Requiem of The Godfather: Price of a Memory

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, staring at the broken pieces in his hands with utter confusion.

"Ha... ha... my luck really is something else," Gord muttered as he tried to sit up, casually wiping blood from his nose as if he weren't standing at death's door.

The second thug, clearly the most enraged of the group, pulled a pistol from his waistband. "I’m putting a hole in your head right now! There aren't any termites in my bullets, you bastard!"

He pressed the muzzle of the gun against Gord’s forehead from barely a yard away. Gord closed his eyes, resigning himself to the end.

CLICK. CLICK.

The weapon jammed. The thug panicked, shaking the pistol frantically. "What the fuck?! I just cleaned this thing this morning!"

Eduardo, watching from the darkness, shook his head. It was insane. This man had an 'armor' of luck thicker than hardened steel.

[System Suggestion: Recruit Subject: Gord. Attribute: Absolute Luck (E-Rank). Team synergy will increase by 40%.]

"I don't need statistics. I just need a decoy," Eduardo hissed under his breath.

He stepped out from the shadows. His footsteps were silent, a result of the Shadow Step that was beginning to merge with his instincts. He raised his Glock-17. He only had two bullets left. He had to be precise.

"Hey, who's there?!" the third thug shouted, finally noticing Eduardo’s presence.

Eduardo didn't answer with words.

BANG!

The first bullet tore through the knee of the man holding the jammed pistol. The man collapsed, screaming hysterically. The third thug tried to lung at Eduardo with a folding knife, but Eduardo moved faster. He caught the man’s wrist, twisting it until a sickening crack echoed through the alley, and then slammed the man’s face into the brick wall.

The last thug, still clutching the broken wooden plank, tried to bolt. Eduardo aimed for his back.

BANG!

The second bullet lodged in the man’s thigh, sending him tumbling and rolling across the wet asphalt.

Silence reclaimed the alley, broken only by the whimpering of the dying thugs. Eduardo lowered his weapon and looked at Gord, who was still sitting on the ground, staring at him with his mouth agape.

"Who... who are you? The Grim Reaper or a new debt collector?" Gord asked in a voice that was strangely relaxed.

"I’m a ghost," Eduardo replied shortly. He walked over to Gord and extended a rough hand. "Get up. You owe me your life."

Gord took Eduardo’s hand and stood up with great effort. He brushed the dust off his tattered jacket. "I’m Gord. Thanks for saving my ass, Ghost. But honestly, if you hadn't shown up, that wall probably would’ve collapsed and crushed them all. My luck is a bit annoying like that sometimes."

Eduardo stared at Gord intensely. "I need a madman like you. I'm going to rob Claude’s gambling den at dawn."

Gord went silent for a moment, then burst into a fit of laughter until he began coughing up blood. "Rob Claude? At his fortress of a shop? Are you really a ghost, or just someone who’s bored with living, Boss?"

"I’m serious. You’re the bait, I’m the executioner. We split the take fifty-fifty."

"I don't need money, Boss. I need a reason not to be bored with life," Gord smirked, revealing a single missing tooth. "But before we head to hell, I'm starving. Is there a burger joint near here?"

Eduardo let out a long sigh. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his last ten thousand, which was supposed to be Emily’s breakfast money. He handed it to Gord.

"Get a burger at the stall up front. Then we move," Eduardo said coldly.

Gord accepted the money with shimmering eyes. "Ten thousand? Wow, I’d be grateful even for a trash burger made of rat meat. You’re crazy, Boss. I like your style."

"My name is Eduardo. Call me Boss if you want to live a long life."

"You got it, Boss Eduardo! I’m going to eat first. If I choke and die, consider our contract void," Gord waved as he strolled toward the dim stall at the end of the street, completely indifferent to the three bodies he left behind.

Eduardo watched Gord’s back as he leaned against the wall. He felt his head begin to throb again.

[Warning: Mental Stability Decreasing. New Memory Detected as Extraction Target.]

"Wait until the business with Claude is over, you demon," Eduardo cursed internally.

He looked up at the sky, which was beginning to show streaks of pale blue. The time was almost here. He had his weapon, and now, he had the luckiest decoy in the world.

A few minutes later, Gord returned while chewing on something that smelled highly suspicious. "I’m full, Boss. Now, which shop are we going to tear apart?"

"Get in the car," Eduardo ordered.

"Which car? Oh, that beat-up sedan? Does the door lock stick? Usually, when I get in, the engine suddenly dies, but the brakes fail on the downhill so we get there faster," Gord rattled on without stopping.

Eduardo massaged his temples. He felt that his decision to recruit this man was a blend of genius and pure insanity. But in a world this unfair, perhaps only a madman’s luck could help him fight destiny.

"Don't ask questions. You just need to run when I tell you to run, and don't die before I get the money," Eduardo said, starting the engine.

"Understood, Boss! Death is boring anyway. Besides, my luck usually only kicks in when I’m nearly dead," Gord grinned widely as he buckled his seatbelt. The strap promptly snapped as he pulled it.

"See? My luck is starting to work," Gord’s laughter echoed inside the cramped cabin.

Eduardo stepped on the gas. The car sped toward Mawar Street, carrying two men whom the world no longer considered alive, straight into the heart of the tiger’s den.