Anthony walked into the headquarters and hung his hat and coat on the rack. Hearing raised voices, he makes sure his gun is in it's black leather shoulder holster.

He opened the door to the main living room on the downstairs foor. Rj and Hopey stood there, talking angrily with someone.

"I don't care, Johnny. I wanna go to the mattresses. Today!" said Rj.

"You can't do that, Rj. It'd be a thing they expected. We gotta talk treaty," said Johnny, the family consiglierie.

"They attacked the biggest whorehouse we got, one of our best moneymakers, and you want us to give it to them? Our soldatos are dead, their wives and girlfriends are grieving over their dead, lifeless bodies! Talk to them about surrender!" said Rj.

"Boss, we got company," said Hopey.

The group turned to look at Anthony. With a quick motion, Rj told Anthony to come closer.

"Anthony, you may not have heard, but the Regulus Club, that whorehouse in the city? It's been attacked. Five soldiers are dead," said Hopey.

"No, I didn't. Is there anything I can do, sir?" asked Anthony.

Rj shook his head. Anthony looked at the window as he saw a small gleam. He looked closer, and could just make out black Ford Model-T in the rain, with a gun barrel sticking out of the windows.

"Get down!" yelled Anthony. The first gunshot was heard when the group hit the floor.

Glasses and bottles shattered on the bar, with amber liquid pouring onto the ground. Finally, after a full minute of gunshots, the car peeled away. Hopey, Anthony, and then Rj stood up, all dusting glass and dust off their clothes. Johnny was nowhere to be found.

"Johnny, where is he?" asked Hopey.

"I don't know, but I've decided. We're going to have a sit-down. Anthony, you are going to go in our place. I want you to clean those fuckers out of Washington Heights." Rj smirked. "But go be with your family. We can handle things here. Someone will call you."

Anthony agreed, and went home. As he arrived, he could tell things weren't right. The door was unlocked. His wife always locked the door, just in case.

He pulled his pistol and opened the door slowly. His youngest son, at six, sat with his head on the coffee table. The center pain had been broken out, and blood was dripping from his head.

"No...NO!" yelled Anthony.

"Anthony, get out of here!" yelled a woman, his wife.

He ran into the kitchen and saw his wife tied to a chair, with a man behind her. His gun was touching the back of her head.

"Take one step and her brains will be decorating the floor." The man smirked.

"Put down the gun before I blw your motherfucking brains out!" said Anthony, aiming his pistol.

The man smirked, and pulled the hammer back on his gun. Without a choice, Anthony pulled the trigger. Blood squirted from the attacker's head and onto the floor.

Anthony hugged his wife, and they quietly went around the house, looking at the damage. Their daugher, at 15, had been shot through the heart, an immediate kill. Anthony's wife exploded into tears, though. They both started when they walked into the 20-year-old son's bedroom.

His head had a hole in it, and blood covered the side wall. Blood covered a picture of the boy's girlfriend, leaving her but covering his head. They looked at the object sitting next to the picture. It was a wedding band.

"No. My son..." said Anthony quietly. Without another word, he answered the phone as it started to ring.

"Anthony, you are going to meet them at the Regulus Club. I want you to drive your knife through the throat of the boss there."

TO BE CONTINUED.

Awesome Piece Anthony i look forward to the rest.

Wipe those Motherfuckers out!

aw, fucking typo...

Anyway, working on the second part. will have it up in a bit.

Anthony gave his wife a wad of bills and told her to go to a hotel. He took the pistol he had holstered and replaced it with a pair of gold-plated M1911A1 automatic pistols, the second going in a belt holster.

He drove to the Regulus Club and handsomely paid the valet to park it somewhere very close to the club. He walked inside and over to the elevators, up to the next-to-top floor, where he took the stairs to the top floor, where the prostitutes worked.

As he came up the stairs, he saw two muscular bodyguards come to approach him, apparently to check him. He drew one of his pistols, aimed it, and pulled the trigger twice. He rushed inside, to see the whores running around. As a bullet flew past his head, he dived behind the bar.

Drawing his second gun, he looked for a way to shoot. Finally, he decided. He stood up and aimed both pistols, firing. The bullets shredded into the walls and the guards. As he neared the final guard, he heard a scream.

After the guard was dead, he holstered his guns and drew his knife and rushed into the office.

He immediately felt a burning sensation when he turned the corner. He looked at his chest, and blood showed prevalently. The boss had a whore in a hostage hold, with a gun to the side of her head.

"Put the knife down or the whore gets it!" he yelled.

Anthony smirked, pointed the knife at the boss, and hit a little button. The blade shot out and hit the boss in the eye. Anthony cleaned the blade and went out the back way to his car, and drove off into the sunset, rain pouring.

Sorry, forgot.

TO BE CONTINUED...

"Ow, fuck! Watch where you, FUCK!" said Anthony, who laid on a table in the HQ, as a doc was getting the bullet out of him.

"Sorry. Do you want some whiskey?" asked the doc.

"It'd help!"

The doctor motioned for someone to grab a bottle of whiskey and a shotglass. Thinking he was going to drink the whiskey, he roared in pain and shock when they poured it on the wound.

"Motherfuck!" he yelled.

Hopey walked in and leaned against the doorframe.

"Jesus, Anthony, you're waking up the entire fucking neighborhood. It don't hurt that bad," said Hopey.

"Wanna bet?" said Anthony, gasping as the bullet came out of his chest.

"Oh...that was a homemade bullet, with a little rivet going along the side...no wonder it was hard to find," said the Doc.

"I coulda told you where it was, but you were too busy sticking metal in my chest to get a little lead out! At least the stitches won't hurt as bad."

Indeed they didn't, because that's when they gave Anthony shots of scotch while he was being sewed up. After a coweek, while Anthony was laying on the couch relaxing and healing, Rj bust through the door cussing.

"Goddammit...ANTHONY!" he yelled.

Anthony stood up.

"Yes, sir?" he asked.

"You didn't kill him!" said Rj.

"Sir, I hit him in the eye with a knife blade. He has to be dead," replied Anthony.

"Well, Johnny just phoned me saying they were on their way for a sit-down. I want his ass gone. Do you fucking understand me?" demanded Rj.

"No disrespect, sir, but I can't kill anybody at the moment. I just went to my youngest son's funeral yesterday, and I'm still bandaged," said Anthony.

"I understand, Tony, but you still have to. It's an assassination attempt, I know it. Payback, for killing their consiglierie."

"Fine, I'll do it.

Going to finish this one and immediately start on a second story.

Rj sat at a wooden table in the middle of the living room, his hands placed with evident care on the table, talking with a fat guy as he smoked a cigar.

"Listen, Rj, my men have been killed. I want peace, before the streets are covered with blood from both of our families. It is something I'd hate to see something like that happen," said the fat man.

Rj looked at him in a strange way, and touched his hat as if to straighten it.

"I'm going to the bathroom. You don't mind, do you?" asked Rj.

"No, not at all. Take your time, think the peace over," said the fat man, taking a puff off his cigar.

Rj stood up, pushed his chair in, and walked through a door into the kitchen. Anthony walked out from the place where he'd hidden, with a pair of pistols in his hand. He walked behind the fat man and put the gun to his skull. He turned the other on the man's bodyguard.

A quick pull of the trigger ensured the bodyguard was out of the way. Anthony smiled as he turned to the fat man.

"You fat bastard. You motherfucker! You killed my family, you son of a bitch," said Anthony. "Rest assured, I will deeply relish this moment."

Anthony pulled the trigger, and blood flew over the table and onto the floor. Rj walked down the stairs to the scene as Anthony throws the guns away. Rj shakes Tony's hand, and embraces him in a friendly hug.

"You have your revenge. Go down to the basement and get yourself a good, stiff drink."

thats a great story thanks for sharing

Man! This is some Bad-Ass story telling i'm gonna go read the second part!