Messenger of Death (2)

"How dare you speak to me that way! You're just a dirty, stinking stray that was picked up by my father, who felt pity for you!" Silvio spat out.

Ignoring the sputtering and sounds of rage, Angel continued what he wanted to say while smoking the cigar, "And you're all just abject failures and doddering leeches that I tolerate in memory of your father, who deserved better offspring. Since you can't contribute and don't want to work hard, you should just shut up, enjoy the wealth I give you, and know your place. I've ignored your fluttering around, your secret meetings, your stupid thirst for power and prestige you haven't earned and can't manage, your irritating presence, but this-"

Angel paused to wave his hand at them.

"This is childish. It's pathetic. It's a waste of time. You're like children fighting on a playground because you want to be an adult. You only see the glitz and glamour and don't know what it takes to get to this point. The hard work that's put in and the sacrifices that were made."

"Childish? Waste of time? I'll have you know that all of the original heads side with us and have launched a simultaneous strike on all your supporters! They want things to go back to the old ways. The entirety of our supporters are here, and we plan on eliminating everything at the roots! You probably didn't expect that when you invited us over to reminisce about old times' sake, did you?" Junior screamed angrily.

The thing he hated the most was people looking down on him and seeing Angel call him a child in a similar tone to his deceased father; he wanted to leap over the desk and beat him up.

"Only that much?" Angel sneered as he tapped the cigar on the ashtray, "If that's all you prepared, I'll have it handled and still make it in time for my dinner plans. Nonna Maria invited us all to her new restaurant, and you know how good her cooking is. I'll let her know you traitors can't make it."

"Enough with the talking! Are you going to surrender and hand over everything or not? Cough cough cough." Luciano yelled before he broke down coughing.

"Not," Angel replied with an even wider smile as he watched Luciano coughing while the other three brothers subtly cleared their throats.

Good.

The substance was taking effect.

Seeing that they didn't believe him, he clarified, "Not surrendering, not handing anything over."

"You must think that help is coming. I'll have you know that it's not! You're alone, Angel! And today you will fall, and everything will return to its rightful place! With me!" Luciano yelled before continuing to cough hard, like his lungs were trying to exit his body.

"Is that right? Then. Un momento. A single question. Once I'm gone, who's actually going to be the boss? Because I'm hearing a lot of I, I, I. Is Luciano going to become the Don? Silvio? Antonio? You plan on letting this old man stand on your head for the rest of your lives. Tsk tsk. What a waste of a rebellion." Angel asked calmly as he took another puff of the cigar and breathed out another cloud of smoke.

At the surprising question, the four brothers began looking at each other suspiciously.

They had planned the coup but never settled on who would actually take over.

If they let Luciano take over, wouldn't it be another repeat of the current situation?

"Ignore him! He's sowing dissent! And it's cough cough cough none of your business! Cough!" with a hard cough, Luciano doubled over as he tried to catch his breath.

Cough cough cough.

As Luciano hunched over, coughing up a racket, Angel saw the realization hit the brothers at the same time.
"Is this poison?!!"

"Did he use poison?"

"Naturalmente"

"Angelllll!!!!!!!!"

BANG!
BANG!
BANG!

As Angel dove to the side to retrieve a shotgun from a hidden floorboard, Silvio, Antonio, and Junior all shot at him, the sound of bullets ringing out in the office.

The majority of the shots were missed due to the Angel's speed.

But Junior, who had always been a supernaturally exceptional shot, quickly emptied his clip with frighteningly good aim.

BANG!
BANG! BANG!

One of his bullets grazed Angel's left arm, while a second and third one were more fatal, one hitting Angel right in the left part of his chest, piercing his bulletproof vest, while the final bullet pierced through the same spot, getting stuck right above his heart.

Hisss.

Despite the burning pain that shot through his body, Angel clenched his teeth as he quickly flipped the rug up, retrieved the shotgun, and quickly shot and pumped it despite the pain and weakness in his body.

BANG!

One high-caliber bullet immediately put a hole through Luciano's head, stopping his coughing forever.

CHK CHK!

The gun was pumped once more, even as Angel felt his suit become damp from blood and his left arm almost falling limp.

Forcing strength into it, he watched as the 3 brothers began shouting and trying to exit the room.

Unfortunately, the door was locked with a hidden steel door blocking the outside.

Spinning around, they turned to glare at Angel, who was still smoking his cigar while pointing the shotgun at them.

"Angel! You coward! How dare you use poison against us! Cough cough!"

"How dare you kill Luciano! Cough cough."

"What happened to the code! To the promise you made to our father! Cough cough!"

"The code ended once you broke into my office without permission and plotted a revolt. The promise ended when you shot me. As for the poison-"

CHK CHK!
BANG!
Angel shot once more, nailing Antonio in the leg as he dove to the side while shooting his gun.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"I'm a "normal" person, right? I need to use every advantage. Don't feel too bad. The entire manor is on lockdown, and everyone inside it will die by poison. Everyone who dared to invade won't see the sunrise, so put your guns up, gentlemen!"

"You'll die too!"

"Then so be it. It was never my fate to live long anyway."

Papers flew into the air, and furniture shattered as Angel moved around to avoid the bullets being shot at him from different angles.

Hearing a pause and the sound of reloading, he poked his head out from behind the chair and shot at a leg sticking out.

"Argh!!!"

Pained screams echoed in the previously neat study, punctuated by the sound of gunshots.

And after several minutes, the gunshots stopped, and four bodies were sprawled on the ground, leaking blood.

The air was filled with the smell of tobacco, burnt sulfur, smoke, iron, and something sweet, and the only sound was of Angel trying to breathe.

Huff.
Huff.

He was heavily injured and knew that between the injuries and the poison, which was only temporarily mitigated by the cigar, he wouldn't survive for much longer.

Even if medical help arrived in the form of an ambulance or healers, he was done.

But that was fine.

With slow steps, he approached his desk.

Every breath felt laborious, and he was in agony, but Angel couldn't stop moving.

Since he was dying, he must die with dignity, as was befitting of a Don of the most powerful Mafia family.

Using his last bit of energy, he dragged his injury-ridden body into the leather seat behind the massive wooden desk.

It was a chair that only the Don could sit in.

And it would be his final resting place.

Despite the pain that caused his vision to go black before coming back spotty, Angel lit up another cigar.

Normally, that annoying kid, Marcus, would be telling him not to smoke it so that his lungs could be preserved.

Well, it was too late for that now, right?

As he puffed the cigar, Angel thought about his second in command.

He was a young man who was not only gifted but talented in everything he tried and smart beyond measure.

His only weakness was his extreme loyalty to Angel, who had taken him in and given him the opportunity to grow and shine the way he was always meant to.

He was a natural-born leader with an eye for detail, incomparable to anyone else.

Well, now that Angel was dead, that weakness would be shored up, which was good.

With Marcus in charge and the problematic brothers and their troops gone, and traitors out of their hiding hole, the Geneovese family would be in good hands.

His job was done, and although he had broken his promise to Don Geneovese and harmed his children, Angel didn't regret what he had done.

Not even a little bit.

At worst, he would just ask for forgiveness in hell.

If there was one.

He wasn't religious, so he would get to see which one was right once he left.

Feeling somewhat nostalgic as he felt his life fading away, Angel brought out an old, well-worn pocketwatch, a gift from Marcus, who knew he liked vintage things and had personally restored this one for him.

It had taken Marcus hundreds of hours, but he insisted he wanted to do it himself, and Angel treasured the gift that was full of his sincerity.

Due to his injuries, the gold was stained with blood, the Latin words re-engraved personally by Marcus himself were barely visible, and the clock had stopped.

But with the familiar watch in his hands, Angel felt relaxed as he habitually stroked his fingers over the text.

Memento mori, renasci iterumque mori.

Remember you must die, to be reborn, and to die again.

"Sorry for getting it dirty, Bocia (kid). It was an accident. Looks like my time is stopping here."

With a pained chuckle, Angel placed the stopwatch on the desk before taking another slow puff of the cigar and then snuffing it out in the ashtray.

He could feel his life slipping away, and while he was a bit sad, more than anything, he was satisfied.

He wasn't dying due to disease or old age.

He had gone out fighting while protecting what he cared about.

And made sure his enemies went first.

And left behind as much safety as he could.

With a small smile, Angel typed his final message to Marcus and dropped the cellphone to the ground.

It immediately began ringing with the ringtone assigned to Marcus's number.

Hearing the cheerful tune, Angel laughed.

"At least I removed the scumbags that will get in your way. Good luck from now on. Don Marcus, the new head of the Geneovese family. Don Gigante Genovese, thank you for saving my life. I'm sorry I couldn't keep the entirety of my word to you, but I tried my best. I'll see you soon."

With one final herculean effort, Angel grabbed his fedora, a gift from Don Gigante Genovese, and placed it on his head.

Then, with a last smile at the carnage he was leaving behind, he took his last breath.

Thus was the end of Angel Dellamorte.

A name meaning the messenger of death.

At the age of 34, he left the world the same way he came into it.

Bringing about a death.

***********

But instead of being granted a permanent death, Angel felt as if he had just fallen asleep, and when he woke up, he was lying on a marble floor in an exquisitely decorated throne room as a barrage of memories flooded his mind.