You know, you might think I'm full of shit for saying this, considering how I lived most of my life, but I don't think I deserved to die.
Alright, that's a load of shit. I totally deserved it. But, I didn't deserve to get lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree in broad fucking daylight! I mean, maybe if I died a few years ago while I was still with the Alberico Family, I wouldn't have been so surprised by it all. But now? While I was trying to change for the better? That was a load of bullshit. So what if I had a bit of an attitude problem? Did that seriously justify getting swiss-cheesed in broad daylight?!
Oh, right. You're probably wondering who I am. Well, my name is Giovanni Kivela. I'm a 19-year-old from the wonderful city of Chicago. As you might've guessed, I was a member of the Mafia, but after getting arrested at 16 for a murder that I totally, 100%, no-takesies-backsies, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die didn't commit, I spent a year and some change in big-boy jail. Not prison. There's a difference.
Anyway, because I managed to gain a high rank in the Family despite my age, people didn't bother me in there. On the contrary, they treated me like a king! It may as well have been a vacation–albeit the worst one ever. Things only started to change when I got released. You see, the family came through and shook a few hands to get me out of there early, but part of that deal required me to meet with a parole officer a few times a week.
I'd assumed they would've been another bribed officer who was supposed to act as my chaperone for the next few years of my life, but it turned out the lady I got, Officer North was her name, wasn't on the take. She actually did her job! It was annoying as shit at first, but the more time I spent with her, the more I found myself looking forward to our meetings. In the same way jail was a break from the mafioso life, time in her office became a break from it all as well. Maybe it's because I never had parents, but having her boss me around all the time like she was my mom or something was… something I didn't know I needed.
In the end, she managed to convince me to turn my life around. She pitched in to help me move all the way over to New York. Specifically, the Bronx. Not the worst part, but certainly not the best one. I'm man enough to admit I might've shed a few tears in that last meeting I had with her before I moved. She was a nice lady, and the closest thing to a mother I'd ever had in my life.
The Alberico Family killed her for sending me away. And the only reason I knew was because of a letter I'd received in the mail with pictures of her corpse.
I remember the anger I felt. It was so visceral. So primal. Before that, I'd taken on a job as a sanitation worker to make legitimate money. I'd gotten into video games and barbecue of all fucking things just to have something to keep my hands busy – something Officer North recommended I do. I'd made friends with the people in the community and bonded with many of them over sports, games, food, and music. When I saw those pictures, I wanted to throw all of that away. Every bit of progress. It would've been so easy for me to go on a murder spree for her, and everything in me wanted to follow through with that desire.
That was how I'd planned to die, truthfully: in a shootout avenging Officer North. And I was ready to do it, too! I had a car, some guns, and a shit-load of ammo. Don't ask me how I got it.
The day before my suicide mission, I had a dream that threw all those plans out the window. I was back in Officer North's office. It looked like any government worker's office; off-white everything with that ugly speckled beige flooring, ceiling lights that managed to have a few dead roaches in there somehow, and stacks of papers and binders that obscured her face. If I'd shed a few tears that last time I saw her, I cried a fucking river when I saw her this time. Despite it being a dream, that warmth that I felt when I hugged her was so real that I wouldn't be surprised to learn that I'd actually taken a little trip to heaven to talk to her! Anyway, I remember her asking me what I was going to do and telling her all about my mission to avenge her.
"Did our time together mean that little to you?"
I was stunned! "That little"?! I was doing this because of how much I cherished our time together! She was normally the only person I didn't raise my voice at, but when she said that, we'd gotten into a bit of a shouting match.
"You have a good heart, Giovanni," She'd said to me at the end of our little argument. "Watching you grow into the man you are now was the highlight of my life. I don't want you to throw away all of the time we spent together and ruin the future I provided you with because you're angry now."
"But they took you from me!"
"And I'm survived by you."
Just like that, my dreams of going out like John Wick were dashed. After a long talk about where my life was going to go from here, we'd parted ways for the final time.
The day of the mission, I stayed home and threw some shit on the grill. That'd become my detox. There weren't many pitmasters in the Bronx, and the few that were here weren't as good as me. They were all stuck on charcoal grills and those pussy ass pellet grills. It was like no one in New York City had ever heard of an offset! Every time I'd cook something on the grill, the whole damn block would come to my house for some food! Heavy is the head, am I right? I didn't mind, though. It wasn't like I was gonna eat it all myself. In fact, that was the whole point.
Like always, I fed the community, then took the leftovers and handed them out to the local homeless. Part of my parole agreement was that I had to do community service, and feeding them was how I completed it. It was Officer North who got me into feeding the homeless in particular. I enjoyed doing it, too. Seeing the looks on their faces when people treated them like humans was enough to soften my previously stone heart, and watching them rave over my cooking filled me with more pride and joy than anything I'd ever done with the Alberico Family.
But, of course, you know how this story ends. I already told you, didn't I?
I never made it home that day.
It was an all-black Ford Crown Victoria with tints as dark as the damn paint–the choice car of gangsters everywhere. Looking back, it should've been obvious this was coming. They'd already found my address, for crying out loud. I'd been wary at home since then, but leaving the house with no protection? I'd lost my touch.
It would've been easy for me to run. There was a building nearby that I could've escaped into. But, of course, there just had to be a mother walking her toddler, standing between me and that chariot of death. I had two choices, and I already knew which one I was going to pick…
I ran in front of the mother and child just as the windows came rolling down, and – like a scene out of a fucking movie – got riddled with bullets for a comically long amount of time. I watched the family run away as my body hit the pavement. They were terrified, and that kid would probably be scarred for life, but they were alive. That was enough.
As the car sped off and I stared up into the afternoon sky, I remember thinking about how unfair it all was. I was supposed to survive Officer North. I was supposed to change my life for the better! Find a wife, settle down somewhere in the middle of nowhere, and live a nice, quiet, boring life. I'd have a daughter, name her North, and have a son and name him… well… I probably would've had my wife name him. But you get the idea. I was gonna become something! I was supposed to become something…!
I was supposed to keep living for Officer North.
She'd died for me, and I'd barely made it a year before I'd wasted that sacrifice, and now I'd be dead just like she was. The only difference between us was that she was an angel and I was a demon with angel wings glued to its back. Simply put: I wasn't going to the same place she was. My hands were still dirty, and no amount of community service was going to clean the grime off.
"I didn't choose this life," I thought to myself as I stared up into the blurry sky above me. I didn't know if there was any god out there, but if there was, they sure as shit were going to listen to me. "When my parents died, Uncle T took me in. He's the one who set me on this path. You think I would've chosen this if I had a choice? I just wanted to be a fucking kid, and instead I got initiated into the goddamn Mafia!"
Yelling at a deity wasn't the smartest way to spend your final words. Especially when you were about to make an appeal to them. After internally cursing my shitty temper, I tried again.
"I just… if I had a second chance, I'd be better. I know I haven't been religious, but I swear on my life… whatever that's worth right now… I'll do whatever you tell me to do. I'll be whatever you want me to be. Just… please… I don't want to die. I want to honor Officer North. Please, let me do that. I promise I won't waste it if you give me a second chance."
Honestly, I wasn't sure what I was expecting. Like I'd told the potential listener, I wasn't religious, so there was a part of me that didn't expect to hear anything back. Of course, as my vision continued to blur and breathing became more of a chore, that small hopeful part of me became louder and more desperate. Again, I wasn't sure what I was expecting. It wasn't like the heavens were gonna open up or some angel or something was gonna speak directly into my head, right?
Well…
RULER SYSTEM ACTIVATED.
A green box appeared in my vision, distant yet close like the sun. I attempted to reach out to the white text in the box, but my arm fell limp to the ground before it could even pass my leg. Pain seared through my body as it came crashing down, only for it to be followed by an inexplicable wave of warmth that washed the pain away.
"What is that…?" I'd asked. But before I could spend any more time thinking about it, a wave of pop-ups came and went in my vision.
TRANSMIGRATION SEQUENCE INITIATED BY [SHORSY MYRLOR].
[SHORSY MYRLOR] IS CURRENTLY SEEKING PERMISSION FROM [SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR] TO PROCEED WITH THE TRANSMIGRATION SEQUENCE.
PERMISSION GRANTED. TRANSMIGRATION AUTHORIZED BETWEEN TWO PLANETS WITHIN THE MORTAL PLANE: [EARTH] AND [MILKAT].
"Transmigration…? What the hell does that–"
NOW BEGINNING TRANSMIGRATION SEQUENCE.
"What the fuck…?"
Not the most graceful choice of last words, but what can you do, right? Alas, they were the last ones I would ever utter on the planet Earth, and the last words I spoke before my vision went fully black.