Tale of Two Brothers

Gio remembered Rafael Romano, he had been old enough to when his uncle died. But he had still been just a kid, and he bad acknowledged that, that gave him a blind spot. The same blind spot that had made it possible for Gio to disregard the gossip he'd heard all those years ago. To him the man had been uncle Rex. Even as a child, Gio had known exactly what his family did for a living. It was not something that they tried too hard to hide, but the adults did make it a point that the kids were not exposed to the grittier side of the job until they were older.

So when Gio, all of twelve at the time, had been called into his father's study, and told of his uncle's passing. He had mourned him, crying for the man who used to give him piggyback rides and always had a chocolate bar for him.

As a child, it had not mattered how his uncle had died, all that had been important was that he loved his uncle, and now his uncle was no more. But as he had grown older, Gio had realized that there was more to his uncle's death than him just being killed on the job. Before the absolute silence on hid uncle's name had descended, the old timers had used to whisper.

He'd heard rumours, careless people letting things slip when they thought no one was listening. Unaware of the little kid hidden beneath the stairs.

They talked of 'Blood Rex', the butcher, the hound, the final blade.

Cut off conversations here and there. By the time Gio reached adulthood he had pieced enough of the pieces together to realize at least part of what had happened.

His uncle had gone off the rails. In the weeks leading up to his death, the news had been filled with stories of torn up bodies showing up all over the place. People nabbed from public places and found missing vital organs, their corpses dismembered. 

The abductions had stopped almost immediately after his uncle's death. And to Gio, looking at his old man, who had aged considerably since his brother's death. His eyes haunted, it was clear that the old man had put his brother down himself. But just like his suspicions on exactly what his uncle had been doing, Gio had actively ignored the action his father had taken to stop his brother. 

It was clearly a decision that had haunted his father for all of his remaining years.

When Santino Romano had been diagnosed with prostate cancer (cancer, the same disease that had killed his wife, just in a different organ)it was like the old man had been relieved. He wanted no treatment whatsoever, instead spending his final days making sure that Gio was ready to take over and run the family smoothly.

He had died a few days after Gio's twenty second birthday. He had spent his last hours out of his mind. Calling Gio, Rex, and asking again and again if they were still on for their fishing trip. Something his father and uncle had done once a year, every year. Each time Gio had said yes, silently wiping away his tears as he watched his father grow weaker and weaker. Santino had died with the promise of a fishing trip that would never come to be.

It was the first time Gio had seen his old man look at peace since his uncle's death.

But with his father gone, and himself as the new don, it was Gio's business to know exactly who was an enemy and who was a friend and why. He had gone through the files (the physical ones, nothing incriminating was ever made digital) and finding his uncle's name had made him sad. It was listed under enemies, and rather than being just a number, the file was named 'little brother'. A testament of his father's love for his younger sibling even after everything.

Back then, Gio had skipped the file, unable to force himself to open it. But now he did not have a choice, so here he was, alone in the secret archives, his uncle's file in his hands.

Opening the file, Gio had forced himself to read it. Each word stripping away the fond memories Gio had of his childhood hero.

His uncle had not just gone a little bit off the rails, he had gone insane. 

He had gone crazy with power. Rex had believed that his older brother's way of doing things would lead to their doom. That having more legal businesses than illegal businesses would bring nothing but trouble.

He had brought up his concerns, and his brother had brushed him off. Doing it often enough that Rex had stopped bringing up his grievances. At which point, Santino had thought the matter over.

So busy branching out, he had not noticed his brother pulling away. But what he did notice was when their people started disappearing. Following the trail leading him to more disappeared people, a search which had finally led him right to Rex.

'It would have been better if he had shown remorse' His father had written.

'But my younger brother was far beyond the reach of things like logic and guilt. He believed completely in what he was doing. Completely unbothered by the lives he wasted in feeding the organ trade. When I used my authority as don to order him to stand down, he looked me in the eye and laughed. He proclaimed himself a new don. The Red Don. Before my people, and the ones he had managed to convert, he dismissed my authority…'

To disrespect a don in such a way was a way of calling for death. Gio had looked away for a while, knowing what had most likely come from the proclamation, but still not ready to read it. But wanting to know, he had forced himself to carry on.

'I should have attacked first after such disrespect, but I stayed my hand. Still seeing not an enemy, but the baby I had held in my arms all those years ago. But Rex had no such problems. He took aim and fired, the only thing that saved me was one of my captains taking the bullet for me. There was no going back after that…' The final chronicles of his uncle's death had broken Gio's heart, for in taking in the words. He had realized that his father had not just been talking about his younger brother's death, but his own as well.

'Watching as one of my people bled out before me, there was silence. The people backing my brother salivating for the fight to come, those behind me angry and ready for vengeance. There would be bloodshed and if I had let things play out as my brother intended, the Romano clan would have been reduced to dust come morning. So I did the only thing I could, I called for a cross bones battle…' The cross bones, an age old tradition in the Romano family. A fight to the death, no guns, no bullets, just fists and blades. Winner takes all.

'In all our years, I had never once lost a spar against my younger brother, but we were older. With him angrier and meaner, and me, more used to the strain of long hours at my desk that the strain of a fight. Everything pointed to the fight being in his favor and just as I knew he would, he took the chance. I allowed myself a single tear, and looking over I could see a hint of regret in my brother's eyes but there was no backing out once a cross bones had been accepted. '

'For what would be the last time in our lives, my brother and I crossed blades. The matching pair that had been specially made for us. To honest, I do not remember much of the fight. Or maybe I do but my mind will not let me access the memories as a way to try and protect me. I wish my mind would do the same with memories of how it ended, but I am not so lucky. I remember clear as day the moment my blade breached my brother's defences. The slow tear of flesh a as it sank beneath Rafael's ribs at my upward stab. The feel of warm blood falling against my hand as I pulled it out. I remember the way his blade clattered as it fell, his weight falling on me, his legs no longer able to support him. For the sake of the family, and for countless other people I killed my own brother. I held him as he died, watching as the light left him. The two of us remaining standing, as tradition dictated. In a cross bones battle, you died in the position you were in when the fatal blow was dealt. Cowards died on their knees. My brother died standing, gasping for every bloody breath my blood covered hand at the back of his head, my forehead against his. I had hoped that in some way his final words would be a comfort to me, but all they brought was confusion. So far gone in pain, my brother's last words made no sense.

"Lest" That was the final thing my brother ever said. His body have up after that, one final slow exhale and he was not there anymore. Instead I held a shell in my arms, barely aware as the sound of multiple thumps followed, the people who had backed my brother welcoming their own deaths as was the custom.

Thanks to my actions, countless lives were saved, but though I will never breathe a word of this to anyone…I miss him.

I have loved that child since the day he was born, and I loved him even as I killed him, and continue to do so today.

Out in the streets, they call him blood Rex, but I still remember my little brother. And soon, I hope to see him again, without all the death and bloodshed...'

At the end of his father's personal log, there had been pictures, but Gio had taken one look at the first one and closed the file. Unwilling to look, not able to associate his larger than life uncle Rex with the gruesome pictures.

But now here he was, ten years later, reopening the old file and forcing himself to look.

Sure enough Donnie had been right. The cuts on the victims were near identical. But his father had cleaned house after Rex's death, anyone associated with him was taken out without hesitation. Weeding out the rot before it became dangerous again. But clearly he had missed someone, and whomever it was, they were hunting once more. And this time, it was up to Gio to stop them once and for all.