Underdog of the Underworld
I sat at my desk in my house finishing off my letter addressed to my aunt down under in Australia. She's pretty old fashioned, so she prefers letters over emails. It had been one week since that bizarre incident in the KFC parking lot where I mistakenly got held up by a man called Sylvio Del Fererro who works for the Manchester Mafia. Sheer luck and wits had gotten me out of it, but I wondered what he meant by the other gangs in Manchester. To think of it, I regretted not taking up his advice for protection, now it seemed like I needed it as I felt kinda vulnerable. How had they known I was at KFC? Was I being watched? Or was it pure luck they found me there?
The thought of being watched sent a shiver down my spine as I licked the envelope shut and grabbed my car keys so I could post the letter.
I sighed, knowing how long this letter would reach my aunt and how long it would take for hers to reach me. I literally lived in the middle of nowhere, there was no soul (or letterbox for that matter) around for quite a long distance, so I had to drive to find one.
A short while later I found a red letterbox as I turned a corner into an abandoned road. This place is worse than a ghetto,
I thought. It's only a short distance away Justin, quit acting like a pussy.
I got out of the car and strode up to the letterbox to post my letter. As the letter dropped into the letterbox I heard a deep voice shout, "FREEZE, FUCKFACE!"
"Fuck, not again!"
I muttered with my hands shooting up to where my would-be assailant could see them. "What is it this time Sylvio? I thought I told you that you got the wrong guy."
I heard the man cackle, "Sylvio? That is not my name, my name is irrelevant. Now turn around Mr. Credible. Slowly."
Why did I ever turn into an abandoned, run-down area, for Christ's sake? If I get out of this alive, that is something I'd never do again
. I gulped as I turned around and I finally saw the man. He was of East Asian descent, possibly Japanese due to the letters on his black jacket... They resembled a tattoo my friend had. He had spiked black hair and pale skin, his slanted eyes were fixed onto me with a menacing expression. The worst thing of all: both of his hands were fixed onto a revolver
... And the revolver was pointing straight at my head
. Behind the man was a slick yellow Lamborghini parked parallel to my grey Rolls-Royce. This time I genuinely felt scared.
"What do you want from me?"
I asked him, my voice showing some signs of fear. Who the hell is this guy?
"Let me introduce myself. My name is Takeda Takahashi, representative of the Stockport Samurai."
The gun didn't move away from its target. Haha, Stockport Samurai... What are they? Five year olds?
"Okay, but what do you want?"
I asked again.
He spat on the ground before saying, "Have you been in contact with any bookies lately? My sources say you have."
Not this again, fuck this shit
. I could see a filled skip in my peripheral vision, I may need it if things get awry... My sixth sense could feel it. "No Takahashi, I haven't. Your sources are bullshit."
"Is that so?"
An evil grin appeared on his face. "WE control the bookies in this place. Not YOU. It's OUR job to contact them. I'll ask you again: have you or have you not been in contact with any bookies? I'm not afraid to shoot you into pieces."
This bitch means business,
I thought. Why do they all think I've been involved in some crazy bookie shit?
I cleared my throat, "And I'll say it again, sorry to disappoint you, but I haven't... Fucking cunt. "
Takahashi cocked his gun. "Bad move Justin, bad move."
He said. And pulled the trigger.
Time seemed to slow down along with my heartbeat, I could feel the adrenaline rush though my veins and the world was in slow-motion. I rolled away just in time to feel the bullet whizz past my left ear and I hid behind the skip. "FUCK!"
"DON'T COME CLOSER YOU PRICK, I HAVE A GUN TOO!"
I yelled, trying to buy more time. "I've been in a situation like this before, I've learnt my lesson!"
I could hear him groan in anger and frustration. I looked around near me and there was a half finished bottle of alcohol near the bottom of the skip, at least I prayed it was alcohol. "I told you I don't have any involvement in that business! I'm only a football manager for crying out loud!"
"Somehow I don't believe that!"
He yelled back from the other side. C'mon, c'mon, anything to help me.
I looked into the skip and found a yoyo. I ripped off the string and dipped it into the alcohol. "Alright mate, I'll surrender! I'll come out, just put your gun down and we can talk like men!"
I tried anything to buy more time.
"No, you are going to come out of your hole with your hands in the air or I'll kill you, Credible."
I searched around for anything to hold the string in place. After failing to do so, I had to take off my boxers, and I wrapped them around the bottle neck so the damp string was half-inside the bottle. Now for my lighter... My heart skipped a beat when I realised I'd left my jacket in the car (not that I smoked).
Suddenly I had this amazing idea. I grabbed the end of the string and scraped it against the kerb... It set alight! "Hey Takahashi, you took the food, but you forgot your drink at the bar!"
I threw the bottle at him before the flame reached the bottle neck... I saw it fly through the air, and I saw him duck. The bottle hit his car and the next thing I remember was seeing a massive explosion that destroyed our cars and blinded me for a few seconds. Nonetheless, I'd missed my target.
"YOU FUCKING PRICK! That's it you pussy, come out of your hole and die like a man!"
He yelled, coughing debris out of his mouth.
I began to sweat. I didn't want to die like this. Millions of memories of Rochdale AFC
flashed before my eyes as I slowly lifted my hands up and crept out from behind the skip. A tear rolled down my cheek as I realised that this is the end of me. I'd never see my parents again, my family, my friends... And Rochdale.
Takahashi wiped his forehead with his sleeve and grunted, "This is it Justin. Say goodbye."
I clamped my eyes shut... The next thing I heard was a gunshot... I shielded my head, knowing it would have zero effect, and braced myself to leave this world.
I felt nothing
. Had he missed? Am I dead? What's going on?
I opened my eyes, surprised... And saw Takahashi lying in a pool of blood in the middle of the road. Above him, stood Sylvio Del Fererro
with his gun in his hand and his mouth stretched in a broad grin.
"Told you you'd need us!"
He said enthusiastically and strode over to me. "That guy worked for the Stockport Samurai, another gang that wants some answers. Now do you see why I said they shoot first ask questions later?"
"Yeah I do... But how did you know where to find me?"
I inquired through gritted teeth.
"Tracking device placed in your car. When you were sat in my car, my man placed it in there. Hate me all you want, but you needed it."
I'd lost the ability to speak at this point. I felt a wave of gratitude mixed with rage surging through me. "Just take me home Sylvio."
"Sure thing man, but tomorrow night I will pick you up from your house and I'll introduce you to the Manchester Mafia. And by the way, the 24/7 protection offer is still out there if you need it...?"
"Fine, fine, whatever. If it'll stop you from asking me go ahead."
I groaned. My head was pounding, fit to burst. I'd agree to anything just so I could go home.
"Thanks. I'll station my men around your house pronto. Hop into my car and I'll drive you home Justin. You look like you need some rest."
"Ugh, tell me about it."
I muttered. These Manchester Mafia people seemed like the good guys to me. Snap out of it Justin, he was pointing a gun at you last week.
Regardless, Sylvio saved my ass tonight.
As he drove home, I gazed out of the window and pondered my fate and as to what other bullshit destiny had in store for me...