ALVIZE

Idris Verdonni, as Alvize knows, is doomed. Even his girlfriend has betrayed him. It seems his downfall was inevitable from the start. Idris shouldn't have pointed his sword at him. His sword—so dull and worn down by his own tragedy.

If Alvize were told some months back that Idris Verdonni would reach the status of a lowlife, he would have laughed the whole thing off. Now the joke has come to pass. Idris Verdonni is beyond saving. He will meet his end soon.

And Alvize will grant him that end. With the help of his own girlfriend. He thinks it's the perfect conclusion. Betrayal from one so close to him. Then again, Idris must not think too highly of his girlfriend if he shares his bed with other women. At least, that's the story Josi fed him.

Currently, the two are at a nightclub in a room of their own. Alvize's idea. There's a guard standing watch by the entrance, while Alvize keeps watch over Josi herself, still very much wary of her.

"The reporter's family whose massacre you ordered," Josi says, another glass of alcohol in her hand. "What was his name?"

Alvize is a bit puzzled by this question. "Carter Harris."

"You remember."

"I make a habit of remembering my enemies." Alvize tells her.

Josi nods, considering. "That's quite noble, given your line of work."

It sounds like an insult, but Alvize doesn't take it as one. He drinks from his glass of water. "This life, I never truly wanted it. It was given to me."

"And now you've made it yours."

Sad as it may seem, Alvize doesn't view it as such. Yes, his life was premeditated, but with it comes power. Who, in this day and age, doesn't love the idea of power?

"If there was an option to hand your role over to someone else, would you have taken it?" Josi asks him.

This isn't a question new to him. If he had some other sibling, Alvize would have handed the reins over. The family and all its troubles would no longer be his problem. He would be free to do as he pleases, not act on the expectations of his family.

But Alvize has become the Tesoro household. And now no more doubts remain. It's well past time for doubt.

Josi finds an answer in his silence and falls back. Alvize takes this chance and studies her. She attends their meetings with no one by her side. She's vulnerable. Completely vulnerable. Yet she moves with the confidence of an entire army. She must know what she's doing, Alvize had once thought. Otherwise, she wouldn't be this brash.

Brash, Josi's decision is, heading off to a possible enemy with no precautions set. But it was from that same action that Alvize decided her threat level low. If she truly means to harm him, she has no means to do so. The only chance she had was with Idris's guard, who is currently too busy building a wall around Idris himself.

So Alvize began attending their meetings with fewer guards. He's still armed, lest she tries pulling some stunt. It's not wise to easily trust those with pretty faces. They tend to turn ugly really quick.

"What do you intend to do once Idris is gone?"

Josi takes more sips of cocktail. "Return back to my old life." And when Alvize offers no more words, she adds, "What do you intend to do?"

Alvize already has an answer. "Absorb his wealth. Or what he has left of it. To think if he hadn't turned his back on me, he would still be standing on his own two feet."

From this statement, Alvize catches in Josi a faint smile. But he brushes it off. She must be elated by the sight of Idris Verdonni in shambles. As he is himself.

"Let's make sure Idris regrets turning his back on you." Says Josi.

This is what Alvize likes to hear. This is the only thing he wants to hear. Idris Verdonni's death. And he will not stop until he achieves it. Until the Verdonni family recites their history only in whispers.

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"The Damsel in black brings death. Be weary of her."

Josi makes a joke out of this statement and laughs, as Alvize did himself.

He stumbled upon that comment on his quest to learn more about Josi. At first, he thought nothing of her, and he still does. But his opinions have twisted a little. She seems far more capable than when she was besides Idris. A product of judging a book by its cover. And the scar on her jaw looks painful. So painful that he even began thinking Idris must have had a hand in it.

They're in the same spot in the nightclub, where the music hardly reaches them. There's no guard with Alvize today. He didn't deem it necessary, not in front of someone as feeble as Josi. She's the one who set the meeting today. She told him she had news on their plan to rid of Idris Verdonni. A way to solidify his absence from the world as they both know it. So of course, Alvize took her up on the offer. It's why he entered into that partnership anyway.

"Two days from now, Croff will head off to Rochester. Idris sent him there on his behalf, because he's too scared to leave the estate. The two will be separated, Idris will be alone, and we can take him out that way."

Alvize nods, already on board. "You'll have to draw him out of that cave."

Josi sighs. "I'll try."

"Don't try. Draw him out at all cost. Bring him here to the city and I'll handle the rest."

Josi stares him, then looks away in defeat. Alvize won't allow this golden opportunity go to waste. If it does go to waste, he'll have to take matters into his own hands. He'll take Josi captive after all. She must still have some worth as Idris's girlfriend. Alvize does not have time to waste.

He sighs and grabs his glass of water. It's as he takes a good swig of it that he stops, stares at the glass, and slowly lowers it down to the table.

Alvize's eyes darken. "What did you do?"

Josi returns his question with her own. "What did I do?"

Her choice of naivety does not bode well for Alvize. He slams his hands on the table. "What did you do to me!"

She doesn't answer him this time either, just sits and watches him. His forehead has begun perspiring, and now his chest is heaving at an alarming rate. This isn't good. Even his eyes have become unstable. It's all starting to unravel. Years upon years of hard work. It's been undone so quickly. So easily.

Josi comes to him with concern. "Are you okay, Alvize?"

Alvize can't even see much of her anymore. He hears her, but doesn't see her. "You exchanged my drink for alcohol, didn't you?"

Josi keeps her silence again. How could he have been so stupid? So trusting of all her promises. He was so hell bent on ridding the world of Idris that he'd jumped straight into another trap. He brought the devil herself into his own home. Signed a contract with her even. Now he's paying for it.

Finally, Josi speaks. But it confuses Alvize all the more. "I never gave you any alcohol," she tells him. "You sought it out."

Alvize's frustration doubles—no, quadruples. She's playing dumb! A nasty vermin she is. She's denying it all! "No, I didn't!" Alvize yells, but only at the hazy portrait of Josi in front of him.

When she looks him in his eyes, however, he can see her clearly. "Yes, you did, Alvize."

Alvize slows down his thoughts, or at least the alcohol does. "No, I . . ." He tries thinking. He tries and tries. And finally he does. But these thoughts in his head . . . these aren't his rationalized thoughts. He's sinking, submerging. Deeper and deeper. Until he hits the trough. And in the trough, his last few remaining senses turn tail and disappear. He brings his eyes down to the glass of water in front of him. No, not water but alcohol. Not alcohol, but heaven.

Alvize stares at Josi once more. He didn't exchange his water for gin. He couldn't possibly have. But . . . couldn't he have? He could have. Maybe his years of taming his addiction weighed too heavily on him. Maybe he fed himself a lie that he was all okay without alcohol. Now that lie has been exposed. When was the last time he had a drop to drink? Years and years ago it was. Years and years ago, he starved himself.

"Doesn't it taste good, Alvize?" Josi asks, eyes still on him.

Alvize only stares at her. She has now become much clearer in his vision than she was minutes ago. He swallows down saliva, braces himself—because he knows he's already crossed the starting line—then slowly nods his head yes.

Josi smiles and joins him in nodding. As if she were in on his internal turmoil. As if they were embarking down this road towards tragedy together.

"It's not good for human nature to suppress your desires." She says, her voice so much more soothing to Alvize. "I believe if you want something, then you should have it."

This echoes throughout Alvize's mind like a church bell at the hour of worship. And before he knows it, he begins answering after Josi. ". . . I should have it . . ."

Josi's smile stretches. "You should have it."

He should have it. What's the meaning of life if one can't indulge in the things that satisfy them? That's no life at all. That's the life of those in chains. But Alvize isn't in chains. He's Alvize Tesoro, sole heir to the Tesoro fortune.

Though once a troublesome brat, he climbed his way up and strung his family back together with his own two hands. He has everything at the tip of his finger, things that make him the target for envy. There are many who fear him. His name alone has power. So why, in this world of greed, should he deprive himself of his greatest pleasure?

Alvize brings his eyes back down to the glass. Everything else in the background becomes a nonfactor. Nothing else matters. Just the glass that contains the life Alvize has been missing. He's not thinking anymore. He's already given himself up to that first sip. In pursuit of the feeling that same sip brought him, Alvize grabs the glass of gin and chugs it all down.

At first, he's completely still. Then he begins floating. Floating until he meets the clouds. From there, he sees heaven. Heaven is bliss. Bliss is addicting. He wants more. He's so high on that mountain that he has no means to descend. He doesn't want to descend. Why should he descend when life is so good up there?

But then Alvize comes crashing down. He's rolling down the mountain. He can't go back down the mountain! He needs to stay up high, where he's most himself. He needs more alcohol.

As if sensing his discomfort, Josi pulls out a bottle of brandy from her bag and sets it down on the table. And to add even more emphasis, she scoots it closer until it's right in front of Alvize. Then she leans back in her seat and keeps her watch over him.

"It's right there." She tells him. "If you want it, take it."

This voice, Alvize knows belongs to Josi. But when he looks at her, he can no longer see her there. And it's not the same as the hazy blur from earlier. This time around, the person Alvize sees is an entity in white. It's in the shape of a person, but everything about it has turned into a bright, very luminous shade of white. Its mouth still moves. He can still hear Josi. Yet, it isn't her.

Alvize, however, wastes no time. He uncaps the bottle and pours what he can into the glass, until it topples and begins spilling. Then he chugs it all down. He repeats the process again. Filling and spilling and chugging. Because he so desperately wants back up that mountain. And the liquor takes him there. He's soaring again. Up so high above where life is good. He needs to stay there, so he refills his glass and swallows it all down.

Until the bottle has been stripped of every ounce of liquor.

Alvize Tesoro has never been more alive. This is what life is all about. He remains there in that world he's tried so desperately to bury, completely at ease from the bliss it brings him. But then it hits Alvize. "What . . . what do I do next?"

The figure, perhaps waiting for this question, provides him with an answer. "I think you should purge yourself." It tells him. "It's your greatest desire, isn't it? To be at peace. To be at a place where you can rest. To be free."

Alvize receives this advice in silence. Even in this time of perpetual silence, the figure watches him. Studies him. Then it brings out a gun and places it on the table. Right in front of him. "Choose tranquility, Alvize." It says again in that soothing voice. "Make it all go away."

Alvize eyes the gun, until he starts to smile. What a magnificent idea. If he makes his wretched life go away, he can be at peace forever. He'll be on that mountain for years to come. They'll be no one there but him. No one to bother him. No one to steal his bliss away from him.

It's his own life as a crime head that stole this life of bliss he currently has. If it wasn't for that Godforsaken life, he would have been free to partake in what truly makes him happy. What truly brings him joy.

As Alvize picks up the gun, all he thinks about is his new life. Life in the heavens. In those clouds. No more living life below the mountain. That's not where he belongs. So he brings the gun up to his head, and with a promise of a better life, clicks the safety back, and sends himself down that path towards tranquility.

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