Good Criminals and Good Fridays: Chapter 1 – Criminals Against the Criminals

Chapter 1 – Criminals Against the Criminals

Being at my mom and dad’s grave reminds me of what I’m fighting for. My dad was part of a group called The Boys. They were boys on Juniper Street who wanted to fix their city and obtained various leadership positions in the city to do so. My dad was different from the other boys in that he ran our family’s bakery and helped people on the street by giving them food or referring them to his friends. He was known as the Father of the South City by everyone in this city once known as the city of brotherly love. It’s gained the name of the city of America’s top five crime capitals, but with my dad and his friends in charge, that reputation quickly went away.

He was by no means a perfect man or a pacificist. While he went on his daily walks, he would always carry around knuckle dusters just in case he got jumped or had to save someone in need. Just like today, in his time, the police only bother patrolling the Center City and rarely bother with other districts, so the neighbors have to take care of their own. There were rumors that he and his friends would make bums swim across the Delaware River if they refused to change their ways. Even though there were bodies found in the river, no one could connect them to him or his friends nor do the cops who invest these murders bother since we had and still have plenty of family in the force.

The time of his death was sudden. My dad was taking his usual walks when he came across a crippled stranger who needed help getting to a hospital after he got into a fight with the scum of the city. Since it wasn’t too far, my dad carried the guy all the way to the hospital. When the man was good enough to walk, he wanted to thank my dad who was in the waiting room seemingly asleep with his rosary beads in his hand. Now, my dad had trouble being awake for the whole day because of his old age, but this time it was discovered that he died because of some kind of heart condition. What’s strange is that everyone around him and who passed by him didn’t know he was dead and it’s said that he looked as peaceful and glowing as an angel, which honestly should’ve tipped them off. Regardless, his life and how he died are more than enough evidence to prove to me that he’s in Heaven.

On the other hand, my mom didn’t get the same kind of honorable death. She, like the other wives of The Boys, kept their husbands happy and focused on God and their families so that they wouldn’t be corrupted by the temptations of power. Unlike the other wives who were teachers, nurses, or housewives, my mom helped clean our local parish and was an administrative assistant for them. On the day she died, she was being driven around by my best friend, Vito, since I didn’t have time to take her out shopping. Since she was tired, Vito let her rest in the car while he went into a deli we frequently go to pick up lunch. It was then she was shot in the car by a mysterious person who drove away after the cowardly deed was done. Vito was so distraught by my mom dying under his care that he killed himself as a way of atoning or at least that's what he said he was doing in his suicide note.

This flood of memories is enough to bring tears to my eyes, but I can’t cry in front of my family, especially when they are crying themselves and need someone to lead them. I was chosen to be the Don of South City and I will not let those who look up to me down. My God and my family are watching from above and beside me. There can be no sign of weakness or mistake in my behavior that would make them sigh in disappointment or look away in shame.

“Heads up, Tommy,” a family member whispers to me as he points to a group of armed men approaching me.

While I’m still looking at the grave of my parents, the leader of the men walks into my field of view, and says, “Look at me, Tommy. The Boys are dying off and so is their power and influence over the city. Now’s the time to stop.”

“Now’s not the time to talk about this,” I say with my eyes still staring at the grave.

“I say it’s time, so give me an answer.”

“I’m not going to.”

“Listen, do you know who I am? Do you know what I can do to you and your family?”

“Do you know who I am? I’m my father's and mother’s son. You’re a nobody who doesn’t know his place in our family. If you want to give up control of South City to the feds or some other gang, then pick a time and place for our fight, and then I’ll feed your corpse to the pigs on my cousin’s farm, but not here. Have some respect for the dead.”

“Suit yourself then. If you’re not going to fight, then this’ll be easy for me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the punk and his family taking out their guns only for them to be shot by the grave tender and the priest who work in the cemetery. My family hardly has to help them and I don’t move a muscle until the shooting stops. When the dust settles, the leader is still alive, so I take out my dad’s knuckle dusters and hit him three times. Once for my dad, once for my mom, and the last time for the dead that he disrespected. I then wave to the grave tender and point to a coffin. He nods and brings it over to an empty grave while I bring over the coffin’s occupant to it.

“H-hey! Where are you taking me?” the idiot says.

“You wanted an early grave so I’m giving you one,” I say.

“Please, wait! Have mercy on me, Don!”

“You’ll have plenty of time to ask God to have mercy on your soul.”

With the grave tender and help from my family, we bury the leader alive as the priest prays. Even as the grave is filled with dirt, I can hear the man scream from inside the coffin and I can almost swear I still hear his screams once the hole is fully filled.

“Requiescat in pace, bastardo,” I say before making the sign of the cross.

I nod to the grave tender and priest and pay them to take care of the bodies here. Now that our business is done here, we head out to the ghettos of North City where we have a meeting set up with some old members of the family. We go to a local butcher, say the password, and am led downstairs to meet with the leader of the North City gang, Lincoln, a man of dark skin dressed to impress in a red vest and black dress shirt, slacks, and dressy shoes. He sits at a table filled with weapons and a map of the city with various points of interest marked. My men stay outside to make small talk with the other members of his gang and keep an eye out for trouble.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say with my hand outstretched.

Lincoln shakes my hand and then says, “It’s about time we met, Don of South City.”

I sit down at the table.

“Circumstances and past rivalries have kept this meeting at the back of my schedule, but now it’s here at the front. Let’s cut to the chase. I need your help. I can offer you guns, men, and our connections.”

“What about any future rewards or collaborations? I know we’re meeting not mainly because you want to put the past behind us, but because you want justice for your mom. I’m not saying it’s a good reason. I’m just wondering if we’ll have the reassurance that you won’t leave us out to dry this time.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“In case you somehow don’t know, my dad was one of the Boys. He and his friends were given control of North City while your dad and his friends had South. Despite having an important role, he didn’t have much help from the Boys and their allies and was killed during a protest.”

“I was told by my dad that they were unable to help because they were busy snuffing out fires caused by the feds in South City.”

“Right, so busy in fact that we hardly got any help from South City afterward.”

“It was a devastating loss to the Boys. Every member of the Boy’s and their children bring flowers to your dad’s grave.”

“They do the same for your dad and the other Boys that have died. I know the past is the past and there’s nothing that can be done to change it. All I want to be assured of is added support for the people of North City.”

“You’ll get it. You have my word.”

“How can I know that I can trust your word?”

“By the fruits of our labor. I’ll show you that I’m not only my father and mother’s son but someone better that they would be proud of.”

“We’ll see about that, pinstripe. Where do you get fancy suits like the ones that you and your larping mob have by the way? I might get a suit when I settle down.”

“I know a guy on twenty-five-thirty-seven South Broad Street that I can hook you up with. Also, we’re not larpers. We’re not even like the mob. Just inspired by their style.”

“A style you seem more than a hundred percent dedicated to with your suits, tommy guns, and ways.”

Gunshots from above catch our attention. We grab pistols from the table and go upstairs to see a couple of people I know, a few of Lincoln’s men, and several police officers having a gunfight with our men. Lincoln and I join in and take cover behind the counter.

“We were double crossed, boss,” a family member says. “They tried to convince us to join them or die.”

“I see that and thank you for your loyalty. What I want to know is why they’re being so bold,” I say.

“You can try asking them, but I don’t think they’re in a talking mood,” Lincoln says.

“I wasn’t going to ask them. We’ll find out from those who ordered them to do this. Traitors don’t deserve mercy.”

“That makes two of us,” Lincoln says before calling for reinforcements.

After a few minutes, his backup arrives and gets enough heat off us so we can leave the butcher and push back the feds and traitors. Eventually, with the help of some of the people of North City who pull out their guns to help, we send them running back to the Center City. The crowd around us cheers and yells at the retreating feds to go back where they came from. A car parks down the street and a group of family members run toward me.

“Boss! I got in contact with one of our officers in the police force! They’ve heard of the feds bringing the enforcers here to bring both the North and South cities back under their complete control and now they know they’re going to do it for sure,” a family member says.

“They’re a little late with the information. Why are they bringing that information to us now?” I ask.

“Because the feds knew that we had men in their ranks and kept it secret as they could and our friends didn’t want to act on unprovable rumors.”

“Makes sense. Okay, get them to sabotage the feds’ plans as much as they can and keep us updated.”

“You got it, boss.”

“What’s our next move, pinstripe? The feds have made their move and now we’re against Old America,” Lincoln says.

“Now…” I say before turning to the crowd that’s listening to us, “Now, we defend our homes and families. It’s just that simple. Old America died when those in power were corrupted by it and those under them decided to lick their boots rather than fight for their God given rights. The Boys took steps to get back what was theirs and give America back to its people and bring it back to the roots that made it great to begin with. Even though there aren’t many of them left and their influence is dying, the fight isn’t over yet. We are the next generation and will continue the fight to take what is rightfully ours. This is our task, our legacy, our war to wage on the bastards that would rather us be slaves than free men. This is our time, so let’s get to work.”

The crowd cheers and claps. I even get Lincoln to nod and clap for my speech.

“Nice speech, pinstripe. It actually gives me some hope that we’ll do what you say,” Lincoln says.

“I will. You ready, partner?” I say with my hand out.

“More than ready,” he says before firmly shaking my hand.