All Chapters of Requiem of The Godfather: Price of a Memory: Chapter 11
- Chapter 20
52 chapters
Ch 11. The Madman's Luck
Eduardo crouched in the shadows behind a pile of rotting wooden crates, his eyes narrowing as he watched the dark comedy unfolding before him. In the middle of a narrow alleyway that reeked of stale urine, a scrawny man with wild, unruly hair was being systematically beaten by three large thugs. The man was Gord. He looked more like a failed vagrant than a fighter. Yet, there was something about him that kept Eduardo from turning away. "Die, you dog!" one of the thugs roared, swinging a thick wooden plank directly at Gord’s head. Gord, who was busy trying to spit out a mouthful of bloody phlegm, suddenly slipped on a banana peel that had appeared out of nowhere. His body flopped to the side in a ridiculously clumsy motion. CRACK! The wooden plank smashed into the concrete wall exactly where Gord’s head had been a split second before. Even more absurdly, the plank snapped clean in two. "Damn it! This wood is rotted through with termites!" the thug cursed, st
Ch 12. Dawn Raid on the Gambling Shop
The shop house on Roses Street stood arrogantly among rows of shabby buildings that seemed to have long surrendered to poverty. Behind its steel doors, Claude's football gambling operation pulsed like a dark heart, pumping dirty money into the mafia boss's pockets while the surrounding residents struggled to survive. Eduardo shut off the engine of the stolen sedan two blocks from the target. Pale blue dawn light washed across the asphalt, casting long shadows that looked like the fingers of death. "I can't believe you actually brought me here, Boss," Gord whispered while struggling with the zipper of his jacket that had jammed again. His cursed luck at work as usual. "This place is the most heavily guarded spot in the district. These guys aren't the market thugs you shot earlier. These are Claude's elite crew. They carry real toys, not rusty pistols." Eduardo did not look at him. His red eyes, the result of exhaustion and the strain of the system, stared coldly at the
Ch 13. The Lost Memory
The world in Eduardo’s eyes felt like an old television broadcast that had lost its signal. Everything appeared gray, flickering, and filled with a deafening hiss of static. He could feel violent jolts, his back slamming against the stiff car seat, and the sharp smell of gasoline mixed with sweat stinging his nose. “Boss! Hey, Boss Eduardo! Wake up, damn it! Don’t die in my car. I just cleaned the seats with my spit this morning!” Gord’s voice sounded very far away, as if it were coming from underwater. Eduardo blinked his eyes, which felt glued shut by thick fluid. He touched his own face. Wet. Cold. When he looked at his palm under the dim glow of the streetlight, the color was not red. It was black. Pitch black, like bitter squid ink that smelled of rotten copper. “Hah... hah...” Eduardo jolted upright, his body shooting up so fast that his head slammed into the roof of the battered sedan. THUD! “Whoa, easy, Boss! You just passed out for ten minu
Ch 14. Lust and Desperation
The neon light on the motel ceiling flickered, creating a visual rhythm that matched the pulse throbbing in Eduardo’s temples. On the wooden table, its surface peeling with age, the pile of hundreds of millions in cash sat in silence. Its smell, a mixture of damp paper, ink, and the sweat of thousands of human hands, filled the cramped room, competing with the musty odor of rarely washed sheets. Eduardo sat on a rickety wooden chair, his eyes fixed on the bag. His mind was a shattered battlefield. On one side, there was a primitive satisfaction. He had secured his family’s survival. On the other side, a black hole yawned inside his memory. His mother’s face. He tried to summon it again, straining his brain until the veins in his neck bulged. But all that appeared was a cold gray fog. “Edu...” Emily’s voice broke the silence. Eduardo did not turn. He felt that if he looked into his wife’s eyes, she would see the monster gnawing at his soul from withi
Ch 15. Arranging the Chess Pieces
Morning sunlight in this city never truly felt warm. It appeared only as a pale ball of gas pushing through pollution and the thin mist drifting in from the harbor. Eduardo stood on the second-floor balcony of an old warehouse in an abandoned industrial district. A cheap cigarette burned between his fingers, its smoke carried away by the sea wind that smelled of salt and rusted iron. Below him, in the wide loading area, Gord was happily attempting to juggle three hand grenades he had found in the trunk of a “gift” car from one of their shady contacts. “Boss! Check this out! My luck is insane! One of the pins almost slipped when I tripped earlier, but it got stuck in my jacket zipper!” Gord shouted with a goofy grin, completely unconcerned that one small mistake could flatten the entire warehouse. Eduardo did not reply. He simply flicked the cigarette butt over the railing and stared at the horizon. His mind was arranging a complicated line of chess pieces. On t
Ch 16. A Mad Dog in the Trash Kennel
The pungent stench of household garbage and rotting food scraps greeted Eduardo and Gord as they arrived. This slum district on the edge of the city was a black hole where hope died, and where gambling addicts and life’s losers gathered to wait for death. Eduardo walked forward in his polished leather dress shoes, a stark contrast to the muddy asphalt smeared with black sludge. Beside him, Gord looked far more “blended” with the surrounding environment. “Boss, you sure that genius is here? This place smells worse than my armpits after a week without a shower,” Gord said, pinching his nose while his eyes darted around at the crowd of homeless people staring at them hungrily. “The information I get is never wrong, Gord. Belerik went broke after Claude seized all his assets. He has nowhere else to go except here,” Eduardo replied coldly. His gaze swept across rows of cardboard shacks. [System Suggestion: Subject ‘Belerik’ detected 50 meters ahead. Mental Status: Unsta
Ch 17. Tailored Suits and a Lost Soul
The blast of high-pressure water slammed against the asphalt, creating a thin mist around the private automatic car wash Eduardo had rented out, Clean & Go. Amid the roar of machinery and overflowing foam, a shrill scream echoed through the bay, sounding more like a pig being slaughtered than a man being washed.“OW! HEY! EASY, GORD! THIS IS HUMAN SKIN, NOT A TRUCK BUMPER!” Belerik shrieked, thrashing beneath the freezing spray.Gord grinned widely as he held the high-pressure hose, utterly unmoved by the protest. Wearing a bright yellow raincoat and swimming goggles, he looked like he was enjoying this far too much.“Shut it, Old Man! That grime on you’s practically fossilized. Gotta blast it off with pressure if we want it gone. You’re lucky today, you got the deluxe package with lime-scent shampoo!”“LIME YOUR ASS! THIS STINGS EVERYWHERE!”Eduardo stood a few meters away, leaning against a concrete pillar with his arms folded. He watched the thick black water run from Belerik’s bod
Ch 18. Luck That Mocks Logic
The asphalt of the outer ring toll road leading to North Harbor glistened under the pale glow of mercury streetlights. It was two in the morning, an hour when the world should have been asleep. But for Claude’s black-market industry, this was peak business time. The distant rumble of diesel engines began to echo through the night, signaling that The Butchers’ “fish” logistics convoy was approaching. On the dark roadside, a black sedan sat parked with its lights off. Eduardo sat in the back seat, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Beside him, Belerik hunched over a laptop, fingers dancing across the keyboard with nervous speed. “Boss, are you sure about this plan?” Belerik whispered, his voice trembling. “Those trucks weigh dozens of tons. They’re not going to brake just because they see someone standing in the road. Claude’s drivers are trained to run over anything that blocks their logistics routes.” “Relax, Baldy,” Gord chimed from the driver’s seat. He chewed a bana
Ch 19. The Judge's Verdict
Thick black smoke billowed into the pale dawn sky, shrouding the fading moon. In the middle of that isolated highway, the three proud logistics trucks of Claude “The Shark” had been reduced to blazing skeletons of twisted metal. The occasional explosion of overheated tires shattered the silence, sounding like sarcastic applause for the devastation.Eduardo stood a few meters from the flames, letting the heat lick across his rigid face. The orange firelight reflected in his bloodshot eyes, creating a terrifying sight, as if a small hell were burning inside his soul.“Boss, we gotta move. Claude’s private security patrol will be here in less than five minutes,” Belerik whispered. His voice trembled as he stared blankly at the stacks of cash burning inside one of the truck cabins. To him, watching money burn hurt far more than seeing a corpse.Eduardo did not move. He watched the women who were now running into the darkness of the forest beside the highway. They ran as if the devil himse
Ch 20. Counterattack at the Fish Warehouse
The air inside the northern sector logistics warehouse felt heavy, a mix of rotting fish, machine oil, and tension that was close to exploding. Eduardo stood in the middle of the dim, cavernous space, lit only by a single light bulb that swayed gently as the sea wind slipped through the high ventilation slats.“They’re coming, Boss. My luck says this is going to be a very red night,” Gord whispered. He stood beside a stack of wooden crates, gripping two iron pipes whose ends had been sharpened into crude spikes. His usual goofy expression was gone, replaced by the wild stare of a shepherd dog ready to tear into prey.Belerik, on the other hand, looked like a trapped rat. He crouched inside an old fiberglass fish barrel, leaving only his eyes peeking out in terror.“Eduardo, if we die here, make sure my laptop gets destroyed. There are transaction records that cannot fall into anyone’s hands.”“Shut up, old man. Just focus on not pissing your pants,” Gord snapped.VROOOOOM!The roar of