Mack arrived at his doorstep after paying the cab driver. He carries two brown bags filled with cooking supplies. He sets them down as he shifts his keys up his pocket and into the tumbler. He sets the groceries down in the well-lit kitchen, the marble table tops gleaming from the gold hue setting a sublime light around the room. He takes his suit jacket off and lays it on a chair. He unholsters his pistol and lays it on the table. Just at that moment hear hears a creak in the hallway. His senses made him grab his pistol and chamber a round, the click evident to the apparition. He raises it to eye level and begins to move towards the fleeing ghost. He reaches his bedroom where his dresser drawers were in shambles and hears footsteps running through the alley. He bolts back through the hallway and out the kitchen onto the pavement. He gallops toward the running person a bit short to be a full grown adult. He pushes the hammer down and throws the safety on. He catches up to the thief still holding his handmade briefcase. He raises the gun and snarls.

Now what do you think you were doing rummaging through my belongings?

You should have sense enough not to target a mafioso.

Now drop the bag and I'll let you crawl away alive.

Mack fires a round into the young mans shin, shattering the bone with a excruciatingly loud pop. He fires at the thief's hand and throws the safety catch on. Walking over, Mack spits on the mans face through the screaming that was now induced. He snatches his bag from the mire and turns to see a small crowd gathering. He chuckles to himself and walks through their presence expecting a outcry. The amount of money Mack had acquire fo his neighborhood allowed him to do such things. Especially from a thief that arrived from out of state. He goes into his house to finish making his cake.