Author's Comments:
This is the first part to my entry for the MWC9 February monthly writing competition. It's still got a while to go, but hopefully, with editing, I might be able to trim the word count down to fit (or at least be within reason to) the 4,000 word count max limit. As the story is now, part 1 is just over 3,000 words. I thought I'd try to get some feedback on the first half while I work on the second half, just to gauge the reaction on the story as it stands now. I hope you enjoy what I've got so far.

Blood Feud- pt 1:

Today was a very sad day. A very sad day, because my mama Abilini... has died. I was out on a job when it happened. I had just came to a halt outside the docks, where Jimmy, the security guard and friend of the family opened the gates for me. I drove the truck in, giving a nod to lil' Jim as I passed, as did Marcus, he waved his thanks from the passenger seat. His job was to be keeping a look out for suspicious activities, you know, any coppers come looking around, so we can disappear all quiet like. He didn't notice it, but after years of smuggling booze out from the docks, I sensed that something was wrong.

How can you explain that feeling, without knowing why you feel it? I couldn't exactly turn the truck around and head back empty handed, I couldn't exactly face my father, Don Abilini without knowing what had driven me away.
So I just leaned over towards Marcus and said to him "Something's not quite right here. We outta' be taking extra special care tonight."
"What's the matter, George? You seen or heard something 'bout tonight?" Marcus was relatively new to the business, a kid off the street.
He was good with his hands, but he wasn't exactly the most subtle person I knew. He didn't quite have the gut instinct that I've had my whole life, but in a way, that was good, he was very practical, very straight forward. What you see is what you get with Marcus, no bullshitting around.
"I haven't noticed nothing, Marcus, I just have a feeling..." In reality, this cautiousness had consumed me only within the last few minutes. As we drove into the docks, or as we were driving through the streets, I couldn't pinpoint the exact location of this instinct.

Like always, I backed the truck up to the storage area "19 B". Like always, we dragged open the massive corrugated doors to our precious cargo. Top shelf shit right here, and because we know the right people, we get it for a real bargain. So I load the truck up, nothing out of the ordinary, Marcus is on look out, and he's silent as a mouse, and while I'm lifting these crates into the truck, it clicks into place. It was Jimmy, he triggered this growing sense of dread I had. He seemed awfully quiet tonight, not at all his usual friendly self. I was certain he wouldn't willingly go out of his way to harm the Abilini family, but with the right leverage, well... he wouldn't be the hardest nut to crack. And who, in this town, would be interested in cracking down on a friend of the Abilini mob?

I lit up another cigar and took a swig of my drink. The man sitting across from me already knew the answer to my question.
"The van Harem mob." He replied.
"Yes, the van Harem mob. They came into this town where no one knew them and no one feared them. Yet they came here anyway. They stayed, and they tried to break through the Abilini organised crime ring and 'take the responsibility of running this town off our hands', as they so delicately put it."

What could I do? I was half way through loading up the truck. The only way out was through the gates, and I was damn sure that van Harem's men would be waiting for us. I signalled Marcus to help me to finish loading the truck, we needed to get out of there as soon as possible. I told him all I knew, and all I feared. Jimmy was fucked, and if we didn't play our cards right, we would be too. Once the cargo was loaded up, we didn't dare try to drive off right away. With Marcus closely tagging behind me, I walked around the storage building 19 B. We were heading back towards the gate, to evaluate the situation. We followed the 6 metre high fence, keeping to the shadows, scanning the docks for the men we feared were watching us. And then we saw the gates, still wide open.

I pulled my pistol from my jacket and moved closer, closer, and then... Jimmy, he just steps out in front of us, sweat dripping from his face, his ear bleeding, his trousers soiled.
Over Jim's choking sobs, I could hear what sounded like whispering. And with splutters and hiccoughs, Jimmy repeated the whispers to us. "Y-y-you've run this t-town for too f-fucking long Abilini." He paused. More whispering before he continued. "Y-y-you've run this town, a-and now... it's t-time for L-Lucas van Harem t-to have his turn."
"Shit, Jimmy, we never wanted you to get all caught up in this." I said, truly sympathising for the man.
"I-if you know what's g-good for you, you'll let Mr. L-Lucas take over. If you kn-know what's good f-for you, you'll let his m-men take your v-van and you won't tell a s-soul." He sighed, holding himself with the grace of a worn and torn rag doll.
"Alright, alright. Take the fuckin' booze, just leave this poor man alone." I never broke eye contact with Jimmy, as I said this.
All shiny eyed, Jimmy mouthed the words "I'm so sorry", agony deep set across his face.

I was close to tears, it was hard enough going through this once, but being asked to tell this morbid story again? So heartless, so emotionally detached, yet it was so vital to my situation.
"Take all the time you need" the man said, holding his hands pressed against his chin.
The floodgates opened, the tears rolled down my cheek. I reached for my glass of whiskey. It was empty. I knew it was empty because it had been empty for the last twenty minutes.
"They blew his fuckin' brains out. He was just standing there, hoping beyond all hope that through some sort of twisted fate, he might be forgiven for his minor misdeeds and given a second chance at life. But he couldn't recover his lost dignity, fate didn't hold the gun, it was that spineless motherfucker, Lucas van Harem." I tried drinking at empty again. "He didn't deserve it, he was better than that. Men like Lucas, men like myself, we were the ones that usually ended with our brains splattered across the pavement, not Jimmy."

Where was my dear mama this whole time? According to Lucas, mama Alibini was at home, waiting for me to return so that I could stare into her vacant face right before Lucas put a bullet in my brain, signifying the beginning of a new, more brutal and bloodthirsty age of organised crime in this city. And my father, the Don? Well, Lucas had him by the balls. Somewhere in this city, in a remote location, Don Abilini was tied up and beaten for information, perhaps at one of our very own storage warehouses. I found out later that Lucas was speaking the truth, my mama was dead, and my father might as well be. Lucas was a sly bastard. Ever since he came here, he'd been watching us, he knew who we were, where we hid out, where we lived and who we associated ourselves with. He planned to take us over in one night, and no one would know until they saw the bloody mess in the morning. But Lucas didn't get everything he wanted. He had the makings of a mastermind, but he lacked one thing that would have kept me from lashing out, leverage.

He had taken everything from me. What do I care what he does now? I slipped my pistol back into my jacket and instead I grabbed a military grade grenade and pulled the pin. He waited, perhaps he expected me to try to shoot him, perhaps he expected me to say something. But I just waited, and then I threw the grenade over the fence to where I assumed that Lucas was standing. I didn't kill him there and then, but he caught a hefty force from the explosion. He limped over to where Jimmy lay, shrapnel embedded in his side and face, his clothing had caught fire. He shot blindly towards Marcus and myself, his gun arm shaking violently, his bullets whizzed around us in all different directions. I pulled my pistol back out again, and we fired right back at him.
"Guys" He yelled out. "Get the van, and take care of these bastards." He staggered back through the gate.

About a dozen (or so) of Lucas' men came through the gates and into our line of fire, simply stepping over Jimmy's dead body, splashing his pooled blood on the ground. I was out for Lucas' blood now, I mean, really out for his blood. These guys were target practice, and they had nowhere to hide for a good hundred metres. I aimed my gun and squeezed the trigger, again and again. A beast within me had been released, and I breathed slowly and deeply, trying to keep my emotions under control. They fell, one after the other, hardly getting off a wayward shot before I loaded a fresh magazine into my pistol.

I counted five dead, the remaining seven ducked around the nearest building and made their break for 19B. Marcus and I did the only decent thing we could do, we made chase. Around the building, we saw the seven spreading out and hiding throughout the docks. I indicated to Marcus that we should split apart and meet back up at 19B. He nodded and moved out across the yard. I gunned down four of Lucas' thugs before I came to the van. Two more men sat within the van, I guess they were waiting for the others, but there should only be one more wandering around the docks, and Marcus... I hid around the side of the building, and waited for Marcus to appear. And then the fifth man came from between the buildings across from me, and in his clutches, with blood dribbling from his side, was a defeated Marcus.

They shuffled up to the van, Marcus groaning in agony as he was thrown to the ground. I came around the corner, my hatred for these men swelling by the minute. The man who brought Marcus was about to start beating down on Marcus when he saw me. I rushed at him, hammering my fist down on his face. He fell to his knees. I swiftly kicked him in his ribs. He doubled over, curling into the worthless foetus that he was. The men in the van watched in horror, fumbling to open their doors to get out and save one of their own. Amateurs. I fired my gun into his side, as he did to Marcus. The two men from the van made to move towards me, guns raised.
"Wait." I said. Out of fear, they obeyed. "Watch, and you might learn a valuable lesson here." The monster within me purred with the satisfaction of control. "You do not fuck with Marcus." I knelt by my victim's side and fired a bullet through his forearm. He screamed, a mixture of blood, sweat and tears running down his face. "You do not fuck with George Abilini." I fired a bullet through his kneecap, his groans were music to my ears. "And you do not" I reached into my jacket, staring into my victim's eyes, and I pulled out a grenade "blow Jimmy's brains half way to hell without feeling our pain" I shoved the grenade into my victim's mouth "without suffering the consequences." I pulled the pin, picked up Marcus and headed for the gates.

I found Lucas propped up against the wall just outside the gate. His face was pale, and he was sweating something chronic. His shirt was drenched in his own blood, and I could easily tell where he had tried to dig underneath his skin to pull the fragments of metal out. He had probably given up a while ago, and was content enough to wait for his guys to come and pick him up on the way past.
I pulled Lucas up by his collar "Where'd you take my father?!" I spat in his face.
"Your father's getting what he deserves" Lucas said, clearly hurting with every word.
"That's not what I asked. What the fuck have you done with my father?!" I rammed my knee through his stomach.
He doubled over, trying not to show his weakness. "He..." Lucas coughed "he's being held at the National Bank. I-in the vault..."
I ran back through the docks to fetch the van, Lucas' two drivers were gone. Smart men. At the gate, I pulled Marcus into the passenger seat, and threw Lucas into the back of the van with the booze. I opened one crate and pulled a bottle out. I tore a strip of cloth off of Lucas' shirt and tied it tight around his hand. I poured the alcohol over the cloth, pulled out my lighter and watched the flames flare up. "This" I said, as I unloaded the open crate "is so you don't go making any more stupid decisions tonight." I opened another crate, emptied it, and proceeded to empty several more. "You are not to make any rash actions while in here, or I'll slam the breaks on you, the bottles will smash, you'll fall over, and your lit hand will ignite the floor and you'll wish you were never born. Understand?" Lucas nodded. I closed him in the back and locked the bolt down. I then hopped into the driver's seat and drove to the bank.

I left Marcus and Lucas in the van while I went into the bank to take care of business. I came out about twenty minutes later, and Lucas' men were dead. I was too late to save my father, but I managed to obtain some useful information before I left. They didn't just have my father hostage, they just about had the whole mob. And I would track them all down, but something was wrong with Marcus, he seemed strangely motionless, seated in the van. He was dead, and the doors to the back of the van were wide open. Lucas had escaped.

"I didn't know how he managed to get out of the back of the van, but the single largest mistake I made was keeping him alive from the moment he spilled the location of my father. I don't know exactly what I was thinking, maybe I thought I could get some more information from him..." I sighed and cradled my head in my hands.
"And then he went to the authorities and bribed them with cash and evidence, so that they'd consider looking at picking up your case?" He knew what he was dealing with, he'd read through the files.
"Yes. He took his injured self in to the police, told of my crimes, and convinced them to hear the whole story, his first hand accounts, all documented, backed up by witnesses, some were spies like Lucas, not entirely cut out for the confrontation of the organised crime ring. They were mostly working from the outside, tracking us with microphones, cameras, never getting a fingernail dirty." I grabbed a handful of peanuts from the centre of the table and cupped them in my hand. "Now, when I was in the bank, I learned that there were also a handful of Lucas' spies on the inside." I picked at the peanuts in my hand. "These men were spies, and their documentations were well recorded. If you've seen their testimonies, you'd know their case is rock solid. But I'm a mobster, an assassin. I killed the fuckin' lot of them. I had the names, I had the locations. Most of these spies and wannabe thugs held the Abilini mobsters hostage. The legitimate members were dead, the traitors and undercover spies were just 'playing pretend'. I killed them all."

I noticed my lawyer shiver as I so casually laid bare my sins. "You know this won't end in your favour, George." He said, showing some understanding to the situation I now found myself in. "I won't lie to you, if Lucas follows through with this case, you'll end up in jail. Granted, you've probably killed every witness that could back up Lucas' claims, but on his own, his case is still very strong."
"How long am I looking at?" I said, hardly believing that I was finally faced with the situation that had always been in the back of my mind, I never actually believed it would happen, I never believed that I could wind up in this situation.
One word. That's all he needed. That's all I needed. "Life" he spoke with his head bowed.

A uniformed officer walked over to where we sat, and he said "It's time to go".
My lawyer turned off the audio recorder and slipped it into his front shirt pocket before leaving the building without so much as a goodbye. I remained in my seat, cuffed at the wrists and ankles, dressed in an orange jumpsuit. I slipped a couple of hundred dollar bills from my pocket and waved them for the officer to take.
"Not this time, George" he laughed, and dragged me to my feet.
I lashed out, ramming my arms into his upper body. He tumbled to the floor and the other officers tried to take me down. They each grappled with me, they each struggled to fight a cuffed man. I was able to wrestle a gun off one of the officers, and there it was, the one thing that would assure my smooth escape to freedom; leverage. With that one gun, I managed to disarm the three men and unlock my cuffs. I ran.