Sasdin | Not-I | WidowMaker | Deidre | Satine | Genesis | GTL | Oranjee | Valerio_Vicci | Silvestro_Carolla | Justice | Carlo_Marcello | Adriana-Andolini | Barbarian | Rizzo-Calagango | Marco-Kray | -Bruiser-Andolini-

Don't kill these!

Walks around and sees the posters hanging and decides to rip them down.

Walks off laughing to himself.

Justin, it's been a wild night for all of us, especially the city of Chicago. Please return Godfather Roman's posters to where they were when you found them. Given last night's events, I believe there has been some confusion

Justin uncrumples the posters that he pulled down and tacks them back up on the poles.

Oranjee II wakes up, as tired as he was when went to bed. It's hard to sleep with the sound of gunshots ringing out every five minutes just outside...especially when your dad could be on the receiving end of any one of them. Oranjee tied his shoes and walked out the door. He went to Mass every Sunday, but nothing felt right this morning. It's not the same when it's your own parent's funeral. 

About halfway there, he passed he passed the local Safelists. And there it was, in boldface letters - Oranjee.

"Safe? Ha. Tell that to my dead father." 

Oranjee continued walking, bile forming in the back of his throat. After what seemed like a lifetime, he finally arrived at the church. He walked up to the plain wooden casket of his father; it looked like dirt compared to the lavish decorated caskets of the Godfathers and Dons. No words, he laid a single rose on the breast of his father and returned to the pews. He popped down the kneeler and went to it. Oranjee had a lot to pray about recently.