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The 6th – Part 1
As the smoke clears, he stares at Joe Roome. Joe reloads and aims… “why?” The last word of a dying man as it seeps from his bloody lips with his shallow breath escaping. “The 6th… I Honor by Breaking.”
Retired… Joe is a peaceful man now that had and still has a code he follows. His past life led him to this one. His past life brought him clarity and conclusion. He was chasing the escape of reality and came to the realization that his reality is not one to escape. 21 years ago he found a path in a world of uncertainty. Losing his family because of his work led him to this understanding of his world. Death follows or Death runs. In Joe’s case, he made sure he made his path and determined what Death would do.
The company Joe worked for were hired help per say… hired to take out others in the path of those that wanted to gain power. They paid handsomely and at a young age Joe knew his skillset and what he was gaining. His naivety led him to realize there was no way out. Unless he made his way. Married and with a baby on the way, Joe knew he needed a change. Unfortunately his company did not see that. They wanted Joe to understand his importance to their business and all that he knew meant he could not walk away…
Brussels… 6am… Joe’s phone vibrates. Missed call from his wife. Joe tries repeatedly to call back… straight to voicemail. A knock on his hotel room door. His director, Ty Caps, is standing there with a blank stare on his face. “Joe, I am so sorry…” Joe grips his fists, “just tell me.” The pulsation of his own blood pressure in his head muffles Ty’s words. Joe falls into Ty’s arms as he is for the first time broken and alone again.
“Who did this?” Joe asks as his head is in his hands trying to comprehend his loss. “We believe it was the father of the last hit… The Verona brothers were going to leak the company’s employees. We had to take them out. Unfortunately they were able to get two names out before we got them. Their father seek vengeance on you and on Mark. Joe Roome and Mark Youshio were the two best the company had. They both had taken multiple players out for those in power. They grew to become best of friends while battling for the top hitman spot in their company. All that work led to this day. Mark was killed in a house fire and Joe’s wife was killed in a car crash… Joe knows the truth now.
“This is not over Ty… take me off the schedule… my only purpose now is Verona.” Ty grabs Joe’s hand… cool and tight skin on Joe’s knuckles. Joe glances up at him… “Do not try anything to change my mind” Joe whispers as Ty nods. “You have my word Joe.”
JFK… Joe walks out of the airport, takes a breath, and looks down at the picture of Anthony Verona… the head of the East Verona Mob Family in New York. “My company takes your sons, you take my wife and best friend… I take you…”
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Atta Boy – To the Unsung Father
It’s been a while since I have written… usually I imagine a good premise and go from there. However; this time… it is a little different. Sometimes you dream at night and it just fades away like sand blowing in the desert. Sometimes you dream and it sticks with you like a memory engrained in your mind… last night was the memory. Waking up this morning at 36 years old, on my day off, and it is 6am. No I did not set an alarm… I did clean the kitchen, stretch and clear my throat like no one can hear me, and made coffee, just like my Father used to do. That’s when it hit me… the dream… or should I say memory.
I hear faint laughter… it is me as a little boy. I am watching myself like an omnipresent being from the ceiling. It is sunny out as I am running through my childhood home. The sun beams act like lasers coming through the window. I try to dodge them like Indiana Jones evading the big bolder while I am wearing my father’s t-shirt. A nightly ritual… I take my father’s t-shirt to wear to bed. It goes past my knees but I don’t care. The smell of his Drakkar Noir cologne permeates my senses; however, it helps me fall asleep while he is still at work.
Back to the sun beams… 6am Friday, during the summer days of childhood. I make sure not to wake my Brother or Mother as I reach the bathroom door, ever so cracked open with the water running. My father is brushing his teeth as he stares deeply into the mirror. As a child that stare meant nothing… as a 36 year old father that provides for his own family… we all know that stare is meant for the day ahead. Meant for how we are going to take the day by the horns, we will grind through all the hours at hand, and we will provide. I crack open the door a bit more, almost like an acknowledgement of “hey I’m here” as he glances through the mirror to lock eyes with me. He rinses his mouth and gives me a smile. The smell of coffee billows through the air as I try to find the right moment to ask him…
“Hey dad… since it’s Friday do you think we can do a Blockbuster night??” I squeeze my hands in anticipation. Knowing now as an adult how those questions could make or break a day for a kid, not knowing as a kid what it meant to work 12 hours and that is his norm for the week… I understand the magnitude of those questions now. He did not hesitate. “Pizza too? I’m thinkin’ Sicilian and knots, sound good?” The joy that exuded from my body as a kid must have brought him so much joy in return. While not knowing the long day ahead he had, all I know is I have the coolest dad.
Years of the same would happen, but we all grow older. Those blockbuster nights turned into “hey Dad can you drop me off at the movies?” turned into “sorry Dad I already have plans tonight.” To this day, I am so grateful for all that my Father has done for his family. The monumental decisions, to the every day acknowledgements. I cannot say enough, as a Father myself now, how proud I am of the Father I have. Spending those Blockbuster nights with us, going to our sporting events, just showing up… my father has showed me what priorities are and how to do that as a father myself.
I just want to say to all the old school Fathers, present day Fathers, and to my Father… thank you. It is our turn to look back to you and show our appreciation for how you were there for us… it is our turn to say… “atta boy”
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Traditions – Volume 4 – Everything Comes to an end
Can he have the best of both worlds… married man and serial killer… Professor and stalker… soon to be Father and Tradition keeper. These are the combinations that AJ has successfully kept as one for years and years. Present day, AJ is 51 years old. He just made his 120th kill while his own son watched with a blank stare. Yes… five years of training his own son, AJ is ready to retire. Like his father and Grandfather once saw in one another, AJ see’s the ability for his son to continue the Tradition. The day he retires will be the biggest thrill in his life. To see his son take the mantle, as his son has seen the evil this world has created.
Just like AJ, his son lost his mother too soon. AJ went into a dark place after the loss of his wife. His son struggled for three years to get AJ out of the rut. During those three years AJ made some questionable choices with the Tradition. One was not following all of the rules he set forth. His son saw him kill prior to knowing the Traditions and making a choice if he should join or not. While it was a devious plan, AJ was sloppy. He found the lawyer that won the court case to seize the continuation of the miracle drug that his Wife was using to battle her tumor. Three months after the case she passed away. AJ was sloppy to befriend the lawyer, whom unknowingly did not know the connection AJ had to said case. for two years J grew closer and closer to the lawyer. The night of his wifes anniversary, three years after she passed, AJ assumed his son was staying at his friends house…
AJ invited his “friend” the lawyer over for some drinks. While sitting in his office, sipping Scotch, smoking cigars, AJ started swirling his glass around. “You seem off tonight bud…” the lawyer uttered as he cleared his throat. AJ stares… the lawyer clears his throat again… trickling sweat beading on his forehead. “what… what is…” the lawyer drops the glass. He begins to cough. At that moment AJ stands up… staring. He hears a creak in the floorboards as the brass handle on his office door spins open. AJ turns, he is eye to eye with his son… AJ tries to figure the words but cannot seem to know where to start. His son looks at him… “Dad, I know who that is… I understand.”
Years go by. AJ revitalized with the notion that his son will be side by side with him until the day he retires and hands the Tradition off to him. The difference between his son and the ones that came before him is that he takes initiative. He sees that his son actually has no hesitation in learning. No qualms in the struggle of morals. If this is right or wrong… if they are good people. AJ’s son has never wavered on this notion… but will his first kill change that?
Kill 120… AJ is done. he is ready to retire… his son smirks as they are sitting in his office. “Son… I am done. All these years, all these kills… My first was the hardest but my last was the easiest.” AJ’s son leans forward in his chair. Knowing all the rules besides one. He is ready to take over. He sips the scotch out of his glass. “Why was your first the hardest Dad? Why do I not see that like you do… I do not feel that it will be hard.” AJ swirls his glass as he leans back in his leather chair… “well Son, the time comes when this becomes just too much. I don’t know if it is the mental anguish I go through with morality or just the fact of what I do in general. However, like your Grandfather said to me, and his Father said to him… you will know now why the first is the hardest.” AJ’s son leans forward more in anticipation.
“The reason it is called tradition is not because we kill those who deserve, or we make the world a better place, or we make others pain phase away by taking someone out… that is what we all thought going through the years of training… tradition…” AJ sips from his glass as his son is hanging on every syllable coming out of his mouth… “You know, when we lost your mother I thought I was going to just give it all up…” AJ’s son interrupts him “Dad focus… you know I want this. Please give me the last rule, please just tell me what I need to know so you can retire and I can feel whole.” AJ stares at his son with a cocked head… wondering why his son worded it that way. “Well, I guess I can just rip the band aid off… we all go through it, it is our tradition… retirement is forever and you begin your journey…”
AJ smirks, leans forward, and puts his hand on his son’s knee… “you are way ahead of where I was at when I knew about my first kill. You know everything there is to follow your first kill, make your mark on when/where/how, overall make sure to not get caught and move on… the real question is if you can really make this tradition continue?” AJ’s son grabs his Dad’s hand “you know I am ready… what’s next?” AJ smiles at his son… “what’s next? You know everything there is to know about our tradition… the last thing you need to know is not that I am going to retire… but you are going to make me retire…” AJ’s son leans back with a blank stare. AJ leans forward… “I have had a good life… I have killed 120 people that after vetting we considered worthy… I now am one of those people… like my Grandfather, my father, and now me to you… I am one of them… retire is just a nice term we use to let our protégé know that their own father will be their first kill.” AJ takes a sip from his glass as he stands up and puts his hand on his son’s shoulder… “time to get to work” he whispers to his son. His son stands up, looks his AJ in the eyes, he raises his glass in honor… AJ smiles and nods at his son…
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Traditions – Volume 3 – AJ’s Journey
30 years since the acceptance of his family’s lifestyle… the day AJ sealed his fate with his father… the day everything changed. It has been a whirlwind of emotions, mental anguish, redemption, and happiness. Within those years so much has happened and so much is set forth by the order of the rules of the tradition. “When do we start?” The last naïve thing AJ said to his father and only at 16. Within five years of that question, AJ not only lost all gullibility when seeing the truth about this world, but he grew a hard shell to the reality of the bad that can come from it. Now, the biggest obstacle that his father taught him was that all evil can not be washed away from this world. They are only human and only can do so much. However, it is what they do to take out those evil doers that can hopefully set forth a domino affect of good in the future.
Five years… from 16 to 21, AJ learned the true meaning of the shadow. How to watch, listen, feel, hear, react to the prey. Watching his father, a master at hunting those evil doers, months of watching, months of honing in the skillset to figure the perfect time, months of proof of why this prey is the one to take out. 4 kills a year is the norm. All different styles, to not attract attention of a form of serial, all reasons justified later when the news breaks on who that prey really was. Decades of this tradition and media has still not picked up on the fact that it is this family’s tradition unfolding. The outcomes always the same… “one less evil in society…” However, as the years gone on from AJ’s grandfather to father, there has been a shift in the world. The world has become more endearing to humans as a whole. While there are prey that deserve what’s coming to them, there are people out there that believe in redemption. There are groups that have formed to say it should be the courts decision and not someone else deciding that death is the option. AJ’s grandfather saw how the next generations could start feeling the same way and upset the pattern and rules of their tradition. The last rule… the hardest one to comprehend for the new generation, but after you retire from the tradition for your child to take over, you see it is a blessing in disguise.
After AJ’s first kill, the hardest one as anyone can imagine, he put his five years worth of training to good use. When his father retired, he knew that AJ was going to be special. Once he saw the way AJ studied the first prey, he knew that the family tradition would be in good hands. AJ revolutionized the tradition rule book and made it even harder for the media or anyone else to figure out who he was, or who his family was. Following in his father’s footsteps he became a professor of History at NYU. Once a year he would test his students to see if they can find or create a pattern between the 4 random kills that were publicized. Each year, without a doubt, no one came up with anything near the true answer… their professor and his tradition.
It has been 10 years since the first kill… 40 kills, and a regular life being led by AJ. A professor and married now by day… the Tradition keeper by night. His wife and her family have never suspected anything. His wife is a night nurse at NYU Langone. Perfect scenario for AJ to complete his Traditions. While his own mother was gone when his father completed the traditions, AJ was hesitant to keep the traditions going. He fell in love with his now wife when she was in school with him at NYU. His father had no idea back then, as it was year 5 of their training for AJ to take over. AJ kept it quiet and knew it would be hard to juggle. How could he give up one or the other? He knew it would be tough and one day he was going to let his father know his dilemma. The same day he was going to speak with his father, AJ’s future wife extatically explained that she is going to get here dream job as a night nurse. AJ hesitated for a second and burst out in excitement. As he grabbed her and spun her around, the excitement he really felt was completing his training and taking over the family traditions. Can he really have the best of both worlds?
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Traditions – Volume 2
AJ grasps the cool brass of his Father’s study door knob. Cotton mouth, sweat trickling down his forehead, clammy hands… “what am I doing” was his only thoughts as he rotates that knob. The cherry wood door creaks open. AJ straightens his posture as his eyes lock with the dark set eyes of his father. Slowly swinging his glasses in his hands, papers spread over the massive study desk, AJ’s father smiles for the first time in years. Stoic, almost like his brain needs to tell him to take a step against his will, AJ remembers to breathe. His father pushes back from the desk in his rolling leather chair. “AJ… no matter what happens from this point forward, you have made a choice, whether it was the urge of knowledge or the need for thrill, you are in the same position I was in at your age.
AJ tilts his head in a dog-like understanding… “16 son… that is when I was given my first envelope. 16, headed into my senior year of high school and my father changed my life forever. Most of me will forever be grateful for my own father bringing me into this life, but there is still that little part of me that holds onto humanity. That is going to be the one hurdle that you will continuously face. Decades our family has been a part of history, making the world a better place, without any recognition of what we have done to make said world more peaceful and rectified. That is how we like it, that is our pact to society… we take care of what is needed, no one finds out.”
AJ finally takes a seat in the other leather chair in the study as he is absorbing all his father is saying. His father is looking out the window as he pauses… the crackling fire pops ever so more than usual as AJ’s senses are heightened. Thoughts racing through his mind as he glances at the papers on the desk. Neatly placed piles, pictures of random people with a red X through them. Thumping is felt in AJ’s chest as he clears his throat. Silence is broken as he looks up from the papers to his father. His father is staring back at him with a smirk and a glassy look in his dark set eyes. “17 minutes of me explaining before you looked at my desk. you figured it out yet son? It took me 24 minutes when my father explained what we do in this world behind the scenes… in the shadows… in silence.”
AJ cracks his knuckles as he tries to comprehend the magnitude of this conversation. So… we… are… “we do not just kill son” AJ’s father cut him off. “It is a science, we do our homework, we have standards, we take out those needed to be gone. History shows us the path and future is where we will bring this world to a better place. I used to have hesitations when my father trained me. I would see the in-depth process of our traditions. But after years of training and shadowing my father, I finally got the hang of it. After my mind was cleared from my first tradition, I understood the importance of what we do. I did my second tradition… I studied the history of a man who was targeting young students coming out of Columbia University. He thought they would have money so he would attack them, lure them, or convince them to come back to his place. He made a few of them get the money from their parents but no matter the scenario he killed them. After watching this man for three months, he ended up killing two people. There would never be a third…” AJ stared at his father as everything started making sense. The quietness of his Father, the cold feeling he always got as he looked at his father, the hours he spent in his study. Always thinking how much work his father did at home as a college professor just did not make sense. AJ clears his throat as his father tries justifying their traditions.
His father stops in silence as AJ stands up. Face to face… AJ takes a breath… “When do we start?”
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Traditions – Volume 1
Drip… Drip… Drip… the mist of the morning dew is in the 5am air as AJ looks down. The dripping continues as his gloved right hand slightly shakes. The blade within said hand has a dark crimson color… as the blood is dripping off. Still shaking he remembers his training. “Focus son… you know what needed to be done… you know what to do next.
AJ shakes his head and wraps the knife in the cloth he takes out of his pocket, as he was taught. The lifeless body is on the ground, twenty paces from the man’s office within the History building. A professor at NYU. This man has spent the last 25 years as a professor of History and the last 21 year as a killer. AJ scans the area again, rule two – make sure your surroundings are clear… No witnesses, no cameras, no way of tracing. While this is AJ’s first kill, he knows it is his most important. His father trained him well. Locate your target, follow said target for 3 months to learn their patterns, find that one spot in their routine that is the hot zone to strike. This is the third most important rule. While not getting caught is obvious; becoming immune to every hesitation, becoming machine-like, striking, and getting out. That is the goal set forth. After years of training and learning from his father, AJ finally did what needed to be done. Following in the footsteps of his father he is ready to take over the family tradition… kill those that deserve… kill those that think they are above the law… make the hard choice to better society.
Lets take this back to the beginning… AJ and the family tradition he is about to become apart of. 16 years old. AJ’s just coming home from football practice. A manila envelope is pinned to his closet door in his bedroom… the outside reads “open at 7:21pm, follow the directions, find out what our family tradition is all about.” AJ takes a deep breath as he knew something was always off about his father. Never questioned it, just thought ever since his mom passed away he was just an eccentric, dark person that dove into his work.
7:20pm… 7:21pm… AJ, holding the envelope rips it quickly open. A letter is inside. “Good… you know how to be patient… you know how to follow the initial standards our traditions set forth… take a minute and understand that the moment you make the choice to go forward with learning our traditions there is no turning back. If you choose to ignore our traditions and want to live your life any way you see fit then burn this letter and heat up the dinner I left you on the stove. No hard feelings if that is your choice. You are my son and I will always be proud of anything you set your mind too. If you do decide to take part in our traditions then meet me in the study. I am behind my desk. The moment you open the door is the beginning of your path of learning our traditions.” AJ’s heart is racing… droplets of sweat form on his brow. He thinks long and hard…
In the study his father is sitting with his elbows on the desk, his hands perched under his chin, his glasses slightly swaying in his grasp… silence for what seems like an eternity, besides the crackling of the fire within the study. He picks up his cool glass of scotch. Brings it to his lips and sighs as the silence with the fire continues… he stares at the study’s door… the brass knob begins to turn…
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The Bad List: The Final Chapter
Blood trickles down the left cheek of Damian… his wrists are raw from trying to break out of the zip ties connecting him to the damp wooden chair. “Drizzling outside a bit son” A man in a grey mask utters as he crouches next to Damian. Damian spits out some residual blood from the last time he was hit with the end of the gun gripped by the man. “You know what is going to happen? You cannot just threaten a whole government and believe it to be just a slap on the wrist?” Damian cracks his neck and takes a deep breath… “what I don’t think you understand is you can beat the shit out of me all you want, but at the end of the day…” Damian begins to smile as he looks the man in his eyes…
“At the end of this day you will be forgotten by your government and I will be looking at your lifeless body saying I told you so.” The man stands up and takes the safety off his gun. “Well this isn’t the movies son… I am not going to give you minutes to explain yourself while your so called cavalry comes to rescue you.” Damian looks up as the man puts the gun to the middle of Damian’s forehead “that’s where you’re severely mistaken… I do not need minutes or even seconds for that matter.” The man begins to squeeze the trigger “How so? You will die by my hands right now.” Damian begins to laugh “Then tell me genius, what’s that little red light on your forehead?”
A faint pop is heard from behind Damian… the man gasps as a bullet screams through the building, through his head, and through the windows behind him. The man’s lifeless body falls in front of Damian… “I told ya so.”
Lou and Max come running in, they cut off the zip ties and grab Damian… “Hey Fellas, so Mike got my message I see.” The three of them are running as five black SUVs come barreling towards them. They are a quarter mile from the tree line… “guys I know you put your lives on the line and all for me but those SUVs are not just going to let us run into those…” mid sentence Damian hears the whizzing of bullets pass by himself, Lou, and Max. He glances back and sees one by one, each SUV crash as a bullet goes through the drives side windshield. Max, almost out of breath “you think it’s just the two of us trying to save your ass?”
The three of them get to the tree line… the SUVs are all engulfed in flames. The men fall to the ground to catch their breath. Damian lays back to look up at the grey sky. Above him he sees Mike and his old friend Daryl perched up in the trees. They both climb down… “Alright, passports are set, Daryl got some legitimate ones through our connections. Boys, we are going to be living on a sweet spot called St. Peter’s Island. It is right by Lake Biel in Switzerland. I already called a buddy there and they have a 12-century monastery that was converted into a restaurant. Whelp, I pulled some strings and we own it… the six of us.” Damian, Lou, Max, and Daryl all look at Mike in silence for a second. They all break out in laughter… “That was a quick set up there Mike” Lou says as he catches his breath. “Well, it has been my dream to take over that place for a while and ride off into the life of a restaurant owner. Now you fine gentlemen will help me fulfill that dream, as brothers but also financially.” They all begin to laugh again.
Daryl’s brother Paul comes around in a SUV of his own, he rolls down the window “I’m going to the Swiss Island place too you guys!” They all chuckle as they jump into the car. “OK so before we make our grand escape from our lives to this Swiss thing, we have one quick stop to make.” The rest of them look at Damian… “What do you mean, we need to all get out of the country, especially you” Lou exclaims in a mixed bag of emotions. “Well, Lou, you’re my brother, Max was also like a brother, Mike was like a father, Daryl and Paul are my best friends… you all are family to me… Max, you remember that meeting we had in DC with O’Neil about how I will take out the Domingo twins?” Max looks at him with hesitation, “Well I decided to look into O’Neil’s office… I was able to find his secret file cabinet behind the 6 foot picture of his family…” “Please tell me you did not snoop around in the assistant director of the CIAs office” Lou exclaimed as they are about to pull up to the private airport. “Yes, yes I did… and a good thing… I know everyone was freaking out about my paranoia and how I was killing too much, but this was valid… I had a hunch and boy was I right.”
They all get on the private jet. “Hey Captain, before we head to our original destination, we need to make a quick stop in Peru” Damian says as he buckles in and takes a sip of champagne. “Why the hell would we go to Peru bro, that is exactly where Max told his boss we are all going to be… where Max is supposed to take you and me out” Lou utters as he clenches his jaw. Max, Mike, Daryl, and Paul lean in with anticipation of the master plan that Damian seems to be hinting at. “Well guys, we all know O’Neil… he’s going to want to see the bodies first hand… we also know that he has no patience… that goon back there you guys sniped that was kicking the crap out of me, he talks too loud.” They all lean in wanting to hear more from Damian. “I overheard him say to ‘O’ that he will take me out here and then when Max and Lou show up in Peru that is when the rest can strike. At first I thought we were all done for. Then I was able to hear the response… ‘O’ said he’s going to do this alone, he said no one else knows and that’s the way it will be. His last words were… we have too much money invested in this, I cannot let anyone know about our operations.”
Mike takes a swig of his beer… “so you’re telling me that suit, pen pusher, son-of-a bitch O’Neil thinks he can take out Max and me alone?” Damian leans back in his chair, finishes his drink… “seems like it… and he’s waiting at the airport in Peru, probably going to follow you two to what ever place you set up thinking you are coming to save me. However, what he does not know is what we have on this plane… Paul, it’s your time to shine.”
While they are all the best of the best at what they do… ironically it is Paul, Daryl’s twin, that has the least gun experience, has mastered taking a shot while moving within a plane. “And they say a genius cannot shoot… he calculated the wind speed, gravitational pull, all that mumbo jumbo lingo we all don’t know about…” Watch what he does.
As the jet s approaching the runway they spot O’Neil smoking a cigarette in a rental. “Well that’s not good for your health” Mike said as they all are looking out the windows. Paul has his sniper rifle loaded and in place on the floor right where the exit door opens. Max hits the button to open the door as the plane swings around to head to the hanger… Lou pushed the door open and all of them wave out of the moving plane towards O’Neil.
O’Neil’s eyes widen and the cigarette falls out of his mouth as through the crowd, through the chain-link fence, and through the driver side window a pop and a zip sound is heard. As the plane keeps rolling they see O’Neil’s head fall forward, leaning on the steering wheel. Blood trickling from both ears and the bullet hole between his eyes. “Job well done Paul, lets get to that restaurant, I am hungry” Mike exclaims. They close the door and the plane circles back around. “Lets go to Switzerland” Damian says as he hugs Lou. “You are my brother Damian, nothing will ever change that.” Damian looks at them all as the plane takes off… “we are all brothers.”
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Creative Writings and Fan Theories at a Glance 