I've been disbarred from the mob.

All I said was one simple line that guaranteed the fine people of the mafia would no longer associate with me. No, it wasn't that I have a tendency to steal from the boss when I'm feeling bored or even the fact that I've decided to live a life of piety and will refuse to do a single organized crime or any crime at all in the first place: Except for murder, which I'll get to that in a second.

No, it was for ONE THING ONLY: I told them the truth, in 90 days I was going to go rogue and kill a Godfather Chairman of my choosing. That's all it took to be barred from this entire life of ours.

Is that really fair? Should I be outcast? Thrown out into the dark? What say you?

He smokes a cigarette or some shit. I don't care.

You stood up in a room full of criminals and announced that, given enough time, you'd be taking a shot at one of the most powerful men among them. What exactly did you expect? 

You need to do what I do which is lie and play the long game

I have pretended to befriend and be loyal to Norella and her consort Dick Hallow, and I will continue to do so until I am strong enough to murder them both whilst they sleep.

Hell, I'd have outcast you just for lying and trying to convince us you would have a big enough gun even after 90 days.

BigHurt stood quietly off to the side, listening to the Fl4k finish his speech. He didn't interrupt. Didn't laugh. Didn't even reach for the cigarette concealed neatly inside his coat.

When the man was finished, BigHurt adjusted the cuffs of his suit and stepped forward...

"Fair?"

He let the word settle in the air for a moment.

"See, that's where you're gettin' mixed up. This life was never built around "fair.""

BigHurt reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver lighter, and rolled it strategically and slowly between his fingers.

"It's built around loyalty. Respect. Trust. A man's word."

He looked directly at Fl4k.

"And you gave yours."

A slight pause.

"You stood in front of people and told 'em that ninety days from now, you're gonna put a Godfather Chairman in the ground. Not some mug workin' a street corner. Not some two-bit hood who owes you twenty dollars."

"A Godfather Chairman."

BigHurt shook his head slowly.

"And now you're surprised nobody wants to sit beside you at the dinner table?"

He finally pulled out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, and struck the lighter.

Click.

The flame danced briefly across his face.

"You wanna steal from your boss? That's between you, your boss, and whatever unfortunate conversation follows."

He lit the cigarette.

"You wanna find religion and spend Sunday mornin' sittin' in the front pew? God bless ya."

BigHurt snapped the lighter shut.

"But when a man announces that he's planning to turn his gun against the leadership of this thing of ours, he shouldn't be surprised when doors start closing."

A thin cloud of smoke drifted into the air.

"You asked if you should be an outcast."

BigHurt gave a small shrug.

"I ain't here to pass judgment on you. That's above my pay grade."

"But I'll tell you this much."

He stepped a little closer, his voice remaining calm.

"A man can't walk into a room, tell everybody he's gonna burn the building down in ninety days, then complain when somebody takes away his key."

BigHurt straightened his jacket.

He took another drag from the cigarette before turning away.

"So don't mistake consequences for persecution."

BigHurt stopped after a few steps and glanced back over his shoulder.

"And if you're determined to spend the next ninety days counting down the clock..."

A faint smile crossed his face.

"...I'd suggest you spend a little less time worrying about who's willing to associate with you and a little more time thinking about whether ninety days was something you should've announced in the first place."

He tipped his hat politely.

"Enjoy your cigarette."

BigHurt disappeared down the sidewalk, leaving nothing behind but the fading sound of his footsteps.

"And for what it's worth..."

His voice carried back from somewhere down the street.

"...I would've kept that particular thought to myself."

I've learned my lesson. I'll lie next time, I'll stop being so real. So honest. 

The mafia has really changed. Everyone is all about money and power these days, I miss back when there was a sense of whimsy. But I guess everything has to change at some point. Oh well.