CriminArt: The Melancholy of the cold

No one has ever loved the sky over this city...

New York has always been a center of new ideas and aspirations. Its residents are always on the lookout for something that can make their lives more exciting and interesting. During the day, kids frolicked on playgrounds, adults hurried about their business, and teenagers learned the basics of knowledge at school. The city was filled with new colors, aromas and sounds. Bakeries, perfume and jewelry stores, banks and other institutions were opened. Cars were moving in a continuous stream along the roads, carrying their owners towards new achievements. Tourists came and went. It was exactly the time when New York was just gaining popularity. But... Everything changed when night came into its own in this city. They say that night is the best time when the city comes alive with hundreds of lights, people, sounds and music. The girls went to clubs to have fun and seduce hot guys. Some teenagers were walking along the streets, talking and laughing. Women returned home after a hard day, thinking either about the things that needed to be done tomorrow, or about new shoes that had recently come off the pages of fashion magazines, which they definitely needed to buy, so that their girlfriends, looking at them, gasped and dreamily watched, as if saying, "Oh, I wish I had the same ones!". Cars were returning home for a delicious dinner or for another evening at the computer or TV with a can of beer. Of course, the night was the perfect time for some, but not for all residents. Night is not only a time for revelry and entertainment, but also a time of danger. And yet... It's true! Well, what kind of pleasure do you get when you walk down a dark alley where there are no people, and bandits, murderers and other dark personalities are waiting for you around every corner? The devil knows what these scoundrels have in mind! A new day, dawn and a city. Some man will go about his morning business, and stumble upon this "creation" of the night brats: a corpse. And the "light forces" called the police will arrive at the place of detection. They'll determine the cause of death, the murder weapon, and so on. It happens every day... No matter what is done, everything repeats itself. Day, night, corpse, morning... I'm so tired of this! Well, when will life get better in this city?! It's like there's no life at all, but some kind of Mafia game! But after all... There are such "Mafias" in this city... They've been keeping New York City at bay for who knows how long. They staged shootouts, played in casinos, took money if people came to them and asked for "help," and if people did not give the money on time, they came to them and killed the debtors. Sometimes, only the debtor was killed, and sometimes his whole family was killed! Mafia leaders killed, went to clubs, hooked up with girls, ordered whores at home, and always cheated and cheated, even if they said they were "playing fair." Nobody knows why these mafia groups were created or why they are needed at all. There were also cases when the police recognized their location, but for some reason they could not catch them. No one liked the sky over this city...

***

He was running. I ran as fast as I could. That's how a man runs, desperately clinging to life. But, as everyone has long known, fate has its own plans. You never know what a new day has prepared for you. He ran until he stopped and was horrified: there was a dead end ahead. A huge brick wall towered over him like a giant. There's nothing else to do. But there was no time to stand here, otherwise he was finished, and no one would have time to save him. The man wanted to turn back, but then... He heard footsteps. He tensed, swallowed, and pressed himself against the cold brick wall, as if it could turn into a human and protect the poor guy from his pursuer. But there are no miracles. There is only one outcome. The footsteps were approaching him. The man hoped to the last that his friend would come around the corner and, smiling warmly, say: "Hey, buddy! Why are you scared of me? Let's go home!" And he and his friend will walk along deserted and quiet alleys, talking and joking. What a pity that wasn't the case... Step... step... One more... one more... Another man in his mid-twenties looked out from behind the alley. His skin was as pale as a toadstool. Her black-and-white hair fluttered slightly in the wind. He was wearing a white suit and had a red tie around his neck. He slowly approached his victim, not taking his gaze off her with red eyes like blood on snow, which sparkled with a predatory thirst for revenge and madness. The "victim", who was huddled against the wall, gave a trembling voice: - P... please don't! The "pursuer" just grinned and bared his teeth.: –And why shouldn't I kill you?" - You... You can't kill me! I have a wife and a child! - the man almost broke into a plaintive cry and almost fell to his knees, begging. Only now did the "victim" notice that something was glinting in his pursuer's hands. Something sharp and metallic. Under the moonlight, you might have thought it was a diamond, but no. It was a knife. The "pursuer" laughed: –Hahaha! How naive you are... - with these words, he put a knife to the victim's throat. - Now listen to me, you idiot. You should have thought earlier when you borrowed from us. You agreed to it yourself, no one forced you or pulled your tongue. His smile widened. - I'm sorry, but... -the knife penetrated the victim's neck like a warrior's spear. - Your duty... - and after these words, he drew a bloody line on his neck and abruptly pulled out a knife. - It has already been paid off... The stabbed man fell lifelessly to the asphalt. A few seconds later, a red pool of blood glistened under him in the moonlight. The killer hurriedly left the alley and headed back. Going behind one of the unsociable alleys, he wiped the knife from the blood and, taking out a pack of cigarettes, lit a cigarette. Gray tobacco smoke crept up, dissolving into the silence of the night sky. Yes, the job of a mafia boss is not easy, especially when the police and the whole city are on their ears. Suddenly, he heard some rustling. The man turned around to look at the enemy, but found no one. But he had a leaflet under his foot. Picking it up, he looked at the faded piece of paper. It was a wanted poster, but not for him, but for an unknown girl. Her profile is captured in a black and white photograph. Her straight, long hair was loose, and her eyes were directed straight at the camera. In the picture, she was wearing a black jacket, top and gloves. It was impossible to see her bottom. He chuckled and muttered to himself: – Jackie De'Prim... I remember you... He threw the butt of his cigarette on the ground and, trampling on it, walked in the opposite direction from the alley, and dawn was already coming in the city. Everyone in the city knew that name. He was an unwavering mafia boss and a violent man. His name... Riccardo De'Carli