In It To Win It [The Sociopath’s Script 1]

Chapter Three-1

It might be construed as coincidences, but events that lead to calamity can either happen in sequence or simultaneously. One thing leads to another, and another and so on; seemingly unrelated as they unfold… up until the final picture is formed. Wise men dub that ‘The Butterfly Effect’…

At the very moment when Clayton ‘Tony Rocker’ Ray was being forced to listen to the proposition from an unhinged man at The Classy Hooligan, trouble was brewing at the west...

About 9 Miles Away From The Classy Hooligan:

Location: The Regal Hills West of LA:

A grey-haired Italian man in his mid-fifties was strolling into the home museum at the bottom floor of his imperial home. He was clad in a gold-colored silk robe to match the numerous gold jewelry he had on his person. His hair was neatly sleeked-back; and he looked like what people refer to as an ol’ school gangster indeed.

The Italian’s name was Marco ‘The Eye of Horus’ Angelo. He was a crime boss who came to the States as a child from a small place called Bastardo, located in Italy.

Coming from a small village like that, Marco had something immense to prove ever since he first set foot in LA at the age of 13; obviously insanely ambitious for a child.

As his home-town in Italy suggested, the bastard had no formal education and his adoptive family was too poor to afford one for him.

The flagrant followed; he was inducted into crime.

At the tender age of 15, Marco had his first taste of blood. From then, he had no problem murdering his way to the top.

By the time Marco hit his 30s, he was a kingpin. His style was however different from any other crime boss’ technique. This wasn’t your usual ‘kill you and everyone you love in a moronic manner’ sort of gangster. He was calculating in nature. From his mid-30s, he adopted the style where he only needed to kill when necessary and he found out that his method was more effective in avoiding a s**t-load of trouble. Although he had that necessary-kill philosophy in his way of living, he never hesitated to take a life when push came to shove.

Once Marco completely understood the workings of LA and its underbelly, he reevaluated his tact. He never wanted to be directly involved in crime. Somewhere along the way, he figured out that he could own all the gangs and get the huge cut he worked so diligently to achieve.

Later in his life; with age catching up to him and the hustle of constantly getting arrested, hiding and being on the run from the law, he reckoned that was the most logical step for him. So after spending time in and out of the slammer in his youth, he smoothened out the rough edges of his chosen methodology in crime. He perfected his craft.

After a while, Marco learned how to expertly conceal his criminal activities by combining his loot with legitimate investments. He even employed several top accountants that graduated from high-achieving universities to perfectly disguise his fortunes. Combine that with several lawyers and financial advisors and he eventually gained the untouchable status he had been yearning for so long. Best of all, all his associates couldn’t rat him out; they understood the consequences that came with such a feat. They knew better than to poke a sleeping lion.

That factoid gave the local law enforcement a really hard time when it came to busting Marco Angelo for a crime; including Officer Alan Smith and his counterpart Agent Tamara Cummings. They all knew about Marco’s involvement in crime; they just didn’t know how to bring the sneaky genius down. There were no loopholes in Marco Angelo’s scheme. And he concurrently always kept a step ahead of law enforcement for over a decade since he was last arrested over a minuscule J-walking charge.

Legend had it that he was so meticulous in his style of total dictatorial rule that cops would never again be in a position to beat him. The only problem was that with such power, no one was willing to risk saying anything about ‘The Eye of Horus’ and his mob; The Vincenzo Family.

Marco Angelo had earned the nickname ‘The Eye of Horus’ because it was said that he saw and subsequently oversaw everything concerning his syndicate; and everything interesting to him within his city.

With The Eye of Horus seeing everything, how would a rat go snitch and manage to stay alive afterwards? Somehow, the story about the rat would get back to ‘The Eye’ and the rat would end up between the sharp razor-like canines of a ravenous unstoppable cat.

Marco ‘The Eye of Horus’ Angelo was an enigmatic character. His crime family was large, but his most trusted right hands were three blokes. Two of them were blood-brothers; brutes that went by the names Gino ‘the Jaw’ Lucenzo and his younger brother, Vinnie Lucenzo.

The third was a hard-hitting bloke that simply went by the name Max. Very few knew his second name, even within his Mob family and he liked it that way. Rumor had it that the lower ranking members of the Vincenzo Family even thought that the name ‘Max’ was just an alias. He reckoned that way, no one would be in a position to fully rat him out; and that was appropriate given his line of work.

The trio made for a terrifying pack of enforcers in Marco’s group.

Gino was nicknamed ‘the Jaw’ due to his peculiar humor. Apparently, there was always a twisted joke coming from his sharp squared jaw. In addition to his dark misplaced form of comedy, he had a large jaw; hence his nickname suited him well. Add his flash and charisma to the mix and you got one brutal yet charming goon.

In comparison to Gino, his brother, Vinnie was however drab. That particular trait made Mr. Vinnie Lucenzo unpopular with Marco Angelo. Marco didn’t like him very much and deep down, Vinnie knew it. But then again, who would? Understandably, a gangster who lacks flamboyance, panache and flair isn’t great company to anyone, including other gangsters.

Both brothers had one common quality though; they were absolutely ferocious.

Contrary to them, Max was the articulate and outspoken killer of the group. Marco ‘The Eye of Horus’ Angelo was also fond of him. So, if one analyzed The Eye of Horus’ book, simply put; the ranks flowed as Gino being at the top, then Max as second and then Vinnie wallowing at the bottom. Nevertheless, Vinnie Lucenzo’s position was still high in one of the most powerful mobs in existence.

On that particular day, as The Eye of Horus was trotting to the private museum located in his Beverly Hills mansion, he was slowly shaking his head from side to side in disappointment. He slowly ambled to a small empty box-shaped glass display which measured about a foot square in area. Within the glass was a soft red silk pillow that once held the ancient relic of a pistol that ‘The Eye of Horus’ found to be priceless in his opinion.

The shooter once held in the glass display box was indeed a rare beauty. It was the Nayak Punjani pistol; which Cornell Simpson, the tall suspect who was presently talking to the cops at the H.Q. was referring to.

Both the Nayak Punjani’s firearm’s muzzle and handle had been forged out of pure gold and rhodium. Its frame had been carved out of the finest mahogany and lined with diamonds and various multicolored gems.

It was quite the spectacle as it initially lay within the glass display at the empty glass box Marco was eyeing. He relished seeing the gun every day; up until that damned moment when it recently ‘grew legs’ from his home museum.

Present Day:

In the Interrogation Room At the LAPD HQ:

Cornell Simpson put out the cigarette right on the metallic table as he continued narrating the tale.

The story Cornell Simpson was telling Agent Tamara Cummings and Officer Alan Smith in the interrogation room had been going on smoothly so far. It was up until he mentioned that about a year ago; someone had stolen the Nayak Punjani pistol from Marco ‘The Eye of Horus’ Angelo that his story hit a snag.

At the precise moment when he said that the pistol ‘grew legs’, Agent Tamara Cummings interrupted him, “Wait… hold up, Mr. Simpson. What you are saying is that someone stole the gun from ‘The Eye of Horus’? Who would be as brave as that?”

Cornell took another sip of water. He then burped out loud whilst cupping his mouth before proceeding, “Yes… that’s exactly what I’m saying, officer. It was quite puzzling that someone had the balls to rob a mobster as powerful and as dangerous as him. You see officer; Marco ached for that shooter. He apparently believed that the pistol brought him good luck. To some degree, he was right because ever since it was handed to him by the late Alonso Vincenzo; the founder of his crime family, Marco had never been arrested and the drama in his life had reduced tenfold. It appeared that Marco kept the gun secret from the public; only allowing close members of his circle to view it. So, what I am saying is that about a year ago; when that gun was stolen, Marco suspected that the theft might have been an inside job. But ever since the pistol was stolen from him, luck seemed to be evading him.”

Agent Tamara Cummings turned aside to look at Officer Alan Smith. She was skeptical.

Cornell sensed her cynicism and so he continued talking; clarifying his premise on the matter, “Look, this is the knowledge I have on the matter so I really don’t understand why you should doubt my words. You see; Marco had to find the pistol and return it to its ‘proper’ place; within the glass display I have mentioned in his home museum. Without his good luck charm, he was growing weary, anxious and paranoid. And worse off, Marco knew exactly who had it, but he couldn’t just go to retrieve it due to the fact that The Nayak Punjani Pistol was then in the possession of the Russian billionaire, Grigori Polipovich; the guy who you found us at the c*****e close to his mansion. Snatching it back from that owner would most likely bring Marco Angelo the immense amount of heat that he was actively trying to avoid for over a decade.”

Cornell let that sink in as it was a paramount part of his explanation to the cops. He then continued speaking, “The pistol had aptly circulated in the underbelly of society for a good nine years before the Late Alonso Vincenzo found it and gave it to Marco as a present. Before making its way into the black market where Mr. Alonso Vincenzo found it, it had been stolen from a wealthy family in India, and then Saudi Arabia, and stolen yet again from the thieves… and subsequently stolen again, and again, and again constantly.”

Cornell took a breather before he continued, “The pistol had been stolen on about a dozen separate occasions before finally resurfacing after it was stolen from Marco himself. Acquaintances of the wealthy Indian finally retrieved the ancient shooter and reunited it with its proper owners; generations down the Nayak Punjani lineage. However, in the very short time they had it, they saw that the pistol was bringing them nothing but misfortune. So, the wealthy Indian family decided to dispose of it; hence they sent it to an auction.”

Cornell took a sip of water and then continued, “So officers… back at the Marco Angelo home museum…”

Cornell eased back into his metallic chair at the interrogation room at the LAPD HQ; and he continued to narrate the story from where he had left it off when he said that the Nayak Punjani pistol ‘grew legs’…….

About A Year Ago:

After gazing at the empty glass box for some time, Marco ‘The Eye of Horus’ Angelo turned and walked to the enormous L-shaped leather sofa in the middle of his underground home museum. He sat heavily.

He took a moment to recall how much he loved to open the pistol’s box, caress and admire the gun. He then took a deep breath and voiced out his concerns in his Italian elocution, “I can’t just go buy it back from that billionaire, can I? He’s a billionaire… I on the other hand cannot offer anything substantial to a guy of his status. I’m only a multi-millionaire; who just in case you have forgotten, troops; cannot just produce a lump sum amount of money out of thin air! That will give the authorities ammunition to come and get me. Plus… I reckon a guy like that is unreachable. So I can’t threaten him either. But I do want that artifact back… It belongs to me! I still don’t even know how it was stolen from me. Maybe it does bring its possessor bad luck… or good luck… I don’t know… some sort of luck.”