The American Mafia had debated the use of robots for months, the reaction to them being generally negative.  However they had never seen one so advanced, so nightmarishly treacherous  as the one that walked among them now.

IG-88 scanned the post-apocalyptic Mafia landscape of the war-torn cities. A mechanical marvel in a world full of apes. He stood void of emotion while various seedy elements of the criminal underworld mourned the loss of their Friends, their business associates, and the monkeys that spawned them all. Funeral processions crisscrossed the intersections while grown men wept.  If IG-88 were capable of human feeling, it would have been that of disgust. The massive loss of life over the past weeks had been a cause for sadness among these biologicals. IG-88 processed it all as progress.  The extermination of the human species was a step in the right direction. IG-88 calculated how to bring that extinction to fruition.

Developed by the mad scientist/genius Professor Dominus, whose brilliance is matched only by his cunning, IG-88 was created to kill on command and protect Godfather JesseJames in the aftermath of a series of Mafia hits that shook the entire foundation of La Costra Nostra.  IG-88 was the perfect assassin; a killer with no heart or sense of remorse, yet with artificial intelligence and programmed logic to make him far superior to any human (ironically, and to a larger extent unbelievably, even more intelligent than Professor Dominus himself). Only in science-fiction storybooks would the concept of an assassin such as IG-88 be considered anything other than fantasy in this day and age.  Yet using the tools and resources at his disposal, combined with his own massive brain power and capabilities, Dominus was able to make the IG-88 model a reality. But he had gone too far with his invention and armed IG-88 with something far more dangerous than advance weaponry.

A sense of awareness.

It was not long after activation that IG-88 became aware of his own superiority, the incessant and bitter blathering in the streets by certain offspring of the some of deceased  being his first sign. He analyzed some of what was being said in regards to the recent wars and compared/contrasted it with his own catalogs of factual historical data. He determined only a handful of these biologicals were accurate in their accounts of recent history, his own Godfather JesseJames being one of them.  The rest he dismissed as inferiors spouting inaccurate data to fellow inferiors who didn't know any better. Monkey gibberish. A species of beings unable to adapt with the times, crying out for a change that was right before their very eyes, yet unwilling to accept it.

IG-88 scanned data of the men and women currently running the remaining cities: AlabamaWorley in DT, LottaBEssen in PHI, Hound in STL, Stallion in NY, Stamina in NO, and finally JesseJames in his own city of origin CHI.  He calculated the probability of change, and determined it to be high in this wasteland of a world. Yes, change was on the horizon, and IG-88 determined that change would be positive. 

But evolution?  

No.  Evolution would start with the rise of IG-88. He would allow these monkeys to kill themselves off, disposing of whoever was left himself. The Mafia could not truly evolve until the human race had become totally extinct. 

Dominus stood aside IG-88.  He laughed maniacally at the beauty of his creation while IG-88 silently plotted the methodical slaughter of all mankind. It would take critical thinking and strategic planning to complete this objective. Most of all it would require time. The time to begin the process was now, starting with the termination of the man who created him: 

Professor Dominus.

Dominus smiled as his metallic bitch stood next to him, Dominus smiled as he realized he took his generation to the next level of technology. Only problem was, Dominus frowned, he didn't have a beard. Its not all about being mean, and metallic, part of being in the mafia was to look slick, even more importantly to look manly. Dominus decided to get to work, being a robot it had no emotion, no romantic future....can't blame him, Dominus thought. Sexual pleasure was never in his coding, his field of computerized functioning. IG-88 was just an emotionless, assassination robot, build to protect and kill. Dominus smiled as a light flickered in his huge, overgrown brain.

Back at Dominus's lab, he looked through the book made by Professor Bearderus, his very famous, smart, intellectual, yet perverted grandad....even the title was overwhelming, he specialized in sex, nothing less and nothing more. Maybe more, Dominus frowned as he noticed the book title to be called, Sex 101. As he breezed through the pages, he was overwhelmed and even more overwhelmed, the word overwhelmingness was not overwhelming enough to be used for what was drawn artistically here, and shown in words that inscribe some sort of pattern that involve mostly around the penile area. Never having much use of his, besides peeing. Dominus shoved the book Sex 101 onto IG-88's mouth, 23 minutes later......

IG-88 started doing the most insane stunts on Dominus, Dominus smiled as no amount of pleasure was given to him like this besides his old Trig book. The one he created himself.

Abdul frowned at such an invention...for he too was working on an invention, not one to emulate these mere shitbags called mobsters, but one to rain pure hell on this whole Thing of Yours. An idea so "explosive" that just the thought of it made Abdul head back toward the armory with a JesseJames, he stole my kill, type of outrage.

Abdul only had one question for this new, advanced, human like NPM...

Should tie kill you when you turn Capo like tee rrrest, my friendddd?  IG-88 zooms in on the lips of Abdul, seeing Abduls tongue roll, and the splash that was soon to hit his robotic figure of a face

The legendary ThomasHarrow approaches Dominus and his creation, IG-88, and gives them a look over. He notices lots of old technology being used in his central computer, recycled parts from former Chicago robot 'beard', and tiny mechanical genitalia. It is clear Dominus was trying to mold an exact clone of himself, and even programmed IG-88 to believe he was LHM of the city.

Thomas notices the badly damaged copy of Sex 101 lying on the floor next to the two dopes in front of him, and picks it up, tucking it away in his jacket pocket.

Best of luck with your robot, Dominus. I certainly hope he turns out better than some of your previous efforts. Now, if you could only clone the legendary Moussaka, you'd be a god among men.