Quinto Paso: La Invitaci��n

                                        

                                              
Quinto Paso: La Encrucijada
                              
Reaper wished that the pain of his body could overwhelm him and help end the pain he felt inside. It wasn’t guilt, although there were quiet moments in his heart where there was nothing else but that rending sensation where he felt beyond all redemption; instead it was the sense that he was failing no matter what he chose to do. Seeking revenge had given him a sense of closure and justice for Adrianna’s murder, but the cost was something Malcolm would bear on his soul until the day he died. It had changed how those he loved looked at him, and how he looked at himself. Years ago Reaper had shattered a mirror, disgusted with his own reflection for being a coward, but now he feared to look himself in the eyes.  What he couldn’t say was where that fear was grounded; was he more afraid to see madness and evil lurking there or to see nothing at all of who he had been?
                              
But despite the agony, both inside and out, Reaper was on the last great hunt. Nicky had survived, just like he had, more due to blind luck than any intent on either man’s behalf. His screams and howls of pain summoned what few friends the sniffer had and they managed to get him to the hospital before life or limb would be lost. Traction, however, was most definitely needed. 
                              
Carlitos had moved Reaper from the outskirts of the city back to the interior, taking shameless advantage of West and his father’s abode. It was not a comfortable arrangement, the senior Westley James greatly disliked the sorts that were keeping company with his son, but sadly the man was away from the property far more than he should have been, and eventually gave in to his only son’s constant pestering about ‘additional security’.  That combined with blatant lies about Reaper’s injuries and the attacks, and James Senior was talked into letting them stay, on a temporary basis. Even that was a bad idea, but the poor man was so misinformed that he had no way of knowing. 
                              
Exhaustion rode Reaper’s shoulders only slightly more heavily than his bullet proof vest did, close companions to his self loathing and blood thirsty vengeance. He felt like a man torn by savage dogs, pieces ripped away and left bleeding while others were beyond destroyed and he couldn’t even scream for the pain. He felt like he was going mad, and his friends, although filled with good intentions, only added to the bedlam of his conscience as they brought themselves down to his level to help with the hunt. Carlitos was an efficient machine for deploying the Barrio Boys to collect information and deal out what limited damage they could; always moving his people to limit the number of casualties but this was all just a distraction technique. It was West that was doing the most dangerous work while Reaper recuperated. Young Westley was growing up quick and dangerous suddenly, his connections as a brief drug dealer for the Barrio Boys now allowing him access to areas that would allow him to overhear just the piece of information that Reaper would need. Where Logan was hiding, or where he planned to bolt to next. That was the secret to that hijo de puta’s continued survival. He moved from secured location to secured location, leaving out false trails and feelers to try and keep the Barrio Boys and a well deserved vengeance guessing. 
                              
The young man’s movements in the drug world were also not without their cost. Westley was busted with near a kilo of coke on him, clear intent to distribute and it was only his father’s connections that allowed him to escape a long and uncomfortable incarceration. West had tried to get Reaper the information he needed, the best time to strike and the location to find Logan, but it the last act that the young Cuban did to help his Barrio Brothers failed; because despite the lies and apologies, the promises and attempts at negotiation, the Senior James had had enough. Westley was being shipped back to Cuba to live with his Abuela ; Maya, Carlitos and Reaper were being asked to leave. Without the asking part. 
                              
“You make them pay.” Were the last words West had said to Malcolm, hugging the older man despite all machismo that decried such an act of affection. And even though it was probably best for the young man to get very far away from him, Reaper hurt at knowing he was losing him too. He had become a second younger brother to Reaper, not in competition with Diego, but a comrade that Malcolm could share the darkest parts of himself with. It wasn’t fair to the Cuban and it was with the knowledge that he could live without the violence of the Spanish gangs hunting him now that let Reaper feel that West leaving was a good thing. 
                              
It left Reaper and the other two without a safe haven, and in a strange twist, Reaper was able to go home. The Mafia Men had already trashed and soiled the place where Malcolm had grown up, the room where Adrianna had lived and loved and taught young Mal to be good was desecrated. The kitchen where the Vega family had come together and been a strong unit was splattered with dried blood which Reaper firmly hoped was from some poor animal. Their memories and possessions that had been left behind in haste had been stolen or vandalized; all of the moments he should have cherished and secured obliterated. Maya wept for the loss of his past, Carlitos stood in cold silence as Reaper simply went around in the darkened building, righting over the mostly ruined furniture, his fingertips trailing along the walls where there had once been family pictures. 
                              
At last Reaper came to his own room, the small space he had grown from babe to innocent child in. The room where his innocence had died because after Adrianna’s murder it had held nothing but shadows for him. And now it held a message; Logan had at last pieced together the clues to discover the man causing his misery. 
                              
You want me, come and face me. And there, plain in dried blood was the location that Logan was staying at. All along Malcolm could have found out, just by coming home. It hadn’t been there right after his family had fled; and the blood was newer than the rest. Probably left behind after Nicky’s hospitalization. Logan wanted this to end as much as Reaper did. And that suited the Spaniard just fine.  
                              
Reaper walked back down to the others, noting that they had let him investigate alone, have that moment to break down in peace should it occur. But it hadn’t. Reaper had lost his connection to this home long before the Mafia Men had tried to cast it into ruin. 
                              
“I know where to go. He is expecting me though.” Reaper finally admitted outloud to the others. The walk down the hallway had given him a chance to decide whether to tell them or not. He knew they would argue and object, so when they did just that, Reaper waited them out. There wasn't a thing either one could say that would change his mind, and neither one was yet willing to admit to themselves that he simply didn't care if this was a suicide mission.
                              
Reaper just needed it to end. Either with his own death, or with Logan screaming for mercy. Anything to break this numbed, cold and dead feeling he carried around his heart at all times. It was simply time for this confrontation to happen. 
                              
The other two finally fell quiet as Maya started to sob softly, her realization turning into grief. Carlitos simply held her to his chest and stared at Reaper's eyes. "He is expecting you, but that does not mean he can anticipate you." 
                              
"You will help me plan?" Reaper made it a question, already knowing that this man would do this and more. It was no longer in Adrianna's name for Carlitos, the gangster had accepted her death and kept her memory cherished, but moved on. He did it now for Malcolm, to see if the young man could be reborn again from this life. 
                              
"He can't anticipate me. He has no idea of what I'll bring down on him." Reaper said after Carlitos nodded his agreement to help. 
                              
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." Carlitos replied with a Biblical verse both men knew well." 
                              
"And I will use the rod and the staff as needed." Reaper replied grimly, knowing that the next moves he made could very well be his last. And it scared him a little; the sense of peace knowing that it would all be over with soon gave him. He didn't think he wanted to die. But a part of him was more and more willing to put Reaper into the grave finally, he just wasn't sure if Malcolm would join him there, or be reborn from the ashes of this life.