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Gentlemen's Code

🇺🇸Wendell_9443
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Synopsis

Chapter 1 - BLACK

When the city spoke, Vincent Black listened intently. The city's collective voice was usually a cacophony of doubts, despair, and fears. But recently, Vincent had heard whispers of something approximating hope.

Those whispers, however hopeful, carried a sense of foreboding; a portent of something dangerous.

Change was the order of the day. The city had undergone a major upheaval. There had been firings at every level of public office. Dozens of people suspected of corruption had been removed from their posts.

There was excitement, confusion, and a host of other emotions as new officials were sworn in as quickly as possible and emergency elections were planned.

The most prevailing thought asked in a dozen different ways boiled down to whether this change would shake up the status quo or just swap out cogs in a machine that should have reached obsolescence years ago.

Another important development was the rise of community activism. Vincent supported much of the unity. There was much to do in these uncertain times and opportunities abounded to make a difference. There was, unfortunately, another smaller faction gaining traction.

Vincent had yet to do a deep dive into the faction, but he was aware of the basics. They sided more with vigilantism than mere vigilance. Their stated goal was to maintain the order that so many duly appointed officers of the law had failed to do. Black baseball bats were their signature and 2 men were currently recovering from beatings consistent with blunt force trauma.

He would have to make time to prioritize information gathering on them in the very near future.

For now, in these unprecedented times, a man of Vincent's unique standing could only do what he had done the last four years; fade into the shadows of places like the alley behind a known gathering spot for certain people seeking discreet employment of varying degrees of legality.

He leaned against a wall between two commercial dumpsters and inhaled deeply. There was a pungent odor of hours old meat mixed with even older grease with an undercurrent of something sweet.

A moment later, he detected the expected creak of door hinges followed by the sound of metal scraping against concrete.

Once the door slammed shut, Vincent stepped away from the wall and revealed himself to a startled man.

Dominick Malloy quickly adjusted his expression to one of annoyance. He was a few noticeable inches taller, but shared a similar sized upper body to Vincent with leaner legs. Dominick was dressed casually in a black hoodie, dark blue jeans, and tennis shoes.

In stark contrast, Vincent wore a dark gray jacket with matching vest and slacks. His dark shoes were polished to the point he could see his reflection in the proper lighting.

"Dom da dom dom Dom," he sang in a monotone.

"Not the time."

"What time works for you Dom? Do I need to send you a reminder not to do something stupid everytime you run out of money?"

Vincent casually positioned himself between Dominick and the end of the alley. Dominick took two steps closer to Vincent to emphasize their height difference.

"That's your problem man. Thinking you smarter than everybody else. Put on a fancy little suit and think you better than the rest of us. Mind your business and get out of my way."

"I can't let you leave like this."

"I don't remember asking your permission. Move. Before I move you."

"Can't do that Dom. Wherever you think you need to be, whatever you think you need to do there, it's not worth it. Come have a drink with me. Let's be smart about this."

Dom exhaled through his nostrils hard then quickly drew a gun from behind his back. Vincent's eyes widened briefly then looked down at the ground.

The gun punctuated the futile conversation and Vincent stepped aside to allow Dominick to confidently stride past him.

Less than ten steps later, Dominick's body began to convulse. He staggered another two steps; his shoulders jerked left, then right, then left again before he lost his grip on the gun, and collapsed to the ground.

Eyes focused on the gun, Vincent approached the fallen man until he was close enough to kneel down and check Dominick's pulse. It was as erratic as his breathing.

"Calm down," Vincent said quietly, more to himself than the other man. He pet Dominick's head with one hand while he pried two metal prongs from between Dom's shoulder blades. Dominick groaned, disoriented but seemingly somewhat aware that he had been struck by something.

Vincent placed the metal prongs in one of his jacket pockets, retrieved the gun, and placed it in the opposite pocket. Dominick's breathing was less erratic and his pulse slowed close to its resting rate.

Taking a few deep breaths, he hefted Dom's upper body onto his shoulder.

Adjusting his stance into a deep squat, Vincent pushed himself upright and shouldered the weight of the larger man in a fireman's carry. He took a moment to stabilize his breathing then exited the alley.

An hour later, on the upper level of the Blue Moon nightclub, Vincent was escorted down the dimly lit hallway that led to the owner's office.

The escort was all bulging pecs stuffed inside a v neck long sleeved shirt and dark khakis. He held up a hand and Vincent stopped to give the man space. The man knocked nine times total, pausing between sets of three knocks, before being granted entrance.

Twelve seconds later, Vincent was extended the same courtesy.

Inside, the escort stood just to the right of the doorway with little movement other than his eyes surveying the room.

"Good evening Mr. Black." Roberto Alanno's voice was rich, like its default setting was seduction.

Nearing fifty years old, he had the youthful looks and vigors of a man half that age.

Tonight he wore salmon pants and a casual jacket with a light blue undershirt.

The owner and proprietor of the city's most popular night spot was a bit of a mystery. His public persona seemed too perfect as if compiled by the finest public relations firms the city had to offer. However, no one had managed to scratch that impeccable facade to substantiate any of the salacious rumors a man of his status attracted.

Vincent's intrigue was piqued the moment he saw the man standing a few inches away from the semi-circle that occupied the majority of the back wall.

Roberto cut a commanding figure with hands clasped behind his back just above his back pockets.

From where he stood, Vincent could not see how many people were down there bathed in the indigo lights, but he could imagine at least a dozen gyrating to a bass line that Vincet had faintly felt in the hallway. Its effects were completely dampened inside the office.

"Thanks for meeting me on such short notice."

Vincent took a few steps forward then glanced at the escort. The escort remained firmly rooted to his spot. At that moment, Roberto had turned to face them.

"Leave us," Roberto commanded softly. "How can I be of service to you?" he asked after the third man left the room.

"I need you to call me when Gegard Andre shows up."

"Any particular reason?"

"Neutral ground. He and I need to have words. I'll owe you one."

"Just words."

"Yes sir. Verbs. Nouns. Maybe a derogatory adjective or two to convey the seriousness of the conversation."

"Consider it done. Keep it civil. I look forward to calling in that favor very soon. Have a drink before you leave."

"To future favors."

"To future favors."

Within an hour of his meeting with Roberto, Vincent had indulged in a couple of shots and exchanged contact info with a young woman.

Outside the club, he only waited a minute before a car silently pulled up to the curb. He climbed inside, acknowledged the driver, and pulled out his phone.

He scrolled through the notifications and replied to a priority one. There was a certain excitement at the prospect of recruiting help. Unfortunately that excitement was tempered somewhat by the lack of details surrounding the person's candidacy.

Vincent noted the time as his driver eased into the quiet subdivision. Only four street lights illuminated the street, leaving wide swaths of darkness between each oval of amber glow.

The old man would most likely be awake. He rarely slept before three a.m. Knowing the current circumstances, those night owl tendencies would not serve the old man well.

Vincent tipped the driver before the car stopped in front of a decades old house in dire need of a fresh coat of paint two lots from the end of subdivision.

He exited the car and adjusted his jacket as he walked to the door. There was a faint light in the window. Vincent hoped the old man was watching something other than the news. Part of him dreaded seeing the old man; three days ago this visit would have taken place hours earlier with fried fish, a few laughs, some drinks and a conscious Dominick.

Vincent knocked five times, each knock a little louder but never loud enough to disturb the peace.

Twenty four seconds later, Vince heard the familiar click of the heavy deadbolt recessing back into the door.

Framed by what little light reached the doorway, the old man looked better than Vincent expected.

"Hey Unc." The old man tilted his head to the left then turned away without a word. Vincent obeyed the silent command and met the man in the sitting room.

Vincent sighed the moment he saw the television.

"You shouldn't be watching this." Vincent took a seat in the ancient chair perpendicular to the old man.

On the screen was one of major stories that had dominated the local news and had even reached a few national outlets.

One hundred and twenty convictions had been overturned in the last three days. It was the sort of occurrence that had far reaching consequences.

"Where is he?" The old man's voice was like gravel.

"Safe."

"Not him."

"I got eyes on Gegard. I told you. I got you. So let me handle this."

"How?"

"I'm working on it. Lot of moving parts right now. Can't go running off throwing punches or swinging bats." The old man shifted in his chair. Had that been something the old man had been considering after obsessing over the news?

He was old school tough; no finess in his actions. Hit first, hit hard, get out of there. A black bat would cater to his sensibilities all too perfectly. That was the true source of Vincent's dread.

"It ain't right," the old man finally said after an awkward few minutes of silence.

"I know. The system was broken and someone decided to stop trying to patch it and threw the whole thing out."

"Damned idiots only know how to break stuff. They do one thing right then mess that up too."

"I know." It was all he could think to say at the moment. Of the one hundred twenty people released over the last few days, both men in the tiny sitting room knew at least one that did not deserve to ever step foot outside of a correctional facility. Unfortunately that was out of their hands.

"Give me time." Vincent offered the old man a phone. "We'll get through this. Dom's safe. Gegard hasn't made any moves yet. Keep it together."

The old man closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Without opening his eyes, he reached out and took the phone.

"I'll check in with you in a few hours. Her number's in there too. She'd probably appreciate hearing your voice."

Vincent stood up and kissed the top of the man's head. The old man's eyes popped open as he shoved Vincent away with one hand. Vincent mouthed the words "I love you" before leaving the old man to thoughts he hoped did not stray towards black bats.