A little bit of time had passed since Artist arrived in Sin City. He might've been new to the desert, but he wasn't new to the fire. Artist sat in one of the seats across from the maple wood desk. Soseki had his back turned but you could see in the reflection of the high rise windows that he was either stroking his cat, or his chicken. Artist hoped it was his cat.

"Artist! I called you in today because I need you to do something only you could do"  Soseki spoke without turning his chair. The sky was orange-pink and you could see a view of the whole city.  "We've come under some heat recently. The FBN has been closing in on us so I've taken the time to investigate a solution that would benefit us all. Money Mo' has been here in Vegas with us for over three years now. Real hard working earner. Beautiful family. Never late on a payment, always tips The Don Shaggs extra, always available to get a job done for The Pawn Shop. The ideal Wise Guy to have around. But Money Mo done got himself into some hot HOT water y'see. For the last three months Mo has been helping the FBN build a case against us. He's sleeping with some brawd over at the Bureau and she's got his head all messed up. Y'know, it's really breaking my heart here but rules are rules. Follow them or lose to them."  Soseki paused into a deadly silence.  "Take care of them both for me, will ya?"

Artist stood in front of the door with a lump the size of a foot in his throat. I mean, Money Mo'? Maurice was one of his most beloved work friends that worked for The Pawn Shop. They hit gentleman clubs together. They golfed together. Gambled together. Shit, one time they even fucked a group of twins together. But here Artist was in front of his door with an aluminum pan of beef ribs, and 13 bullets to get the job done. Money Mo' had invited Artist over for dinner a few days ago. It was the formal introduction to his new mistress. It all made sense. Mo had less and less time on his hand these days to go parlay, but who would've thought he'd be up to something like this.

"Ayyy! Artist my boy. You came just in time everything's all set up we were just waiting for you and those famous ribs" Mo said as he rushed Artist inside. "By the way, Connie's sister is in town so we invited her over for dinner sho-"

"Sister? Here now?"  Artist paused mid step. His legs had a problem with working when it was time to process important information.

"Yea. Real nice college girl from Columbia up in New York. Don't tell me you shy now all of a sudden! The Artist I know would be eager to pin her to the bed!! C'mon let's go before the rest of the food gets cold"

Mo was right. Any other moment Artist would he foaming at the mouth. This was different though. An unexpected guess meant trouble especially when this might be the only time to get rid of Connie AND Mo. The decision had been made already though, and Artist knew the only thing he'd be pinning tonight was his gun to the back of everyone's head.

Dinner went by smoothly. For a person as nervous as Artist, he did a great job at not knocking over his cup or missing a beat during dialogue. To make matters worst, the sister was a easy 10/10. Freckles. Petite body. Shiny, healthy raven black hair. And guess what? They were now in the bathroom as she eagerly ripped his belt out of his buckle. She wanted to bang, and he needed bang her in the head. Artist closed his eyes and silently cursed himself for not being able to fully enjoy the moment. His dick was harder than emeralds as Stacy, the sister's name, turned around so she could insert his manhood into her. She said she wanted to get fucked from behind while she looked at their sex faces in the mirror. Unfortunately, Artist had other plans. As soon as she slid herself on his pole, Artist wrapped a wire around her neck. She was significantly smaller than him so all he needed to do was press her body against hers while slightly lifting her off her feet. After a few moments of silent struggling Stacy's body went limp. It was the most brutal murder Artist had committed but now wasn't the time to reflect. Now was the time to get the job done.

As Artist made his way to the bedroom you could hear a lot of squeaky noises tied in with some banging. Surely they were getting their freak on. He made sure his pistol was in hand, silencer on properly, but when he opened the door he was glad he'd come here to put Money Mo' out of his misery. Connie had Maurice bent over on all fours while she drived her strap into him. The sight was such a horror to see that Artist immediately started shooting. He emptied the clip and made sure no pulses were present. For good measure he put another bullet in each of their head's. The job was finished and Artist grabbed his pan of beef ribs before fleeing the scene. There was no way he was leaving those famous ribs behind.