The Tank

Chapter 1

The lonely mahogany table lay barren at the center of the private office. It’s accompanied only by the comforting stools that lay around it. A light florescent lightbulb hung daintily over the table, spotlighting the dirt and dried blood on the very table. And suddenly, the tranquility of the furniture party is interrupted by the broken hinged door, swinging open with force.

Vinny Vileska walks in with quick small steps. He is small, yet quick. Quick tempered, yet logical. Being the leader of a locally kmown Mafia known as the “Mezzanotte Mafia”, he always leads at the front. He takes quickly to the front chair at the table, sitting down in a quick impatient flurry of movements.

Next to enter, a huge man with broad shoulders enters with the bulk of his massive body in full view. He’s all brawn, with more brain than you’d think. His name is Robbie Malcova, and from childbirth he has had a bone irregularity which attributes to his massive size.

Despite his mass, he’s patient, logical, and analytical. Almost the opposite of Vinny, yet also his closest friend. The huge man crouches down and squeezes tightly through the doorway, almost as if it seemed impossible to go through.

“Fuckin-A, ya need help Rob?” Vinny asks Robbie. It takes Robbie a while to squeeze his overwhelming mass through the normal doorway. Robbie isn’t very much accepted in the other eyes of the Mafia, with the other members taking derision out of his mass and desire to learn more.

“No” Robbie says quietly. He finally fits through the doorway, and slouches elegantly into the humorously under-sized chair, giving a huge long creak that lingers in the silent room.

“You know why you’re here big boy?”

“No” Robbie was unnaturally quiet, holding a guilty burden, which Vinny quickly picked up on.

“Bullshit, stop fuckin’ wit me and spill it. We all know what you did big guy.”

“Look - Vin - I’m sorry, ok? I di’n’t know what the hell t’do. I had a damn gun pointed at my head – I panicked, ok? I was scared…” Robbie was suddenly apprehensive, and he stood up wide-eyed, sweat dripping from his forehead.

“An’ you fuckin’ killed him… Jesus Christ Robbie I jus’ can’t with you sometimes. Everything was going jus’ fine. It was jus’ 3 simple steps: go in, get the money, get th’fuck outta there. Now tell me, where in my 3 simple steps did you hear anything remote to killin’ somebody? You’re lucky I was withya, or else you’d have clips in ya faster than you could imagine.” Vinny pulled out a cigar from his coat chest pocket and puffed it proudly as
Robbie squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of his misdeed.

The room went silent, and the single florescent light flaunted its odd attractive beauty, gathering the attention of Robbie’s guilty eyes. He seemed fascinated by the light, until Vinny broke the gaze with a single finger snap.

Vinny spoke again, “Look son, I get it, but the thing is that you don’t know ya own strength, see? All it took was a pull of his arm and a whack in the face – and bam! Dislocated arm and a broken neck – right at the base of his neck too; painless.”

Robbie was visibly uncomfortable. He wiped his brow and stood to leave.

“I’m gonna hit it up with the boys, maybe play some rummy.”

“Alright… don’t break a fuckin’ hand though, aight?”

“Ok,” Robbie said quietly. He was visibly uncomfortable and just wanted to leave.

Vinny chuckled and lightly punched the giants arm and said “I’m just screwin’ withya Robbie”

The room falls silent, and Vinny sets into the beautiful silent drama of the flaunting light and the solemn table.