NEW BLOOD

There is a bit of fog in the air and through the fog Capazzo walks down the streets of Detroit. It's visibly cold as smoke comes out of his mouth with each exhale. He runs down a alley and quickly cuts between two houses. Capazzo's heart pounds with each step. Finally he gets to his house at the end of the block. He feels cold stel pressed into his back as he reaches into his pocket for his keys. It's a gun...a .32 Colt.

Capazzo is about to meet the same fate his father did many years ago. He was no way shape or form near as accomplished as his old man, he was only a small time thug trying to make it in this underground world. 

The gunman points his weapon at the back of Capazzo's head.

"This is for Ricky."

Ricky Cheeks was a local mobster in Detroit but he wasn't your every day run of the mill mobster he was a made guy. He ran one of the finest gambling outfits in South Detroit. Capazzo, like his father, was great with numbers and had a instinct of picking winners. He had taken Ricky Cheeks sports book for several thousands and Ricky refused to pay up. Capazzo mixed with emotions unleashed a violent beating on Ricky, a beating that would hospitalize the made man.  

This was one of many mistakes Capazzo made in his first and nearing short tenure as a mafioso. Ricky Cheeks and the Marzool family decided to go to war. It wasn't much of a war as the Marzools quickly disposed of Capazzo's uppers. Within a few hours he found himself as one of the very last men left in his family but time was not on his side, steel and skin had become one for him on this cold Detroit night.

The man holds the gun and whispers...

"This is for Ricky."

With that, Capazzo quickly moves to his right and turns around sending a right fist to the mouth of the gunman. The gunman returns the favor and drives the butt of his gun across the forehead of Capazzo. 

Blood immediately gushes from Capazzo's head. He grabs the gun and wrestles the man to the floor. Finally Capazzo gets the upper hand, after a short struggle he finally grabs hold of the gun. The gunman's eyes fill with terror. He shouts out and pleads.

"Wait Ca-"

Before the man can finish his sentence Capazzo's index finger is on the trigger. He is about to pull it when other members of the Marzool family turns the corner. Capazzo quickly puts two bullets in the forehead of the gunman and begins to run in the opposite direction. The rival family continues to chase him down.

Capazzo runs and runs and then comes across a four way intersection. As he attempts to cross the street a car pulls up in front of him and a man yells out.

"IN...NOW."

Capazzo gives him a confused look but the man repeats once more...

"IN......NOW!"

The Marzool family quickly approaches Capazzo and the mysterious car. Capazzo has no choice and heads into the car. Once he's in the man yells to his driver to get the hell out of there and head to CHICAGO. Capazzo looks at the man angrily.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you know who I am? Do you even know what I do?"

The man swiftly slaps him in the back of his head and speaks.

"Shut...the fuck...up."

The man then throws a handkerchief at Capazzo.

"You're bleeding."

It wasn't the way he saw himself leaving Detroit. The car screeched around a corner as it continued to pick up speed. Seraph sat firmly glued to his seat in the back. He was suppose to be alone and taking in the beautiful scenery on his short weekend visit. But now all he could see were buildings rushing by and glimpses out of the corner of his eye of who the fuck knows in his car.

But the introductions would have to wait. A car horn started blaring from behind. It kept on as Seraph's driver pulled hard on the steering wheel, forcing the car to skid around a corner.

"Who the fuck?"

"Who the fuck do you think, just keep driving!" 

Seraph didn't have time for stupidity. None of them did. It was probably those other fucks that this current fuck didn't do away with. He was growing more and more frustrated, and not just because he was almost being thrown about in the back of the vehicle. He was dry, and if he hadn't come across this mess he'd be knee deep in booze and pussy.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Seraph yelled, releasing some of his frustration. He was throwing it at Capazzo, even though his eyes were keeping tabs on his driver and what he could see through the front windscreen from where he was seated in the back.

"You know what? Don't answer that. Just take this and get ready!"

Seraph let go of his grip of the back of the drivers seat, removed a six shooter revolver from a holster inside his jacket and handed it to Capazzo, forcefully slamming it into his chest.

Seraph was adamant he'd never have to fire a gun again. Watching his mother's body lifeless in the casket, that was the moment he knew. He knew deep within that he had gone too far, and her souless meat suit was the result. So this irresponsible canoli would have to sort his own shit out.

"You'll clean this shit up. And if I die, I'm gonna fuckn haunt you. Now pop open the window and shake these pricks!"

Seraph looked at Capazzo with serious intent as he braced himself. He had one arm hard against the door and his other hand was holding onto the leathered back seat. Both cars were flying through the streets, and Seraph was banking that bullets would be too.