*As I prepare to write chapter 3 of Desmond's story before the Saints, I am enjoying a Cinnabon, and musing on some old memories. Most specifically, I remember Thumper, an old family pet, who ran off years ago. Thumper was a bunny, and no, he wasn't passive or timid. He was a bad mother %**$?#... literally. I guess that's less gross for bunnies, but still. Besides being a incestuous nut case, he was also the most audacious bastard I've ever known. You see, we had numerous bunnies at the time, but Thumper was just mean. He would force himself on the other bunnies, male or female, related or not. We moved him into the general area of the hut they lived in. Thumper was the only one of our pets who had a living area all to himself, and it was the biggest one, too.
*The next day, we found Thumper pacing around his little home area. He had chewed through the chicken wire to get into the other bunnies' pens and beat them up, and had gone after the chickens, too. Yes, we had chickens. That's when my dad started calling Thumper 'Pacer.' Of course, he pronounced it 'pay-sah,' because we are from the northeast of England, such is our accent (We're Geordie, for those of you who are curious). Anyway, Thumper ran away one day, which brings me to the point I wanted to make. I dedicate chapter 3 of this story to Thumper. Evil little bastard he may have been, but he was MY evil little bastard! D=
Spring was starting, and the way it rain you might think that God and the Angels had gotten together and decided to piss all over New York City. It might have been depressing to most people, but the Clovers weren't most people. Skye's plan had worked so well, that they started robbing other Mafia controlled banks, and then burning down their drug houses where the deals went down. The Clovers were taking over strip clubs and bars; anywhere the Giordanos were involved, the Clovers were butting in, and making a mess of things.
When the death threats started coming in, Desmond smiled. Mick thought he was insane, and Shane just shook his head. âTrust me, its gonna get even better.â Desmond had told them. It did. Death threats became offers of a truce. Aldo Giordano, the 'Don' of the crime family, wanted to meet with the people running the Clovers and negotiate. That made Desmond laugh. But they went anyway. Hell, may as well hear him out. And if not, they could always shoot their way out!
Stewart was the driver again. He was the only one who didn't constantly break the speed limit, just on the freeway. Desmond sat behind the driver's seat with Skye in the middle and Mick on the right. Shane sat up front, so the two huge masses of humanity could talk about what it was like to be terrifying. Or at least that was how Mick had described. âSo what are you gonna ask him for, guys?â Stewart asked, smiling a little.
âEverything.â Desmond said, staring out the window as the rain fell hard. It was almost a storm, but there was no lightning, and it was still kind of easy to see. You just couldn't step outside with getting drenched.
Stewart and Shane both laughed from the front. Not because they thought Desmond was joking, but because they KNEW that he wasn't. âWhat if he says no?â Shane asked, grinning a little bit.
âThen there will be nothing left for us to talk about.â Desmond said, like it was obvious. Of course, in his mind it WAS obvious.
Stewart pulled up outside of the bar where Aldo had arranged the meeting to take place. Desmond, Shane and Mick all got out. As Skye was about to get out Desmond put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. âHey, uh... why don't you stay here with Stewart were there aren't any ass holes around?â He suggested.
âBecause I grew up with him protecting me when I didn't need it. I finally get to make my own decisions and now you're going to start acting like you own me ?â Skye said, starting to sound angry. In the front seat, Stewart rolled his eyes and sighed.
âNo, no... Skye its not like that I just... look, I don't trust these guys for a second. If things go wrong in there and thereâs bullets flying around anyone could get hit. You and I both know you wouldn't be able to kill any of them, even if they were going to kill you if you didn't...â Desmond said. He took a hold of Skye's hand and looked into her green eyes. âPlease, stay out here...â He said.
Skye was looking up at him. Desmond was right. They could give Skye the biggest, baddest gun you could get, but she wouldn't use it. It wasn't in her to kill. She could handle knowing her friends did it, but she wouldn't be able to do it herself. âFine...â Skye said. She sat back in the car. âJust... don't get shot, alright?â She said, looking up at Desmond.
âI'll try.â He said, closing the door. Desmond jogged up to Shane and Mick, who were waiting by the door with stupid grins on their faces.
âSo, someone finally gets you to settle down, sis?â Stewart asked, looking over his shoulder at Skye.
Skye stuck her tongue out at him. âShut up.â She said, sounding a little indignant.
Desmond, Shane and Mick walked into the bar, and were escorted to a back room. âI don't like this. This is how all those ?*%! stories you hear about go. Handsome guy like me will get torn apart by a bunch of Godfather wannabes like these bastards.â Mick said, laughing at his own joke.
Shane chuckled along a little. âWell, at least maybe you'd stop !%$@?**# about wanting a girlfriend, 'cause you'd get to be someoneâs girlfriend!â The tall man said, laughing at Shane expense.
The doors into the back room were opened. Inside were four men. They all looked similar, but one was clearly older. That was Aldo Giordano, and the three younger guys had to be his sons. âGentlemen! Welcome to my favourite haunt. Can I offer you a drink, cigar?â Don Giordano asked happily. He sat behind a desk, his three sons all standing against the wall to the left, trying to look bad ass and wearing their sunglasses even though they were indoors.
âNo thanks.â Desmond and Mick said in unison. Shane though was happy to take a cigar. It was probably a Cuban. Giordano was known for breaking the law just for the sake of doing it.
âI'll be straight with you boys.â Don Giordano began. âThe Clovers have impressed me, and you've been worthy opponents in this little game. But its time to call an end to this war, before it ceases to be profitable for us both. My offer is this, and none negotiable. âYou can keep the money you stole from our banks, but you will all leave this city, drop your flags, and never be heard from again. Do you have any questions?â Giordano asked.
Desmond laughed a little and walked up to the desk, Don Giordano had a glass of port in front of him, as well as a hand gun. It looked like a Glock. Desmond looked down at Giordano, the smile that accompanied his laughter turning into a frown. Desmond spat into the glass of port. âI was expecting your offer to be 'I run my ass back to Italy, and New York is yours.â Desmond said, his voice angry.
Giordano reached for the Glock, but Desmond slammed his left hand down on the gun, pinning it to the desk. âNo, no, no... You asked if we had any questions. I do, as it were.â Desmond said. Quick as a whip, his right hand came across, and he slapped Don Giordano hard, knocking the old man out of his seat. The three younger Giordanos tried to jump in, but Mick and Shane were ready for that. Mick broke one poor bastard's jaw and nose and teeth by head butting him in the face about a dozen times, while drove his elbow into one guys ribs, and then rammed the third son's head against the ground a couple times for good measure.
Desmond grabbed the Glock off of the desk, and walked around it. He crouched down next to Don Giordano. âListen up, Aldo,â Desmond started, staring at the old man. âYou don't get any chances. I'll tell you this one time, and one time only. New York is ours, now. I don't care where you go or if you stay, but you're done. You're done, and you'd better just stay the !%?$ out of our way. If you cross me, or anybody I care about...â Desmond continued. He forced the barrel of the Glock into Aldo's mouth. âThen I'm going to $%@**!# kill you. No questions, no chances. If you #*@? with me, in any way, shape or form, you're gonna !#$*%@* die. Got it?â Desmond finished.
Aldo nodded, his eyes wide. âGood.â Desmond said. He took the clip out of the Glock and threw it across the room. âRemember this moment, Aldo. I could have kill you without any trouble at all. And I could do it again. Don't forget, ever.â He threatened.
Desmond stood up, and he, Shane and Mick left. On the way out of the bar they got some dirty looks, but no one tried anything. They got outside and into the car, Shane taking the front once more.
âHow did it go?â Skye asked. She smiled at Desmond, Mick and Shane before looking at Desmond expectantly awaiting an answer.
âWorse than I'd hoped, but about as well as I'd expected.â Desmond said.
âThat bad, huh?â Stewart asked. He pulled away from the bar and started driving to the Clovers' hideout. âWell, I'm sure Shane was happy. He certainly won't stop smiling up here.â The former boxer added.
âHell yeah I'm happy! Desmond slapped Aldo so hard I swear he's going to be tasting his food with his ass for a week!â Shane said proudly. The way he talked, you might think Desmond had won the lottery and was buying them each a private jet or something. Mick and Stewart were both laughing at this point.
Skye's eyes widened, and she looked at Desmond with a little concern. âYou slapped a Mafia Don?â She asked. Skye's voice was a lot less approving than Shane's had been.
âAnd spit in his drink, and shoved a gun in his mouth.â Desmond said as if it wasn't a big deal. He looked at Skye and saw her frowning. âWhat, I didn't get shot! Just like I promised. Hell, no one got shot!â Desmond said, as if it was some kind of achievement.
Skye just rolled her eyes and kissed Desmond on the cheek. âWell, at least you kept your word.â She said, approval now present in her tone.