Vincent “The Viper”Moretti had his chest puffed out; he was walking with an almost arrogant swagger. Chuffing to himself of the reality that had set in. He’d successfully removed the threat of Kenny Marino & Tommy “The Knife”. It was a dimly lit evening down the Hollywood boulevard. The streetlights flickered, the low cloud had caused extremely poor visibility down the streets. It was cold & wet. But Vincent could feel the warmth in his body as if he was drinking his favourite bourbon whiskey by the bottle. After the gunfight that erupted in the streets, it was eerily quiet. Vincent couldn’t hear any city ambience; just the acoustics generated from his own footsteps.

Vincent arrived back at one of his safehouse businesses, he took the key out of his top blazer pocket, placed the key inside the barrel and turned it anti clockwise, the key got stuck. Vincent pressed his weight into the door before jerking the key violently upwards until the barrel clicked and the door unlocked. When he took out the key Vincent noticed it was covered in debris grit from the fight. His hands covered in gun powder. “Messy fucking operation” Vincent thought to himself before walking towards his office.

As Vincent headed inside the office and sat down he could see Alec was already sitting and waiting. Vincent took out a packet of cigarettes, lighting one before offering Alec the packet. “You look like you need this McDowd” – Alec accepted, lit the cigarette before a strong nervous stress line became visible on his forehead. Alec took a deep breath in “Boss – the job’s complete. Kenny…Tommy…they’re both dead. Pieces of shit aren’t going to cause any further harm to our operation. However, we created one hell of a dangerous show out there. You wanted us to storm them. We did. But boss we lost some good fucking men tonight. People are gonna talk. The streets aren’t safe right now.”

Vincent remained calm and collected whilst listening to Alec. His eyes rolled stone cold through Alec’s soul, staring right through him. Alec was scared; was Vincent going to put a bullet right through his skull? “You’re right Alec, people are gonna talk. Are you sure with your street experience that it’s necessarily a bad thing? I have the cops in my pocket. They’re not going to bother us. Other mobsters that are sniffing around, so fucking what? All they’ll know is some punks tried to cross us. It cost them big time. The most expensive prize to bare. This doesn’t make us look weak or reckless Alec; quite the fucking opposite.”

Alec let out a sigh of relief, Vincent wasn’t going to execute him. In fact he was still rather proud of what happened, why it happened and that the message would get out as to the trials and tribulations of Kenny & Tommy. Alec knew that Vincent’s word to him was law. What he said went. Anyone that crossed Moretti signed their own death warrant. Vincent once again kept his nickname on the streets as “The Viper”

“Alec – whilst I’ve got you here, reach out to our guys in Florida will you? I need to hear back an update. Kenny was sniffing around us. I need to know if he was planning anything to my operations back there. The sunshine state needs to be left the fuck alone. We can’t have people thinking I can be got at. Let alone our businesses in Florida. There’s no way we can have any other martyrs trying their fucking luck.”

Alec then left the office leaving Vincent to his own thoughts. He poured out a tumbler filled with whiskey and leant back in his chair. A time for reflection on that evening’s events. He knew violence was going to happen. He knew it was going to turn deadly. But it was the extreme violence and fierceness that Vincent saw in Kenny’s eyes. At his final moment, he wasn’t scared of death. He wasn’t scared of Vincent. At such point he had nothing to lose. Vincent pondered his thoughts and actually started to reflect himself and almost give respect to Kenny for his balls. Albeit little and a closely guarded secret. He wouldn’t want any emotional weakness to show or leave his office. Vincent knew what it was like to struggle. He built what he had from nothing. He knew what it was like to be a desperate man in a desperate situation. It took years for him to build what he had; and knew it would take days for it to be destroyed.

As Vincent continued to drink whiskey long into the night. His mind was racing. Thinking of all the other potential threats out there. Thinking of the alliances that he’d built up over the years. Could anyone else from his inner circle be involved in what happened? Was it an early sign of a bid to topple him and for a rival to swoop in?

As Vincents drunken thoughts began to make him continually drowsy, he started to drift asleep at his desk. His eyes felt like weights were attached to them. Closing them shut and he barely had any energy left to fight. Vincent hadn’t even of been in a sleep state for 5 minutes before his desk phone rang. Vincent jumped out of his state and picked up the handset. He waited for the response on the other end. Not having any idea who was on the other side.

“Vincent – it’s Sal” – said the voice. Sal was an ally of Vincent, or at least he thought. Could he of been a man on the inside threatening Vincent? Without proof Vincent had nothing. So he let him continue. “I heard about what happened tonight. That’s really messed up. Too much bloodshed Vincent. Far too much bloodshed. Fucking dangerous having a shoot up in that public area. What was you thinking? That was quite a western”

Vincent subconsciously smiled to himself. Blissfully unaware of how he looked. “Indeed Sal. You are right. I had a problem, I got it taken care of. Kenny & Tommy won’t be bothering any of my operations anymore. I’ve already had them buried under the freeway, right by the fucking bridge that bum came from. I’ll send a message against any future coup against me.”

“Vincent don’t you fucking worry. I’ve already put the word out on the street. You attacked hard & fast. The only way you know how. People will know the ending of both Kenny & Tommy. But I heard you lost some good guys tonight. You need to consider what to do next. You need to build you morale back up, you need muscle Vincent.”

“You call me in the early hours, to beat me down & tell me what to do? Like I don’t fucking know what I need to do. Don’t you disrespect me Sal. You know what I am capable of. I showed it tonight and I’ll fucking show it again. Although you may have a point. Grabbing some muscle probably ain’t a bad idea. I need to put further distance between me & the streets for a while. Send me some recommendations. I’ll take a look.”

With that Vincent put the phone down on Sal. He didn’t even say goodbye. He took himself to his sofa, put his flat cap over his face and closed his eyes. Drifting himself back to a hazy drunken sleep. Vincent knew he could recruit some reliable muscle. Plenty of guys would want a piece of his income. Vincent paid well after all. He was in a desperate situation for help. When desperation appeared so did dangerous men seeking opportunities.

Vincent awoke the following morning - a slither of light piercing Vincents office blinds, throughout the rough sleep all he had was violent flashbacks over the past few weeks. So much bloodshed had already been spilled. But for Vincent to get his affairs back in order; more would be needed. He was not going to rest properly until his operation was fully back online once again. He was losing thousands of dollars each day. He needed to get back on the Hollywood streets. They were still a very dangerous place with an even higher risk of it being his final resting place. Vincent always remained alert & on edge.

As Vincent raised his head and began to walk towards his desk; he stumbled almost. “Too much fucking whiskey” Vincent thought to himself. This was becoming a nightly occurrence lately with him. Having a tumbler filled with bourbon whiskey was completely natural and expected. The same assurance as having the revolver safely holstered in his back trousers. He sat down at desk and picked up the phone handset before dialling a familiar number; a number he’d called so many times the pattern on the rotary dial was burned in his brain.

“Marco” said Vincent, his voice rough as hell from all the cigarettes and alcohol. “Boss, boss is that you?” Replied an intrigued Marco. “What can I do for you?” Vincent held the phone away from himself before coughing up all the tar from his throat. “Marco – you’re one of my most valued enforcers. You know that right? There’s not many people I trust my life with. You’re my main guy. I need your help. Pack your shit, we’re going to Miami, Florida to figure out how we’re going to rebuild this fucking warehouse. Grab some protection too. We’ll need it.”

Marco wasn’t one to ask many questions or that being said to speak much himself. His given nickname by Vincent was “The Bull” – he attacked and asked questions later. He was as large as he was wide and carried a very menacing appearance. “Understood boss. We’ll be ready within the hour and meet at your office.”

Vincent hung up the phone and started to pack his essentials together. Thoughts kept racing through his head. Alec’s initial report to Vincent had him worried. He needed to be careful. Was Kenny really working alone? Was he just on a vengeful mission or was he truly working alone with just Tommy “The Knife” – The fact of Kenny getting into Florida at the smuggler warehouse; it seemed more likely than not that he did have help.

As promised within the hour Marco and his crew arrived at Vincent’s office and they headed straight for the airport to board a private jet straight to Florida. The flight was eerily silent, nobody had dared speak whilst Vincent just sat there, thinking & pondering. He was slowly suffering paranoia with all his inner demons.

As the plane began its decent Vincent looked at Marco & his crew. “So once we’re on the ground men, we need action immediately. Got it? Our crew in Miami need to know we’ve arrived and why. We have no time to fucking waste ok? I’m depending on you all today. What Kenny did caused a huge fucking ripple in this earning potential of ours. I need to make sure it’s an isolated incident and we need to begin our cleanup.”

Marco lent over to Vincent and embraced him. “We’ve got this boss. But we might find some more scum within the ranks. What are we to do if we find any rats?” Vincent’s cold piercing eyes looked Marco straight in the soul. “Then we explain to them the error of their ways; right before we take them out. Exactly the same treatment as Kenny & Tommy. Got it? No mercy”

Just as the sun had started to set in the tropical sky. Vincent’s transport was waiting on the tarmac for the docked plane. Marco opened the rear passenger door for Vincent “Bulletproof windows boss, safest means I could get. Can’t be too careful y’know?” They all set off; heading towards one of Vincents residence by the coast. Vincent keeping his revolver secured in hand, safety off; trigger engaged.

As Vincent, Marco and his crew arrived at the residence they were met by Vito “The Shadow” Conti. He, alike with Marco embraced Vincent. “It’s good to see you boss, albeit in these circumstances. We all appreciate you taking the trip out. We have pressing matters to speak about.” Vincent went over to his globe before lifting off the top half. Poured himself a whiskey before taking a seat. “We’ve been keeping an eye on things here, as best we could since the fire. We’ve got some strange activity going on. Some new hoods asking a few too many questions.” Vincent threw his glass across the cigar room. Cutting Vito off “Save the war & peace Vito. I’ve been in the air for 5 hours. I’ve got a burned down business. All you have for me so far is you have strangers running their mouths asking questions. Who the fuck are they? Where are they? Give me some fucking names!”

Vito paused for a good 10 seconds after Vincent had finished his latest breakdown before taking a deep breath inwards. “Ok boss. I can give you a name. The guy who’s been prying a bit too close for our likening is Enzo “Three Fingers” Marconi. He’s been seen around Miami beach and all he’s been asking about is the warehouse fire. Wanting to know everything that went on there. How it all happened. He’s a suspect. But as of yet we can't find a link between him, Kenny & Tommy.”

Vincent stood up and prowled over Vito before putting his hand out and pulling him up and embracing him. “I’m sorry Vito. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. Fuck; lately I just can’t seem to control my emotions any longer. Let’s not waste any time, we need to pay this Enzo Marconi a visit right now. Take me to him. Marco you stay here. Keep safe, make love to the beautiful ladies upstairs on me. You deserve it.”

Vincent grinned in the direction of Vito as Marco hurried upstairs to enjoy the fruits of love. “We need to move now Vito, it’s time to find out more information about Enzo and what he’s fucking up to. Speaking about things that don’t involve him. Far too suspicious” Vito tipped his flat cap in Vincents direction before opening the front door and whistling to the driver. Vito gestured towards Vincent things were ready and they departed in the same black transport.

Miami felt like a different world already to Vincent, he’d forgotten what it was like in comparison to Los Angeles. The brightness from all the neon lights almost blinded Vincent; so he closed his eyes for the majority of the journey. Just repeating Enzo Marconi’s name in his head; repeatedly. What did he know? What was he digging? Was he a lone wolf or part of a much larger threat?

The vehicle pulled up on the outskirts of the city outside a rather disjointed hotel. “Jesus Vito, are you sure we’re at the right place here? I’ve seen some places in my time but fuck me – I wouldn’t even bury a fed here. The smell coming from this place is god damn awful!” Vito cracked a laugh as the car parked up in a spare bay. “Believe me boss, I don’t want to be here anymore than you. But we’re at the right spot. Enzo is here. I’ve already got a couple guys watching all exits. He isn’t going anywhere”

Vincent tapped his right side to check on his holstered revolver before getting out of the vehicle. “Make sure you keep these fucking windows up” Vincent shouted at the driver. “Can’t be taking this awful stench back with us!” As Vincent and Vito approached the room in question Vincent’s hands began to shake, was it paranoia, fear or adrenaline? Who knew? It could well be a mixture of the three in one emotional cocktail trancing through his veins. One of Vito’s men approached Vincent and gave him a spare key to the room. Vincent placed the key inside the barrel and turned swiftly and pushed all his weight against the door and it flung open. Vincent and Vito burst in with their guns drawn. Enzo looked back at both sets of eyeballs, he was playing solitaire on a small coffee table but dropped the cards sharply, rose to his feet with both hands in the air.

“Sit fucking down Enzo” Vincent shouted, very assertive and ice cold. For a moment Enzo remained standing not knowing what to do, his eyes looked to the left, and then to the right. Upon realising there was no way out he sat himself back down at the table. Arms still raised whilst Vito began to pat him down. “He’s clear Vincent, no weapon. Just needs a fucking shower.”

Vincent upon knowing he wasn’t about to be shot between the eyeballs walked towards Enzo, put both hands on the table and leaned over. Physically intimidating Enzo and bellowing at him “So you’ve been asking questions about my warehouse, about the fire? You’re playing a dangerous fucking game.” Enzo began to tremble as he banged his fist on the table in frustration “Vincent, I swear I was just after information, I didn’t mean any harm. I was just curious. The more you know on the streets, the more people respect you. I just wanted a shortcut to the good life”

“You must think I was born yesterday, Enzo, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past weeks; coincidences don’t happen. I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m not believing you one iota. You are a liar. I’m going to give you one last chance before I take my revolver out and shoot you in the temple. I’ll make such a mess of your face your family will be denied an open casket”

Enzo’s face lost all colour, his forehead started to show signs of extreme damp sweat. He tried to speak “Alr…alr..” he stuttered, coughed. Banged his chest with his fist before trying again. “Alright Vincent. I’ve been finding out information for Frankie Russo. He wants to start expansion here in Miami. Said if I can find out what happened with your warehouse fire he’d put things in place so he wasn’t caught out the same way you were. He told me you’d given up and wanted to start a new life in Los Angeles so the town was his to take and I’d be a part in helping if I just kept feeding him all the information I knew”

Vincent took a deep breath before placing his left hand on Enzo’s right shoulder, squeezing it tightly - he knew about Frankie Russo. Although they’d never crossed paths violently, they agreed to stay out each others way for the benefit of themselves and the city. “And where do I find Frankie now Enzo? I think we’re obviously overdue a conversation.” Enzo looked up at Vincent gesturing him to loosen his grip “I honestly don’t know, I get told where and when to meet him. He knows the risk he’s taking and is moving around all over the city. He has a safehouse about 10 minutes out from Little Havana. But I promise you Vincent, that’s all I know. Please don’t kill me”

Vincent released the grip on Enzo’s shoulder and he gestured over to Vito. “Take our friend Enzo for a drive will ya? Make sure he’s not coming back to Miami anytime soon” Vincent looked at Enzo eyeball to eyeball “consider this a gift from me to spare your life. But if I or any of my men see you in this town again. We will take you out. Capiche?”

Back at the property, Marco was still enjoying the fruits of love. The company of ladies gifted to him by Vincent. He knew this treat would be over in a flash, as he laid still on the bed drifting in and out of consciousness – the phone rang. He jostled himself up and slapped each cheek of his face to snap him out of the love nest. He ran to the phone and picked it up. “Hello, this is Marco”

After what seemed like eternity with Marco holding the phone to his ear eventually, he heard a voice on the other end. “Marco, it’s Alec. I’ve found out some information that will be of interest to you and Vincent.” Marco now fully snapped out of his romantic trance was awake and ready to hear more. Interested to find out what was coming next. “Go on Alec, speak to me. What information do you have for us?”

“Well – I’ve been digging around Marco. It seems Frankie has been getting involved with some new hoods in this town. They’re wanting to combine forces and muscle in on our territory, or what’s left of it anyway. From the ashes rises a new phoenix so to speak. Since the fire Frankie’s seeing this as an opportunity to remove us from Miami piece by piece. We’re all in danger. You have to let Vincent know right away.” And with that the phone call was over leaving Marco to ponder his thoughts before reaching out for Vincent immediately.

Marco kept his tight grip on the telephone before taking a deep breath and dialling the motel that Vincent was at with Vito. After three rings he got through to the front desk and demanded that the son of a bitch finds Vincent immediately. The scared voice at the other end of the phone already saw what went on with Vincent, Vito & Enzo so wasted no time in gesturing to Vincent’s men to get his attention that there was an important call waiting for him. Vincent slammed open the motel entrance door before bellowing “Give me that fucking phone right now”

“Hello? Marco is that you? Is everything okay back at the place? What have you found out?" Vincent grabbed the motel worker and threw him across the room before perching himself on the barstool next to the phone. “Boss – I’ve just spoken with Alec. Frankie’s been building friendships with other mobsters in Miami. He’s trying to muscle in on the territory since the fire. Thinks now is the time to take over Little Havana whilst we were distracted in Los Angeles. We’ve gotta sort this out once and for all.” As Vincent continued to listen to Marco his eyes became even more narrow than they usually were. The rage continued to build up inside him once again and the small fuse was ready to blow.

“There’s only one solution for this Marco. I’m going to Little Havana right now. That excuse of a man Enzo gave us a possible safehouse location. Said Frankie’s been moving around lately, trying to move in the shadows. But if there’s one place he will be. This address is it. I’m on my way now.” And with that Vincent hanged up the phone, pulled out his revolver, opened the barrel and counted all 6 cartridges were loaded. If Frankie wanted a fight; like it or not. The fight was coming tonight.

Vincent & Vito after a one hours drive from the motel arrived at the address given up by Enzo. “I tell you Vito, if this is a trap; and we get out. Enzo’s gonna wish he was never born” Vito held Vincents arm tightly “Boss, I put the fear of God into that man. We’ll never see him again. I trust his information is solid. He’s just a little punk, trying to understand the life we’re in. He was a harmless motherfucker. This has to be the place. I’m ready when you are. Let’s sort this once and for all”

With that Vincent, Vito & their muscle once again scouted the entrances & potential exits. The safehouse was a two-story building that didn’t look particularly pleasing on the eye. It was just the same as any old aging and run down building on the block. If this was where Frankie was held up. He paid no attention to the outside. The walls were cracked from the constant ground movements and vibrations left by the trams moving up & down the streets. The pale green paint had faded to an almost light brown. It certainly wasn’t appealing on the eye.

Vincent and his men went to the back door all together, armed in hand and ready for a fight. One of the muscle went in first, smashing down the door. Vincent’s crew had no interest in going in quietly. They knew one way to fight; that was fast, ferociously and extremely risky. The Viper was ready to strike once again. The resistance on the ground floor was futile. Frankie’s men were not ready for any kind of attack and went down without much problem, but as they started to go up to the first floor Vito caught a bullet in the left shoulder. He went down hard and fast. Vincent ushed to his protection to take care of Vito. This fight was between him and Frankie. It needed to finish with just them both. Vincent couldn’t think right now if Vito was going to make it. Hey; a shoulder wound wasn’t life threatening. He had doctors back in Los Angeles that could fix him up. He just needed to get them both out alive.

Vincent’s heart began to pound harder and faster as he approached the first floor, taking out 2 more of Frankie’s men. He only had one bullet left. It was now or never. He had one shot; it had to be a killer blow. Anything else would almost guarantee death for Vincent, his reputation and the empire he had once been so proud of in Miami would be in ruins.

Vincent approached the door and turned the knob ever so slowly. He ushered his bodyweight on the other side before gently pushing the door open. There he finally came in view of Frankie Russo. Eyeball to eyeball. Frankie wasn’t armed. He was sat down at a table smoking a Cuban cigar. He looked over at Vincent almost knowing what would unfold next. “It’s about time we met again; old friend,” said Frankie. “To what do I owe the pleasure this time? I thought you’d given up Little Havana since the fire. Surely, it’s time for someone more cautious with security in running operations to take over now? The town doesn’t need you anymore Viper”

Vincent grew instantaneous rage and was not prepared to listen to any kind of speech from Frankie. They had enough history. He’d crossed Vincent when he suffered a setback, taking any kind of lectures was not going to be accepted. He held up his revolver and pointed it directly at Frankie’s chest before pulling the trigger. The recoil from the gun was enough to push Vincents arm straight up in the air. Frankie’s almost lifeless body flew back in the chair and the slither of life left in his body evaporated when the cigar fell from his left hand.

“You honestly thought you could take me down? That you could move into Little Havana without me knowing, with me just letting it happen? We stayed out of each other’s business for fucking years. This is how it ends? If you can’t respect the life we signed up for. Then you don’t deserve to have life.” Vincent then sat Frankie back up in the chair, pushed his handkerchief over the bloody wound to tidy up as much blood as he could.

He went back downstairs and saw Vito alive, breathing & clenching his shoulder. “You’ve showed great loyalty today Vito – taking a bullet for what we needed to do shows great strength. This is the second person I’ve had to end in as matter of weeks. The killing has to stop. Get Frankie tidied up. He may of wanted to move into Little Havana but he’s paid the ultimate sacrifice. Till the end we respect our life. Get our guys to drop off his body to his mother’s address. She can have him back for the funeral. It’s time we get outta here for good. Let’s go back home; you, me & Marco need to rebuild now in Los Angeles. It has unlimited opportunities for us and I’ve got some plans to make a big success of life out there. I never want to see Miami again; for as long as I live.”