To Be an Honest Man: Dedizione All'Amore: Chapter 3 – Taking it Back Home

Chapter 3 – Taking it Back Home

What we’ve done has done a lot of good in getting rid of Vorfahren influence from the city, but not so much for the wider country, and hasn’t gotten rid of the more public supporters of the Mediterranean Empire and Zeitloses Imperium. It’s not illegal to say you believe in and support the Vorfahren ideology, yet their supporters are publicly counter-protesting against the recent Mediterranean, Israeli alliance, and say that the recent purge and deportation of Vorfahren was just the authorities getting rid of bad actors of their ideology and innocent people. The old man and heads of the Israeli mafia come up to us in Angelo’s restaurant and ask if anything is being done in politics to make the Vorfahren ideology one that is classified as hateful and illegal.

He asks, “Are the brothers, Frank and John Ministro, handling things well in the political scene?”

“They’re handling it as well as can be expected. Trust me when I say it’s a harder headache for them to be dealing with it than us with all the resistance they get from the opposite political parties and their own,” Vito says.

“Heh, and they call us slimy criminals. It is what it is, as you Mediterraneans say. I’m just happy that we got to comfortably strike against our enemies.”

“Don’t get too used to it because we have plans on ending this invasion from the Vorfahren.”

Vito waves over a friend of the family who’s sitting by the bar. The well-dressed man in a blue suit, black pants, and black shoes walks over. He has a large fedora on his head like other members of the family, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was one of us. He has brown hair and brown eyes; his face is the spitting image of an average Joe. His name is Donnie Parlarono, and he’s the head of the Secret Intelligence Bureau, or SIB.

“Donnie, please explain to our new friends our plan,” Vito says.

Sitting down, Donnie says, “Since the Vorfahren we have in custody aren’t telling us about who exactly is giving them orders, we’re going to deport them and follow them back home to their nests. From there, we should be able to strike at their leadership, and then give the Vorfahren a serious reason never to step foot in our country again.”

“What about the ones who remain here?” the old Israeli man asks.

“We’ll need people to stay here and handle things, keep them under control, and make them think we aren’t following their friends back home. Can you do that for us?”

“We’re not opposed to having all the fun here. We don’t speak the native language in the Mediterranean Empire’s held territories anyway, and they’ll immediately come after us on sight.”

“Thank you.”

“Good hunting, boys. If you can, bring me back something for me to hang on my wall. I wouldn’t even mind if you gave me their heads or a finger.”

The Israeli bosses laugh and walk out of Angelo’s restaurant.

Turning to me, Donnie says, “I’m surprised they didn’t ask for anything in return for their work.”

“If they don’t ask now, they may do so later. If not, I’m sure they have ways of getting what they want,” I say.

“I have my people keeping an eye on them in that regard,” Marin adds.

“I can foresee that they may be a problem in the future, but they won’t be right now since we did them a favor they won’t forget,” Okazaki says.

“Alrighty then. Who wants to go home to the old country?” Donnie asks.

Cesare and I volunteer along with our wives.

“I’ll stay here with my people to keep who and what’s coming in under control,” Vito says.

“I’m going over. I know some people who can help us, and I still haven’t had my fill of kicking their asses. The job isn’t done yet until it is, and the Vorfahren learn their lesson,” James says.

“Alright then. Gather your bags and people. You all leave tomorrow on a flight that will follow the deportation plane to Lupa.”

For the rest of the day, I pack my bags, make sure everything is in order here with my contacts, and spend time with my family. My parents and grandparents express both concern for my safety and assurance that I’ll come back alive. We pray and eat together one last time before we leave the next day, and everyone who’s going to Lupa boards the plane with everything and everyone they have.

“When’s the last time we visited the old country?” Cesare asks.

“I think when we were teenagers. It’s been a while since we last visited,” I say.

“I remember the cathedrals that are decorated with the bones of martyrs the most. What about you ladies? What are you excited to see?”

“This isn’t a vacation, and we won’t be staying long,” Marin states.

“There still have to be things that you want to see,” Okazaki says. “If we can, I want to visit the floating city and see the many hills of the countryside.”

“Sure. We can see them if we need to go there.”

After an eleven-hour flight, we land on the island of Trinacria. There, we see that Vorfahren propaganda litter the many buildings, and even churches of the area. We don’t have much time to sightsee as we follow the Vorfahren to see where they go. Meanwhile, James and his Sovrano family members go to establish contact with their other family members here to get us help and more information about what’s going on here. To stay within our targets' sightlines, we keep a safe distance and avoid being seen by ducking into alleys and hiding in crowds.

They talk to some people near some cabs, saying in Mediterranean, “We need to talk to the bosses.”

“Do you now?” a cab driver says in the same language. “As far as I know, you were supposed to be in Chimaera, making a difference over there.”

“Things got complicated, and we got kicked out.”

“Alright, fine. They want to talk to you anyway.”

The Vorfahren get into a cab and drive away. As we scramble to get a car of our own, a car pulls up to Cesare and me and offers to drive us. We pick up our wives and resume following the Vorfahren.

“Who are you anyway, a friend of the family?” I ask.

“You could say that,” the cab driver says. “I’m not an official friend, but a friend nonetheless. I’m tired of these Vorfahren saying that they’re faithful to both God and our ancestors' roots, but they shun everyone who doesn’t think like them. I hate to say it, but our empire was better under the control of the previous republic and its leaders.”

“Is there anything that can be done to change Lupa from within?” Cesare asks.

“Not at all, unless you want to be shot, deported, or sent to a re-education prison.”

“Have you thought about moving to another country?” Okazaki asks.

“Nope. This was my ancestors’ home, so it’ll be my home until the day I die. I refuse to move just because I hate the condition it's in right now. I still love it. It can always change, maybe not in my lifetime, but empires don’t last forever.”

“Your dedication is admirable,” Marin says. “We’ll be sure to do as much for you as possible.”

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about everyone else. Oh, and try to fix your accents. You sound like Medigans.”

The cab driver drops us off a little way away from a villa that overlooks a town. As we head toward the villa, the cab driver pulls away to gain some distance so as not to look suspicious and promises to come back if he hears shooting. The four of us sneak into the villa, using our knives and silenced pistols to take out the guards, and hide their bodies to push our way further in. Inside, we follow the Vorfahren we were originally until we see them enter a room. Busting our way in, we hold them and the people we presume to be their bosses at gunpoint.

Speaking in Mediterranean, they ask, “Who are these people?! Guards!”

Okazaki and Marin speak the same language as theirs.

“We got rid of your help. No one is coming to help you,” Okazaki says.

“If you don’t want to end up like them, you’d better stop sending people over to the Chimaera states,” Marin says.

“Can you please stop trying to speak Mediterranean?” one of the bosses says in English. “You dark pigs with makeup are Medigans and don’t know how to speak our language properly.”

Cesare shoots the leg of one of the bosses, and I shoot the arm of one of the other bosses.

“You’d better respect my wife. The way she speaks is the least of your concerns,” Cesare says.

“At least you both know to do the basics of protecting your wives’ honor,” one of the bosses says. “Still, we respect our country and the Vorfahren ideology more than you. It’s the one that’s brought us back to the strength and respect that the Roman Empire once had. We continue the faith and honor of our forefathers, and by going against us, you spit on that faith and tradition.”

“What you think is the true faith and tradition of the Mediterraneans is just your view of it. You bully the Church to accept your behavior and conquer those you think are better under your rule,” I say.

“What would you know? You were born in another country that doesn’t care for heritage or tradition.”

“We didn’t come here to talk philosophy,” Marin says. “We only want you to stop sending people over to influence our country.”

“What happened to freedom of religion and belief in your country? I thought that was a cornerstone to your country’s founding,” a boss says, spitting out the words as if they were disgusting.

“We only accept the beliefs that aren’t directly hostile to anyone, and can peacefully talk to one another to get others and the country to change rather than using violence as its primary tool,” Okazaki says.

“Heh, so you’re not so different from us.”

“Don’t give us that bullshit,” Cesare spits.

“You’re not entirely aware of what’s happening on this side of the world, are you? We’ve been trying to peacefully change people’s hearts, but the corrupt scum in government don’t allow it, forcing our hand to use violence. We simply draw the line for violence in different places.”

I shoot one of the men we were following in the leg. The other one tries to charge at me, only to take a bullet in the face and fall face down in front of me.

“Give me another answer other than your agreement, and none of you will get out of this room alive. This is my line for violence,” I say.

“Heh. Even if you don’t see us as two sides of the same coin, I recognize a true man of honor when I see one. Okay. We won’t be sending our own people over to your country, but don’t complain when our civilians go to your country to evangelize for us.”

“We’ll handle it when that happens.”

“God bless you, boy. Your country would be better under your leadership.”

I turn around and leave the room, ignoring what the boss said. While we are leaving, I take an old model pistol off the wall for the old Israeli boss, head out back to the cab driver, and go back to the hotel, where we’re supposed to meet James and his family members when they’re done on their end.