BADDWOLF

Chapter 4: The Answering Of A Summons

Chapter 4: The Answering Of A Summons

Joe's Diner, 5th And Miller Street, Attison District, Temple City (3040).....

      It was more of the usual when Baddwulf finally arrived at Joe's Diner, which he often frequented for a cup of hot coffee and a few donuts before heading out to see what he could scrounge up in terms of keeping his ear to the ground and his finger on the pulse of one district in Temple City that he'd been most fond of even as a youngster growing up on the outskirts of Beverland District due to the connections and vast wealth of his adopted father. Like any other day, he arrived in dark slacks, brown dress shoes, a tan long-sleeve shirt with black suspenders, a black tie, a black fedora pushed forward to cover his eyes, and a long grey trench coat. He smelled of cigarette smoke and didn't care who might have had a problem with it as he headed toward his usual seat in the front of the counter where he ordered a black cup of joe, and an aged glaze donut. He had plans for a chili dog for lunch but didn't see any food trucks on the spot.

"I don't see how you can eat as you do and not gain a pound." said the old man behind the counter.

"Perks of having a fast metabolism," replied Baddwulf as he drank a sip from his coffee and bit into the donut.

The diner's owner, Joe Catero had been a middle-aged man with already greying short cropped hair and low dark brown eyes. He wore a checkered red and black shirt behind an apron and black dress slacks with shiny dark brown shoes. He had a silver wristwatch on his arm and a semi-tarnished wedding band on his ring finger.

He lived alone mostly ever since his wife took the big dirt nap, his sons were all over the place and hadn't looked back since they both found greener pastures by ditching Temple City altogether.

Baddwulf continued to drink his coffee and finished off his donut when a man dressed rather impeccably in a black suit with white pinstripes and a black fedora pulled low over his eyes entered the establishment. From the way he strode confidently looking like he'd been a Million Black Pennies worth from the attire alone, Baddwulf had come to the conclusion that he was most definitely from Highland District and sent by the old man.

"You the one they call Ian Baddwulf?" asked the man with a gruff expression on his face despite his pricy attire.

"Who wants to know?" asked Baddwulf finishing off his coffee while fishing into his front pocket for a cigarette and his book of matches.

"The Boss wants to see you." said the sharp-dressed man in the pinstripe black suit. "He said it's urgent and to get your ass to Highland, now...Francesco."

Baddwulf smirked as he took a drag from his newly lit cigarette.

"That sounds like Pop alright," he said with a smirk before slowly getting up off the stool and making his way toward the door accompanied by the man in the pinstripe suit.

They exited the diner after Baddwulf tossed a couple of black pennies onto the counter and stepped outside into the open air, his cigarette still lit and smoke billowing from it and into the air around them.

"Lead the way," said Baddwulf casually as he followed the man in the pinstripe suit toward his car.

A large hunk of metal that was more or less a shiny and expensive screaming death trap if ever Baddwulf had seen one. Modeled off the cars everyone took note of from the digital files viewed more often than not from the old era.

It was a big body with silver trimming and classic bright red paint with wide red leather seats inside. Baddwulf took one last drag of his now short cigarette and tossed it before climbing into the passenger seat of the car while the man who had approached him and two other men in black pinstripe suits climbed into the back. The heavy metal door shut loudly and the first goon started the car allowing the engine to roar and echo through the streets as they pulled off in a haze of smoke from the exhaust.

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Outside Leonetti's Restaurant, Highland District, Temple City (3040).....

The roar of the engine died down as the car's brakes kicked in and they pulled rather easily up to the enormous Italian Cuisine Restaurant complete with elegant dining tables and chairs out front for potential romantically involved clients and whomever else wished to enjoy the view that the smog hadn't choked out or washed away due to the orange skyline. The air was much better in Highland than in Attison, but the rancid stench the place often carried was still wafting from down below.

Baddwulf did his best to appear presentable despite his sloppy ensemble as his father was something of a neat freak who had no time for sloppy people even his kid if he didn't bother looking decent to speak with him. Don Leonetti was considered to be "old school" a term he seemed to like to describe himself that he'd gotten from the digital files he managed to view via the server network. He only had one computer, a retro device if ever there was one, and had a direct hatred of all things that even remotely resembles Artificial Intelligence.

His son shared his sentiment when it came to electronics, preferring to go old school as his childhood had given him enough nightmares about the capabilities of metal monsters being allowed to run amuck and having no boundaries.

Baddwulf ventured into the restaurant righting his sloppy clothes along the way as he slicked back his hair and took off his hat. He stepped into the back of the place where he knew all too well where his father's office had been.

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The Backroom, Leonetti's Restaurant, Highland District, Temple City (3040).....

Vincenzo Leonetti had made quite a good life for himself, he rose through the ranks of his original crime family and made it to the top. Of course, it wasn't like he didn't have to break a few necks along the way given the fact that competition had been stiff back then. His life changed drastically when he found his firstborn son in the darkened alley behind his first restaurant. The business began to boom and he was kicking up a vig every weekend. Competition in his line of work was all the rage with every young punk in Temple City looking to prove themselves and make a name.

Vincenzo was all too ready for them.

The hits kept coming when his boss was murdered via an assassination hit and a few of his crew turned traitors to work for other factions and families. Loyalty had been a big thing as far as Vincenzo had been concerned and he eventually saw his way to deal with the family traitors before making short work of his enemies. He'd been caught off guard when one of the traitors turned out to have been his best friend, Patrick Erwin St. John.

Patrick had been promised a defining role in another family if he turned and delivered Vincenzo into the hands of assassins as he was much too clever and had too many resources to be ignored by anyone else in search of complete control over Temple City. Of course, his enemies had not counted on the fact that Vincenzo's son Francesco had been genetically altered with a condition that turned the tide of the war when they were fool enough to attempt an ambush on his father.

The treacherous snake that was Patrick had managed to lure the unsuspecting Vincenzo into a warehouse with the promise of a shipment of old-school products that he had a special deal on when it came to circulating them. This wasn't out of the ordinary as Patrick was always the man for new merchandise when it came to shipping and distributing goods for maximum profit.

As it so happened, Eight-year-old Francesco had found him to have been quite suspicious and followed them on foot to the warehouse where he saw them ambush Vincenzo who had put up a decent fight. As the bullets flew a panicked Francesco shifted killing every man that wasn't his father with strength unheard of for a small eight-year-old boy, he carried his father back to the local healer and got him patched up before he bled out.

Vincenzo had never forgotten it and it was one of the reasons Francesco ended up working for the family as a full-time enforcer. For a long time, the boy was the only person the older man could trust as they'd been all each other had. Patrick's body was mutilated beyond recognition and it was difficult for the family to cope with the loss. Patrick's boy of course blamed Vincenzo and hated The Leonettis despite Vincenzo being his godfather since birth. Unlike his old man and Francesco however, he decided to study to become a politician and move up in the ranks toward Beverland like all the other sellouts.

Like father, like son.

"You wanna see me Pop?" asked Baddwulf as he entered the room looking a bit tidier than when he first arrived.

Vincenzo Leonetti, who had been quite aged but still very much a clever man and fighter smiled at his eldest son.

"Francesco...my boy...my Frankie," he said pleased to see his son alive and well as he got up from behind the desk and pulled his much taller son low enough to kiss both of his cheeks and grab him via the ears. "How your Poppa has missed you."

Baddwulf sighed not at all alright with his father's expressive Italian mannerisms. He wasn't a small boy anymore and it did a bit to sting his pride whenever the old man had done that.

"Nice of you to answer my summons, Blue eyes." said the older man with a smile. "I was afraid you'd be faced down in a ditch by now."

"Only on Sundays," replied Baddwulf. "What's this about Pop?"

"10,000 black pennies," replied Vincenzo as he went back toward his desk.

Baddwulf looked confused for a moment before tilting his head and coming to the conclusion that it had been his father that sent Amanda to his apartment and propositioned him for the big gig that would bring down St. John.

"I'm afraid I'll need an answer from you about whether or not you'd take the gig," said Vincenzo sitting back in his large black desk chair.

"For you Pop, anything," replied Baddwulf relieved that he didn't have to be mixed up with Amanda Smalls as much as he thought he did.

"That's what I like to hear," said Vincenzo delighted. "Now get me the good pics, none of that shadowy stuff so I can plaster it all over the front of the morning paper."

"No problem," replied Baddwulf. "Anything else?"

Vincenzo tossed a pouch of black pennies onto the desk that Baddwulf had scooped up and looked over.

"As agreed, 2,000 up front and 3,000 later when the job is done," replied Vincenzo. "You get the rest when I see results."

"No problem," replied Baddwulf stuffing the pouch into his pocket before taking his leave of his father.  "It was good to see you, Pop."

"Likewise." replied the old man watching his eldest son walk out the door as quickly as he'd entered it.

Vincenzo turned his attention back to balancing his books after putting on his reading glasses. The old man hadn't changed much and remained as "Old School" as he possibly could even with the encroaching use of more and more advantageous tech going about.

Baddwulf stepped out of the restaurant and began his long walk back to Attison District. He took out another cigarette and struck a match from his matchbook. He sort of took comfort in the fact that at least he didn't have to directly do business with Amanda Smalls again, or so he thought.