Danny Matthews had wanted to live the life for as long as he could remember. It wasn't that he was incapable of doing other things, it was just that they were alien to him. Being a wise guy was all that he had known from an early age; his father had been a made guy in the Factory, his uncle too. He'd seen the wealth and the respect that came with it and he wanted a piece of that for himself. He was well placed, having two family members already in the family and he was committed, prepared to do whatever the fuck was needed of him. He didn't mind doing the grunt work, slowly moving forwards, just as long as he was working for connected guys. But despite these advantages, there was a problem holding Danny back...

...his breath fucking reeked! 

And before you think 'oh it was probably just morning breath or too much garlic the night before' and I'm exaggerating - bull-fucking-shit. This wasn't a faint coffee whiff on the end of a sentence; Danny's breath was worse than that acrid trash stench when it has been out in the sun all day. It was like he had spent the previous 6 hours smoking cigarettes filled with a baby shit. And then washed it down with cat piss. 

It was so fucking bad, he couldn't open his mouth for more than a couple of syllables before whoever he was talking to began to gag. His dreams of a spot in the Factory vanished, his family disowned him and he was forced to move out. They even made him leave New York, just in case they caught a sniff of his halitosis on the breeze, so rancid was the smell. This left poor Danny spending his days in his new craphole Philly apartment, stinking up the place with his disgusting breath, alternating between crying and pinching his nose to stop from being sick.

That was life for Danny over the next few weeks, crying, gagging and permanently stinking. No amount of mouthwash helped and none of the special gums he tried had any impact whatsoever. Danny took out the piece that his old man had given him, pre-SB (smelly breath) and thought about ending it all. Instead, something snapped and headed down to the local post office. He crashed through the door, shouted at the ugly bastard behind the counter to give him everything he had and shoved the barrel of the gun in his face. With a quivering hand the cashier gave him exactly what he asked for and just begged him not to open his mouth again, more concerned by his breath than the gun. Danny didn't care, cash in hand he made a break for it, adrenaline coursing through his body, he pumped his legs and darted from the store. As he broke around the corner, he let out a quick nervous laugh as he thought about the wad of notes clutched tightly in his sweaty palm.

Before long, he was safely back in his apartment but he couldn't relax, he was wired. He'd knocked over that motherfucker without any problems whatsoever. He tried to settle down and get some perspective and plan his next few moves as he dropped the stolen currency on his shitty pine coffee table. Maybe there was a future for him in this after all, it was early days, but this was good. For the first time in years he was actually pleased. He settled himself down on the couch and tried to think. He took a few deep lungfuls of air and closed his eyes.

Once he'd sat, he must have had a huge adrenaline dump because he fell fast asleep and the next thing he knew, his door was being kicked in. He knew it was being kicked in because an ugly ass steel toe-capped boot actually broke through one of the panels when the wood split. Timber flew in all directions and the door frame exploded as two hard looking fuckers entered Danny's apartment.

At this point, I'd like to say that Danny jumped up, grabbed his piece and beat the piss out of the intruders, but that isn't what happened. Instead, Danny nearly shit his pants. His arse was on the floor and he hadn't even managed to get out of his seat before one of bastards had him around the throat. A real mean looking thing, with a punch-flattened nose and a permanent snarl.

"Grab the money" he said to his partner, a smaller man with a beard running riot across his cheeks and down his neck, as he punched Danny twice in the gut. "On the table" he added, sinking a solid knee into Danny without missing a beat.

Beard picked it up and slid it into his jacket with the minimum of fuss that suggested he'd been pocketing cash since before Danny had left school. Flat-nose let Danny tumble to the ground.

"Where do you get off, knocking over one of our joints?" Flat-nose said more to himself than anyone else as the pair starting looking around the apartment for things to take. They would be disappointed - it was a grotty little dive.

As it turned out, Danny had been so wrapped up in his own little world, he hadn't even given a second thought to whoever the store owner was paying protection to. This guy had been paying The Explorer Club, in short, to keep exactly the type of thing that had happened, from happening. If he wasn't likely to have both legs broken, Danny might have laughed at the irony of it. He didn't though; he liked walking and he didn't want to foul up the air by opening his mouth either. 

As he lay on the floor, Flat-Nose filled him that apparently Daddy halitosis had made all the connected guys in the area aware his smelly son would soon be around and to keep an eye out for him. So when the store owner told the goombas about 'a man with breath like a dog who's been licking it's own arse' waving a gun at him, he hadn't been hard to find. Fortunately for Danny, once the effects of the beating wore off, Flat-Nose told him that out of respect for his old man, they not only wouldn't break either of his legs, but would actually give him some work to keep him busy on the proviso that he kept his mouth shut wherever possible. Danny nodded his head in agreement.

The thugs left the apartment shortly after the deal was made, although not before telling him that "Dogbreath would be needed at the shop tomorrow" which he took to mean he would be going to make things right with the storeowner he'd robbed. Danny lay on the floor in a puddle of his own piss for a little while, all things considered pretty happy that he now had a job. He was just starting out, but it looked like he was in business.

*JakobDaKing walks to the s treets and wipes his brow after puttin a cig in his mouth*

MATE get some toothpaste 

It had been quite an unique recruit form that had taken place, when Dogbreath finally became an associate of The Explorers Club. Weebl and Fips had sent a few goombas out for a stinky guy who had stolen from a shop on their protection list. Weebl however, had gotten the idea of offering the guy work after beating him up. Fips had agreed.

Dogbreath's first arrival at the HQ was something the entire family would remember. Saying 'Hi!' to the new associate, and being met by a foul smell. It was something they'd get used to eventually, Fips thought to himself. Maybe the smell would even be an advantage on some kind of job. Fips just had to think of that one job, where they'd need a smelly guy.