Steamwork Endeavor
HorrorCarl Elias had lived for some fifty odd years, and done many bad things. Letting sentiment get in his way was never an option. After all, he was the most wanted fugitive in the country, the head of the biggest organized crime syndicate in New York, the great leader who reunited the five Italian mob families, the illegitimate son who ordered his own father and half brother's executions.
He was also no stranger to death, nor was he afraid to die. Even though he knew losing Anthony Marconi was inevitable at some point in his life, withholding the sadness seemed impossible. Carl missed the sleek raven hair and the well-tanned skin, the deep and testimonial scar that ran down the right side of the man's face, the naughty chuckles and the raspy voice calling him "boss", the vigilant and protective eyes always scanning the crowd, the hovering shoulders that tried to shield all harm, and the intoxicating smell of gunpowder, leather, tobacco and Carl's homemade carbonara sauce.
Carl was not a man with weaknesses. The other gang leaders studied him for years, trying to find a mistress, an illegitimate child, a hidden sibling, anybody important to him that can be used as a leverage. But as the greatest tactician, he hid the most important person in his life at plain sight: Anthony Marconi, Carl Elias' lieutenant, henchman, executioner...and life partner.
The grieving mafia boss blamed himself for Anthony's death. After all, it was him who set off the bomb, who allowed Anthony to save and serve him one last time. The strategist had one misstep, and the result was almost destructive. He should have never placed their contingency plan like that. He should have never bought that old and decaying building of bad omen, in which everything started...
In mid-1970s, Carl Elias met his greatest and loyalest friends in Whalen's Home for Boys in the east side of New York. Bruce Moran, a skinny Irish kid, was almost as cunning and calculating as Carl. Then, there was Anthony Marconi, the youngest of the three, a boy who slit the throat of his abusive father, a boy who never begged for mercy, a boy with wild and almost feral eyes, and a boy as tough as iron.
Life in the home was not easy, as the caretakers were also the abusers, who constantly sought excuses to physically discipline them in the infamous punishment room. Nobody knew exactly how much pain and suffering the three of them endured, but they helped and encouraged each other. And they survived.
After a few years living in the group home, Carl and Bruce were rehomed to foster families due to their clean background, but Anthony never had a chance to be a part of a family ever again, not after what he had done to his father. The other two boys kept contact with their lone friend nevertheless, and they would sneak out on Friday nights and meet up at the Hudson River Pier. Carl and Bruce saved up lunch money to bring beef jerky and cigarettes to Anthony. Sometimes, they'd go for a movie together or play mischievous pranks on some store owners, and sometimes, they'd just sit there and talk about how they were going to be on top of the world one day.
In early 80s, when Anthony turned 18, he finally left the group home, and moved into Carl's small apartment in the middle of Manhattan. At the time, Bruce already went away to attend university in the west coast. Carl worked at a local library while taking part-time courses at a community college. On the other hand, Anthony was never the book smart type, so he started working as a busboy at an Italian restaurant. Life was uneventful, but at least, without pain or sleepless nights anymore.
It was then, the alone time with Carl began to affect Anthony, slowly letting the emotions buried deep inside his heart running loose. It started with lingering and tender eyes that wouldn't move away, a pet on the shoulder that lasted for one second too long, brushes of fingers over another hand that happened one time too often. Feeling confused and even ashamed, Anthony decided to leave. He left a brief note and a few months of his share of the rent for Carl. Not knowing where to turn to, he decided to join the army. The enlistment process had some complications due to his juvenile record, but he was approved eventually.
Carl still remembered the day Anthony left their tiny and humble apartment. He might be young at the time, but he wasn't stupid. Anthony's show of affection was fully noticed. Carl felt the same, but he didn't know how to react. It took him two years to finally locate his friend in the army, and at the time, he wrote a letter to Anthony, with a few simple words "It is all fine. Please come home."
However, it wasn't until 1991 that Anthony was honorably discharged after fighting the gulf war. Both men had grown to be more mature and wise, and the years of separation did not affect their bond at all. In the same year, Carl was stepping into the danger zone of the mafia life as he found out he was the illegitimate son of an Italian Don, and Anthony just followed him naturally without any hesitations. Even Bruce stayed with his best friends, being an invisible member overseeing the financial side for Carl.
The loud gun fires never stopped, but Carl still picked out Anthony's distressing grunt. His heart sank, and looked up from the stairs. Anthony's face was slightly twisted, and he was hissing in pain. The way he braced his right shoulder indicated that he was shot. It was as if the injured man could sense Carl's worried eyes, he looked down from the top of the staircase, and it was all calm and affirmation in his eyes, "Go!" Anthony shouted, held up his gun with his left hand, and disappeared into the hallway instead of following Carl down the stairs.
"Anthony!" Carl cried out. There was always a way out, well, there usually was, but this time, his instinct told him something went terribly wrong. Carl intended to come back, if the concerned third party, John, didn't block his way. "We can't go back. We need to get you to safety."
Carl knew John meant to help, but he also knew the intentions between John and Anthony were completely different. The concerned third party only cared about the the bigger picture. As odd as it sounded, Carl Elias cannot die, as he overlooked the criminal activities in the city, making sure nobody was breaking the mobsters' codes of conduct. The Brotherhood was a rising gang that cared only about bringing chaos and death, and Carl was the only one who could stop them.
It was another story for Anthony. Carl could always read the man as an open book, and he knew Anthony had admired, loved, and even worshiped him ever since the day they met in that dreadful group home. Carl wasn't a selfless person, but he never took advantage of Anthony's dedication for one single day. Like all mutual love and admiration, care and protection went both ways.
Carl cannot remember how many times he had told Anthony to take better care of himself. As much as he needed his lieutenant to do the job, the mafia boss always tried to give Anthony extra days to rest, especially after any injuries. However, the henchman was always too keen to return to his post. "But boss!" was always Anthony's answer, accompanied with a childish grin. "Please, Anthony. I'm serious. At least do it for me!" Carl would also reply with the tone of a concerned mother.
After they turned 45, for numerous times, Carl discussed the possibility of letting Anthony retire from the mafia life, and start a new life somewhere else by himself. But Anthony always shushed the slightly older man, "Boss, you know my place is always here with you. Besides, a monster like me, I'm only good at killing. Can you imagine me being an accountant like Bruce? It'd bore me to death!"
Carl sighed, as he knew nothing could convince his souldmate, "Stop calling yourself a monster. You are a man who took fate into your own hands. That's all."
Throughout the years, the violent missions left more and more scars on Anthony, and the sight always saddened Carl. Sometimes, Carl would curse himself for being too soft. He knew Anthony chose to follow him with no regrets, but still wished he could push the man away from this life. Maybe, just maybe, this little trouble maker would stop getting himself in bad situations, and live a long and healthy life.
When the head of The Brotherhood gang, Dominic, entered the room, he scanned his crew, hoping they had gotten Elias or at least the right leverage for him. To his disappointment, only Elias' second in command was captured. Dominic cursed in frustration to his own lieutenant, "This is all you got? Elias would never come back for a pawn like this. He's leaving him here to die." Dominic didn't speak out the rest that was on his mind, but he thought, "I sure wouldn't risk my life for my number two."
Carl and Anthony hid the true nature of their relationship in the dark. Even members of his own mob didn't have a clue, besides the fact that the boss and his lieutenant went way back. As time went by, the secrecy was less and less about hiding their sexual identity, but rather to keep the only weakness from the prying eyes of the rival gangs.
Other mob bosses also tried to recruit the efficient and skilled Anthony, or tried to turn the man against his boss. But little did they know that their wicked schemes were just laughing matters over Carl and Anthony's dinner table.
When Carl Elias reached out to Dominic, asking if Anthony was still alive, Dominic's hope was up again, even though he couldn't figure out why Anthony's life meant so much to a mafia boss like Elias. Then, one of his men whispered to Dominic, "Maybe we got the right guy. Remember this piece of shit got ambushed and shot by the Russian mob on Venice Beach? Elias sent his own bodyguards to the hospital just to watch over him."
Dominic grinned thoughtfully. Finally, he found a breaking point, and he was going to cause a lot pain.
Carl Elias was not a stupid man. He knew Dominic might just kill them both, but he had to give it a try. Sobbing love stories, like Romeo and Juliet, always irritated Carl, but he was about to the pull a stunt like this, not afraid to die for or with his loved one.
Mafia lifestyle was certainly busy, Carl and Anthony rarely had some time to themselves. But when they occasionally did, Carl would cook an authentic Italian meal for two. Afterwards, they would have a movie night watching either Godfather Part 1 or Scarface with a bottle of Barolo.
On one of the rare nights, Anthony compared Carl to the Godfather, and himself to Scarface. Carl frowned and argued, "Only because of the scar, Anthony. Nothing else. Scarface died too soon." Then it went all quiet as Carl realized he said something he shouldn't have.
"You know I can't watch you die before me, right, boss?" Anthony suddenly sat up, pulling his feet away from Carl's lap.
Carl shook his head, carefully leaned in, and put his thumb over Anthony's lips. "Don't, Anthony! This is not what you meant." But in Carl's heart, he knew it could well be the case. Then, there was more silence, both men with minds drifting to somewhere dark and sorrowful.
To break the awkwardness, Anthony joked, "Well, boss, look at us, we are really some sentimental gay mobsters, aren't we?"
After literally getting to safety with the help of John, the mob boss returned to the building, offering himself in exchange for Anthony's release. The concerned third party was surprised as well, "Mr. Elias, let me remind you that there's more hanging in the balance here than just his life."
"Perhaps his life is the only one I care about. The world is a violent place. It always will be. Best we can hope to do while we're here is protect those closest to us."
When Carl knelt in front of Dominic with his hands tied behind his back, he showed no fear; instead, there was a calm and mocking smile on his face. Nobody could intimidate the great Elias.
However, when Dominic refused to let Anthony go without the code to the vault, there was a split second of panic on Carl's face. The man had prepared for the worst, but he really wasn't ready for this yet.
The vault was their contingency plan; Bruce and Anthony insisted on buying the abandoned building, previously known as Whalen's Home for Boys. They wanted to make use of the place as if it could make up to what they had suffered as boys. Carl agreed, and placed the vault to lure their enemies in. Inside the vault, there was a load of explosives waiting to claim casualties of the rival gang. However, it wouldn't work when Anthony was right beside it.
Anthony was in a lot of pain, a bullet in the shoulder, three broken ribs, one ravaged kidney, and fractured jaws. His face was smeared with blood and sweat. But he did not flinch when Dominic's men loomed over him, raining down punches, and spilling poisonous words about him and his boss. They were right. He was the descendant of the Romans, a true soldier who was as tough as iron.
"I already got a crew, and a boss I would lay down my life for." No matter how hard they hit him, the loyal henchman would never break or beg for mercy. All he hoped was for John to lead his boss to safety.
However, when they hold up the phone to his face, Anthony's heart was filled with worry, "Boss?" He asked hesitantly, as if it might be somebody else on the other end of the phone.
"How are you doing, Anthony?" Carl tried to hide his emotion, but there's pure joy in his voice knowing Anthony was still alive.
"Hmm...I've seen worse." Anthony answered, bitterly laughing at his own poor condition. As much as he hated how Dominic got Carl, being able to hear his voice felt so damn good.
"They want inside the vault." Then Anthony stated the cruel fact. This was going to be hard for both of them, but he was ready.
"But I want them to let you go first." This was the one sentence Carl kept repeating throughout the ordeal. At the very moment, one of Dominic's goon punched Anthony hard, and a painful and restrained cry came out of the abused hostage. Carl looked up at Dominic, eyes full of anger.
It took a moment for Anthony to adjust the jaws, catch his breath, and spit out blood from his month, then, he whispered, "I don't think that's gonna happen." Then, silence, it was one of the rare occasions when Carl ran out of words to say.
"Please boss. I just want it to be done." Anthony brought up his final request, before he was choked with emotions. He knew there was no way out of this situation, and he just wanted Carl to know it was OK to let him go.
Carl closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to maintain his calmness, "OK, Anthony. That's enough. You've gone far enough." This was his way to give Anthony a peace of mind, to let him go, to say the final goodbye, even though he was screaming in his mind. Anthony remained quiet on the other end of the phone, nodding slightly to his boss' words, not able to hold back the tears any longer.
As Carl slowly spit out the code, he had to stop a couple times and bite his lips hard to shut off the overwhelming emotions. It was also then that Anthony regained his composure with a sense of serenity settling down in his heart. The second before the bomb was set off, Anthony Marconi grinned victoriously with wild and feral eyes, and declared to Dominic's men, "As the Romans said: Morior Invictus (Death before defeat)!"
Carl's heart shattered with the deafening sound. Now with a gun pointing at his head by Dominic, the mob boss was ready to follow his lover to the realm of nothingness. He might be the biggest joke in mafia history to die like this, but it was all worth it. At least he tried his best. However, as if fate decided to grant Anthony's dying wish, the concerned third party found Carl before Dominic could pull the trigger.
Carl wandered off to their favorite childhood place, the Hudson River Pier. Bruce was there as well. With a grieving voice, the Irishman said, "I heard about Anthony. I'm sorry." Carl lightly nodded to his friend. Overseeing the river under the dimming light from the setting sun, the great mob leader would not let Anthony die in vain. The two men talked and talked, planning their revenge against The Brotherhood.
Then, after Bruce left, Carl reached to his pocket, and took out a yellowed and tattered photograph. Three boys were leaning against the fences on the pier. One of them cunning and ambitious, one of them calculating and calm. The third and smallest boy tilted his head to the left, showing off his scar with an stubborn and fearless smile. Carl gently brushed his thumb over the face of that cocky boy, "Invictus Maneo (I remain unvaquished)!" He whispered in a determined voice, and slowly walked in to the dying sun, all alone.
Credits: Profile and story by me. Image and characters (c) Person of Interest .
