Mindy sighed deeply and stood up from the couch, walking over to the window. The golden hue of the afternoon sun reflected off the glass, casting soft rays across her face. She wondered where Loe was right now, what he was thinking, and if he ever missed her the way she missed him.
Vivian's voice broke through her reverie, drawing her back to the present. "Mindy, could you come over here for a second? I think we've found something."
Mindy turned away from the window and crossed the room to join them at the table. Gustav slid the journal toward her, tapping a particular passage that had been highlighted. "This," he said, "this is the key to finding out where Capone plans to strike next."
Mindy leaned in closer, her eyes scanning the faded ink on the page. The writing was cryptic, but the more she read, the more it became clear. The journal was not just a record of Capone's operations—it was a blueprint, a map of every move he had planned for months. Each page held fragments of information, coded messages that only someone familiar with his methods could decipher.
Mindy, shaking her head in disbelief. "How did you know this?"
Vivian smirked confidently. "I told you, I'm his stepdaughter. Of course, I knew what he knew. I'm a sneaky bitch after all." She threw in a wink for emphasis.
Gustav glanced at her, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes. "Babe…"
Vivian chuckled mischievously. "Hehehe."
Mindy couldn't help but laugh at the banter, but she quickly refocused. "Alright, Let's call Loe and Mark to fill them in on how Alphonse is going to handle the transaction."
Vivian raised a hand, stopping her. "Wait. Before we do that, let's talk about going back into the Chicago Outfit."
Gustav's expression hardened. "What? Vivian, you know we barely made it out of there last time! Alphonse and his men nearly caught us."
Vivian met his gaze, her face serious now. "I know. But..." She held up the worn journal in her hands, flipping through the pages until she found what she was looking for. "In this journal, Alphonse has been hiding something. A monster… something that could destroy Chicago if it gets loose."
Gustav blinked, not sure if he heard her right. "A monster? What are you talking about?"
Mindy leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "Wait… what do you mean? What's in that journal?"
Vivian sighed, her playful demeanor fading as she grew more solemn. "It's not just a business deal. Alphonse is covering up something much bigger. This thing, whatever it is, could wreak havoc on the entire city. And if we don't stop it, Chicago might not survive the aftermath."
Gustav frowned, his protective instincts kicking in. "Babe, this sounds dangerous. Are you sure about this?"
Vivian nodded firmly. "I'm positive. We have to stop him before it's too late."
Mindy glanced between them, her mind racing. "Then we need to move fast. If Alphonse is involved in something this big, we don't have much time."
Mindy's expression grew serious as she processed what Vivian had said. "If what you're saying is true, we have to act fast. We need to call Loe and Mark. They need to know about this."
Vivian nodded, clutching the journal tightly. "Agreed. But we can't just tell them about the transaction anymore. This changes everything."
Gustav, still uneasy, glanced at Mindy. "Are we really going to do this? We barely made it out last time."
Vivian met his gaze, determined. "We don't have a choice, Gustav. If Alphonse is hiding something that can destroy the city, we have to stop it, no matter the risk."
Mindy looked at both of them, her voice resolute. "We'll call Loe and Mark. But we're not just stopping a transaction anymore. We're stopping something much bigger. We need to be ready."
Gustav sighed, realizing there was no turning back. "Alright, let's call them and set this plan in motion."
..........
Bill's muscles tensed as he calculated the distance between himself and the thug. He had been trained for situations like this, but as he prepared to intervene, an unexpected wave of painful memories surged through him, pulling him back into the past.
"Stay focused." he murmured to himself, but it was too late. He was transported back to the American frontier, where he once stood as a formidable line of defense, a captain tasked with maintaining peace between settlers and Apache tribes. The haunting images of that brutal attack on their fort flashed before his eyes—the shouts of men, the crack of gunfire, and the blood-soaked earth.
"Bill! We need you!" a voice echoed in his mind, the desperate plea of a fellow soldier who had fallen beside him, lost in the chaos. He felt the heat of the flames and the acrid smell of smoke as the fort was consumed by chaos. His heart raced, pounding in his chest like a drum.
"Move!" he shouted, his voice suddenly firm as he pulled himself back to the present, redirecting the adrenaline coursing through his veins toward the immediate threat before him. The thug still loomed nearby, unaware of Bill's internal battle.
The woman glanced at him, her eyes wide with confusion, yet filled with a flicker of hope. "Please, help me!" she gasped, the urgency in her voice snapping Bill back to reality.
With a deep breath, he focused on the thug, who wore a defiant smirk, clearly unimpressed by Bill's momentary distraction. "Who do you think you are, tough guy?" the thug sneered, stepping forward menacingly.
"I'm the one standing between you and her," Bill replied, the weight of his past retreating as the present took hold. "I suggest you back off."
The thug hesitated, but Bill knew he had to act fast. Just as the memories threatened to overwhelm him again, he dodged a wild swing from the thug, his training kicking in as if on autopilot. Bill moved instinctively, side-stepping and delivering a sharp jab to the thug's side. The thug grunted, momentarily stunned, and Bill seized the opportunity.
"Enough!" Bill shouted, his voice booming, cutting through the haze of his memories. "This is your last chance to walk away."
As the thug paused, uncertainty flickered across his face, Bill's heart pounded not just from the fight but from the realization that he was no longer that captain overwhelmed by chaos; he was here to protect someone, to reclaim a sense of purpose.
The thug finally turned and bolted down the street, disappearing into the distance. Bill turned back to the woman, who was breathing heavily, her eyes glistening with tears of relief.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softening as concern washed over him.
She nodded, and he could see her trembling. "Thank you... I thought I was done for."
As they stood there, Bill took a deep breath, grounding himself in the present. "You're safe now. Let's get you somewhere secure."
As they walked away from the scene, the adrenaline began to ebb, but the shadows of his memories lingered at the edges of his mind. Yet, in that moment, he realized he was not just running away from his past; he was actively fighting against it. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he was not just a soldier haunted by his memories but a man stepping into the light, reclaiming his life one act of courage at a time.
Just as Bill turned to lead the young woman away, a loud shout pierced the air. "You motherfucker! How dare you hurt our brothers!" The words dripped with malice, and Bill spun around to see a second thug emerging from an alley, brandishing a gun and flanked by a couple more men, each wearing menacing grins that showcased their sinister intentions.
"You're gonna regret this, hero." the lead thug taunted, a sadistic glint in his eyes as he glanced at the other thugs, who laughed in twisted anticipation. They reveled in the chaos, enjoying the power they held in the moment.
Bill's heart raced, but he steeled himself. He had faced death before; he wasn't about to back down now. "Run!" he shouted to the young woman, urgency filling his voice. "Call for help! Now!"
Without a moment's hesitation, she sprinted away, her cries for help echoing through the street. Bill turned back to face the thugs, adrenaline sharpening his focus.
"What do you want?" Bill demanded, his voice steady despite the danger. "You think terrorizing this city makes you feel pleasure? You're just a bunch of cowards hiding behind guns."
The lead thug stepped forward, a sneer curling his lips. "And You... You think you can play the hero? We're not here to play nice. We're here for blood, and you just made the biggest mistake of your life."
Bill's grip tightened, muscles coiling as he prepared for the inevitable confrontation. "If it's a fight you want, then let's settle it. But know this: I'm not afraid of you or your friends."
The thug scoffed, glancing back at his companions who were itching for violence. "You really don't know who you're dealing with, do you? We're not just any thugs; we're Alphonse Capone's men. We enjoy hunting down vigilantes like you."
Bill felt a chill at the mention of Capone, but he refused to show weakness. "Then you know what happens to dogs that bark too loudly. You'll end up with a bullet in your back."
The thug let out a bark of laughter, the sound devoid of any real amusement. "You're funny. But this isn't a game."
Suddenly, another thug pulled a knife, glinting menacingly in the sunlight, stepping closer. "You'll learn the hard way that you're outnumbered and outmatched."
Bill seized the moment, determination coursing through him. "You're not going to hurt anyone today." He took a step forward, his voice booming. "I'll fight every one of you to protect this city."
But as those words left his lips, the shadows of his past crashed back into his mind. Memories flooded him—visions of his comrades falling in battle, the blood that stained his hands, the screams echoing in his ears. The torment was overwhelming, each recollection sharp and vivid, and for a moment, he felt the ground beneath him sway. The fear that had once gripped him returned, a tightening vise around his chest.
"No! Focus!" he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he fought to push the memories aside. He couldn't let them take control now—not when someone needed him.
Suddenly, a voice broke through the chaos. "What's going on here, bub?"
Bill turned, recognition hitting him like a jolt. Standing there, a scruffy figure with wild hair and piercing eyes, was Logan—the man he had met before, who carried an aura of danger mixed with an unusual kindness.
Logan had a past of his own, one filled with shadows and pain, and he seemed to understand the darkness lurking inside Bill.
"Logan!!" Bill shouted, relief flooding through him.
Logan approached, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern as he surveyed the situation. "Bub, it seems like many people are hunting you, huh? Famous here?" he quipped, a hint of humor in his voice, but his eyes remained serious.
"No, I was trying to help someone and I... I..." Bill stammered, the weight of the confrontation pressing down on him, the urge to explain battling with the instinct to defend himself.
Logan's gaze softened as he sensed the turmoil within Bill. "Looks like a piece of trash I need to take out." he said, his hand morphing into a deadly claw, gleaming under the afternoon sunlight, ready to strike.
The lead thug, momentarily distracted by Logan's appearance, shifted uneasily. "What the hell are you?" he sneered, trying to mask his uncertainty with bravado.
"Someone you don't want to mess with..." Logan replied, his voice low and dangerous. He stepped forward, his demeanor shifting into one of predatory confidence.
With his newfound ally at his side, Bill felt a flicker of hope amid the chaos. "Logan, these guys are—"
"I know who they are," Logan interrupted, scanning the thugs. "Alphonse's men, right? They sure like to play party, but I'm not here to entertain them anymore.. Contract is over."
The thug with the gun glared at Bill and Logan, now visibly shaken. "Fuck you.. You think you can beat us!!!" he scoffed, but there was an edge of uncertainty in his voice.
"Oh, I don't think," Logan grinned, the corners of his mouth lifting in a menacing smile. "But I know. You're just a bunch of overgrown boys playing dress-up."
To be continue