The Center

“Can you keep a secret,” Joffrey looks into his hands. Vaulted ceilings rise twenty feet above him. The masonry is ornamented with somber looking statues and the rows of dark hardwood pews stretch in front of him. A couple sits in the first row praying. 

Greg, who is sitting next to Joffrey, leans closer and says, “We’ve been trading secrets for as long as I can remember. No one knows I’m here. And plus we’re brothers. Blood never turns on blood.” Greg looks behind him. The large church door, double in its face, is closed in ornament. 

“The Center,” Joffrey says.  

“Our mutual enemy. What of them?” 

“What do you really know of them?” 

“As much as you. Some would call them a secret society. A kind of resistance to what you and I do around here,” he smiles. “Which is why we need to snuff them out. Despite the differences between us, between Duke and Lion, our groups do tend to work well together. It's been ages since we had much of a war. I think it's best that we continue to grow our alliance. The Center is an appropriate target to do such a thing.” 

“If it wasn’t for us there might be war,” Joffrey says.  

“Sure, I’ve thought of that. Who would think two brothers could join opposite teams? I think we are good for our organizations. If that wasn’t so we wouldn’t be ranked so high now would we? With any luck we can count on running things eventually. Then we can enact our goal.” 

“To merge...”

“Hell, we’re practically there already,” Greg twists his head pulling at a kink in his neck. 

“The Center stands in our way of seeing that as reality,” Joffrey says. “There is no room for any other organization or group. No secret societies. Resistances. We need to be careful in how we continue to conduct business. It seems to be stirring the pot.” 

“Right. Well, what were you going to tell me?” 

“It turns out you and I aren’t so alone.”

“How so?”

“We have a sister…” 

 Eliza stands in front of a reddish door in an alley off Patterson street. She knocks. The street is near the center of the city and makes up a no man's land where the unspoken rule is that no violence takes place. Gangsters walk the street and greet one another like they were killers and gentlemen. It's been years since there was any actual violence between the organizations. When there is, it's only bar brawls between the younger members. Ever since the two famed brothers became highly ranked within the opposing organizations, things began to change. A mostly peaceful interaction began to take root. Much of the exploitation of the greater population and the racketeering became joint efforts. More and more, Duke and Lion were acting like one. For those who were not members of the clans were victims to their exploits. 

There are two bars on Patterson. Friars and Tiff’s. One for Dukes and the other for Lions. There is occasional mixing but for the most part these are the two places where things generally remain separate. Patterson also houses various safe houses for The Center, where they work to grow their resistance. The name The Center is not the group's chosen name, but the one given to them. The name has stuck and those who fall into the resistance take great pride in the name. 

Eliza knocks harder.

When the door opens there is a pale woman standing in semi darkness. She says, “you’re late.”  

There is a long wood table in a dimly cement room. Eliza takes a seat, pulling herself toward the table. 

The city of Iron. The Dukes control the east and south ends of the city. The Lions control the north and west. Patterson St. runs through the middle and divides them. 

“This is Eliza,” a man at the end of the table says. 

She looks around at the faces and gives a subtle nod. 

“She has been vetted. She is neither Duke nor Lion. She will kill the brothers which will strike our very first blow after years of preparation.”

Eliza and her family suffered under both Duke and Lion. Never having known her father and losing her mother to murder when she was seven years old she had grown up in a worried world of fear and gained strength. There was little she was afraid of now at twenty-seven. And her desire to kill those who she felt had taken away from her life had grown to the point that she was finally willing to do it. 

Eliza stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom and counted the scars on her cheek. It was the same number as it had been for the last four years. The most recent having been given to her by a Lion when rent was late. She had wanted to kill him as she always wanted to kill them. And now her anger and desire would finally be sanctioned and given weight. She was a part of something now. She would fight. She would kill. She would make a difference. 

Joffrey sat at his normal booth at Friars. Another Duke called John came to the table with two pints. 

“Joff, here you go,” he says and sits across from him. 

Greg was walking down the street toward Friars and across the way Eliza watched him. In her waist was a Luger. 

Joffrey drinks half of his beer in one large gulp, nervously. 

“When’s Greg supposed to be here?” John asks. 

“He’s late.” 

Greg stops into a cigar shop and buys a Maduro. Eliza stands across the street in a doorway waiting for him to emerge. When he does she crosses the street as he enters through the door at Friars. 

In the bar the three men talk. 

“What does she even look like? Greg asks.” 

“I’ve only seen one photo, but I could pick her out. She’s been living in the North end for the last three months. I hear she moves a lot.” 

“Okay, and so what, we greet her, we meet her, bring her into the fold?” 

“Something like that. The thing is I’ve heard she’s been roughed up pretty bad by both of our groups in the past. Not good stuff. It may take some convincing.” 

“I see. Well, good thing we’re both charming,” Greg Smiles. 

Eliza is at the horseshoe bar watching the three men. This is the first time she has seen the brothers in flesh. Her heart is racing and she is making sure that she is good and drunk before the evening proceeds.

“I think she’ll be a good asset,” Joffrey is saying. “A way to help merge Duke and Lion. She may be the key to ending the resistance. In fact, I have more news.” 

“You’re always full of secrets to divulge,” Greg says, drinking his beer. “But hurry up with it, I’m nearly ready for a fresh pint.” 

“My sources tell me she may have already been in contact with The Center. And we may even know where they meet. If this is true we'll be able to use her as a mole for further operations.” 

“This is sounding good.” 

“Indeed. Very good news.”

“So what now?” 

“We meet with her.”

“When?”

“Tonight. She’s already here,” Joffrey looks toward the horseshoe bar and motions to her to come. 

Eliza finishes her drink and says a prayer to herself as she rises from the bar-stool. Her mind trickles over her memories like water over stones. She imagines the death and wrong, the scars across her face and the hatred that these have bore. Her body feels heavy and the lights and everything around her seem to tunnel into a cylinder of vision. She can’t hear her heartbeat because the bar has grown loud. Instead she can feel it jumping in her throat like it were to pounce out her mouth. The perspiration around her eyes is visible and moving down her face like melting glaciers sliding down a rock face. The Luger in her waist feels alive and her legs shakily carry her to the table where the three men sit. She doesn’t know them. She doesn’t love them. She doesn’t care that they will die. She only wants war. 

“Eliza, please sit,” Joffrey begins to scoot over.

Standing at the side of the table she reaches behind her and draws the Luger and fires into Joffrey’s open face. She then turns toward Greg and discharges a bullet into his temple as he raises his pint glass to his lips. Before she can fire at John he pulls a gun and shoots her between the eyes. The bar erupts in shrieks and people go running from the bar. Eliza, still alive, twitches on the ground and her mouth shutters as she dies.