"Fuckin’ pigs, always sniffin’ around at the worst fuckin’ time. Fuckin’ greasy pricks."

SevereSin took another drag of his cigarette before turning to Michael, or ‘Mouthy Mike’ as he was more commonly known.

"Shut the fuck up, Mike."

The two men stood in a dark alleyway near the edge of Manhattan, gazing towards a liquor store across the street. The lights flickered and dimmed along the street as several shops began closing down for the evening. SevereSin had been eying this place for a few days, it was owned by a middle-aged man named Peter Iverson who had recently acquired it. The previous owner had a deal with the family SevereSin was associated with; however, the payments had stopped coming in with this new ownership in place. Seems that bit of info was never passed on, so the new owner needed some informing of how things work when you carry out business in a neighbourhood owned by La Famiglia Gato.

"So’s we doin’ this or what? I’m getting fuckin’ cold out here waitin’ around and shit."

Mike said, looking at SevereSin. SevereSin dropped his cigarette on the ground and pressed on it firmly with his foot, extinguishing it. He looked up at Mike and rolled his eyes as the two cops turned the corner in their cruiser and left the street unattended.

"Let’s go."

They briskly jogged out of the alley and across the street, as Mike revealed a tire iron from beneath his jacket.

The two young men entered the liquor store. Only the owner was around at this time of night, and no customers had paid a visit in over an hour. The store was scheduled to close in 5 minutes. The timing was perfect.

"Woah, what the fuck?"

Peter exclaimed as he looked up from behind the counter and noticed the two men, one brandishing a weapon.

"Look bud, we aren’t here to rob you, let’s just get that straight right away."

SevereSin slowly shut the door behind him as he spoke.

"Just listen to what I have to say and we won’t have to do anything we don’t want to do."

Peter was visibly afraid as the colour drained from his face.

"Ye’ we just want to talk ya see, ain’t nobody need ta’ get hurt here pal. We don’t have ta’ break ya legs, but we will, an’ you’s arms too so don’t get smart with me."

"Mike, shut the fuck up. Listen Pete, we just need to let you know how things work around here. We are the good guys, we want to see your new business prosper. In order to do that, we will need to make sure nobody tries to stick you up, take what you work so hard to earn, right?"

Peter just nods his head, as he looks between the tire iron and Mike’s eyes, wondering if he would actually use the blunt tool as a weapon or not.

"Alright good Peter, good. I like you Peter, I do. Listen, this area is owned by someone else, that’s all you need to know. If you want to stay here, and stay healthy, you gotta play by the rules. In return, no one will fuck with what you’re doing here. You still following me Peter?"

Peter nods again and manages a few words, this time focusing his gaze on SevereSin.

"Yeah, uh yeah, yeah I understand."

"Alright, good. Now all we ask is for 300 a week. We understand you are just starting out here and there is going to be some problems here and there, so we feel this price is fair, for now. I’d prefer not to have to show you what happens if you miss a payment, so just make it on time and we won’t have any issues. Mike or I will come by once a week to collect, lets say every Tuesday. Sound good?"

Peter nods a third time and quakes out a response.

"Yeah, I got it. 300 a week, I can do that. Every Wednesd- er, every Tuesday. Yeah, yeah all good."

"Glad we could come to an understanding, my friend. Remember though, we’ll be watching, so if you call the cops, that’s on you. I’d strongly advise against that."

With that said, SevereSin turned and opened the door, walking back outside into the crisp Manhattan air. Mike following close behind, they dropped off his tire iron and headed for a local bar. SevereSin hoped that Don Gato would be pleased with his new addition, the earnings from this venture alone may be enough to make him stand out amongst some of the other associates. He contemplated this as he and Mike walked down the street.

"It’s too fuckin’ cold out, I hate this fuckin’ weather."

"Mike, shut the fuck up."