In the dark and unforgiving world of organized crime, where power was exchanged in blood and loyalty was a fragile notion, there was a man named Jackson Valentine. A skilled contract killer, silent and deadly, he was known only by the whispers that trailed his every mission. Jackson, a man of few words and a mute, hid a world of secrets and a legacy of violence behind his silence. He sighed with relief as he sat in the taxi, watching the buildings pass by.
The taxi pulls up to the curb in front of two houses, with Jackson’s home on the right. As soon as it stops, Jackson exits the vehicle, scanning the front yards for his daughter, Emily—the love of his life. Before heading off to find her, he retrieves two hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and hands them to the driver. He gestures to the trunk, which then pops open.
This day couldn’t come soon enough.
This is the part Jackson cherishes the most: coming home to his daughter. It was the only thing he looked forward to after four long days of work. He despised having to leave his daughter with the neighbor Mrs. Tessa. A widow who had weathered her own storms, she had become an anchor for Jackson and his daughter. Mrs. Tessa possessed a genuine warmth that endeared her to Emily, and in Jackson's heart, a flicker of gratitude emerged.
He trusted the old woman, but it didn’t feel right for him leave his daughter with her most of the week. If he had a better job, he wouldn’t have to leave Emily for days at a time. He shouldn’t have to leave his daughter at all.
He grabs his bookbag, slings it over his shoulder, and closes the trunk, watching the taxi drive away. He exhales a puff of air, glancing up at the cloudy sky. Despite the dreary weather, he feels happy and calm.
Coming home to his little birdie always lifted his spirits. He smiled as he spotted her playing with her dolls in the sandbox in the backyard. A million thoughts filled his head as he watched his daughter. Usually, they were the same thoughts he had after finishing another job. He despised his work with a passion. More often than he liked, it kept him away from his daughter.
What a joy his job can be.
His best friend wonders why he wants out so badly, but how else could he provide for Emily? The only person who gave him a chance to do better was the head honcho himself: Dimitri Giovanni. Straight to the point, no nonsense, and meticulous in his planning, Dimitri was the ideal boss—except for being a cold-blooded killer and the head of a powerful crime family. But at least he wasn’t evil.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your perspective, Dimitri took pity on him and got him off the streets. He ran the largest crime syndicate in the city. When Jackson was 13, Giovanni found him hanging around with a group of other boys. Giovanni called him over and gave him a simple task to test his survival skills and see if he had what it took to become his most trusted ally.
Jackson passed with flying colors. From that moment on, Giovanni trained him, tutored him, and gave him a place to stay. He kept him out of trouble and away from the police. Giovanni never raised a hand to him, never mistreated him, always made sure he was fed, and ensured no one messed with him. He became a father figure to Jackson, promising that he would never be alone, always be taken care of, and have Giovanni by his side for as long as he lived—all in exchange for Jackson’s undying loyalty.
Jackson owed Giovanni a lot. It was an easy decision. His biological father was useless, and his mother was nonexistent. Giovanni was all he had growing up. Little did Jackson know that everything comes with a price. The real question he should have been asking himself was:
What price was he willing to pay?
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A Fucking Disaster
His finely tailored suit strained against his taut muscles. The sound of heavy footsteps filled the room, as he paced back and forth, his mind consumed by frustration. He plopped down into a leather chair, gripping the arms tightly. In the dimly lit room at the heart of the city, Jacob, a ruthless and ambitious mob enforcer, sat in his leather armchair, staring out the window. The coolness of the chair soothed his heated skin. The sounds of the city filled his ears as he seethed with fury. On quiet nights, these sounds would soothe him, leaving him with a sense of serenity and satisfaction. However, tonight was neither quiet nor soothing. It was a complete disaster. Lenardo, one of his most trusted subordinates, had once again botched another job.
"How could he be so fucking incompetent?" Jacob muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with venomous disdain. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated the consequences of Lenny's failure. It was not merely a matter of a bungled job; this setback threatened to unravel the carefully constructed plan he had meticulously woven to ascend to power.
He hisses to himself, angrily banging his fist on the desk. The stinging momentarily distracted him, but not for long. How could that motherfucker let this happen? Why did he not make sure there were no witnesses? Why the fuck didn’t he adequately cover his fucking tracks?
Now, due to Lenny’s incompetence, he must step in and clean up the mess. He needs to call on Jackson to eliminate any loose ends. However, there’s a problem: Jackson works for the organization and only takes orders from the big man himself, Dimitri. He doesn’t have the time to run this by the boss and discuss the pros and cons of the kill. Besides, it wouldn’t look good if Dimitri knew the true nature of this job—to take over his organization and ultimately kill him. This had to be done quietly and discreetly…at least until the time was right.
HE NEEDS THIS DONE NOW.
He had big plans. If this shit didn’t get cleaned up, everything he worked for would go down the drain, and he’d be a dead man. He took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke from his mouth and nostrils. Even that didn’t make him feel better. He could call a hooker in here to give him a blow-job and it still wouldn’t calm him down. He bounced his leg up and down, the heel of his foot thumping lightly against the hardwood floor. He couldn’t relax. This job should have been perfect, clean, and quick, but it wasn’t. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. It rang a couple of times before a voice finally spoke.
“Hello?” A gruff voice replies.
"Aleksander," Jacob hisses, his voice a seething blend of frustration and apprehension, "We have a goddamned problem." The voice on the line sighed with frustration, already knowing what he was going to say.
“Da fuck did Lenny do this time? I swear to God man, I don’t know why you keep hiring that stupid fuck for jobs! He obviously doesn’t have the mental capacity for important tasks.” He scoffs on the line.
“It was convenient and cheaper, but now I’m fucking regretting worrying more about money than the job getting done right. Lenny fucking screwed up! We have a loose end that needs to be taken care of.”
There was a pause on the line, a silence pregnant with implications. Jacob's desperation to rectify the situation meant he had to pull a card he had hoped to keep hidden until the opportune moment—a card named Jackson.
"Then we need to call Jackson," Alexander finally responded, his voice laced with calculation. "Bring him in to clean up the mess, and ensure no loose ends remain. But remember, Jacob, every action has consequences." He warned, knowing that calling Jackson would mean alerting Dimitri of what was going on. The big man of the entire organization was the only one Jackson took orders from.
Jacob's heart sank as he absorbed his words. The realization dawned on him that he would have to involve Jackson, the enigmatic and lethal mute assassin, to salvage his plans. But Jackson's involvement would also bring the boss's attention—a risk Jacob was not yet ready to face.
On the other hand, Alexander was someone Jackson also trusted. So maybe this was not a total loss. “Perhaps you can call him? He trusts you just as much as he trusts Dimitri.” He mused.
“Hmmm. You make a good point. I’ll give him a call and keep you updated on the situation.”
“Fine.” He sighs. As Jacob disconnects the call, a knot formed in his gut. He was acutely aware that his chosen path would lead to an inevitable confrontation with Dimitri. For now, he had to tread carefully, ensuring that the strings he pulled remained hidden, obscuring his true intentions from both friend and foe alike.
In the heart of the city's underbelly, a dangerous dance had begun—a symphony of power, betrayal, and blood. And as Jacob prepared to summon Jackson, he could only hope that his actions would shape the future in his favor, not only against Dimitri but also against the very shadows that threatened to consume them all.