It was a brutal murder.
The news splattered on all newspapers the way his blood was on the walls. Dante sat in the courtroom and watched the jury read out their verdict.
"We find the defendant guilty." came the damning sentence.
The judge, bribed by the murdered boy's wealthy father, looked much too pleased to hear it. Gwen, at that time her name was still Gwen, stood before him and swallowed her sentence of fifty years imprisonment.
"You deserve the death penalty." hissed the dead boy's mother.
"So did your son." Gwen shot back. The mother went hysterical and would have clawed at Gwen if her family didn't tear her away.
"Order! Order in my court!" demanded the judge, banging his gavel. Dante sighed. The newspapers spoke of the murder of an innocent young man by his scorned lover.
But Dante knew the real story.
"Why didn't you let them know the truth?" he asked her after the trial.
"The only way to the truth is to have Leonard's victims come forward and testify. They've suffered enough without having that family's vicious lawyer tear into them. They deserve to live peaceful lives."
"But you don't deserve fifty years in prison."
"What does it matter where I spend fifty years? You know that."
They came and cuffed her wrists.
"Don't visit me. Not even once. I don't want to see your face." she said as they dragged her away.
Dante walked out of the courtroom and looked down at the steps outside the courthouse. His mind raced, he realized what he needed to do.
In fifty short years, Dante has to become an entirely different man. After he goes down those steps, the change must begin.
The first thing he did was take off his baseball cap and throw it in the trash. The second, he went to the library where he worked and found out everything he could find pertaining a certain man.
Third, he quit his job and went to a well-known tailor downtown. He got measured for a suit and had it made. Black, pinstriped, three-piece--he spent almost all his money on it.
Dante could only afford to eat apples and bananas as he waited a week for the tailor to finish his suit. When it came, it fit him like a dream. He looked good.
Not wasting anymore time, he jumped on a train and then onto a taxi and went to a certain restaurant downtown. It was hours past lunchtime, he knew the restaurant would be deserted and the person he wanted to see would be there. He'd done his homework thoroughly.
The man was called Papa Leon, and exactly as Dante thought, there he was in a corner booth at the restaurant, hesitantly poking at a salad--doctor's orders, something about his cholesterol. His henchmen sat in tables around him, happily enjoying fattier meals.
"Pardon me sir," said the restaurant's host when Dante burst in, "but we're closed."
"I have business with Papa Leon." said Dante loudly. Papa Leon looked up from his salad and immediately all his henchmen stopped eating, hands hovering by their guns.
"Forgive me, sir, but you need to leave." urged the host.
"Wait." said Papa Leon, "he's got a nice suit on, let him in."
Dante tried not to smile. He walked past the host and promptly threw his hands up.
"I'm unarmed." he announced, "you can check."
One of the henchmen stood up and did just that. He patted him down so thoroughly that it was uncomfortable.
"He's clean." said the man. Papa Leon held out his hand, inviting Dante to sit next to him.
"That is a nice suit, kid, it really is. Rarely see guys your age wear it like that nowadays." said Papa Leon, "you say you have business with me?"
"I want to join you." said Dante, stern and clear. Papa Leon's henchmen laughed.
"Everybody wants to join me. Money has a stink everybody can sniff out." he said, "the question is not why you wanna join, but why I have to let you."
"Alright," Dante stood up and put his hands in his pockets, "tell one of your guys to shoot me."
"You don't wanna say that in front of these trigger happy pendejos."
"I'm serious. Tell them to shoot me, see what happens."
"Yeah, you dead ruining my lunch is what happens. What is it you want, kid? You wanna die don't do it here."
Before anyone could blink, Dante swiped a gun from under Papa Leon's jacket, cocked it, and put it to his temples.
"Ey kid! What are you--"
Bang.
The entire room flinched at the sound. When everyone opened their eyes, jaws hit the floor. There he stood, Dante, unharmed with just a bit of blood on his suit. A smoking gun and a bullet on the wall confirmed that the shot was fired.
"If you're not convinced, I can do it again. But this time try not to flinch."
Papa Leon stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. Dante saw his hands trembling. "You asked me why you should let me join you. Well you see," he said, the gun still pointed at his temples, "nothing can kill me."
Papa Leon collected himself enough to stammer a single word. "Diablo."
"Not so much." said Dante, setting the gun down on the table, "my cells regenerate too quickly for any injury to last more than a few seconds."
Papa Leon frowned. "So nothing can kill you." he began, careful with his tone, "what can I do for you?"
"I want you to make me strong, and filthy, stinking rich." said Dante, with no second thought, "in return, I'm sure you could find some use for me."
Papa Leon paused. Oh how all would fear him with the devil on his side. "May I ask what is your name?"
"Dante."
"Just Dante?"
Dante stopped for moment. He'd never put much thought into his last name before. It's always been something simple along the lines of Smith or Jones.
But simple would not do here. If he was to become someone powerful, his name should announce that power even without him in the room.
"Blackwater." he decided, "Dante Blackwater."
With no further negotiation, Papa Leon shook the devil's hand and the deal was sealed.
Comments (0)
See all