Digging into your duty [Bullock]

[Deleted]

Carmine walked through what had once been called Coventry. Coventry was a good lower-middle class neighborhood that had fed the industrial section of the city. Covered in dive bars, newspaper stands, and cheap diners, the district had been full of good people who had served Falcone well. Then young people had moved there after graduating from Gotham U, hoping that the cheap living would benefit them as they tried to start their careers.

Some developer had taken notice of the growing yuppie crowd and bought up all the land they could. Now it was full of fancy restaurants, expensive venues, and fashionably dressed people who didn't understand that an overly tight shirt and a skinny tie didn't make you look good, especially if you were a woman. Here no one crossed the street to avoid Carmine's path, as a matter of fact no one even seemed to notice him. Today he didn't mind, even if he normally would, because he was doing personal recon.

The streets had a heavy police presence, and the people were obviously calm and safe. He didn't like that, and not only because police were always a problem. People who felt safe around the police would never turn to the Falcone outfit for their protection, and no protection meant no taxation. It would be a hard slog to reclaim this neighborhood, and Falcone didn't have the time to get bogged down in that. The longer he spent the more time his enemies had to move against him.

Carmine sighed and realized that there was little point in dwelling on the problem. He needed to clear his mind or he would never find a good solution. He remembered a little diner he had liked, and headed down towards 69th Street.

"Falaccio's?" Carmine said under his breath. Apparently this space hadn't been spared by the developer either. He sighed and decided to go in. Maybe some of the chefs had been retained. At least he liked Italian food.

"One please," he said to the hostess as he removed his suit jacket and handed it to her along with his hat. Judging by the rest of the clientele this was a more casual restaurant than his suit warranted, and he didn't want to stick out today, although his silk suspenders still indicated his wealth to anyone who wanted to pay attention.

"This place used to be called BJ's, you know." He told the young hostess as they walked to his table, "Best sausage hash in Gotham."

"Oh I remember that place. It was sold after the owner passed away, but I don't know to who. I was hired recently after the place was sold again," she said in that false bubbly voice that front of house workers adopted around customers.

He sat down and accepted the menu, politely nodding and handing the hostess a $20 bill. "Have you got a good Merlot?" He asked her, and then ordered one when she confirmed that it was quite good. Carmine then opened the menu and flipped through it, examining the menu with his practiced eye.

[Deleted]

Harvey returned from the restroom to the quiet little booth in the corner. He had just gotten here moments before, but had to run off to take a leak after being seated. Once he returned his glass of Chardonnay was being brought along by the waitress. She also had a glass of Merlot for the booth beside his. He shrugged and smirked to her as she placed it before him.

"Thanks."

"Are you ready to order, sir or do you need a little more time."

Harvey picked up the menu and scanned the names of dishes quickly. If anyone was any good at reading and scanning words quickly it was Harvey Bullock.

"Florentine Steak?! Hadn't seen that on a menu in more than a few years. I'll have that. I'll take the house dressing with my salad. Also, put me down for a cannoli after. I can never say no to a cannoli."

"Ah, excellent, sir. Can I -"

"When the steak is ready bring me the proper wine to go with."

"Merlot or Cabernet Sauvignon sir?"

"Cabernet."

"Excellent. We'll have it to you shortly. Oh how do want your steak cooked?"

Harvey looked at her with a bit of suspicion and skepticism.

"The right way, medium rare. Anyone that orders that wants it medium rare or they're a dimwit."

The young woman smiled with a bit of surprise at his last comment.

"Of, course,sir."

Harvey gave her a nod.

"I'll take an espresso and a shot of something with desert. I'll let you know later."

The waitress finally escaped the grasp of the slightly resonate and very particular detective. Harvey leaned back more into his seat and looked around for a moment as he took a long drain of his wine. He would eventually let his gaze wander to the booth beside him. He could only see the other man from the bridge of his nose and up. Something seemed familiar, but everyone, at a certain point, in this town seemed to look familiar to him.

He looked away and back to his own table. His coat and hat were with the hostess in coat check. He was tempted to strike up a cigarette, but debated it before dinner. He gave in and struck one anyway.

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Carmine sipped at his wine. Not bad, especially for a house Merlot. He scanned the menu. Standard fare for the most part: bruschetta, insalata caprese, pasta, and the rest. He scanned around the room and noticed first thing that the meatballs being served on a table near him had all of the appeal of a handful of golf balls. That was out.

He doubted that the tomatoes would be worth touching if they couldn't even get a meatball right. He felt a drop in his stomach as he realized that he would have to be careful in his choice of meal after all. Clearly BJ's cooks were long gone. He had tried to hide it, but during his recent encounter with Dent the man's comment on his weight had stung. That left out most of the pasta dishes. One caught his eye: spaghetti alla putanesca. He loved a good putanesca sauce and he could limit himself to only a half portion of the pasta. Then his eyes narrowed as he read the description. Gluten-free. Damned fad diets. Western civilization had lasted over 1000 years on plenty of gluten, but suddenly everyone with a stomach ache was blaming it on grain proteins.

He sighed and looked up again, almost catching the eye of the man who sat in the booth across from him. The brown eyes held a certain familiarity, but otherwise he couldn't place him. Perhaps an old acquaintance from the Roman Empire.

"I'll have the bistecca alla fiorentina," he told the waitress, then frowned at her blank stare. "Florentine steak," he said with a degree of impatience. More and more this restaurant was proving itself inferior. Italian restaurants that don't name their dish in Italian? No wonder they couldn't make a meatball.

"How would you like it sir?" She asked.

"Rare," Carmine answered. He had tried it at temperatures ranging from blue rare to medium, and he found a nice, red rare to be his preference, "and heavy on the salt, I'm trying to piss off my doctor."

[Deleted]

Harvey was smoking contentedly and drinking his wine in peace. He also took note of other dishes in the room and nearly audibly scowled at the look of the meatballs. After a moment more he heard the man in the booth putting in his order.

Harvey gazed over once again. There were enough people in Gotham that spoke Italian that it shouldn't have caught his attention, however the man in the other booth said it with impeccable accent, but based on the way he spoke English, he was by far a Gothamite. Harvey looked to his wine for a moment and swirled the glass a little in thought for next few minutes as he puffed on his cigarette. He eventually relinquished it to his ash tray. He would leave once again to wash his hands.


He would return to his salad waiting for him at his table. He dug in and got through half of it. It was well put together, but the dressing could have used just a splash more of oil and perhaps another pinch of salt. He would push it forward. Salads were not necessarily his favored part if a meal, but he tried to eat one every now and then. He only had two servings of red meat a week now, so the steak was a bit of an indulgence. He made himself suffer for it with the salad.

When the steak was delivered with it came his glass of Cabernet just as he was topping off his Chardonnay. He gave the waitress a quiet thank you. He took a drink of his water, allowing him to ready his palette and wash away the Chardonnay and salad. Finally he cut into the steak with precision. He took the bite. He growled under his breath after swallowing.

"Hey, you! C'mere."

The waitress returned, looking to the detective with concern. Harvey had raised his voice, but he did not yell. He just knew how to project well.

"Yes, sir...?"

"Look, sweetheart, I know you ain't the chef around here and all that, but could you kindly explain to me what this is?"

The girl looked a bit panicked. She was about to say something, Harvey held his hand up and stopped her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out. Look, I just don't know about this, the olive oil is lacking, there's no beans, which is crucial. And this seems to be rare."

It dawned on Harvey. He looked over to the man at the other booth.

"You ordered rare, right? "

[Deleted]

Carmine inhaled the scent of smoke wafting through the restaurant. He had given up smoking in public years ago, and he missed it. When Gothamites freely puffed around him he often reminded himself that it was discipline that differentiated the lords from the serfs, but that didn't keep him from regretting his inability to light up.

He saw the waitresses bringing out salads for the other tables, but none for him. What was going on with this place? They hadn't come by to refill his water either. Carmine was generous to those who served him, usually, but when the service or food was bad his generosity had a tendency to dry up. This place was rapidly approaching that point.

He heard a familiar, deep voice from the table across from him. He thought it sounded like a man he knew from the Metropolis families at first, but he knew that the man was a Gothamite by the familiar manner in which he spoke.

"Yeah I ordered the rare," Carmine answered him, and he quizzically looked at the waitress, who still stood there, embarrassed. "Honey, have you got another steak being fired in there? Why don't you tell them to bump it up to a medium rare and solve this problem. How about those beans too?" He said to her.

He stood up to approach the man, and was shocked when he saw the rest of his face.

"Harvey Bullock? With grey in your hair and a suit on? Is that a silk pocket square? What world have I walked into?"

[Deleted]

Harvey stood as well as the waitress relinquished Harvey's plate to Falcone, apologized, and ran off to fix everything to the best of her ability. The girl seemed to realize the place was unorganized and could be seen with that look of "oh shit, damn damn damn" across her face.

Harvey looked at Falcone while he rose to his feet after the other man recognized him. Harvey had already offered his hand a moment before he realized who the other man was.

"Carmine Falcone? Haven't seen or heard of you being around in a few years. Yes, it is silk as are those suspenders you're wearing."

Harvey felt slightly awkward. This was a man he once put in handcuffs and watched as he threw acid into the face of the other Harvey that used to be downtown and around head quarters.

The Detective still shook hands and gave the man a respectful nod. A man like Falcone probably recalls the days where Harvey himself kept his own discreet connections within his people as well as other crime families in the area. It was Bullock that prevented the Maronis from starting a war with the Gazzos while they were in the seat of Falcone while Falcone himself was gone. Harvey was a bit of the unsung and little known keeper of peace amongst Gotham's crime families, and all the bosses in town knew it. It was general knowledge amongst bosses that any time one of their boys got sloppy or hot headed Bullock was quick to get them off the streets and out of more than the general population's hair. Little did he know how deeply that vein ran.

"Well, you know, things haven't been any quieter without you. This town thinks it changes, but it never really does. This town's a mystery."

Not to mention last time Harvey saw Falcone he'd felt like he'd been selling his soul to the devil. Jordan Rich had pissed off not only Falcone and every other Italian family in Gotham, but also Harvey. He was a man that more than Falcone and Bullock wanted dead. That consequences of that interaction had nearly cost Harvey his career... So yeah, awkward.

Harvey kept his jaw square and pushed through. The last thing to do was to piss off or disrespect the Don. At least Falcone was an old schooler like Harvey. They both understood the power the other had and how they benefitted each other simply by understanding the rules of the game and respecting the other's position in the world. Again, Harvey had informants even among Falcone's ranks just like Falcone had his in Harvey's.

[Deleted]

"Nothing is ever quiet in this town," Carmine said wryly. "Only fools would think my leaving would change things. Nature tells us, a vacuum is always filled."

Carmine remembered a much younger Harvey Bullock, a sergeant if he remembered the badge correctly. A much heavier one too. Carmine found himself drawn back to the time when Bullock had shown up at his penthouse to arrest him and search the place for evidence. Thankfully Dent was with him and all of the money and papers they found had been thrown out once the two-faced prick had lost his mind.

Arresting Carmine Falcone had to be the crowning achievement in a young detective's career. Certainly enough to get a promotion, as Harvey's badge indicated. It would explain the fine clothes and the more professional demeanor, but not the weight loss. In Carmine's experience the higher a man is ranked the larger his waistline.

Carmine looked the younger man over, though now he was forced to acknowledge that Harvey Bullock was far from a young man. Yet another reminder of his impending senior citizenship. It wasn't Harvey's fault that he was old, of course. Carmine remembered the snot nosed Dago tossing a water balloon onto his father's windshield. Of course Bullock got away with it, Vincent Falcone was never able to discipline the boy's father, and the consequence-free attitude had stuck with Harvey Bullock for years.

Carmine had taken advantage of that, once. His lawyers, expensive and high class, had pointed out that Harvey Bullock had a long history of skirting the law. Associating with Mafiosi, beating informants, and generally ignoring orders. This was all added in with Dent's misdeeds during Falcone's appeal, and it had worked. Bullock had promised him at the time that it would never work again.

Carmine gestured towards the empty seat across from him, "Would you like to sit down? I'll wait for your steak to come out, if this place can get it's shit together."

[Deleted]

Harvey chortled a bit cynically at Falcone's vacuum analogy.

"Truth etched into our bones."

Falcone and Harvey had an interesting history, yet few personal interactions. Once neighbors, later foes, and now? Today they were apparently food critics of like mind. It made sense, their mothers were likely friends. Harvey could actually remember his mother mentioning the symphony of flavor that was Lucia Falcone's sugo de cinghiale. Harvey's own mother made a pancetta and sweet green peas risotto. Dee Bullock also had a penchant for cucumber sandwiches for brunch get togethers.

Of course they both knew their grub, they grew up in a neighborhood chock full of saucy mothers making saucy masterpieces.

Harvey was a bit surprised at Falcone's offer to sit. He was well informed; Falcone did not discuss business over a meal, thus this would likely be casual or perhaps even some sort of power play. Harvey gave a slight bow with his head .

"I only dine in good company."

Harvey picked up his wine and joined Falcone, easing into the spot opposite him. He kept an eased posture, but did not go slack.

"This place is new. BJ's went out of business when the old man croakedand someone else bought it, made it Italian, but from what I heard place got sold to a new owner recently. I get the feel in' they might be a bit of a putz. This is my first time around though. Too many Indians, not enough Chiefs around here from what I seen so far."

Harvey sighed, shook his head, and took a swig of wine in memory of BJ's perfect sausage hash. He looked at his glass for a long moment before looking back to Falcone.

"My ma used to swear up and down that your ma's sugo de cinghiale. could make any man believe in world peace."

Harvey gave a nostalgic chuckle at the memory of his mother and how dead serious she was when she would say that. Every time she talked about it she would, at some point, slap her knee with conviction in that belief.

"Those times were a little simpler, but that was only because we weren't the men that apparently so desperately needed that ragu, yet."

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Carmine actually laughed at Harvey's comment about his mother. "If you knew my father like I did, you would know her soup did nothing of the kind," he said. Carmine had rarely mentioned his father over the years, but Harvey would have known the man's reputation even if he didn't remember meeting him personally.

"He told me once that a man should learn how to cook one dish. It brings him closer to his mother as she teaches him and it nabs him his wife when the time comes. Only one dish though, any less is lazy and any more is effeminate." Carmine frowned, "My father thought he was wiser than he was."

"Speaking of that, didn't your Madre used to make polenta cakes for everyone to eat after Sunday Mass? I always wondered where she learned to fry them like that. My mother used to tan my hide after I would steal my little brother's, but I always thought it was worth it."

Carmine remembered scarfing down the fried corn cakes by the handful, topped with fresh tomatoes and basil in the summer and roasted onion, squash, and garlic in the winter. They had made going to church almost tolerable, although even then Carmine took after his father when it came to piety. Give unto Caesar...

[Deleted]

The humor was a little dark, but very true. Harvey gave a nod and smile to it. He let out a sigh while shaking his head in a slow rhythm. He looked back to Falcone more squarely when he continued to speak of his father. The former Don had always struck Harvey as a dam. A rigid wall with plenty of power behind it, moving, waiting to be unleashed when it was the appropriate time.

"My pops wasn't around for too long, but he used to tell me I should listen to my ma in the kitchen. 'Theo, look at the world today. When I was your age they told the girls to cook and the boys to work. But now, the girls are bein' told to work, and boys are bein' told to work. Maybe its about time you learned to cook, all the girls are gonna be starvin'! Think about it! You'll be fightin' 'em off.' Ah, man... He was right. Flip channels for ten minutes you're bound to come across at least a handful of shows with one of these 'rockstar' chefs as they call 'em."

Harvey took a drink of his wine, his father had always been a bit full of it. Harvey was a lot like him, probably more than he understood.

"Yes! As a matter of fact, my little sis is comin' back home from Barcelona in two weeks. - Wait, you remember my youngest sister, Laverne "Vernie?" You know what that little shit does now? She's Micaela in Carmen. - Anyway, I was gonna cook some up for her. I'll have to find a way to get a batch of 'em to ya if you instigated sibling rivalry over 'em."

Many of the children in their particular neighborhood took either piano lessons or singing lessons from De Bullock, she also taught French, German, and Italian at the local catholic school. She herself had a soprano that could not be matched. Laverne had inherited her mother's gifts.

"Man, back then I didn't have to care about how much I ate, I just ate everything. Now we gotta look after our hearts and all that, but that's what the wine for."

[Deleted]

Carmine frowned and thought, "Your sister is in Europe? For how long?"

He remembered attending an opera at the Florentine Operahouse. "Laverna Torello..." he muttered, "Did your sister play Gasparina in Il Campiello? I saw that in Florence, but I never would have guessed that was little Verna Bullock. She's got quite a voice. Where was she trained?"

He waited as the waitress finally brought out Bullock's Florentine steak. When the man had his meal Carmine cut into his thick wedge of meat. Even considering how long it had been since the meal had left the pan he was disappointed. The steak was sad, and seemed to deflate as he dug in with his knife.

When he put it in his mouth he got the taste of bad olive oil and salt. The meat seemed to be a fairly pricey grade, but the rest of the treatment made it suffer. Poor sear and poor quality garnishes. "My mother cooked Florentine steak once a year, on my parent's anniversary. We kids got to finish her steak because it was always too much for her. It made us love June 16th as much as she did."

He poked at the overcooked side of beans that had been brought to the table with the steak. "She didn't use canned beans though."

[Deleted]

Harvey had that prideful look upon him at mention of his sister in Florence. She had indeed played the part and Laverna Torello had been her stage name since she started getting lead parts in operas. Her agent had recommended the last name, thinking he was clever keeping the reference to bulls in there. The suggestion had spooked Laverne a bit, as that had been their father's last name. They took their mother's last name. Laverne was too young to have known her father as more than a faint memory. For Harvey, it seemed another life. She came to Harvey about it first. He told her he didn't care for it, but it was wise to take on the Italian name, as it was and is a bit of a romantic art, opera.

Harvey dug into his own steak. Harvey didn't have much to think or say about it. He was a disappointed, but then again, this place was a little fresh, so he figured they just didn't have the hang of it yet. He would chalk this up to something he'd appreciate were he drunk and famished.

"It's official - I'm unsatisfied with every Italian restaurant in town. Fucking Dent, I really shouldn't say anything to you about it, but you better hope to get to him before I do. You fuck with my cannolis, I fuck with you."

That's all Harvey was going to say about that, though it was clear he was exceedingly disgruntled over what had happened. He took a particularly savage bite of his steak, lifted his wine and then drained the remainder of it. He continued eating and the waitress came along to check on them. She also remembered to ask what kind of shot Harvey wanted and if he still wanted his coffee and dessert. He turned out ordering he and Falcone two shots of grappa each and he cancelled on his dessert and coffee. He also asked in the meantime to have their wine replenished. Once that was all done and said for Harvey looked at the beans.

"If I wanted my food to come from a can I would go buy cans."

Harvey shook his head dismissively while continuing into his steak. At the very least, Falcone was actually decent company. He ate alone so very often, the few times he didn't it was usually in the company one of the very few people he deemed as 'close.' So dining with the enemy was more alien an experience than usual, but at least it was interesting and surprisingly refreshing.

[Deleted]

Carmine frowned at the mention of Harvey Dent. The man had made his opposition to Carmine known, and he had done it in a way that Carmine couldn't ignore. Not without repercussions to his reputation among the criminal elite.

"Harvey Dent is a deranged man, and its unfortunate that I have the history I do with him. There's nothing I would like more than to have his attention turned on other people, but I suppose at the very least I can be happy that I wasn't hurt...badly."

He felt a good amount of itching around his healing shoulder wound. It had been a long time since he'd been shot, but last time he'd been left in a lot worse shape. He hadn't even been healthy enough to notice the itching.

He ordered a wine to wash things down and continued the conversation, "So how did little Vernie end up in the opera anyway? Our neighborhood wasn't exactly full of theaters or professional singers."

He remembered a young girl with more energy than sense, but he didn't remember her in any church choirs, or even plays. Granted, the young Falcone hadn't been paying much attention to church back then, when he deigned to attend the services anyway.

[Deleted]

Bullock just gave a nod of agreement to Falcone and left the subject at that, at least for the time being. he had a feeling Dent was going to come up again if he ran into Falcone again. None of this sat right with him.

The Detective got through his steak and finally leaned back again as the next glasses of wine and the shots of grappa.

He nursed the wine as he began to pull out his cigarettes and liter.

"You don't mind the smoke do you?"

He rarely offered the courtesy of even asking, but he didn't exactly want to upset a man such as Falcone. He had enough people taking shots at him as it was. Not to mention the hundreds of people in this town that would love to see him dead and buried. He smiled at the subject of discussion turning to that of his sister once again.

"Eh, well my Ma, if you remember, gave lessons and taught at the school nearby. She was a trained soloist herself. She passed her talents, and apparently her voice, to Vernie. Vernie wanted to be a cop, but I wouldn't let her. Last thing I need at work is my sister getting shot at next to me, right? Heh. Anyway, I took care of her after ma died twelve years ago. She was only fourteen. I poked and prodded at her to study music for years. She ended up graduating Gotham state with a music degree, specialising in piano and opera. She bummed around doing this and that here in the States until she got invited to travel to Europe and perform. She just seemed to move on up even more once she got around there."

Harvey seemed to have a very fatherly look to him when he spoke of his sister. It was known far and wide that the detective had no children. Many men in the business Falcone was in had set their crosshairs on Harvey's head a few times, but usually, the more sensible gangs knew to deter that. Harvey was as valuable to them as they were to him, apparently. Falcone himself was likely one of the handful that actually knew he had three younger sisters in the first place.