Chapter 2 DISTRUTTORE

I knew I still had to be careful not to allow anything cut through my tattoos and Bon knew that as well but this was all fun and games to him.

"When you get to hell, tell them it is I, Bongorath, Bringer of Destruction that sent you," Bon spoke through me, sounding deep and distorted.

"Fuoco. Fuoco!" one of them said as the other began shooting sporadically.

I leapt high in the air, hanging on one of the chandeliers as I swung myself into their middle. They stopped shooting when they realized they would shoot themselves as a dozen swords swung from every angle but I dodged it all. One of them tried to slash me with his sword but caught it in a clap, the sword stuck in between my palms as I broke it with a slight twist of my wrist.

I kicked him, sending him flying into one of the rooms, breaking the door in splinters. I caught one of them and tore his head off his body as I dodged a knife attack but was very quick enough to snap his wrist, taking a hold of the knife and sticking it in his chest. Took it out again to block the sword attacks of the two men who were really skilled.

I slid under one of them, slashing his crotch open and throwing it to the other who had leapt up to lunge an attack on me but dropped lifeless.

I continued dropping them like flies in twos and threes until they were all dead, turning the hallway into a pool of blood and dead bodies. I walked to one of the survivors who was struggling to move without a leg and a wrist.

"Where is Rafael?" I asked, ignoring the blood that had covered my face. It wasn't mine anyways.

He pointed to the door in the middle with shaky fingers.

I continued my way to the door as I opened it.

No one was inside.

I had expected to see more guards but maybe Rafael wasn't all that like I thought.

"Bloody coward," Bon commented. "Underneath the bed."

I went to the bed and stooped to find Rafael trembling with a gun in his hand.

"Tsk," I kissed my teeth as I pulled himout from under the bed in what may be seen as disgust. How was a mafia boss not putting up a fight?

"Distruttore," the man said like he was looking at a ghost after lifting his head up to catch a glimpse of my face.

I had earned the name and reputation of Distruttore in the mafia world which meant Destroyer.

"Please, spare my life," Rafael began begging. "I'll give you anything you want."

"Shut the fuck up!" I smacked him hard in the face.

He was really an irritating man, I thought to myself as I spotted a diamond tooth in his mouth.

"I want your tooth," I said, ignoring his cries.

"This?" he pointed to his mouth.

"Yeah," I replied.

"Si, si. Yes, sure," Rafael nodded in panic. "Now?"

"Yes, now," I nodded, waiting for what he was going to do as I watched him look around the room looking for nothing in particular.

"Ugh," I groaned as I pulled him from the floor and gave him a hard punch on his mouth. I had no idea how he intended on taking off and I didn't have all the time in the world. It was going to have to come off the hard way.

The tooth still sat firmly on his gum. I just continued punching and punching till it came off covered in blood.

I picked it up to examine it, dropping Rafael to the floor, his face brutally battered.

"Good, good," I smiled. "This could get me a couple thousands."

"I've given you what you want," Rafael pleaded with a bloodied mouth. "Please let me go."

"Now you have to gimme what Enzo wants," I said.

"Merda!" Rafael cussed to himself. Apparently he wasn't expecting Enzo to get back after ripping him off in a deal.

He was indeed a pathetic loser.

"He wants you alive actually," I teased. "He only needs your left ear and a thumb."

And just like that, I watched a fully grown man shed real tears, his face all wet with sweat, tears, blood, and mucus.

"You'll live," I tried to comfort him but he wasn't having it.

"Ti prego!" the man cried at the top of his voice. "Te lo chiedo in nome di tutto cio che hai di piu caro!"

He was begging me in the name of everything I held dear, and then my mind flashed to Carmen that I began wondering what she may be up to.

"There," Bon snapped me back to reality as I walked to a drawer and pulled out a first aid box.

"Right now, I'm following orders," I said as I opened the box to examine its content. "You're just gonna have to accept that it is what it is and stop being a bitch about it."

Rafael stopped begging. He went quiet after it dawned on him that no amount of tears and pleading would save him from the impending torture.

I went up to him, pulling him up by the throat and slammed his right side of his face on the bed as he began begging again but gently this time.

I sliced off his ear even after he tried to escape but I was clearly stronger. He screamed at the top of his voice as I applied bandages to stop the blood flow.

While he was fully occupied with missing an ear, I cut off his thumb and the screaming went even higher.

"Enzo will be pleased," I said, almost to myself as I put the ear and thumb inside a plastic bag.

Rafael was clearly in pain as I held his face against my lap, stroking his wet face.

"Thank you for your tooth," I said quietly as I stepped back, turning to take my leave.

I walked out of the room into the hallway that had turned into a small lake of blood, still having a putrid smell of gunshots. I really couldn't explain it. My tattoos stopped glowing as I began heading to Enzo.

My ruthlessness had gotten me this far and had helped me rise up the ranks. From the orphaned little helpless boy to Distruttore, Enzo had made me his go-to man because he trusted me well enough to carry out the most dangerous tasks and tie up loose ends singlehandedly.

My tattoos flickered on and off.

"What is it?" I asked, half guessing what the problem was.

"A part of the underworld is here," Bon growled as I approached DeLuca Residence.

"After this, Bon," I said as the guard examined me, signaling the others to open up for me.

I was accompanied inside into one of the buildings that were surrounded by exotic cars, got into an elevator that took me directly up to where Enzo was.

I brushed past the cleaners who were cleaning up a statue that represented the very first DeLuca.

I knocked when I got to the very door I knew he was behind. Someone opened it for me as I got in.

"Enzo,"I called him across the room where he sat backing the entrance and the desk where he was a getting an amazing skyline view of the city. I was one of the very few people in the group that was allowed to call Lorenzo by his name because of the value I brought to the group.

"Bon?" he swirled his chair around to look at me; a prodigy that exceeded his sons but wasn't one.

He was a middle aged looking man who was well in his late forties. Black short hair, dark eyes, thick moustache and a scar that ran across his right brow to his cheekbone that spoke pain and experience at the same time.

"Il mio distruttore preferito," he smirked as he blew smoke out his mouth while playing with the thick brown stick of cigar in his hand. "What do you have for me today?"

"Parts of Rafael, like you requested," I replied, waving of the fact that he called me his favorite destroyer. Clearly I was just a tool. We were all tools.

His face lit up. With the cigar in his mouth as he signaled someone to get it from me with a wave of his finger.

I pulled put the plastic bag and handed it to the man that got it from me, my eyes not leaving Enzo's who was still smirking and puffing.

He broke eye contact to examine the content of the bag.

"I can still smell the wax in this one," Enzo chuckled as he sniffed Rafael's ear. "Very fresh."

One could tell Enzo had a taste for blood as he couldn't stop fondling with the thumb that he didn't care of the blood stained his expensive suit and his hands.

"Here, smell it," he passed it to the man who had given him.

The man hesitated in collecting it at first but still did.

"Smell it," Enzo smirked, his dark eyes wide open in expectation and excitement as he watched the man question what he was about to do.

This man had better smell it or else he would lose his sense of smell, or worse, I thought to myself as I was waiting to see what would happen.

"Sniff the fucking ear!" Enzo pulled out his customized Glock 19 and pointed it to the man.

Smell it, please, I begged the man silently in my mind as I figured it would cost him nothing to sniff it than to lose his life.

The man brought the ear close to his nose slowly as thick red liquid dropped from it.

Boom!

Blood spattered on the wall behind where the man stood as smoke emitted from Enzo's gun.

Fool, you should have sniffed that ear like a line of cocaine, I thought as I watched the man fall to the floor, his head almost split in two.

"Porta via questo pezzo di merda," Enzo ordered,clearly pissed as two others came to drag the lifeless body away, leaving a large thick smug trail of blood. The brain barely even sat in the open skull.

This was the very man who raised me.

"My Bonny boy," he tossed his gun on the desk as he rose up to meet me.

I gave a slight nod, doing my best to forget the fact that someone just got killed for not smelling someone else's cut off ear.

"You are good and efficient in your ways," he held my face with his two hands and kissed me on my forehead.

He, himself, smelled like scented candle. He smelled like wax.

"My farmers in the east side said the crops were harvested," Enzo turned around towards his mini bar. "I suspect LaRoche."

He poured himself a drink and took a sip and started towards me.

"Why LaRoche?" I asked.

"He's been everywhere these past few days," Enzo replied, stopping in front of me after taking another sip. "We're going to gather more intelligence so I need you to be on standby."

I nodded. I knew it was just because he saw LaRoche as his biggest competition.

He passed me his drink without saying a word.

"You are still with me, si?" Enzo asked, looking me dead into my soul.

"I have a profound admiration for this particular human," Bon said.

"Si," I nodded, gripping the glass hard.

"Prove it," Enzo said.

I took a sip from the glass even though I said I was going to stay away from alcohol.

He was still standing in front of me.

I got the message as I gulped down the entire glass. Alcohol always had a way of hurting my throat.

He collected the cup from me.

"You can leave," he placed the cup on his desk. "You'll be briefed on your next task when it's time."

I nodded, trying not to look at the cleaners that were scrubbing the bloodstained floor, reminding me of the life I was subjected to.