Thursday, August Somethingoranother - Mob Scifi

Smoke filled the interior of the Cadillac sedan. A single glowing ember in the back seat came from a cigar resting in an ashtray. Parked outside North Clark Street, the car was the only one in sight. The large man in the back seat muttered to himself.

What is the holdup?

Gunshots ring out from behind the parking structure. The man sits up straight at the sound, listening intently. .45 calibre, he thinks to himself. Typewriters no less. He relaxes back into his seat as he sees two well dressed men in suits apprehended by two officers of the law, being led by gunpoint to the car. Once to the car, the officers put down thier guns and let the suited men inside. They take off their police caps and replace them with fedoras and newsboy caps. The hats are thrown into the back of the car along with the uniforms, all soaked in blood. One of the police impostors speaks in a rushed tone.

Let's get outta here boss, someone would have heard that.

One of the men in suits speaks up from the passenger side, shooting his colleague a look.

You just a'scared ah what you saw back there. Mr.  Capone, there's somethin' weird goin' on. You should really go take a look. Something strange happened, real strange.

The large man in the back took a drag on his cigar and put it out in the tray. He gives an impatient sigh.

Well?

The car pulls around the parking structure, revealing eight dead bodies. Capone noted the violence of the murders. Shredded flesh, bits of organs and gore strewn throughout, brain matter spattered on the wall. His boys were animals. Must have used 200 rounds of .45 from the typewriters, another body especially mangled and torn open showed signs of a 12 gauge blast. One of his men spoke up from the furthest body.

This un sir. Take a look.

Capone knelt down beside the blown away corpse and probed the wounds with his fingers. Pale grey flesh, spattered in a deep indigo blood. Where flesh had been torn from bone he could see a metallic skeleton with pale grey bits fused to it. The puddle Capone was standing in was of a deep purple. He stood up out of shock. This one wasn't one of Bugsy's men, this wasn't even a man.

Dump the body, know one hears about this, you hear? No one knows of this... thing, you got me? Scrub it from the books.

Capone's driver shouts from the car.

Uhh boss... that may be a tall order.

Capone and his men march over to the car and listen to the radio:

Mass hysteria hits New York City today as what appears to be a flying saucer spotted atop the Empire State Building...

Everyone is silent, awaiting what their boss had to say. The driver spoke up.

Well Mr. Capone, what do you think?

Capone took another long drag on his cigar, the ember illuminating his face along with the moonlight.

I think... This is a turf-war we can't win.