Awakening from his deep slumber, Craven opened his eyes and began to take in his surroundings. The fresh smell of something from his past life causing his nose to twitch. He was surrounded by grass. Flowers shuffling slowly in the wind. He began to lift himself off the ground and realised he was in an open field as far as his eyes could see. The sky was a perfect blue and only a couple of clouds floating above. As he made his way onto his feet, he started to remember seeing this place before... a dream? a memory? He decided to head North, the sun was at it's highest point and the heat was getting strong. Approaching the edge of the field, Craven spotted a familiar looking building. The building had long been abandoned. The outer walls had crumbled away, the roof was only just about surviving the inevitable collapse. Again, Craven had seen this building before, but it was now only a shadow of it's former self. He turned to his left and noticed a sign hanging from the next building, "Butchers of Vegas." Suddenly he was hit with a gigantic barrage of visions.... memories! This had not been his first time walking these steps. He began to remember all his past experiences here. The entire country applauding the great decision of what would be later known as Lemon City and The Lemonfather. The final vision of seeing the barrel of a gun as he opened his eyes and seeing the killing bullet fly towards his skull. He took a moment, deciding his next plans. Realising how much of a fantastic time he had with all the bloodshed, carnage, friends he had met, he knew it was time for him to step back into the shadowy world of mafia work. The only issue now, where to start?

Craven swaggered down the neon-lit streets of Las Vegas, his demon coloured fire-lit eyes glowing in the darkness. After years of floating between the existence of these worlds, he had returned to his much loved city from his previous life cycle to join one of the new families of this generation. His rebirth was complete, and he was ready to give his life to protect his new family's business interests. He walked into the dimly-lit bar, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the laughter of high-rollers. Craven spotted the man he sought at a corner table, surrounded by a notorious entourage.

As he approached, a tense silence swept through the room. Craven slammed his hand on the table, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Greetings, mortals. Looks like you could use someone with my skills," he declared, his voice oozing confidence. The man in the centre leaned back, staring straight through Craven's soulless body. "You think you got what it takes, huh? What makes you different from the rest?" Craven pulled out a snub-nosed revolver, twirling it between his fingers. "I ain't afraid to get my hands dirty, boss. And don't think for a second that this is my usual weapon of choice." The room fell silent. All eyes waiting for the boss to reply. "So be it. Craven, I'm willing to see where this is going. Welcome to the family. But remember, loyalty is everything to us." Craven nodded, sliding the revolver back into its hiding place. "No worries, boss. You've just gained yourself a loyal dog ready to bite anyone who threatens the family."

Craven had been given his first assignment. Locate and take care of a local known as 'Hustler'. He spent almost a day tracking the target when he finally found who he had been looking for in a secluded warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

He was on edge, sweat pouring down his forehead despite the cool night air. He peered through the gaps between the crates and saw his target, counting a stack of cash at a dimly lit table. He reached into his coat pocket, his gloved hand grasping the cold metal of his silenced pistol. It was now or never. Craven took a deep breath and stepped out from his hiding spot, gun raised. "Show's over, Hustler," Craven said, his voice laced with determination. Hustler looked up, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well. It looks like I've got a visitor," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance. "What's the matter, kid? You lost or something?" Craven's grip on the gun tightened. "I'm here to finish what I started. You messed with the wrong family." Hustler chuckled. "You think you can take me out, huh? You're just a scared little freak playing mobster. Let me show you how it's done." In one swift motion, Hustler lunged towards a nearby table, revealing a hidden stash of weapons. With an eerie grin, he pulled out a switch-blade and charged at Craven. The two men clashed in a flurry of blows and desperate parries. The fight was brutal, fists flying and bodies colliding. Craven, driven by the need to show his worth, managed to grab hold of a bottle and smashed it over Hustler's head. Dazed, Hustler stumbled back, clutching his bleeding forehead. As Hustler struggled to regain his balance, Craven stood over him, victorious. "You're finished, Hustler," Craven said, his voice ice-cold. He raised his gun, aiming it directly at Hustler's trembling form. Hustler's eyes widened, fear replacing his arrogance. "Wait, wait! I can give you information! Valuable information about the family! Don't kill me!" Craven paused for a brief moment. “Give it to me in the next life.” He squeezed the trigger and watched as the bullet flew from the silenced barrel straight into the forehead of Hustler. Looking down at the lifeless body on the floor, Craven grinned to himself and made his way back to his car that he had left parked nearby.

Craven sat in the dimly lit corner of a smoky bar swirling a glass of whiskey. His mind swirled with thoughts of his recent success, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The Boss had made it clear that this job was bigger, more dangerous. Six shooters, all tied to the rival family, needed to be eliminated. Craven knew the stakes were high, but he was ready. After all, he was an immortal entity reborn as a demon soul destined to walk the earth again.

As he sipped his drink, a slender figure glided over and slid into the seat opposite him. It was Anastasia, the Boss's Capo, her presence as alluring as her dangerous reputation. Her emerald eyes sparkled with mischief, and her crimson lips curled into a knowing smile. "You must be the infamous Craven," she purred, her voice like honey dripping from her words. "The Boss wants to see you in his office." Craven raised an eyebrow, but nodded. He drained the remaining whiskey in his glass and followed Anastasia through the smoky haze of the bar. They walked in silence, the weight of anticipation hanging in the air.

They reached the Boss's office, a room the radiated a faint hint of danger. The Boss, a middle-aged man with silver-streaked hair and a steely gaze, looked up from his desk as Craven entered. His deep voice boomed through the room. "Ah, Craven," he said, his voice laced with authority. "You've proven yourself capable on your last assignment. But this time, I need you to take down six of our adversaries. The family's reputation is at stake." Craven nodded, acknowledging the gravity of the task at hand. "Consider it done," he said, his voice steady and confident. The Boss's eyes narrowed, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You may be a demon soul, Craven, but remember... even the devil himself is not invincible." Craven smirked, a glint of mischief flashing in his eyes. "Oh, Boss, trust me when I say I have no intention of returning to that forsaken in between any time soon." And with that, Craven stepped out of the Boss's office and made his way back to his small apartment to take a look at the files he had been handed to start researching his targets. As he began to flick through, he realised that one of the faces on the photos he recognised. This had been someone who had worked with in his last lifetime. Only small dealings but knew that they were more than capable of inflicting serious damage if he did not execute his plan perfectly. He spent many hours that night jotting down notes and preparing to begin his scouting phase of the mission the following morning.

Craven clicked his pen against the edge of the desk, frustration mounting as he stared at the familiar face in the photograph. How did this guy end up working for the rival family? Destiny had a twisted sense of humour, thrusting them back together in this wicked game of cat and mouse. He couldn't let sentiment cloud his judgment, though, not when his own life and the family's reputation hung in the balance.

Determined, Craven leaned back in the creaky old chair, deep in thought. He couldn't deny that there was a hint of regret lingering beneath his tough exterior. His eyes glinted with a newfound determination as he tapped the photograph with his index finger.

"Well, well, well," he muttered to himself. "If it isn't Johnny 'Three Fingers' Russo. Always had a knack for getting himself into trouble, didn't you?" Craven's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Startled, he quickly closed the file, careful to hide the photograph. "Come in," he called out, trying to compose himself. The door creaked open, revealing Anastasia's smirking face. She sauntered into the room, her cat-like grace captivating in its own right. "Fancy meeting you here, Craven," she purred, her voice dripping with mischief. "Need some help with your research?" Craven couldn't help but chuckle, appreciating her confidence. "Well, Anastasia, I suppose I could use a second pair of eyes. What can you tell me about our old friend, Johnny 'Three Fingers'?" Anastasia leaned against the desk, her emerald eyes narrowing. "Oh, Johnny," she said, her voice laced with dark amusement. "He's a slippery one that's for sure. Word on the street is that he's been causing quite a stir in the underworld. Seems he's got some unfinished business with you too." Craven's smirk widened. "Perfect. Looks like it's time for our paths to cross once more."

After meeting with Anastasia, Craven set off to begin his hunt for his targets. Only an hour into looking he came across two faces sitting in a local coffee shop window that he recognised instantly. Two of his targets. He sat in his car across the street watching them. Ten minutes passed and the two men got up and made their way out of the coffee shop. They both got into a car parked outside and set off down the road. He decided to follow them to see if he would get lucky and they would lead him to number three on the list. They slowly made their way around the city until they came to a stop outside of a bookies. Both men exited the car and went inside. Thirty minutes had passed and Craven was beginning to think this could be a dead end, when the two men came out of the doorway followed by four others. He could not believe his luck, all six targets together. They split off and got into two separate cars. He followed again to see what they were up to. They were heading towards the inner city. They had driven a few miles when they indicated into a parking lot next to a strip club. The two cars emptied and the men made their way inside. He knew that this was an awful location but wanted to follow them and see if he could gather more information by listening to their conversations. Making his way inside the club, he found a nearby table that would be close enough to make out what they were talking about. 

After ordering a drink, Craven sat back and listened to the conversations of his targets. "I can't be the only one that thinks the boss is past it?" Johnny said has he nursed the whiskey in his right hand. "Your right, word on the street is that he is not fit for the job anymore, but who are we to question his decisions?" The second target, Harvey, replied. It was clear that this crew had inner problems going on, but Craven did not care. His job was to take out these six assholes and put them in the ground. 

As the night went on, the six of them became more drunk, and much more vocal. Craven was about to call it a night when he heard Jonny say, "Let's get outta here, we have things to be getting on with." The six of them made their way outside and Craven followed. All of them getting into the two cars they had arrived in and set off towards the outer reaches of town. Following them for twenty minutes, they indicated to turn off down a dirt path in the long stretching desert. Craven waited a few minutes before continuing down the path. He turned off the cars headlights and slowly made his way to a ruined building. This was a building he remembered from his past life, he had used this place to torture and dispose of victims that had threatened his old family. He parked the car and made his way on foot towards the building. "Aaaarrrgggghhhhhhhhh!!!!" Huge screams echoed out of the building. He found a ledge to the East side and peered through the window. They had a large male hanging from a beam inside. Chains wrapped around his feet and hands, blood trickling down his face. Craven watched closely and began to make plans of his assault on the building. Tonight was to be the night of bloodshed and death.

A sly grin spread across Craven's face as he clutched his trusty silenced pistol. Tonight, the night of bloodshed and death, he would execute his plan flawlessly. He had studied the layout of the building, the movements of his targets, and now it was time to strike. Craven clutched his weapon tighter, vowing to end the torment these targets had inflicted. With his determination hardened, Craven began to make his move. Skilfully, he slipped through the darkness, choosing every step with grace. His mind focused solely on the task at hand, he planned his path through the building, prepared to bring justice upon his six targets.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from behind him, loud and threatening. "Craven! Stop right there!" Craven spun around, his pistol aimed at the source of the voice. A figure emerged from the shadows, their identity masked by darkness. Craven's eyes narrowed, ready for any obstacle that dared to cross his path. "Well, well, well," Craven sneered. "If it isn't Dmitri, the cocky son of a gun. Shouldn't you be hiding behind your daddy's underlings? What's the matter, feeling brave tonight?” Dmitri's eyes flashed with rage, his hands flexing at his side. "You've crossed a line, Craven, and I won't let you go any further. The family won't stand for it." Craven chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that reverberated through the air. "The family? Or just daddy? Don't pretend you have the loyalty of the entire organization, Dmitri. This is personal, and you know it." The tension between them crackled like electricity, their eyes locked in a battle of wills.

Craven's lips curled into a devilish smirk as he squared his shoulders, ready for the tango of bullets and bloodlust. Dmitri stood his ground, oozing a combination of anger and stubbornness. The atmosphere thickened with anticipation, both men engaged in a silent dance of dominance. Their gazes locked like two snakes entwined in a deadly tango. The seconds stretched, the silence broken only by the soft hum of the Vegas nightlife in the distance. "I was hoping you'd come to your senses, Craven," Dmitri spat, his voice laced with frustration. "But it seems you're hell-bent on self-destruction." Craven's eyes gleamed with wicked excitement. "You know me, Dmitri. I've always had a taste for danger." Without warning, Dmitri's hand darted towards the concealed holster at his waist. But Craven was faster. He squeezed the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the empty walls of the abandoned build. BOOM! But who had been hit? And how would this twisted tango end?

After the smoke cleared, a silence fell upon the building. Craven had blood dripping from his left shoulder and the pain began to increase as the adrenaline wore off. He looked around and saw the lifeless body of Dmitri in front of him surrounded by a pool of blood. As he was taking in the site of his old acquaintance, he saw movement to his left and instantly began to shoot. BANG, BANG! double tapping his pistol in the direction of the shadowy figure. The second target slide down the nearby wall. Two targets down and four more to go. He quickly refocused and saw two more of his soon to be victims running towards the exit. Quickly reloading, he raised his pistol and double tapped two more times and caught the first target directly in the head. The second, took a bullet to the chest and one that looked to glance his side. Before he had chance to react, bullets were flying in his direction and he quickly threw himself down towards the barrels stacked next to him. The last two remaining hits were hammering a hail of bullets towards him. He needed to come up with a plan quickly or he would be going back to the in-between realms that he had no intention of returning to anytime soon.

Craven relaxed himself. Controlling his breathing and focusing on the job at hand. He launched one of the barrels towards the large male to the left flank, and opened fire on the target to the right. His bullets sliced clean through the forehead of the smaller male, who quickly slumped to the floor in a heap as his soul left his body. He was about to reload again when he realised he had ran out of bullets. The last remaining target hurled another full magazine of bullets in the direction of Craven, who somersaulted towards the crate on the opposite side of the room. He had to think quickly, this was going to be his final moment on this earth if he did not kill this man. He put his left hand in his trouser pocket and was filled with delight when he found a pocket knife. Now all he needed to do was get close enough to launch the knife straight into the throat of his target. The bullets continue to fly in his direction. Counting the shots, Craven knew the tommy gun was close to running out. 5...4...3...2..1... Now was his chance. He launched himself towards the male who had slightly crouched down to swap his magazine. As the approached, he looked at Craven directly in the eyes. Craven thrust his arm and launched the knife straight towards the mans throat. "Glarrgghhhhh" echoed from the male as the knife entered his trachea. He fell to the floor, both hands around the knife, and began to choke on the blood flowing inside his throat. Craven made his way towards him and looked down at him whilst he began to lose consciousness. "Game over." Craven exclaimed as he cold heartedly watched the man take his final breathe.