-approved heat suppressant to mitigate or limit the strength of their estrus and avoid a "wild heat".
Thirdly, all unbonded Omegas who reside in the state must be registered with the Civil Registry of New York. And as long as they are unbonded and/or unmarked, they must wear a collar or choker, or a shirt with two or three buttons to the neck, when out in public. This is so they can protect themselves from being publicly claimed by an Alpha during estrus.
So far, all is well for everyone. These state-implemented regulations appear to work efficiently for a diverse city like the Big Apple. In fact, the city mayor has earned himself high praise from his neighbors, that many other state leaders are following suit.
But with the statewide economic growth came the sudden influx of people moving into New York City. People from across the country, particularly ones from neighboring towns and suburbs, flocked the state, trying to get a piece of what they now call "The Real American Dream".
But while some have successfully indulged themselves with a slice of that cake, many more remain unemployed and below the poverty line.
The unfortunate ones would either end up in slums or would have it worse than how they were prior to their life in the Big Apple. And if there's no other way out, these hapless migrants end up in red-light districts, making ends meet by selling their bodies at the drop of a dime.
This is certainly great news for the rats of the Big Apple...
Present-day New York City is a pretty façade that's hiding an ugly personality. Beyond the unapologetically urban cityscape and the monochromatic monoliths of concrete, lies the real Big Apple. It's a world that the ABO Amendment has barely touched, where it's nothing more than a distant dream. Here, Alphas remain supreme, while Omegas are nearly synonymous with stray dogs.
Indeed, there is never a boring day in this side of the city. This couldn't be more true for the fearless and power-hungry denizens of the underworld – the badlands ruled by thirteen of America's strongest and most influential Mafia families. So while the rest of the city strives to maintain peace and order among its law-abiding citizens, much of the place remains under the wings of the virtually untouchable Cosa Nostra*.
The Mafiosi are the real players of the game. They remain to dominate organized crime in the country, despite the rise of new criminal groups. Untouched by policemen, feared by politicians and business owners, and masters of trafficking, racketeering, and extortion. The steady flow of money within the city is music to their ears, and the arrival of more people to exploit and extort is a grand concert they can happily sing and dance to.
The story begins in the biggest red-light district in the New York City borough, The Bronx.
The narrow streets shimmer with neon lights in all shapes and colors, reflecting in puddles. Bars among bars among bars. Men and women for sale to the highest bidders. Walking into this pleasure nest, one could immediately feel how far away it is from a typical American comfort zone.
This is where reality, cold and hard, slaps you right in the face.
Every night, the district is rife with drugs, booze, money, and sex. Pleasure-seekers gawk as they enter brothels in anticipation, their hawk eyes scouring every corner to pick the night's prey.
Fridays are an especially exciting night for the patrons. And in this particular red-light district, the streets are engulfed by the alluring and insatiable scent of Omegas in heat. Patrons, workers, and passersby are required to wear a special type of face mask to block off the thick scent drifting through the air. Without them, it would be like walking into a land mine.
Men and women who wish to kill time and have money to burn, need only flock the red-light district to fuck an Omega in heat. It's a rich man's treat one can readily indulge in – minus the risks and compromise.
Brothels are lined up like dominoes, each playing their own tune. Prostitutes – men and women alike – are as cheap as a buck. And if you're lucky, you can find Omegas who are willing to offer themselves up for free, just to quell the heat.
But if you're up for something extra-special, you don't need to look much further than The Finestrino, a high-end brothel that houses the best, most beautiful, and most desirable Omegas in the city. Owned and operated by the Voltolini crime family, The Finestrino is the biggest and brightest in the red-light district. The brothel is often packed to the brim with rich clients from inside and out of the underworld. That Friday night was no different.
It is worth noting that the Voltolinis pretty much rule over most parts of The Bronx's pleasure district. In fact, the borough is part of the family's territory. No member of the authority has the gall to interfere with the booming business of this highly influential borgata*. Certainly, a few risk-takers have tried in the past, but these folks only ended up wishing an early death.
Businessmen, pimps and bar moms who run smaller bars and brothels continue to thrive in the district, as long as they are under the "protection" of the Voltolinis. For the family, this too, is business. After all, what is protection without a price? And without the family's protection, how can the cops and rival families leave their operations alone?
So you see, this is a necessity.
Giovanni Mancuso, better known by the moniker "Lone Wolf" or simply "Gianni", very rarely steps into red-light districts. In the past couple of years, this was the only time he set foot back in The Bronx's pleasure nest. It's his least favorite place in all of New York City. And many of his least favorite people from his least favorite borgata, are in it, too.
The Lone Wolf didn't find it appealing to exploit and traffic Omegas. Even for a person with blood-stained hands, this type of business never fails to make his stomach roll with nausea. Blowing the brains out of guilty and sinful men is a lot less revolting than defiling innocent souls.
Standing across The Finestrino with a mask almost completely covering his face, Gianni let his gaze sweep across the narrow and crowded street. Everybody looked occupied with their own business. Pretty soon, business will begin for him, too.
Gianni pulled out his phone from his back pocket, anxiously waiting to hear from his client. It's been a solid five minutes since the last message came in and for a busy man like Gianni, a lot of things could have been done during those idle times.
He clicked his tongue in frustration. "You fuckers better not be messing around, or I'll blow someone else's brain out," he hissed under his breath.
A pair of male and female Omega escorts wearing nothing but leather corsets and straps, and thigh-high spandex boots, stepped out of The Finestrino. They filled the air with blaring, cacophonous laughter. A well-dressed, slightly obese brothel guest followed closely behind, looking dangerously drunk as he grabbed both escorts by the waist.
The Lone Wolf was standing in the shadows, almost hidden in a brick alcove. But one of the escorts, the female Omega, instinctively turned her head in his direction as though she knew he was there all along. The lady flashed a smile and winked at him, and Gianni nodded his head at her in a silent greeting. The raucous threesome then turned to a dark alley just behind The Finestrino, out of sight and out of mind.
It was quiet for a few minutes, until Gianni heard his phone ringing.
"I'll turn this clip* over to someone else unless you give me my money. Now," Gianni demanded before the person from the other end could even utter a word.
"Easy now, Wolf," said the voice of a man with a low and husky voice. "Locker 2541 at the Jewish bank in Lower Manhattan. Fifty percent, as agreed upon. The rest once the job is done."
Jewish bank, locker 2541 in Lower Manhattan, Gianni repeated, making a mental note.
"Don't forget to show proof," reminded the man on the other end of the phone.
Gianni let out a sharp breath through his nose. "When did I ever fail anyone?"
"The Don* would like to extend his thanks and gratitude," said the other before hanging up the phone.
"Prego." Gianni muttered to himself as he stared down at his phone, bringing up the screen for one unread message. An automated SMS from the Rothschild Jewish Bank:
$150,000 SENT TO LOCKER 2541 FOR GIOVANNI BASILE - MANCUSO
Gianni closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath. The Glock 26 handgun he'd kept hidden under his jacket in a slim polymer holster, felt heavier now. Ever present.
He exhaled slowly, feeling the breath pass over his chapped lips. And then, he smiled in satisfaction as he turned off his phone and charged on at The Finestrino.
There are two things that set The Finestrino apart from all others. For one, they are the only Omega-exclusive brothel in the city. Secondly, it's the manner in which they divide pleasure rooms.
In the east wing is a row of rooms reserved for clients looking to spend the night with Omega escorts who are off their heat and are fully conscious. Their services come at negotiable rates and are often the choice of clients who don't want to burn a lot of cash on a whore. The budget option, as they say.
The real feast, however, takes place in the west wing. Here, private rooms are reserved for patrons who wish to spend the night with Omegas in the throes of their heat. Majority of these west-wing escorts are a "property" of the Voltolinis – unbonded Omegas who are often not allowed to use heat suppressants, making them almost a prisoner to their heat cycles. This particular "amenity" alone has raked in plenty of money for The Finestrino, making them an instant hit among wealthy clients.
Business couldn't be better, and the place is more crowded than ever. The Lone Wolf arrived to find the main lounge area packed with guests.
The lounge area has an Italian Renaissance style to it, complete with rounded arcs and pillars, domed ceiling that rose at least 50 feet high, and terracotta bricks lining the walls. The floor was tiled in fine marble, polished like glass, making every step echo. A grand chandelier made rainbow colors sparkle across the luxurious lounge.
Just a few feet from Gianni were twin doors with bronze handles, the hinges adorned with swirls and elegant designs. Beyond it is the lobby where hosts entertain guest over food and drinks. A jazz band was performing onstage, making the entire place feel more like a five-star cabaret club than an actual whorehouse.
Gianni, without taking off his mask, looked around furtively in hopes of seeing a familiar face in the crowd.
"Hey, you there!" a voice boomed from behind. Before Gianni could turn around, he felt his arm being grasped by a strong, burly hand. "Take off the mask."
Gianni looked over his shoulder to see the man's face. Judging from his build and his uniform, he's one of the brothel's bouncers.
"The mask, buddy. Take it off," the man repeated, this time in a more commanding tone.
"I came here on business," replied the Lone Wolf, still keeping his mask on as his eyes continued to search the crowd for that one familiar face.
The bouncer eyed Gianni from head to foot. "There can only be one business around here. What could be yours?" he inquired with suspicious tone in his voice, hand gripping Gianni's arm even more tightly.
Gianni heaved a deep sigh as he dug his hand in his jacket pocket and fished out a small, silver token. He turned around to face the bouncer and held out the token for the other to see.
"This sort of business."
The bouncer's eyes narrowed as he took a closer look at the token. It looked like an ordinary coin with a single rose engraved at the center. In that instant, the man's expression turned from smug to one of mild surprise and amusement.
It was no ordinary coin at all. The thing in the Lone Wolf's hand is a Detail, a special token handed out by clients to a goombah* on a mission to hunt a clipped man.
The bouncer quickly loosened his grip on Gianni. "Go on in," he stammered, his voice now sounding apologetic. He quickly turned his back from Gianni to join two other bouncers standing by the twin doors to the lobby.
Gianni let out a sigh of relief as he placed the Detail back inside his pocket. He'd already wasted too much time. He wanted to finish this job quickly and without fuss.
As he looked up at the second-floor foyer in the east wing, he finally saw the familiar face: Daniel "Big Danny" Timmins, the oldest and perhaps the most capable Capo* serving the Voltolini family; in-charge of supervising The Finestrino.
Families like the Voltolini very rarely take in men and women who are not paisan*, but Big Danny was an exception. The man only has a quarter of Sicilian blood in him, but had grown up in a Mafia household in Brooklyn since he was five. His father and godfather were both made-men of the Voltolinis and when Big Danny had dropped out of school, he started hanging around with the Voltolini children. The rest, as they say, is history.
Big Danny's appearance looked his age, that he appeared to be an older man, somewhere in his late forties or early fifties. His hair was salt and pepper – more salt than pepper. Cut short and neatly trimmed, slicked back behind the ears. But he was shaggy-faced as an unshorn sheep. His bright green eyes were sharp and alert, with just the right amount of laughter lines around them. Perhaps the man is often happy, but he is almost always stiff-faced and deadly serious around others. And when he opens his mouth, it is with a heavy New York accent, with a deep reverberating voice that could be felt in the pit of one's stomach.
Big Danny's very existence commanded authority, looking even more imposing in a bespoke pinstriped suit, cigar in one hand and a drink in the other. The man is one of utmost confidence. Whatever game he is playing, he is not accustomed to losing.
The Capo met the Lone Wolf's eyes almost immediately, but he remained seated on a leather sofa, between two female escorts who were busy talking among themselves. He studied Gianni's face for a moment before tilting his head, signaling the other to come upstairs.
Gianni lowered the mask over his face and fixed his jacket as he hurried upstairs. By the time he got there, Big Danny's companions had already left.
"My friend, it's been a while," the Capo said as he smiled, patting Gianni on the back as he sat down next to him.
"Not quite a long while, I'm afraid," Gianni quipped as he shook the other's hand.
The Capo knew how precious time is for a Mafioso, much more for a goombah on a mission. He went straight to the point. "My friend, what brought you to this side of the city? It's not for one of our kids down here, is it?" He offered Gianni a cigar, which he politely refused.
"Business as usual," Gianni said plainly.
Timmins chuckled, nodding to himself. "Right, right. And the Detail, may I see it?"
"So you've been watching me," Gianni surmised as he placed the silver token in the Capo's open palm.
Timmins held up the coin between his thumb and index finger. "The rose. I see, so the Rossis are also asking favors from you now. Quite the charmer you are," he said, genuinely amused. He handed the Detail back to Gianni. "So, who's the lucky fella?"
Gianni watched as the Capo lit his second cigar and refilled his glass with more whiskey. "The Deputy Director has been pestering the Rossis for over a year now," he started, absently scratching the stubble on his jaw. "There couldn't be a more stupid and ignorant G-Man* in this city. He must've thought he could single-handedly eliminate an entire borgata after getting promoted. He's planning to hold a press conference tomorrow to expose the second eldest son's operations down in Brooklyn."
"That new casino?" Big Danny guffawed, shaking his head in disbelief. "He's clearly not from around here, the poor fella. Well... one could only dream big dreams." He continued to laugh as he puffed out thick billows of smoke from his cigar.
"He's Viper's regular client. Where can I find him?" the Lone Wolf inquired, seeking out one of the most in-demand male escorts in the brothel.
"Lucky for you, that kid isn't in heat tonight. Not drugged up. Not drunk, either."
"Good. I want him sober."
The Capo scanned Gianni through narrowed eyes. "Does the kid know you're coming?"
Gianni nodded. "We discussed it over the phone yesterday. It should be fine."
"Oh? Since when have you two gotten so chummy?"
Gianni strained a small smile and shrugged his shoulders. "Just a businessman trying to expand his network."
Big Danny took a long drag off his cigar, then set it in the ashtray. For a moment, the man's deep-green eyes swept over the Lone Wolf, studying his face. And then, he tilted his head to the left and pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "Third room, the black door." He checked his watch before stretching his arms over the top of the sofa. "They've been there for over half an hour. The man's probably screwing your chum senseless by now."
"The perfect distraction," Gianni said as he rose from the sofa. He would always bring a pair of leather gloves with him and he took them out now. He slipped them on, stretching out his fingers to make sure they slid fully into place. He turned to look at the Capo and flashed a contrite smile. "Well, it's time to earn my money."
Big Danny breathed out a sigh of disappointment. "There goes another one of our regulars."
Gianni reached a hand into his jacket and brought his Glock 26 out of its holster. He pulled back the gun's slide and checked the round in the chamber. He'd also kept a silencer in his holster and carefully screwed it onto the muzzle. "You'll get a richer and less troublesome client in no time," he said to the Capo, running a hand on his gun as though he were petting a dog's head.
Big Danny scratched his head, face scrunched in thought. "There's spring cleaning* to take care of. Should I call the Sweepers?"
"Yes. Two will do. Get them to come in fifteen."
Big Danny pulled out a cell phone from his suit pocket and dialed a number. "That fast?"
"It should be," Gianni responded as he held the gun in his left hand and undid the buttons of his jacket, so it swung open. After making sure that the safety was still on, he tucked the gun into his waistband
"Hey," the Capo called out, phone still pressed to his ear, "don't mess up the fucking sheets!"
Gianni smiled wryly as he padded his way across the carpeted hallway to the room with the black door.
"Like I would."
The hallway was dim, lit only by the lights from emergency signs and a few wall sconces. There was no noise in the corridor. The sound of soft jazz music from the band downstairs enveloped Gianni as he padded slowly up the black door, sticking to the wall. He ran a gloved hand through his hair, then leaned his ear to the door.
Gianni could almost feel his own heart beating as he took his gun out and took off the safety. No matter how many times he's killed, there's always that powerful adrenaline rush surging through him, carrying him forward despite his racked nerves. He liked the thrill of it. Every nerve in his body was awake for him, every fiber of his being stood on edge. Nothing else could give him this feeling; nothing as exciting.
He looked back down the corridor and then around the corner, and saw a bouncer standing at the end of the hallway, his hand pressed to a radio earpiece. The man turned towards Gianni and stared at him for a brief moment.
"Yes, Sir," said the bouncer almost inaudibly, as he nodded to Gianni before turning to walk away. Gianni guessed it might have been the Capo on the radio.
The Lone Wolf's full concentration was now on the task at hand. He had to act fast. With his gloved right hand, he turned the doorknob slowly. Unlocked, just as what he and Viper agreed on. He then pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped into the room, raising his left hand holding the gun. He carefully kicked the door shut with his heel as he went.
The sound of jazz music gradually faded, replaced by rugged breaths and moans coming from somewhere in the room. It was dark, bathed only by dim red and yellow neon lights coming from the shop sign of a neighboring bar.
Standing stealthily in the doorway, the Lone Wolf strained his eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness. He scanned every corner of the room for movement, as the sound of loud, incessant moans and whimpers now invaded his ears; followed by another deeper and more rugged grunting.
When Gianni's eyes had adjusted accordingly to the dark, he could finally distinguish objects in front of him. At the center of the room were a couple of leatherette couches, a coffee table, and what appeared to be a steel dance pole. Just a couple of feet away from the pole was a heart-shaped, king-sized bed. A little tacky for his taste, he thought.
From where the Lone Wolf stood, he could make out features of two people in bed, naked, drowning themselves in the heat of lust and passion. The strong, musky smell of a rutting Alpha permeated the air, like poison invading his lungs with every breath he took.
The person on top of the other had his back faced toward Gianni. A dark-haired man with a chiseled body and an elaborate wing pattern tattooed on his back. Deputy Director Christian Harper.
Meanwhile, the person lying underneath him had his legs wrapped around Harper's bare hips, hands bound to the headboard with fur-lined metal wrist cuffs. This man had long, wavy silver hair that brushed his lower back and flowed freely on the pillow; skin an immaculate porcelain white, he almost seemed to glow against the dim lights. Viper.
The loud moans and whimpers and the harsh panting of two men lost in their carnal desires, mixed with the rhythmic creaking of the bed and the clinking of metal. Gianni took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows and into the light. He edged closer, careful not to draw attention to himself.
The G-man now had Viper's legs raised and wrapped over his shoulders, so lost in the moment as he slipped ever deeper inside the other.
Out of the corner of his eye, Viper could see the Lone Wolf with a sort of comical surprise on his face. He tensed for a moment before his body relaxed once more beneath the Deputy Director's grasp. And then, like clockwork, he threw his head back and started moaning again. This time, ostentatious and deliberately louder.
"Yes. It's right there – right there. Ah, god, fuck me," Viper cried out as Harper buried his face against his neck, grunting as he pounded him deeper and faster still. The escort had his eyes steadily fixed on the Lone Wolf, now just a few feet away. They both exchanged a knowing smile.
"Hey, baby?" Viper whispered to the Deputy Director, tapping him lightly on the back. "I've another surprise for you."
Harper broke the kiss and gave the other a broad grin. "You know I love surprises, hon." He was so lost in his own lust, and he didn't even hear the Lone Wolf sneaking up on him from behind. The next thing he knew, he felt something cold and hard pressed against the back of his skull.
Click! He froze at the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. A tense silence settled over the room. Harper's blood ran cold, and his throat went dry. Shocked and confused, he kept his gaze locked on Viper, who returned it with a playful smile.
"Hello, little mouse," said the Lone Wolf, his voice rough and tired.
The G-man started to turn, but the cold hard thing was pressed even harder against his head.
"Don't," warned Gianni. "I know you have a gun hidden somewhere, but at this range, I could scramble your brains in a split-second."
Beads of sweat ran down the Deputy Director's forehead. He gritted his teeth, rage contorting his already reddened face. "What the fuck is the meaning of this?"
Viper let out a soft chuckle. "Hey now, I thought you like surprises," he said, whimsically.
Harper clenched his jaw as realization dawned on him. "You crazy bitch!" he snarled as he locked his hands around the other's neck and started strangling him.
The Omega escort didn't so much as screech. Instead, he gave the other a wry smile. "Oh, yes, Daddy! Choke me, Daddy! Harder!" he said in a choked, mocking voice.
"You son of a bitch, just what are you – "
Gianni clubbed the Deputy Director across the head with the gun barrel. He reeled back against Viper, almost losing consciousness.
"Where's the key?" he asked, turning to Viper.
Body crushed underneath the Deputy Director's weight, Viper tried to squirm free as he pointed to the bedside table. Gianni swiftly grabbed the key lying on top of it, gun still trained on Harper.
"Crazy motherfuckers!" Harper hissed, groaning loudly as he shook his head from the hard blow.
"You, move there," the Lone Wolf ordered as he pointed the gun from Harper, to one of the chairs next to the dance pole. "Now."
"You sneaky, low-life sons of bitches, you think you're gonna' get away with this? Do you have any fucking idea who you're messing with?" the G-man seethed, teeth gnashing in fury. He eased himself out of Viper and slowly crawled out of bed, cautiously making his way toward the chair with his hands up. "How the fuck could you do this to me, Viper? I thought you love me!"
Viper let out another mocking laugh. "Love you? Oh right, yes, I do. I do love your handsome face. And your big dick, too. I love it so much I could choke on it and die." With quick, efficient moves Gianni freed his hands from the cuffs. Viper sat up, stretched his legs, and gently stroked his wrist where the skin was raw and red. "Other than those, baby, I doubt there's anything else to 'love'."
"You... You ungrateful scum!" the G-man roared. "I'm going to kill you. I'm going to chop you to bits and feed you to the dogs, you motherfucker!"
"Will you shut up?" The Lone Wolf snapped and, in his irritation, pointed the gun at the G-man then pulled the trigger. The shot went with a thud, tearing through the wall and grazing the Deputy Director's left ear.
Harper slumped into the chair, completely petrified. He pressed a hand against his ear as pain streaked into a searing pile on his face, droplets of blood dripping down his fingers and neck. "Are you fucking insane?" he cried hoarsely, lips pale and eyes wide with panic. "What if that hit me?"
Gianni curled his lips, annoyed. "I'm sorry, I missed." He pointed the gun back at Harper. "Say something shitty again and the next bullet will be through your head."
Harper swallowed hard, finally realizing that the man meant serious business. Struggling to ignore the grazing bullet wound in his ear, he raised his hands up once more.
From the bed, the Omega escort had covered his mouth in shock. And then, looking up at Gianni, he giggled. "Baby, you're such a tease."
Harper tried to pull himself together, but his hands were trembling and his legs were getting shaky. "Just... who are you? Why are you doing this?" he mumbled, struggling to get the words out.
Viper crawled toward Gianni, who stood by the edge of the bed. He came up behind him and wound his arms around the Lone Wolf's waist, while leaning his head on the other's shoulder. "Goodness, what took you so long, mister? I almost thought you stood me up," he said, lips pouting.
"Got held up by Big Danny," replied Gianni as he pulled up a sheet and offered it to Viper. "You must be cold."
"Oh, you are sweet!" Viper said, melting. "But don't you want to take a look at my outfit?"
Gianni glanced over his shoulder and saw that the escort was wearing nothing but a leather corset and a pair of black knee-high stockings. A black, velvet choker wrapped around his unmarked neck, with a long strand of black beads fastening itself at the back of the accessory.
"Freaky Friday, baby," the Omega escort said as he slapped his bare buttocks and winked at Gianni. "Tonight's theme happens to be bondage. My favorite!" He then turned to the Deputy Director with an impish smile. "It's the Deputy's favorite, too. Am I right, babe?"
Harper spat on the floor in response.
Viper sighed as he sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed his legs, twirling a lock of his hair around one finger. "So, Mr. Lone Wolf. Just what did my baby do to draw your attention?"
"This man just barked up the wrong tree, is all," Gianni replied stoically.
Harper frowned. "Is it money you want? Name your price. No cost is too steep."
At this, the Lone Wolf scoffed. "You're not looking at this correctly, G-man. There's a hell of a price on your head and it's more than you can offer."
Harper cursed under his breath. "It's that scumbag, Rossi, isn't it? Tell me!" he said in an angry tone.
"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner, winner, chicken dinner!" said Gianni in a voice laced with sarcasm.
The Omega escort gasped and clapped his hands with sheer delight. "You're really a piece of work, babe. I didn't think you'd have the balls to go mano y mano with a borgata."
The Deputy Director ignored Viper's remark, eyes never leaving Gianni. "Those spineless cowards. I must've really struck a nerve if they went as far as hiring a dog like you to get rid of me."
"On the contrary, you're insignificant to them," Gianni countered. "Why do you think they sent me out instead of someone in the family? Because you're that irrelevant – no more than a speck of dust they need to flick off their shoulder. They can't be bothered with someone like you."
Harper's nose flared and his eyes narrowed with rage. "I'm not going to let you get away with this."
Gianni raised an eyebrow as he looked at the other, amazed at his level of ignorance. "You're in no position to threaten me right now."
"You'd better let me go, because I can give you all sorts of problems." Harper's face was cold and determined.
But the Lone Wolf remained unfazed. "You're already all kinds of problems now, G-man."
Harper laughed disdainfully. "You'll only make matters worse if you kill me. The authorities will hunt you down. They'll destroy you. All of you."
Gianni sprang a quick shrug with his shoulders, his lips curved in a slight smile. "Well, that's only if they find out you're dead and gone."
It was the moment that finally broke the Deputy Director's resolve. "You crazy bastards. I was only doing my job!" he exclaimed, fear slicing at his voice. "Why do you think we need to get rid of the Cosa Nostra, huh? It's because you're all vermin! Rats that need to be driven from their holes and exterminated!" He paused to catch his breath, and in a lower voice, continued, "Can't you see? The world is changing, and there's no place for warmongers. People like you ought to rot in hell!"
Gianni ran a hand through his hair in frustration, then took a deep breath. "Are you done with your speech, Mr. Do-Gooder?" He was now standing in front of the G-man, whose eyes were locked on the gun pointed at his head. "You're no knight in shining armor, Deputy Director. You can't just forget about all the dirty things you've done – and continue to do – on the side."
The G-man had an astonished look on his ashen face. "What are you talking about?"
"Some people think you have this immaculate track record when in fact, it isn't all that great," Gianni disclosed. "We're pretty good judges of character around here, Deputy, and nobody's buying this "straight-laced cop" image you're trying to sell. Truth is, you're just as dirty as any other G-man in this city."
Harper averted his eyes and eased down on the seat. "Bullshit. I deserved to be promoted. I did a tremendous job during my career and I'm doing everything in my power to protect the citizens – "
"Stop. Just stop," the Lone Wolf cut him off, waving a hand to stop the other from talking. "The fact that you're always here, in this shit hole filled with rats and warmongers, speaks volumes, Deputy."
At this, the G-man stayed silent. The fuming kind of silent.
"Any decent man of authority wouldn't dare tarnish their reputation by setting foot into a place like this. Don't you even deny it, because you've been on my radar for some time now. You're never without company, I thought I'd never see the day you'd let your guard down. Yet here we are..." Gianni flashed a sneering smile that sent a chill down the G-man's spine.
Harper lowered his head away from the other's icy gaze and gulped before replying in a feather-like voice, "I – I'm working on a high-profile case. I'm here because I've received reports of human trafficking. Omegas being sold to pimps or auctioned off to rich perverts. People like Viper." He looked over at the Omega escort, almost pleading with his eyes. "Tell him, Viper. Tell him the truth. I know you've always wanted to escape this shit hole!"
"Hmm, that's true," Viper said, studying his fingernails nonchalantly. "But, baby, you're no different from the rest of them. Aren't you exploiting me too, by being here and subjecting me to your perverse fantasies? You love the helpless and desperate ones the most. Boys who won't hesitate to spread their legs and open their mouth for you. You love hurting them. You love to look down on them. You love the sight of people getting trampled on. You're ready to fuck anybody or anything with a hole in them."
"You've allowed yourself to become a commodity for others to exploit, you pretentious little slut!" Harper retorted. "Everybody around is a part of this fucking exploitation!"
"You said so yourself, babe." Viper nodded with a smile. "So you see, you're no different from the people running this shit hole."
Harper looked down; his eyes clouded over. And then, a distressed whimper escaped his throat. He put his face in his hands, and his shoulders shuddered. "Please... Please just let me go. I'll get away and I'll never come back, I swear it! I – I won't say a word. Let's just forget this ever happened, yeah?" He rubbed his eyes and straightened in the seat, looking up at Gianni. "I – I'll drop the matter about the Rossis. I'll cancel tomorrow's press con. That's what you want me to do, isn't it? I'll do it. I promise, I'll drop everything! Now please, let me go!"
It was a piteous sight, seeing a man crying so desperately, he nearly choked on his own sobs. But even this desperate pleading won't win over the Lone Wolf. Because he's used to all this. Used to people begging for their lives.
"Of course, you've no other choice but to drop everything, Deputy Director," he said, almost sadly. "You can't kick the hornet's nest and not expect to get stung."
Harper fell to his knees, his face contorted in anguish and rage. "What do you want me to do? I-I'll give you everything I have! Just let me go, goddammit!"
Gianni didn't budge. He kept the gun pointed to the other's head.
"Fuck! Don't just stand there, tell me what to do! Just what the do you need from me?" Harper bellowed, clenching his fists and pounding the floor in frustration.
"You own shares of two casinos in Brooklyn. Forty percent on The Chalice and thirty on The Malachite Clover Casino," Gianni revealed. A look of surprise crossed the Deputy Director's face, one he didn't even try to suppress. "That's right, I did my research on you. When you found out the Rossis are opening a new business in the area, you got scared because your major sources of income were on the line. You don't want to fall into the trap of worrying about an experienced competitor, so you threatened them instead." Gianni didn't give the man a chance to respond before he added, "Your life. That's what the Rossis want."
Harper broke into loud, wailing sobs. "Please, have mercy!" he cried, clinging to Gianni's leg, staring up into his eyes, pleading. "I – I have a wife and daughter waiting for me at home. You know that much, right? They need me! They fucking need me!"
Gianni let out a sharp breath and shook his head in disappointment. "That's the problem with you men of authority. Filthy cheats and liars, just like any other criminal. Yes, I do know everything about you, and I know you left your family for Don Sartini's youngest daughter. That's exactly how you got that family to help fund your business."
Viper feigned a shocked gasp at this revelation. "Oh my, Don Sartini's seventeen-year-old daughter? That little one?" He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "My, my... I didn't take you for a cradle-snatcher. And here I thought you only had eyes for me. Sad. So very sad."
If the man claimed to know everything about him, then Harper had no reason to deny at this point. He tried to get words out between choking sobs. Saliva ran from his mouth, tears from his eyes, and mucous dripped from his nose. He was a sorry sight, even more so when he's stark naked, groveled on the floor on all fours.
The G-man glowered at Viper with red, piercing eyes. His breath hitched and he had to swallow before he could speak. "Who would ever want to be with a chewed-up, spat-out garbage like you?" He then shifted his gaze back to the Lone Wolf. "You. Once the Sartinis find out you're behind this, you're done. You hear me? You're fucking done."
Gianni let out a mirthless laugh. "Sure. But that's only if they find out who's behind it. Unfortunately for you, I'm obsessed with keeping things clean in my line of business."
Harper spat, laughing mockingly at the other. "For a contract killer, you sure talk too much."
"I do? Well, that's gonna' be the least of your worries, because you won't remember any of this after tonight."
The G-man seemed resigned to his fate now, yet there was still no hint of remorse in his eyes.
"Any last words, Deputy?" asked Gianni, before he stepped back.
The G-man looked at him through half-lidded eyes. And then, a crooked smile appeared on his lips. "I'll see you in hell," he replied, stoically accepting his fate.
Gianni scoffed. "Hell, you say. I go wherever the party is, my friend." His index finger tightened around the trigger, feeling its weight, squeezing the last bit of slack onto it. "Hell is empty, and all the devils are here."
A loud pop resonated throughout the room, spraying the Deputy Director's face red. For a second, the room fell eerily quiet, broken by a soft thud of a body hitting the carpeted floor. Blood and bits of bone and brain splattered onto the carpet within a few feet of the body.
That was the end of the line for Deputy Director Christian Harper.
"Oh no, Big Danny will throw a fit," Viper remarked as he stared down at the bloodstained carpet.
The Lone Wolf looked down at the mess that was once Deputy Director Harper; face covered with blood, his left temple almost entirely gone. He pulled out his phone, switched it back on, then snapped a picture of the corpse with his phone's camera. And then, he sent the photo to a man named 'Martel'.
"And done," he said, satisfied with how things turned out. He removed the silencer and shoved his gun back into the holster.
"Mr. Lone Wolf." Viper came up behind him and leaned into his ear. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen. You're making me horny as hell." He turned Gianni's head toward him and kissed him full on the lips, his mouth eager.
Gianni didn't pull back. He returned the kiss with the same fervor and need. "You were such a good boy," he said before probing his tongue deep into Viper's mouth.
The Omega escort opened up and reciprocated with his tongue. Not before long, his hand slid down the Lone Wolf's stomach and lower, lower, until he found his growing erection. "Want me to give you premium service, mister?" He grinned mischievously as he grasped the thick base of Gianni's erection in his hand. "I'll give it for free. One-time offer."
At this, Gianni broke the kiss. "Stop." Placing his hands on the other's chest, he gently pushed Viper away. "You need to stop being like this to every single person who shows you a sliver of kindness. Because not everyone has good intentions," he said sternly and with fierce conviction. "It's a cruel world we're living in, so you need to stay sharp and keep on your toes." He reached into his jacket's inside pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, then handed it to Viper. "Take this. It should be enough to keep you well fed in the next few weeks."
Viper looked at the thick wad in Gianni's hand with pure astonishment. "Mister, I can't possibly... This is too much."
Gianni reached out and stroked back a lock of hair from the other's face. "I owe you this much for your help." His mouth curved into a smile as he pressed a finger against Viper's lips. "And for your silence."
"Still, this is more than enough – "
"Just take it," the Lone Wolf insisted as he pushed the money into the other's hands. "Think of it as advance payment for future negotiations."
Viper flushed, then nodded. He reached out and gave Gianni a firm, warm handshake, cupping his hand in both of his. And then, he smiled. It was the first real smile Gianni had seen on him since the first time they'd met. It was genuine. Unfiltered. Unguarded. All of the man's protective shields had come down, and the Lone Wolf was seeing his most favorite version of Viper ever.
"Pleasure doing business with you, mister," the Omega escort said as he pulled Gianni in for a big hug, then kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," he said before letting go. "Really."
Gianni went through the Deputy Director's clothes lying on the floor and found a .45 caliber handgun, a wallet, a couple of condoms, and a police badge. He took the gun with him and handed over the rest to Viper. "Make sure to hand them over to the Sweepers. They'll be here soon," he instructed. He put his mask back on and headed for the door.
The Omega escort slipped into a silk robe to cover himself. "Mister?" he called out to the other.
"Yeah?"
"I'll be seeing you around again. Right?"
Gianni chuckled softly. "I'd hate to be back here, so... maybe we could go out for coffee instead? I know a good place in Broadway. I'll take you there one of these days."
"You're too sweet." Viper beamed coyly as a flush of red crept up his face. He fidgeted with his hands before looking up at the other and said, "You know, I would've fallen head-over-heels in love with you if not for your little... circumstance."
The Lone Wolf responded with a weak smile. "You take care of yourself, friend."
Viper folded his arms across his chest and cracked a big grin. "Always."
Daniel Timmins and a couple of bouncers were standing at the main entrance, waiting for Gianni.
"You done yet?" the Capo inquired, raising his thumbs up.
Gianni walked down the stairs to the main lounge and approached the Capo, who looked eager yet somewhat agitated at the sight of him. "I'll be taking this," he said as he pulled back his jacket to reveal the Deputy Director's .45 caliber handgun.
Big Danny placed an unlit cigar between his lips, then frowned at Gianni. "Some kinda' trophy?"
"I only keep the high-grade ones. Oh, and before I forget." Gianni cleared his throat and in a low voice, continued, "I kind of messed up the carpet."
"Merda!" Big Danny grunted as he slapped his hand against his forehead. "Then you could've just messed up the fucking sheets! You know how difficult it is to clean up a carpet, yeah?"
Gianni smiled apologetically as he patted the Capo on the shoulder. "I'll pay extra for the Sweepers."
"Speaking of which, they've just arrived," Big Danny said as he tilted his head towards the door. "They're waiting out back."
Gianni nodded wordlessly as he made his way outside The Finestrino.
"Be seeing you!" Big Danny called out, and Gianni waved back at him before disappearing into the street.
The Sweepers are often called out to clean after dirty jobs connected to the Cosa Nostra and its associates. Expensive yet highly efficient, this group of discreet spring cleaners is just a call and a few thousand bucks away. And once the deal is done, it's like no crime has ever been committed. The Sweepers take away the body, clean up the crime scene until it looks cleaner than it ever was before, and incinerate the body as if the person never existed at all.
A couple of Sweepers stood outside The Finestrino's emergency exit, carrying with them a body bag and a load of heavy cleaning equipment. The streets were still crowded with people, yet nobody batted an eyelid at the sight of men clad in white protective suits, rubber gloves, and surgical masks. For the underworld denizens, death and Sweepers are a normal, everyday sight.
"Mr. Mancuso," greeted one of the Sweepers, voice drone-like and monotonous.
"Hey." Gianni pulled out a second wad of cash from his jacket. "How much for carpet cleaning?"
"It'll be an additional three hundred, Sir," the Sweeper answered in a business-like tone. He pulled out a piece of paper and wrote out a receipt. "The total is $3,700 – including carpet cleaning."
Gianni walked the tips of his fingers through the bills and counted $3,700 into the Sweeper's hands.
"Thank you for your continued patronage, Mr. Mancuso," the Sweepers said, almost in unison, before stepping inside The Finestrino.
Gianni pulled up the collar of his jacket to meet the rim of his mask and brushed away the flecks of dust on his shoulders. He stepped out of the back alley and got into the flow of the people in the main street. As he was about to exit the district, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He answered on the third ring.
"Just letting you know that the Don has seen the proof. He'd like to see you this weekend to thank you personally for your service," said the same male voice from earlier.
"And the rest of my money?"
"Will be wired to you in half an hour. Same bank, same locker."
"Grazie," Gianni said before hanging up the phone and placing it back inside his pocket.
The Lone Wolf walked down on the alleyways from The Finestrino, crunching through gravel, slithering on wet cobbles, passing from light to dark as he drifted out of range of streetlamps and CCTVs.
"All is well that ends well," he muttered to himself whimsically. He stretched his arms and took a deep breath as he walked out of the red-light district the same way as when he walked in: An innocent man without a single crime attached to his name.
It was business as usual for the Lone Wolf of New York City.
