This is for CCF's contest and the reason why I named it Fighting the Blue is because police officers wear blue and sometimes there is a war between cops of mob members. I just wrote this off the top of my head, so tell me what you think.

Fighting the Blue

By Angel of Death

"Smoke?"

I was in a black box, with only one light breaking through the shadows. Detective Perry Sherwood was hovering over me, his green eyes 'easy on the rocks' as my old man would say. My lips were curled up into a scowl, forcing the angry words to stay in their cages. On the scratched metal table lie a pack of cigarettes, staring at me with its ugly eye. As Detective Sherwood lit his own, the smell of burning tar caressed my nose. It has been ages since I had one myself but the sweet scent sure brought back some memories. I started to reach for a piece of heaven but then I resisted. This was nothing but the game cops tried to pull when they wanted to know something. In a matter of minutes, Mr. Bad-cop would walk in, ready to pounce on his prey.

"Suit yourself," Sherwood said, sitting down.

The smoke made figure eights around my head but like the tough guy I was, I ignored it. Instead, I focused on the tick-tock of the clock that sat somewhere in the darkness. I was probably in here for about twenty-minutes but time wasn't an enemy to me. If anything, she was the sweet kiss at the end of a rainbow. Excuse the frilly metaphor but you catch the drift.

"Before my partner gets here, you mind telling me where the rest of your family is?" Sherwood asked, taking a seat on the edge of the table.

I could smell the perspiration and fatigue cooking on his skin. He probably had a long night. Yeah, I knew the feeling except we were on different sides of the law. One of us actually did something for the people and the other, well, spent their time in desk-clad offices answering phones and taking notes. My family kept the streets of New York safe by getting rid of the scum that call themselves human. Sure, we have our reputations but hey, we're pretty nice guys once you get to know us. The door to the small room opened and in walked someone I would never expect in my entire life.

Black Armani suit, red lipstick, floral scented-perfume, and high-heels. From the looks of the shiny badge that was pinned on the right side of her jacket, this lady was the cop. In other words, the Mr. Bad-cop who was supposed to make me spill my guts on the table. By the looks of her flaming brown eyes, I knew she was out for the kill. In her mind, she had her gun at the side of my head, ready to shoot. She thought I would fall to my knees begging for mercy. I could tell all this by the way she held her pretty little head up high. Well, she had another coming, I wasn't saying jack.

"You have five minutes to tell me something or I'm putting you behind bars, you understand me?" Misses Bad-cop snapped, leaning into me.

I snickered, taking in the scent of her. If she wasn't with the wrong side of the law, we'd be an item, me and her. But I guess things don't turn out the right way all the time. When I met her coal-birthed eyes, her top lip pulled behind her teeth and a frustrated moan escaped from her Cupid's bow lips.

"You think this is funny, Mr. Pisano?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

My eyes fell to her hips, with the way that her suit was tailored her curves were accentuated. Beautiful. Once more, I locked my eyes with hers, smile bright on my face.

"Please, sweet-cheeks, my friends call me Mickey Blue Eyes," I replied, chuckling.

"First off, Mr. Pisano, the name's Detective De Luca, and I am not your friend,"

"So you're Italian too, eh? What part? My papi's from Novara and my mom is....," I started, flashing Det. De Luca a smile.

"I don't really care. Listen, your behind is ten seconds away from a concrete bench in Riker's. Now, we're desperate, we need your help. Tell us where the rest of your family is and I won't charge you for anything," Detective De Luca interrupted, pounding her fist on the table.

Pain surfaced on her face, making red blotches appear on her cheeks. At that moment, she didn't look like the bad-ass she played. Her features softened and I saw someone who was actually a patriot. Someone who really cared for what she did. It wasn't enough to make me rat out my brothers, my family but girls like this deserved a break. Besides, they didn't call me Mickey Blue Eyes for nothing.

"I refuse to tattle on my family but here's what I'll do for you, Detectives. I'm going to give a little piece of the story, and then you good folks are just going to have to figure out the rest. Capire com'è la situazione?" I asked, moving my chair back and resting my feet on the edge of the table.

Detective De Luca nodded and then took a seat across from me. Perry Sherwood, who remained silent the whole time, was listening intently, smoking a fresh cigarette.

"Talk," Detective De Luca ordered, her arms folded across her chest.

"Well, before I begin this tale, I want to know something. Do either of you know what la modo familiare means?" I asked, moving a strand of my hair out of my eyes.

"The family way," Detective De Luca whispered, looking down at the table.

"Exactly. It has been a tradition of my family to stick together when the going gets rough, you know? My father, Francesco Pisano, may he rest in peace, taught me and my brothers the value of money and respect. Crime wasn't the main language that we spoke but sometimes you had to do what you had to do. In the last couple of years we were in retirement, until our enemies came out of the sewers again. The way of the family is important because its what we as a whole know. When trouble came knocking on our door...well I'm not at liberty to tell you what we did but...I will begin the story,"

"My grandfather met my grandmother in Sicily where he began working as a carpenter. Life was good until some money came into the picture. A man worked hard for his due back then but then when he didn't, and it was just given to him, problems were aroused. My grandmother, Alessandra Giovanni was the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Sicily. When he died, he left his money to his family but it turns out that that money was hot. Another family, enemies of my great-grand-father's, the Nivolas, wanted that money bad. They claimed that the money was stolen from them, and ever since then, we've been at war. Skipping to the present, my family's living in New York, every thing's fine and dandy until the Nivolas show up again with a vendetta. What were we supposed to do, run? Go to the feds, screaming Oh no! The Nivolas have a vendetta against us! Nah, we were raised better than that. Sometimes, you have to take care of things yourselves. The money that we sat on was long ago invested in some rare jewels that my family treasured like our own lives. It meant blood if anybody tried to take them, until they finally did. My father died protecting our family's jewels, and for years we haven't had any justice. The mark of the Nivola's was left on his dead body and...you blue suits never even bothered to bust em'. You see, that's what distinguishes us from you people. We see the opportunity right in front of us and we take it. How often do you get to bust a few caps, eh?" I replied, slipping a cigarette out of the pack.

I slipped the tiny killer between my lips and whispered "light." Detective Sherwood reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He lit the tar, until its smoke burned my eyes. I took in the scent, tasting another relapse.

"So, can I go now?" I asked, blowing a ring of smoke into Detective De Luca's face.

A sly smile rose on Detective De Luca's face, she didn't meet my gaze until Detective Sherwood excused himself and walked out of the room. There was something familiar about her eyes but I couldn't quite figure out what.

"Don't leave town, Mickey. I find myself interested in your...uh...line of work," Detective De Luca replied, seductively.

I chuckled at De Luca's reply, then got up, and walked towards the door. When I looked back at the detective, she was still smiling, her manner more feminine than ever. Yeah, I knew ladies couldn't resist the power of my blue eyes. Ever since I was little I was always complimented on my good looks and my beautiful ocean-birthed eyes.

"Yeah, I knew you were interested. See ya later sweet cheeks," I replied, my fingers gracing the door knob.

The light flickered, sending shreds of yellow through the room. I turned to take one more look at the Detective, to find her right behind me. Her sweet breath consumed my nose, she was just inches away from me. Then, before I back away, she closed the distance between us. Our lips touched. They didn't call me Mickey Blue Eyes for nothing.

***

Three weeks later

I was in my apartment, sipping my third glass of scotch, when all of a sudden, there was a knock at my door. The knock was soft, almost mouse-like but firmer. It was lady, I was sure of it. Checking myself in the mirror, I puckered up my lips, pushed down a couple of pieces of my long black locks. Then I opened the door to find who I was expecting. Her long, auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail, exposing her heart-shape face. I let my lips meet her cherries, and then, after that, everything was a blur.

Instead of waking up to the sun peeking into my bedroom, I awoke to nothing but darkness. My eyes roamed the room, all I could see was concrete walls and pipes. I was in a basement somewhere. A light came on sending recognition through my mind. I was not only in a basement but I was in a secret hiding place. The headquarters of a mafia. Seeing that I was tied to a chair and that my mouth was duct taped shut, these were my family's enemies. None other than the Nivolas.

A dark form moved towards me. I recognized the curves that looked to have been sculpted by the Renaissance man himself, Michaelangelo. It was her. I knew it was her all a long. The special way her eyes were carved resembled those of Alrigo Nivola, the man who killed my father.

"Maria, how could you?" I asked. What a lame question to ask.

"Baby, I had no choice. La modo familiare. No hard feelings right? Sometimes, you have to do what you gotta do," Maria replied, pulling her gun out of her holster. It's amazing what you can hide under a dress.

I felt the gun press against my forehead. It was cold and it smelled of Tahitian Orchid, a perfume I used to buy my sister. Fear was supposed to be surging through my veins but I wasn't giving her anymore than she already had. She was so close, I could almost taste the scent of her breath. Colgate. Good thing she brushed her teeth this morning. Maria's lips were at my ear, cold as the steal mouth of the gun. In my ear she whispered something as powerful as bullets.

"How often do you get to pop some caps, eh?"

I hated when people used my words, it made me feel like I was being mocked. So I wasn't too upset about what was coming for her.

"Now, tell me Michael, where is the family jewels? You know you want some justice to be served today. I mean, I can have your blood laid out on this concrete floor and no one will ever know. We cops take opportunity like addicts do drugs. Now, give me what belongs to my family and I'll let you walk out of here alive," Maria whispered, her lips gracing my cheek.

I watched the tan door on the other side of the room, a huge grin taking over my face. Then, before Maria could turn around, the door came crashing down. In the shadow of the flickering light stood the people I'd die for. Mio famiglia.

"Whats happening?" Maria asked, fear in her eyes.

Before I could explain, my brother, Bruno had her in his grasp, and was dragging her to another room.

"What's are you doing, Michael?" Maria screamed.

"Fighting the blue, baby, fighting the blue," I replied.

The rest of the day was lined by the sound of gunshots in the next room.

***

Later that Day

"I can't believe you nailed a cop," Bruno said, shaking his head.

It was night outside, the air a musty black. In the background, old school Jazz rumbled against the walls attuned with the sound of drunken lips moving. This was our Benny's Bar. Our bar to be exact. We used the basement for our meeting places. Nice cover-up I say, eh?

"You gotta do what you gotta do," I replied, chuckling.

The sweet taste of Newport's bubbled in my throat. It felt good to be home among brothers. Bruno filled is half-empty cup with another shot of scotch. Above us the light fixtures shook, too violent for a Jazz bar. At the same time, me and my family looked up. As if our eyes were the signal, gunshots rang out along with terrified screams.

My fingers grazed the gun in my holster. Its been so long since I cocked a bullet but just like cigarettes, I'm at it again.

We moved from the table, guns pointing straight for the door. My youngest bro, Russo, was inching behind us, jewels in hand. You see, I now know my little brother is one of us for sure. Before sweet cheeks got me, he went out to get our jewels from a rat that worked for Nivola. We offered him a chance to stay alive if he relocated but he refused...

Well anyways, we came here to celebrate our wins, knowing that some of the Nivola scum would be hungry for blood. Feet barreled angrily down the steps, knowing exactly where to go.

I heard guns click, then the door came tumbling down. In fresh black suits stood the Nivolas or people who worked for them, at least. Bullets flew past my head, grazing my shirt sleeve by a centimeter. A scream of pain broke out behind me. It was Russo, they killed my brother. Now it was war.