Hammerhead #16

I was snapped out of my thoughts when Vito materialized before me, leaning against the wall with a casual air. He asked what I had in mind. I sighed, rubbing my temples. "I'm trying to think of a way to scoop myself out of this goddamned mob mess I landed in..." I admitted.

Vito smirked knowingly. "Let's face it, John. You're not getting out of this without getting a little messy yourself," he said bluntly. "You need to be thinking about how to resolve it instead... with force if need be."

I frowned, pushing back against his skepticism. "Resolve it with force? That's basically impossible," I retorted. "I'd need an army to face Manfredi or Leland Owlsley, not to mention the cops who would still be after me."

Vito shrugged nonchalantly. "You could easily create an army," he suggested.

I scoffed incredulously. "An army? The Pals might be strong, but they're not invincible," I argued. "They'd be gunned down in an instant if I used them to attack a gang's headquarters."

Vito chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You're thinking too small. You don't need them to charge in like soldiers. Elena mentioned most Pals are good with guns. You just need to arm them."

I winced at his suggestion, skeptical of the feasibility. "And where would I get the weapons?" I asked pointedly, pausing as I realized where he was going. "Let me guess... you know a guy..." I grumbled, not bothering to hide my skepticism.

Vito smiled confidently. "I do know a guy.

I raised an eyebrow, not convinced at all by his confidence. "A guy, huh?" I muttered. "And you're about to tell me about what a solid, trustworthy, and wonderful human being he is, right? Just like Carlo?"

Vito grinned, unfazed by my skepticism. "Nope. The guy I have in mind is a lot of things, but trustworthy is not one of them, not by a long shot," he replied cheerfully. "He's just as likely to stick a shank in your ribs as a mobster from a 1920s mafia movie. Coincidentally, he even talks and acts like one."

I shot Vito a baleful look. "And what makes you think dealing with such a guy is a good idea? Why would I ever agree to that?"

Vito's expression turned serious for a moment. "I made a mistake with Carlo, thinking he'd honor his friendship with my father. But this guy... we don't have to count on his better nature."

"And what does that mean?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"It means this guy is a boss of another branch in the Maggia," Vito explained. "One that happens to have a conflict of interests with Manfredi and a lifetime of grudges. There are very few things you can take for granted with this guy, and his hate for Manfredi and the Silvermanes is one of them..."

I deliberated for a while, weighing the potential benefits and risks. "Tell me more about this guy."

Vito leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "He's a nutjob from the old country. He suddenly came out of nowhere and began working as an enforcer for the Maggia Syndicate. Had several conflicts with Spider-Man before the old boss of Hammerhead kicked the bucket, and he was selected to take over."

Hearing those words, I felt a twinge of familiarity. I racked my brain, sifting through memories of comic books and movies. A clear image surfaced: a massive man, wearing an old-fashioned striped suit and holding a tommy gun.

"Are you talking about Hammerhead?" I asked.

Vito snapped his fingers, pointing at me with a look of triumph. "Yup, that's the one; Hammerhead. No one knows his real name, though. Some say even he doesn't remember it anymore..."

I rolled my eyes. "His real name is Joseph. And he's actually Russian, though he just goes around telling everyone he's Italian since he was a kid...."

Vito's eyes widened in surprise. "Fascinating. And you know all this just from reading comics in your past life?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much. Though, it's a bit strange how I can remember an obscure character like Hammerhead... he didn't exactly have a lot of appearances and barely any impact on the story..."

Vito laughed, pointing at his skull "You have my brain to thank for that. Always had a sharp memory...." He trailed off before shifting the conversation back to Hammerhead. "So, what else do you know about Hammerhead? Is he just pretending, or what?"

I paused for a moment, piecing together the fragmented memories. "He's not pretending, not anymore. He's got amnesia because his father didn't take kindly to little Joseph going around saying he was Italian."

Vito's expression turned grim. "So, his father did something about it?"

I nodded, feeling a chill as I recounted the story. "Yeah, his father used to beat him on the head. With a hammer."

I couldn't help but feel strange, telling Hammerhead's past. In my past life, it was anything more than some panels crammed together into a page. It wasn't even a particularly memorable origin story, just a weird one.

And yet as I recounted the story to Vito, I had to come to terms with the fact that I wasn't talking about that one weird plot in some obscure comic line, but the story of an actual human being.

My mind began to wander, grappling with the surreal nature of it all, but Vito's voice pulled me back to reality. "So, that's how he got his amnesia?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

I shook off the stray thoughts and said, "No, not exactly. When he got older, he still wanted to join the mob, still claiming to be Italian. They asked him to prove his worth by killing someone, and he ended up killing his own father."

 I paused, searching my memory for more details. "After that, he suffered more injuries to his head, and eventually lost his memories. At that time, he saw a 1920 move poster about mobs, and it stuck with him, leading to his current situation."

Vito whistled lowly, shaking his head. "That's one of the weirdest stories I've ever heard."

I chuckled bitterly. "Tell me about it. To me, it was just some fictional story I read in my free time, but now it's reality."

"Fair enough," Vito replied with a grin. We both fell silent, the weight of our conversation hanging in the air. After a moment of hesitation, Vito spoke up again. "Hey, did you read about me too? I mean, in your past life? What kind of future did I have?"

I looked at him, taken aback by the question. It hadn't even crossed my mind to consider Vito's fate in the comics. He seemed genuinely curious, maybe even a bit anxious.

I hesitated for a moment, grappling with how to respond honestly to Vito's question. Finally, I shook my head and looked him in the eye. "I don't know," I admitted quietly.

"I don't think you were in the comics. If I hadn't taken over your body, then there's a big chance that you would have died in that motel room... heck maybe you were already dead by then..."

Vito's expression flickered with a mix of surprise and uncertainty, but he quickly regained his composure, flashing me a reassuring grin. "No need to feel sorry about it," he said with a shrug. "I knew the risks; make it big or go out in a blaze of glory..."

His smile didn't waver, but I could sense the revelation hit him hard. It was one of the many unusual skills I seemed to have inherited from him since taking over his body—reading emotions and intentions almost instinctively.

Deciding to shift the conversation away from the uncomfortable topic, I changed gears. "So... Hammerhead. How do we get in touch with him?"

Vito's response was immediate and confident. "I know a guy in the Hammerhead family," he said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him. "Of course you do," I muttered, a hint of amusement in my voice. Vito seemed to know a guy everywhere, though I doubted any of his connections were reliable.

Still, it was the best we could do for now.

As we stood there in the bustling warehouse, surrounded by the hum of activity from the Pals, I felt a strange mix of grit and apprehension. The path ahead was murky and dangerous, but we had a plan forming—a plan that might just give us a fighting chance against Manfredi and the looming threats.

...

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