You walk off, leaving a trail of wet red footprints. It was the only thing striking about your appearance. 

Suit, tie. Just another button man. Another Joe Nobody

Well, you'd have to be to get out of this one. You'd just crushed the skull of a Made guy, Paulie Giordano, under your size 10's. As you feel the slick gore lessen under your step, you'd tell yourself it was out of principal, damn fucking principal you were not going to pull the trigger on a man of the cloth. But it wasn't, not really. It was personal. Regardless of the political turmoil, infrastructural weakness and opportunity the unfortunate loss of Father D'Marco would cause, you would not - could not - lay hands on the man who raised you. 

You fondly recall memories of the old man. Typically pleased to see you. A kiss to each cheek. An embrace. A pat to the face. A bond built from a lifetime of chapel visits, both in the old country and America. 

The murder of Giordano was the result of a heated argument. Fueled by emotion in defense of your nostalgic past, the killing would soon be felt through the underground community and retribution would be sought. You would be hunted. D'Marco's death might well be the only thing that could salvage the situation for you.

A few days of travel to the old country. The guilt rested heavily on your mind, the pressure of your own actions bearing down hard. Your name, your family name and your children would be ruined, disgraced throughout the Italian community. Or, you put a bullet through the man who picked you from the gutter and raised you up. A religious man, a man of faith and respect. The thoughts continued to plague your mind.

You were soon in Palermo.

You were soon in the confessional.

"Padre..."

"How long has it been, child?"

His voice was different, troubled. Perhaps he was aware of the political tensions swelling throughout the community like a bulbous wart. His position held such esteem, yet such restriction. The man was old, traditional. He would not consent to the ways of the modern world. The ways of business. To some that was important. Arrangements could not be made, contracts remained unsigned. You struggle for breath. Your pistol rests in your palms.

Again, he spoke.

"Why did you come here?"

The sentence began in your mind, however the words would not form.

"I... must confess, I came..., came here to..."

You look to the thatched shadowed separator that divides the two of you, hoping for a comforting face. Praying for a knowing smile. A forgiving nod.

You only see the silhouette of a muzzle. Then a flash. The report repeats through the wide roof of the chapel, so much that you don't know how many shots are fired. Falling from the booth, you grasp uncontrollably at the hemorrhaging perforations to your chest. You arch your back, the shock and pain sending and receiving erroneous and conflicting signals to and from your brain. The other side of the booth opens as your blood begins pooling beneath you. Looking up at the magnificently decorated ceiling of the chapel you frequented as a child, a pained and emotional moan escapes your lips. 

On the effigy of Christ over the alter was the haunted corpse of D'Marco. Strung up on the cross, his aged face bloated and crimson.

Thick gore collects around the shoes of your assailant as he turned and walked away, leaving a trail of wet red footprints. It was the only thing striking about his appearance. 

Suit, tie. Just another button man. Another Joe Nobody.

- JackMezzo, Race St. Operation

I *stomp* SAID *stomp* I *stomp* AIN'T *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* KILLING *stomp* NO *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* MAN *stomp* OF *stomp* THE *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* CLOTH.

You walk off, leaving a trail of wet red footprints. It wasn't that long ago since you walked through the bloody mess at the end of the corridor. Taking a left back down the long hallway you leave the man unconscious. True to your word you never killed him but left him in a heap he won't soon forget.

Earlier that morning your boss had approached you about a tax that needed to be collected. It seems one of the brothers had a bit of a gambling problem and needed some sorting out. They were always late. Always. So it was your job to make the point that late was no longer acceptable. Late would be met with consequences. You weren't sure if it was just a broken nose or a few broken ribs that you had left him with but you were sure it was a lesson they would be feeling for quite some time.

Taking the gloves you had been wearing off, you toss them into the trash can and head for your car. This was just the task of your day and now it was time to go see Laney. She would be waiting for you as she always was.

Dusty - The Race St. Operation

Fucking finally. The saxophone was his. He left Dexter lying on the floor, screeching for help through is constant coughs, filled with blood. He left the bar and spat some blood on the ground before leaving. Fucking stupid man, all he wanted was his ten thousand dollar sax. Why did he have to fight and shit? 

He got to his HQ and immediatly locked himself in his wagon. He had to try the saxophone now. Shaking, he opened the case and there it was. It was fucking beautiful. He picked it up, carefully taking it in his hands. He brought it to his mouth and started to play. WHAT THE FUCK? Why did he sound so bad? It was impossible. He had Mark VI.... unless.

He quickly checked the sax. It was the one he had built...

Draven trudged down the streets of Detroit in the rain and stopped just under an awning across from one of the older established churchs that was around the corner from her home. Standing finally out of the rain she pulled out a smoke and lit it. She enjoyed just standing there looking at the church as its' architecture enthralled her. It stood out to her and almost seemed to beckon her to come in. On a few occasions she almost thought about it, but she always decided to just turn and walk away. 

This day, as she blew out the last puff of her smoke and watched it dissepate in the rain drops, she decided to cross the street. Looking at the building right before her she dodged a couple of puddles and then reached the door of the building. Straightening her skirt and trying to get what rain dripped from her clothes off she opened the door and peered in. 

Seeing nothing but a few candles lit in the corners and a beautifully ornate podeum, she continued in. She wasn't sure what kind of church it was, as not being very relgious herself she could not tell, but the beauty of it caused her to simply sit down and observe. After a minute she heard a gentle voice behind her, and shocked someone crept up behind her she stood up and looked at the man. 

"Good evening, are you in need of help?" The man wore an all black outfit with nothing but a white stripe around the collar. She saw a cross hung from his neck and she let herself relax a bit. 

"No sir, I'm I'm.." She began to leave where she was seated knowing feeling she didn't belong there began to back away. "Sorry.. I just saw the building and stopped in." 

"Oh please sit back down, everyone is welcome." The man pointed down to the seat and Draven looked back at it and then to back at him. 

"Good Sir, I must be on." Draven was stuck with the man between her and the doorway, and she suddenly got a sense of something wrong. 

"Its not often that we have one of the Luciano Crime Family come in here, and never had we been privilaged with a right hand." He took a closer step forward to her and extended his hand.

Draven looked down at it and then back up at him, before she slowly reached her own hand out. Shaking his hand she felt akward as he grasped it extremely firmly.  "It's nice to have met you sir, I just always admired the building and came in for a look. I best be.."  

Before she could finish the man jerked her to him and grasped her arms hard. "I might be a man of the cloth but it would have been wise that you didn't venture where you did not know child." She suddenly looked at him as her eyes widened. His grasp on her arms was painful and she began to thrash and kick her legs. She suddenly had seen the small tattoo on his wrist as he held her from a neighboring gang that had previously looked to try to take over their family. "I'm sure my friends and I are about to have a wonderful adventure with you." He let go of one of her arms and grabbed her hair around his fist. She flung her arm around hitting him, and the man just simply laughed. Panic almost flew through her as she then suddenly kicked the man finally reaching high enough to cause him to double over. 

Letting her go to embrace his own self briefly she found her chance. She was finally able to reach her gun and she held it out in front of her and let a single shot ring out. She watched as the man fell fowards and blood began to stain the front of his shirt at his stomach. Trying to pull the trigger again Draven gasped as she realized she was out of bullets, but before she could even think she was standing over him. 

"Fucking ever think you will hurt us or try too.." She kicked him hard again in the balls and the man balled up on the floor.

"You wouldn't kill a man of the cloth would you?"The mans voice called out to her in hopes she would stop.

"I'm not killing a man of the cloth, your  not whom you pretend!" She kicked him harder this time right where the bullet had entered his skin.

The man cried out to her suddenly as if he was a baby trying to protect his wounds, and his reaction did nothing but send her into a rage as she viewed him as nothing but the piece of shit he was. 

"You fucking baby." She kicked him again and then in a fury of realizing what his intentions with her might have been she continued on, "I *stomp* SAID *stomp* I *stomp* AIN'T *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* KILLING *stomp* NO *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* MAN *stomp*OF *stomp* THE *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* CLOTH.

Stopping after her furry of assault she looked down at the man lifeless. She had taken her rage out on his face and used every once of her strength to simply leave the man lifeless. She huffed and then straightend back out her skirt as she turned and walked through the mess that was left on the floor. Stopping at the door she took on look back. 

Drawing in a sigh Draven walked off, leaving a trail of wet red footprints.

Draven- The Luciano Crime Family

The mafia world was full of cruel people out for their own best interests.  These people were terrors on their community and pulled the wool over the eyes of the general public making them impossible to stop.  In this world, even the religious organizations had their hand in the illegal activities that plagued the major cities.  In fact, the Roman Catholic Church had been secretly involved in the bootlegging industry.  Known to few, there were priests who gave mass in the morning and were sitting in mafia headquarters for the rest of the day.  They had an unimaginable link to the dirtiest secrets of our world.

One small speck in the chaos was a man who was nicknamed Ghost.  He was an orphan who from a young age was pushed into that dirty world.  A child who ran numbers and robbed stores who slowly transitioned into a man who made money from the vices of the world and killed those who got in his way...

---

"Boss! Boss! Are you here?" asked Ghost.

"Yes, did you finish that thing for me?" replied the Boss.

The Boss was actually named Roger Roman Gaccetta.  He was a well known figure in the city of New York one of the most well known caporegimes of his time.  He was well known both for his cruelty towards his enemies and his talent for building an organization.

"Yes I did!  That guy won't make any more trouble for you." stated Ghost.

"Perfect.  If that's the case, could you take on one more job for me?" the Boss asked as he threw a briefcase towards Ghost.

The question was asked, but it was rhetorical.  Ghost had never turned down work and he always showed The Boss the respect he deserved.  In the eyes of many, the Boss was a cruel despot.  However, to Ghost he was the man who saved him from wallowing in regret and gave him an opportunity to live a decent life.  He understood the risk, but he also had no opportunities to make his way out from his low point until the Boss saved him.  Thats why he always called him the Boss and would jump through any fires to support him.

The Boss continued, "One of my new business associates asked for some help with their restaurant. Could you go towards the East Side Heights and talk to him? Its that little hole in the wall on 56th that the boys were talking about.  You're looking for the owner of the business and his name is Pauly."

In that brief explanation, Ghost noted one specific item.  New business associate.  Those words had been spoken before and it was nearly code between the two of them at this point.  In other words, Ghost was to help him as long as he was loyal, but he was also to test him and ensure that he acted in accordance with The Boss's wishes.  If anything seemed to be amiss, Ghost was responsible for reporting to The Boss.

Ghost nodded and left at that point.  Nothing else needed to be said.

---

After a few hours of traveling through town and dealing with the usual vendors and businessmen in busy New York City, Ghost arrived at the restaurant on 56th Street around mid-morning.  It really was a hole in the wall.  Nothing impressive about it from the outside.  Ghost walked up to the door and knocked.

"Hello! Is anyone here?" Ghost inquired.

At that time, a burly man came up to the door and opened it.  He was a massive man.  6'-8", 270 pounds of what appeared to be pure muscle.  If he wasn't a bear that strayed to far from his Gym, then he was probably a bouncer or a bodyguard.  After looking at Ghost up and down, he frowned.

"You're in the wrong place. Leave." responded the man.

"I was told to come here to talk to Pauly", replied Ghost. 

The man sighed at him because he saw a weak child.  Ghost wasn't particularly well dressed, nor did he carry himself well.  This often left a bad impression on people who met him for the first time.  After a moment, the man stood aside so he could come in.  Ghost took that as an invitation and walked in the door.  Ghost had been used to the secrecy and habits of people in this life, so this behavior didn't impact him at all.  As he walked in, the bodyguard quickly closed the door behind him and told him to walk towards the kitchen in the back.  As they walked, the bodyguard spoke.

"When you're talking to Pauly, keep in mind that he's doing you a favor by talking to someone like you and treat him accordingly."  said the man.

Ghost nodded at this statement.  Not because he agreed or was being meek, but because he realized that the man was giving his boss the respect he deserved.  He took a mental note of this man's appearance.  Eventually, Ghost walked back into the kitchen and found the office located in the far back.  As Ghost walked in, Pauly lifted his head up from the paperwork he was working on and welcomed Ghost into the room.

"Ah come in, come in.  My name's Paul Ricci.  Everyone calls me Pauly though.  You're one of Roman's boys right? Can I get you some whiskey to drink?" asked Pauly.

"Yes please. I was never given a name as I was an orphan, but I've gone by Ghost for as long as I remember.  Please call me that."  replied Ghost.

As he poured, Pauly frowned while he had his back to Ghost.  Who did this young guy think he was to not give him his name in an introduction after he gave him his name first?  He felt Ghost thought he was above him because of who he worked for.  Pauly had trouble accepting that, but he had already paid Roman for his assistance so he wanted to make the most of it.  What needed to be done could always be done later... after the problem was taken care of.

As Pauly turned back around, he restored the look on his face to a smile.  At that point, he began to speak, "So, I don't know what Roman told you but I'm running a business here and need a little extra support to deal with a problem.  He said he would send a man over to discuss the particulars with me so you must be him."

"Yes sir. He told me you would give me the details." answered Ghost.

Pauly kept his smile on his face and answered, "Yes.  All I need you to do is go to this address and clean up the mess.  One of my men in the restaurant has been skimming profits and passing it to another organization.  They shouldn't be cautious because it was only overheard by one of my men by chance.  All you need to do is go in and go out.  I expect you'll get this done as soon as possible before he finds out."

After finishing his request, he handed Ghost a note.

"Alright, I understand."  Ghost answered and left.

As Ghost left, Pauly's friendly smile turned into something slightly more cruel and wicked.  Ghost had no way to know this as he left.

---

Ghost walked through town towards the address given to him.  The address was on 46th Street in an apartment building residing next to a Church.  Ghost walked into the apartment building and looked at the mailbox in the lobby.  The name on Apartment 452 was Keith O'Sullivan.  Otherwise, it wasn't noteworthy.  Before he completed his assignment, Ghost decided to follow this man for a day and see who he was and confirm that it wasn't a trap.  The Boss's orders were clear that Pauly wasn't fully trusted yet, so Ghost acted accordingly.

As Ghost walked away from the mailbox, a man had just walked in the door and noted where Ghost was standing.  After seeing Ghost, start to walk away, the man walked up to him and asked him a question.

"Son, are you lost?  It wouldn't do if you were looking for someone and couldn't find them."  asked the man.

"Ah yes, I was looking for some guidance and my friend recommended I come here to talk to Keith, but I'm not sure if I'm in the right place honestly."  replied Ghost.

"Oh! Are you a member of the Church?  Keith is the pastor at the Church next door. The priest is a great man so he should be more than able to help you! Do you want me to take you up to him?" exclaimed the man.

"Ah no thank you. Don't let me trouble you.  I'll be able to find him now.  Thank you." answered Ghost.

"I see.  I hope you get the help you were looking for, son." answered the man as he checked his own mailbox and left.

Ghost was shocked.  The man he was asked to kill was a priest?  He managed to give a reply to the man that didn't lead on to what his task truly was.  Was the man mistaken?  Did he get the wrong apartment number?  What should he do?  He couldn't kill a priest without more information.  Was the priest truly corrupt?  What was his role at the restaurant?  The risk was far too high for him to just 'do the deed'.

Ghost decided to stick to his original plan.  At this point, it was early afternoon.  The priest had walked back into his apartment as Ghost had spied him from down the hallway.  After he confirmed who the man was, he walked out of the building and started a stakeout across the street from the apartment building.  After 30 minutes, the priest left the apartment building.  He was wearing casual clothes and did not have his collar.  Ghost was shocked as he followed him and found out that he entered the restaurant.

Without more information he wouldn't be able to proceed, so Ghost entered as well and sat at a table across the room with a line of sight to the father's table.  Over the next hour, 5 fairly grizzly looking men had sat down at the father's table and the father had given each of them envelopes.  After receiving the envelope, each man had left.  Ghost had assumed that it was a payoff of some sort, but he couldn't tell why yet.

After another two hours, one of the previous men had returned and the priest followed the man into the kitchen.  From Ghost's table, he could barely make out that the men were all there delivering boxes.  After a few boxes, one of the men had accidentally dropped a box.

The priest, Keith, began to roar at the man who dropped the box, "You bastard! Each box is worth as much as any of us!  Don't drop another one or else!"

Ghost was amazed, but he had made a mental note of one aspect of the situation.  The father had lost his temper.  If he was making money on the side, whether the box containing liquor broke or not shouldn't have mattered.  At the same time as that thought had run through his head, the bodyguard from this morning had come outside after hearing the commotion.  Ghost had gotten up to walk towards the situation, to see if he could hear what would happen next.  

The bodyguard said as he had grabbed Keith, "All of you except this one can leave now."

The men scurried off as fast as they could.  It was almost comedic as they ran away while falling over each other.

The bodyguard continued after the men left, "You realize what this means right?  We told you that if you continue to cost us money, that we would have to take money from you to cover the cost. You owe us 845 dollars for that box of Grain Alcohol."

"But.. thats all the money I had... it was meant to go to the church's orphanage." as the priest hesitated.

"It seems you don't understand. Follow me to the back and we can discuss this with Pauly." the bodyguard replied.

Ghost realized that it was extortion and that the father was running out of funds to give them.  Since he knew about their business, he need to be eliminated as he was under too much pressure.  Everything had come together because of that idiot bodyguard.  Ghost was happy on the inside, because he realized what had actually happened and he had already had enmity for Pauly and the bodyguard.  The only thing he needed to resolve was the impact to his Boss's business connection.  What would The Boss say if he knew that one of his associates was doing something like this?

---

At this point, Ghost had left the restaurant and watched the back alley from the street as he read the newspaper.  After an hour, the priest was thrown out of the restaurant and left on the ground in the alley.  Keith was obviously injured with some broken ribs and a noticeable limp.  As he walked onto the street, Ghost had approached him and started a conversation.

"Keith, come here for a moment." Ghost said as he put his arm around the priest.

The priest, with no energy or capability to resist had acquiesced and followed him down the street and into an alleyway on 55th Street.

"...So what do you want?  Are you another one of THEM?" Keith hesitantly asked.

"Thats not important right now.  All I need to know is are you committed to do whatever's necessary for those kids." answered Ghost.

"You! Are you going to... do something... to the orphans?" Keith asked with fear in his voice.

"No, but I need one promise from you." replied Ghost.

Keith thought about his response for a moment before he said, "What? I've already fallen too far to back away now."

"At least you understand where you stand... I want you to run the restaurant after today.  70% of the profits go to me and 30% are yours.  You can do whatever you want with them including saving your little children.  I'll organize your support staff you need to operate the restaurant. Do you accept?" offered Ghost.

"Do I have a choice?" asked Keith.

"Did you need to ask?" casually replied Ghost.

At this point Keith took a moment to think and he answered "I accept.  What do you want from me?"

"Give me all the information you know regarding the employees at the restaurant including Keith and that doofus bodyguard." stated Ghost.

Keith had then described all of the relevant details to Ghost including their suppliers, employees, and some personal information about the owner.  With this, Ghost had everything he needed to finish this little episode.

---

Ghost had went home to sleep and organize his thoughts.  He had already decided to support the priest as he could keep him as a secret side business and keep his link to his family quiet.  Also, the priest was desperate currently, but he was also sly enough to get involved in this dirty world in the first place.  Ghost knew that he had to maintain an arrangement where his family had no ties to the priest and that all the dealings would be under the table.  If so, then The Boss would accept this arrangement and it would allow Ghost to install an owner who wouldn't deceive him easily.

After organizing everything, Ghost had returned to the restaurant at about midnight.  He ended up drinking some and was there until last call.  There were five employees working for the restaurant.  Two cooks in the back, two waiters, and a waitress.  They were Pauly's people.  That alone was enough to make a decision. 

As everyone else left, Ghost had slipped into the bathroom so he would be the last patron in the restaurant.  At this point, it was already 3AM.  As Ghost walked out of the bathroom, he had already determined what he would do.

One of the waiters had stopped cleaning up the bar when he heard Ghost walk out and said, "Sir, we are closed now, please leave."

Ghost had replied "Oh sorry, I had wanted to see Pauly before I left."  Just as Ghost had finished those words, he had shot the employees starting with the two waiters and the waitress.  The cooks, who heard the commotion, had walked out from the kitchen at this point and were also shot and killed.

Knowing that he had made too much noise, Ghost hurried back towards the back office just at the same time as when the bodyguard had come out of the office after hearing the gunshots.  Ghost, being a cruel man, had thrown one of the kitchen knives at the bodyguard which wounded the arm holding his already drawn gun.  He had dropped the gun and as he bent down to pick it up, Ghost had rushed him and kneed him in the face.  Before he could recover, Ghost had shot him in all four of his limbs to keep the bodyguard from attacking him.  Ghost knew he wouldn't win in a test of strength, but he wouldn't lose a battle with weapons.

"You stupid son of a bitch.  You looked down on me and my family and this what you get for it.  How dare you send me to kill a priest?  Do you think that your little Pauly is that special that you get to order my boss's family around?" Ghost yelled angrily.

At this point, Ghost started kicking all of the bodyguards wounds and kicking his face.  The bodyguard was barely able to talk at this point when he had uttered, "You're going to regret this."

Ghost stopped.  He was so angry at this situation that he had lost it and he moved toward the bodyguard's face.

"I *stomp* SAID *stomp* I *stomp* AIN'T *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* KILLING *stomp* NO *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* MAN *stomp* OF *stomp* THE *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* CLOTH."

The bodyguard's face was no longer recognizable.  He was in a sorry state, even for a corpse.

At this point Ghost started to walk off towards Pauly's office, leaving a trail of wet red footprints.  As soon as Ghost had opened the door, Pauly had attempted to shoot Ghost, but he was so overcome with fear that his hands were visibly shaking.  The shot had missed and Ghost had returned fire and killed Pauly.

"You bastards were barely worth the effort..." sighed Ghost.

Knowing that he didn't have much time to clean-up, he decided to leave through the backalley and go back to his safehouse in the city.  He would report to his Boss tomorrow morning, and make sure that he did all the clean-up for this affair...

____________

Ghost, The Seraphim Empire

In this life, you know, our life. Things can get out of hand quickly and before you know it, someone ends up dead. Sometimes it's over money, disrespect or even someone making a threat. But the other times, that's when it puts into prospective what a thin line everyone walks. Those are the times when all you have to do is make a joke and someone takes it the wrong way, arguements over card games get out of hand and someone ends up laying on their back, eyes wide open with a shocked expression on their face in a pool of blood.

This situation, was one of those things that could of been avoidable, but what can you do.

On this particular day, I just had a good feeling about everything in general, I felt good, I damn sure looked good. The night was calm, real nice and cool out, a little bit of a breeze and I was about to make one of the biggest scores of my life. A friend of mine who I had went to high school with was big in the coke scene, granted she probably snorted more than she sold but still, she was the girl to see if you wanted to sell some stuff and make a lot of cash quickly. she was a short lady, which is probably why she had an inferiority complex about everything and worked out almost twenty-four-seven. Around my age, maybe even a little bit older. While she didn't live in the best neighborhood, I felt pretty calm outside of her house in my car. But I was getting anxious, I'd been there twenty-minutes already and I had other matter to take care of before I ended my night.


"Urghh! Come on Betty, this can't take that long." I said to myself, getting impatient and annoyed.

Finally the door opens, very pretty, very built, black short haired male walked outside, said something to Betty, smiled and walked away. As he walked by the car I made eye contact. He had all the signs of a coke head and I had mistaken the lack of light for a handsome man. His face is clean but looks stoned, His thought to be thick body was nothing but layers of clothes he had to wear because he couldn't afford an apartment and slept around with random people in the city for a line and a place to stay. He walked away out of sight and I noticed Betty standing in the door way, waving me over.

As I get out of the car and say loudly, "Its about time, my ass was startin to hurt waiting."

I shook her hand, she asked me how I was doin. I said the usual matter. She shut the door and locked 3 different dead bolts plus a chain. As far as cleaniness goes, it was..ok. I mean, I wouldn't suggest eating anything off the floors, or the plates for that matter, but it's not like you would be struck with the plague if you sat on the couch in her living room.


"How's things goin with you Betty? Everything ok? How's your daughter and everyone doin?", I asked her as I went to her fridge to get something to drink, She don't have any beer but suprisingly she did have fruit juice, and some milk that was half empty. I grabbed a juice and sat on the couch, looking at the guns she had hung up on the walls. Shotguns, machine guns, pistols, grenades, brass knuckles, various bats decorated most of her living room. It is very unusual for a woman to own this kind of place, It had a cozyness to it.


"It's goin alright, I gotta make that money and make sure my baby girl can eat everyday, I'm a divorced woman, that's all that matters." Betty told me, as she sat in front of me in a chair, making herself comfortable.


"So how much were you wanting to spend? A good five-million can get you three-hundred kilos. And I know with your connections you can spread that shit around, double the profit. Just a heads up."

I nodded my head, she knew how to cut right to the point and wasn't afraid to let you know what was on her mind. That's why I liked doing business with her, no hassle and since we had known each other for years, it cut out ninety-percent of the bullshit out.


"I can swing that, but three-hundred kilos? Damn Betty, I mean yeah I have people that can move it but something like that would have to move fast enough for the cops not to catch on." 

Betty was just about to give me some nonsense reply on how I was and how she knew I could it. When I hear what sounds like a shotgun blast hit the door and it's kicked in. I duck down behind the couch and Betty grabs her gun and jumps over the side next to me. Lucky me I had my gun in my waist.


"Where the fuck is she? I know I heard shes talkin'. Go upstairs and check what she have up there, don't forget the stuff and take any guns you can get."

The voice sounded away from us, Betty peaked her head over the couch and seen the guy talking was carrying the shotgun that blew a whole the size of a watermelon through his door. She cocked the hammer back slowly, stood up and fired off a shot. Bam! Hitting the first guy in the head, dropping him to the floor and leaving a mist against the family portrait that hung on the wall. While it did kill one of these assholes, it made the others aware of where we were. Before Betty had time to retreat or fire off another shot, the 3 that were still in the door way and one that was on the stairs opened fire.


"OH SHIT! BETTY!" I screamed, as parts of Betty's flesh hit me, the metal smell of blood everywhere. I jumped up, and starting firing off as many shots as I could while I was backing out the door through the kitchen. If I could get away, there's no doubt I could find out who the fuck these guys where and deal with them on a level playing field.


"YOU SNEEKY BITCH!" Was all I heard as bullets whizzed by me, everything was going good then BOOM!, I got hit in the shin, then another hit me in the shoulder. Hot lead burns the flesh and causes enough pain for you to cry like a baby. I'm squeezing that trigger as quick as i can. Then all of a sudden it stops, what the fuck? The gun jammed on me. Boom, I'm hit again, in the arm, the chest, the neck, part of my ear feels like its been pierced.


"KILL HER!" 

I fall back on to Betty's breakfast table, blood everywhere and my body racked with pain. I can hear them coming closer, my ears are ringing but that's the last of my worries. I feel hot metal pressed up against my temple and a hammer being cocked back. My life flashes through my eyes, everything I've done, everyone I've known. And it's all about to end right here, right now. Then he shout...

"I *stomp* SAID *stomp* I *stomp* AIN'T *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* KILLING *stomp* NO *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* MAN *stomp* OF *stomp* THE *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* CLOTH!" and he continue saying... 

"You almost got away, too bad you and your friend have to die, but i might let you go. It wasn't supposed to be this way, you had options. Anything you want to say before you die?" This bass filled voice says to me with so much hate that if I could lift my head I would of spit in his face, if it wasn't covered by a mask. He laughed and pressed the barrel harder into my skull.

"Pull that trigger and not only will I kill you and your pals, I'll kill all of your families!" I hear very stern and serious voice boomed out of no where, it sounded familiar, but who was it?

I never had time to find out, I blacked out from all the pain and bleeding. The next thing I remember, I woke up in the hospital, wrapped in bandages like a mummy like in the movies and left with my jaw wired shut. Unfortunately, there is much larger matter that I need to deal with. My family! I walk off, leaving a trail of wet red footprints on the hospital floor. The nurse and the doctor didn't notice. I slowly sneak out from the hospital with bandage all over my body heading to the headquarters. 

THE END
 

Nadia - Ballard Blush

Greybeard entered the church and immediately walked towards father Phil's office. He was waiting for him since not too long ago he send an alter boy to call him for something important that he had to tell him. 

"Good evening.....father" Greybeard said while removing his hat.

"Oh good, you are here. Please sit." Father Phil said pointing towards a chair.

Phil was a different case of a priest. He grew up in the Italian neighborhood where the only two options out of poverty were either to join a crew of a local boss or join a different kind of crew by joining the Catholic Church. It was often that these two worlds work with each other. The streets were providing financial assistance and the church was providing alibi for courts, both mortal and divine. Those kind of meetings were usually happening on Sundays after the service. This meeting was out of the ordinary, so Greybeard assumed Father Phil needed his cash earlier this week.

Greybeard reached into his pocket, took out an envelope and left it on the desk. "Cash went fast this week... Father?"

Father Phil shook his head in a negative way "No no. This isn't the reason I wanted this meeting. We live in strange times Greybeard. Men have lost their faith in the word of our lord and the Church feels strongly that there are certain people to blame for that. People that pollute the minds of the folk with blasphemous words. The Church feels that it is time to take matter in hands. Just in the next town, there is this...society that turned it's back on us. The main problem is a priest of something called "Church of the holy triad" that has driven too many people in his grasp."

"Is he getting all donations too?" Greybeard asked interrupting Father Phil.

Father Phil looked at Greybeard and continued "Lets just say that it would be beneficial if that man was gone"

Greybeard stood up from his seat "I am sorry but I am not killing a man of the cloth. Of any cloth. It is bad luck to even see one of you."

Father Phil came closer and placed his hand on Greybeard's shoulder."I am afraid that if you don't do this for the Church, your donations will have to become larger and..."

Father Phil's sentence was interrupted as Greybeard's forehead met his nose dropping him on the floor. He dropped on his knees on Father Phil's chest and grabbed his throat.

"Never threaten me again Father." Greybeard said as he felt anger flood through his veins.

"But you said..." Father's sentence was interrupted once again as Greybeard start punching him.

"I *stomp* SAID *stomp* I *stomp* AIN'T *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* KILLING *stomp* NO *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* MAN  

*stomp*OF *stomp* THE *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* CLOTH." Greybeard said as he felt anger flood through his veins.

Greybeard stood up and walked off, leaving a trail of wet red footprints.

Greybeard - The Seraphim Empire

The man of the cloth. Flexx stomped through the warehouse angry with the resolution, heading back to his office he waves his hand

“Clean it up, Dammit!!! “

He says as he enters his office and slams the door. The day was a regular day but Taga remembered when there was one moment that stuck out. Flexx was in his office going over some numbers when there was a knock at the door.

“Knock! Knock! “

Flexx looks up, and Taga sitting on the couch looks up as well.

“Who Is It!?”

Taga says as he gets up to answer the door. It was one of the head gangsters from the group that called themselves the The fools. A group unknown but competition nonetheless. Flexx sits up as the mobster walks in. He had a serious look on his face so Flexx and Taga stayed ready. Times were peaceful and he wanted it to stay that way.

“So What's going on?”

Flexx says as the mobster steps forward.

“My boss wants to talk to you about a situation, he wants to come by in a few hours.”

The mobster says as he stands waiting for a response.

“Ok, What does he want to talk about?”

Flexx says with a curious look on his face.

“Above my paygrade, but you can expect him to be on time. Good day”

The mobster says as he exits the location. Flexx looks over at Taga

“What could that be about? We better stay ready, that’s the last thing I wanna do is get something started with that crew, but eh. “

Flexx lights a blunt as they get back to business. Not really thinking about what was said the time passes and a few hours past. All of a sudden one of the younger thugs come running to Flexx’s office.

“One of the men of the cloth is here, and they look serious.”

“What?”

Flexx gets up and Taga follows behind him. Out by the loading dock one of the mobsters was out looking like they had a problem. Flexx looks over to Taga.  Flexx walks up to the mobster.

“Hey,. let me talk to you really quick..”

Flexx and the mobster walk behind the building to talk. It was a strong discussion and Flexx sounded like he was coming to the edge. Suddenly all you could hear was a quick scuffle and a few thumps, and then silence. I *stomp* SAID *stomp* I *stomp* AIN'T *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* KILLING *stomp* NO *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* MAN *stomp*OF *stomp* THE *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* CLOTH.

You walk off, leaving a trail of wet red footprints.

Flexx-Mitchel -The Black Crows

Jacquotte was seated in her office, with coffee in hand when she noticed a letter sitting on the floor just under her door. Taking a sip of her coffee before getting up, she walked over to her door and picked up the letter. Intrigued she immediately opened it up, it wasn't often that she received letters like this. 

With a tear of the envelope she pulled out the piece of paper. There was only a name and address on it, nothing else and she noticed the hand writing. It stood out like a sore thumb. It was Dubs, without question. She glanced at the paper a second time, fully taking in the name on the paper. With a shrug she tucked the paper in her pocket, grabbed her gun and headed out of the headquarter. 

She didn't know the person but knew about the location or at least the whereabouts of the location. Only took her a couple minutes to find the location, a church just a couple blocks away from the headquarter. Jacki stood in front of the church and reached into her pocket for the piece of paper just to make sure the addresses really matched up. 

That's when it hit her, the hit was on a man of the cloth. Now Jacki was never one to steer away from a job but this was different. Kill a man of the cloth in a church. An act such as this would surely land her straight in hell, it was a place she was probably headed to anyways but this would surely seal the deal. 

She took a deep breath then walked up to the church doors and slowly pushed them opened. A sudden rush of heat coursed through her body as she glared inside. Immediately she took a step back and let the heavy doors close. Instantly the rush of the heat left her body, so she composed herself and opened the doors again. Again the moment the doors were opened the same rush of heat rushed through her body. 

"Fuck this! Someone else needs to do this job." She said to herself as she made her way down the stairs then walked away from the church. With each step she took the thought of killing a man of the cloth irked her more and more. She turned the corner to head back to the headquarters when a man elbow checked her. "Watch where you're walking bitch!" Said the man. 

Instantly this triggered Jacki as the thought of the father was still in her head. She pulled out her gun and fired two shots into his knee. He dropped instantly as a pool of blood started to form around him. Jacki walked over to him, with the anger still in her face and looked down at him as he laid there in pain.

I *stomp* SAID *stomp* I *stomp* AIN'T *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* KILLING *stomp* NO *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* MAN *stomp*OF *stomp* THE *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* CLOTH.

The man had no idea what she was talking about. "You're crazy, lady. Crazy..."

Jacki took a deep breath then walked off, leaving a trail of wet red footprints.

JacquotteDelahaye - Seraphim Empire

I *stomp* SAID *stomp* I *stomp* AIN'T *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* KILLING *stomp* NO *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* MAN *stomp* OF *stomp* THE *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* CLOTH.

3 days the crew had been searching for the snitch. They finally found out who had sold the crew down the river, only for it be the local priest. It seems Father Macklepenny had been taking confession when one of the crew decided to spill their guts about a recent heist. The cops then picked up 5 of Tom's friends later that night, Tom himself narrowly escaped by pure luck, having left the HQ moments before. His lucky escaped had caused him a big head ache, many feeling that Tom himself was the snitch. He vowed to hunt down the real snitch to clear his name and personally put a bullett in the head of the man, or woman, responsible.

He'd found his man. Or rather, he knew where to find him. But he couldn't bring himself to kill a Holy man. Like many of his colleagues in the life of crime, Tom had been raised a Catholic and there was no bigger sin than murder, he had always been able to tell himself that he only killed those that he had to through necessity, these people were also criminals for the most part, meaning really he was helping the community by removing them. But a man of the cloth? There was no way he could excuse himself from that.. but how was he to still clear his name, without the head of the man responsible?

He decided to pay the Father a visit. Father Macklepenny was again taking confession that evening, so Tom elected to use this opportunity to pose the question directly to the Father.

"Welcome my chid, how may I help you this evening?"

"Forgive me Father, it's been 6 years since my last confession, I have done many sins in this period of time. The most heinous of all being murder, on multiple occassions"

"This is troubling to hear, my child. For what reason did you commit these sins?"

"I won't lie Father, my main goal has always been wealth, though at times it has been a life or death situation which i've found myself in. However, my reason to come before you today Father is not because of my own sins. It's because of a situation that someone else's sins has brought upon me"

"Well my child, your own sins are bad enough, for you to come here due to someone elses then this most be really bad indeed. Please, unload your burden to me, so that I may give you peace"

"Thank you, Father. A colleague of mine recently confessed of a crime, in doing so he consigned many of my friends to prison, almost myself too. I was lucky to not be picked up. Now this luck has caused people to assume wrongly that I was the one who caused their arrest. I vowed to resolve this by finding the true cause of their arrest and handling the issue myself."

"That does sound like a good solution, though it pains me to say so as I fear what you will do to this person. Are you having trouble locating the person in question?"

"No Father, I found the person. They are in a position where they are simply doing their own duty, which pains me to then punish them for doing so. How should I handle the dilemma without harming the person but also retaining my own reputation?"

"Thats something I will have to ponder, my child. Meet me back here tomorrow night, I will speak to the Lord and have an answer for you."

"Ok Father, I shall bide my time and see you tomorrow. Thank you"

Tom left the confessional chamber and sat down in the church to say a prayer for some of his recently fallen colleagues, he noticed one of the crew then heading into confession also. Intrigued he remained in the Church, watching and waiting for the Father and his crew member to emerge. 30 minutes passed and they both emerged, they exchanged some more words before Father Macklepenny handed over a large envelope to the man. That evening there was another raid, 4 more members of the crew had been picked up. Tom then realised that both jobs had included the boy he saw earlier in the Church.

Tom reported what he had saw to his crewleader. The fathers advice had been good, he had waited and he had been absolved of blame. It was now down to Tom's CL to handle the situation. He decided to return to see the Father as dicussed, though.

"Good evening my Child, how may I help you?"

"Good evening Father. We spoke last night, you said you would speak to the Lord for me to help with my situation. Has there been an answer?"

"Welcome back, I'm pleased you returned! I have spoken with the Lord. He feels that you should leave this life of crime that you find yourself in. You have been placed in this situation to allow you the chance to change your life, you should take this chance now and go away to pastures new where you can live a free life without all this hanging over you."

Tom took a moment in silence to consider the Fathers response. He had no intention of quitting the life, he also didnt want to tell the Father that the man responsible had been identified now and would suffer the consequences soon enough. Yet something else was troubling him about the Fathers words. He couldn't put his finger on it, though. He decided to leave it as it is and go pray some more himself.

"Thank you for the guidance Father."

Tom left the confessional and as before, took a seat to say his own prayers. He then spotted the same crew member again entering the confessional. It became clear to Tom that this relationship was mutual, the crew member was selling information from the crew to the Father, who was in turn no doubt profiting from giving such information to the Police. This wasn't the actions of a Man of the Cloth.

Tom stood from his position..Pulled out his gun and entered confession, putting two bullets in bother Father Macklepenny and his associate. Leavin the scene he told himself again "That was no man of the Cloth."

TomKirkman - The Possimpables

There was something about Stan that had Lushie finding herself trusting less and less as time was going by, they have worked on many missions before, only for the latest one with something not quite adding up. If it wasn't for her distant cousin, Father Andrew things could've been very different. 

It all started a few days earlier when Stan reached out to Lushie to meet up, he had valuable information to share with her. On that day Lushie made her way to meet up with Stan and was explained how he had intel of a shipment coming into Chicago from South Africa and would make its way to a jeweller. Lushie asked him exactly what gems were coming and a few other questions. Stan wasn't very forthcoming exactly in all the details, only when it would roughly arrive at the airport and the shop that it was going to. He asked her to help him get hold of the loot. Lushie found herself in a quandary, he not done wrong by her before but this time she found herself questioning his motives. She wasn't questioning the heist, she and Stan had succeeded in many before, she was questioning how he came to know of something and why was he holding little snippets of information away from her. She decided to take the chance and agreed to be on board. 

On the evening of the shipment arrival, Stan and Lushie were parked just outside of the airport awaiting the van with the goods to come out of the gates so that they could follow it. Even that, Stan knew all the details of the van, right down to the number plate. She asked him again how he came to know of all of it for him to tell her to concentrate on the gates. Something was off to her, he wasn't normally so abrupt towards her. 

"GO GO GO" Stan yelled at Lushie to put her foot down onto the pedal, to follow the van that just departed from the airport gates. She got the car into gear and off they went to tail the van, "Not too fast, Not to slow" he continued to yell at her so that she knew to just follow. Just before the van got to the city districts to make its drop it did an unusual turn into an offroad area and then came to a halt that they followed into, "Is this a trap?" Lushie snapped at Stan as she slowed the car down to make the same turn of the van. Stan said nothing as they drew in closer to the van that suddenly stopped resulting in Lushie to slam on the breaks. Stan wasn't showing any emotion, not fear, nor was he surprised. To Lushie this threw up yet another red flag to her, he had told her they would follow the van to the shop. He didn't mention anything about offroad driving to her. It was then she saw the driver of the van get out of the van with his hands on his head, followed by a familiar man with a gun to the back of the drivers head. It was Father Andrew who looked at Lushie briefly with a look on his face she knew only to well from when they were children, she could tell something was very wrong. 

Father Andrew couldn't even swat a fly, 'so how did he land up in all of this' Lushie kept thinking to herself. Was this why Stan was so shady with answering her questions? What on earth was all this about? She had so much running through her brain but had to push it all to one side for the moment to get through the moment they were all in. "You know what to do" shouted Stan to Father Andrew, Lushie could see he was trembling and was struggling to do this. But she also knew if he did not, he could be in grave danger herself, she didn't want that on her conscience. Lushie pulled out her gun and shot the driver of the van as she then turned to Stan "It makes no difference who does it" she said. She could see Stan's eyes go from calm to a bit of anger. With Lushie's gun out and Father Andrew still holding his, Stan had no choice but to carry through with whatever his plan was. Lushie knew then there was a lot more to what she had been told and that her concerns were not unfounded. 

Stan opened up the back of the van and went into it, to come back out with the tiniest of boxes and opened it up to look. Lushie walked over to him to take a look herself "Are they...?" she started to say, "Yep, Pink diamonds" Stan said answering her as he went on to explain they needed to get out of there and back to the church that Andrew preaches at. Stan, Father Andrew and Lushie went and got back into the car as Lushie then started it up to drive to the church.

As they drove towards the church, Lushie caught Father Andrew's eye as she looked into the rearview mirror, he was sat in the back and lowered his gaze down to the cross he had on a chain around his neck. It was then that things started to fall together for Lushie as she realised the one he had on was not his own, but of his father. She paid attention to the road as she tried to piece it all together in her mind. Far as she was aware there has not been a death in the family, Father Andrew's father was still alive to her knowledge. 'But why he wearing his cross" Lushie thought to herself as she remembered that his father, Father John had spent a lot of time on Missionaries in South Africa. Some things were beginning to come together for her as they arrived at the church. It still did not answer the main question she had buzzing in her head of how did Father Andrew and Stan come to meet and did Stan know that she was related to the Fathers.

They got out of the car and the three of them made their way into the church. Stan explained for a while the diamonds would be hidden in the vaults of the church. Until the heat was down, it was to risky to sell on just yet, especially pink diamonds that were so rare. Lushie asked herself to be excused for a few moments as she went to use the restroom at the back of the church. She wasn't gone long but as she reentered the main room of the church, she spotted that the two men were in an argument. With the old building, the voices were echoing through the church. Stan was unaware that Lushie had returned and to his own stupid mistake had said all that she needed to know. 

It turned out that Stan had overheard Father Andrew and his father, Father John talk one morning about the diamonds coming from South Africa and would be used to modernise the church and their holy missions in Chicago, of charity work in the city. Only Stan decided he wanted those diamonds himself and kidnapped Father John and used Father Andrew to his advantage. 

Lushie's blood was boiling as she pulled her gun out again and started to walk towards the men, aiming it towards Stan. "So this is why you were reluctant to tell me everything in this mission?" she yelled at Stan as she walked closer. Stan tried to lie his way out of it and told her she needed to shoot Father Andrew of it would all have been for nothing. "Don't lie" Father Andrew snapped at Stan as the Father went on to confirm all she heard was correct. "Where is your father?" Lushie asked, for Father Andrew to say he didn't know and the last he saw him was just as he got kidnapped, was then his father threw him his chain with the cross. "Where is Father John?" Lushie shouted at Stan as she placed the gun into the back of his head, "He's out back" Stan replied, as he tried again to tell her the two Fathers were as much guilty as he was and that she didn't know them. Lushie told him to be quiet as she made him walk to the outside to the graveyard with Father Andrew following.

When they got outside and with the gun still on the back of Stan's head they spotted a body covered over next to a dugout grave. Father Andrew went over to the body and uncovered it slightly to see the face of the body to find it was indeed his father. He covered it back up and Lushie could see the man was in shock, she was too, but to find your father like that can't of been any picnic. "You best speak while you still got a chance" Father Andrew said in rage towards Stan. Stan tried once again to gain Lushie back on side "You don't know who you are dealing with here, you need to be killing him" Stan said with a final hope, "Oh, I do, Were you aware that Father John and Father Andrew are relatives of mine?" she snapped back to see the surprise look up on Stan's face appear. 

Stan started to panic as he tried to beg for forgiveness from then both for Lushie to pick up a rock and smacked it onto the back of Stan's head resulting in him falling to the ground. She threw her gun towards the hands of the Father "Hold that for me" she said as her eyes turned demonic as she could no longer hold back as she went to lay into Stan...

I *stomp* SAID  I *stomp* AIN'T *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* KILLING *stomp* NO *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* MAN *stomp* OF *stomp* THE *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* CLOTH.

Lushie walked off, leaving a trail of wet red footprints as she turned to Father Andrew to say "Have the final kick, make him fall into that grave" she said, as she stood to watch the Father push the body into the hole. 

They both stood for a moment before becoming side by side. "I am sorry for the loss of your father", Lushie said to her cousin as she promised him they would give Father John the funeral he deserved. Father Andrew went on to explain the commission of the church was granted to them by the previous occupants which made his father return from South Africa. A silence went on between them before Father Andrew spoke again "Dad said you'd be in touch, just before he was taken, I never dreamed it would be like this. Thank god for you" he said, as Lushie couldn't help but wonder how did Father John knew that she would be.

Lushie - The Seraphim Empire

Gavin had never been a particularly religious man. He and Tara had been born in Newfoundland, baptized Catholic, as expected by a family of Irish emigrants who'd left their homeland, but kept their religious ties. When it came to the idea of "sinning", Gavin largely found it laughable. He'd killed. He'd stolen. Committed adultery, multiple times. He'd never been a dedicated churchgoer, and he was irrepressibly dishonest when it came to some things. In fact, he could very well be considered 0/10 when it came to the commandments.

But everyone had a limit, and this was his. Tara had asked him to come fix the floorboard in "her" office, and she'd presented him with the contract while he was trying to stomp it back into place.

"Gavin... the money is fantastic. You've taken a dozen lives, I don't see why this should be any different..."

It wasn't. But it was. Maybe it was just a bridge too far, maybe it was the belief that something that bad would just rack up too much bad karma. As he stomped the floorboard in, he didn't even notice the nail that now protruded from the floor- or the pain that resulted. Anger, especially confused anger, was a powerful anesthetic. 

"I *stomp* SAID *stomp* I *stomp* AIN'T *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* KILLING *stomp* NO *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* MAN *stomp*OF *stomp* THE *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* CLOTH."

He walked off, leaving a trail of wet red footprints- and a confused, thoughtful sibling, who'd just witnessed her brother turn down a job for the first time in his life. 

                                                                                                                                             GavinAndTaraByrne - The Race St. Operation

Obito was just sitting in his office, contemplating on what he needed to get done for the day, there was that one guy who beat up a made man and caused a ruckus of things out in a family owned club, that was bad for business and the club ended up losing people which means losing money. There was that nice, fine bottle of whiskey sitting on his desk which he reached over to pop open and then take a swig, he cleared his throat almost showing disfavor, that really made his mouth pop. 

A file was laid out on his desk and as he opened it, it was information on the civilian who beat up one of the made guys, his name, address and what time. Obviously, revenge wasn't the point, it was the necessary evil. Angelo was the one who got clocked in the jaw that night, it was disappointing to see since other members of the family chased the civilian down for blocks but the guy was too fast, asking for guys to be in shape was too much to ask nowadays. 

Obito stepped out of his office and approached Angelo who sat there on the couch. He was carrying the file which contained the information on the man he supposedly wanted, thoughts probably racing in his mind on the different ways he could kill him; Obito has only been in the shoes of a mafioso for so long, and he has seen some rough murders since then, cops usually always have a hard time trying to pin it on anyone though because there's only partial evidence.

"Angelo. Here you go."

"What is it?"

"Open the file and you'll see."

Angelo opened the file up, it was a contract.

"It's the guy who clocked you last night, we lost money cause of this. You know what to do."

"I can't do it."

"What?"

"I said I can't do it. I ain't up for it."

Obito was confused. He sat on the opposite of Angelo on another couch, then leaned forward.

"You just gonna let this asshole punch you and get away with it? Get rid of him..."

Angelo stood up, his face was turning red like a tomato and clenched his fists. He carried a bloody rag, that hook was good enough to cut him on the eyebrow.

I *stomp* SAID *stomp* I *stomp* AIN'T *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* KILLING *stomp* NO *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* MAN *stomp*OF *stomp* THE *stomp* FUCKING *stomp* CLOTH.

He walked away, leaving drips of blood on the couch.

Obito sat there, in shock and confusion at the same time.

"Guess I'll just get someone else."

Obito - The Seraphim Empire