Vanbrilliance finished chopping the last batch of tenderloins for the day. T'was a busy day indeed. At morning, he delivered crates of spiced hams to Don Jake's home. It's a fine way to restock the Family's supplies. Mid-afternoon, Van visited Surveil to deliver a pack of meat buns that can last for about a week. He also did Nacho Libre impersonations for the happy cat.

These little services make Van happy...or at least diverted from his melancholic thoughts. Now that the tasks of the day are complete, Vanbrilliance downed few shots of whiskey and took a shower. He put on a simple suit, the one he stole from a nearby apartment weeks ago. Methodically, he holstered his revolver inside the suit; a Mafioso is always prepared. Before leaving his apartment, he wrapped five spiced porkchops in a special foil, and stepped outside calmly.

He was greeted by the afternoon wind. The bustle of the streets is winding down, preparing for the cold touch of the night. How are the mobsters doing today? What hustles did they commit themselves to? Will they spend the night drowned in liquor? These questions flooded Brilliance's mind. 

Nevertheless, he walked on. His busy feet took him in front of a small bungalow surrounded by patches of tulips. Before Van can knock on the door, it opened; out came a tall, stunning lady with brown hair. Her lips formed into a short smile.

"Mr. Brilliance." The lady said, softly. Almost a whisper. "I didn't know you'd come here."

"For you, Julia." Van handed the wrapped porkchops to Julia. The lady felt delighted. She thought of devouring those chops right away, but she remembered to be modest. 

"Thank you, sir. Now if you're gonna ask me about Cocaine packs, you're right on time. I have more than--

Van rushed in for a kiss. Julia kissed back, slowly getting lost in an oblivion of pleasure. She would've stripped right on the spot, but again...modesty. She gently pushed Van away.

"I'll deliver the units to you later, sweet boy." Julia spoke. 

"I'll wait. As always." Van replied.

Van and Julia stared at each other for few more minutes. Afterwards, Vanbrilliance walked away and decided to head out to the nearest tavern. While walking, he can't help but admire the streets. Citizens. Mafiosi. Cops. Undesirables. All mixed up in a strange elixir called Life. This recent 'peace' in the streets was achieved with cold blood, and everyone seems working hard for a greater future.

As he resumed his walk, Van nodded to some respectable Mafiosi he encountered in the streets...

**

After a night of getting wasted in his favorite tavern, Vanbrilliance picked himself up and prepared for upcoming business errands. The peace in the streets are still prevalent, save for some shootouts and occasional disappearances here and there. But that's common in America nowadays. Wiseguys usually have different definitions of peace. 

Instead of mulling over various thoughts, Van decided to start the day right: conducting business. At morning, he contacted his young assistant, Bryan Cembranu, hoping to find leads for easy pickings. As expected, Bryan arrived in the meeting place - a low-scale meat shoppe - five minutes late. He is sweating and anxious, unlike Van who is calm and collected. 

"Why are you late, boy?" Van asked Bryan and took a seat. He also nodded at the vigilant shop owner.

"S-sorry, sir. I was kinda sure that some kiddos are following me...I forgot to bring my shiv..."

"Never, ever, forget your weapon. Death loves to hang out in these streets."

Cembranu nodded. He took his hankie and wiped the sweat off his brow.

"What do you got for me?" Van questioned. 

"A gambling den, sir. Down in Holmster's. According to rumors...thousands of dollars pass through that den. Pimps and even hookers play there. It's pretty small, but worth the raid..."

Van felt his heart throb in excitement. He asked the shop owner for two glasses of water.

"Well, we can't go in there and blast our way through."

"Yessir...I found a hidden entrance, but it's cramped..."

"Regardless, boy. Good job. If we plan to raid this cash hole, we gotta be prepared and we have to do it as quick and clean as possible. We can't raise red flags and attract too much eyes. We'll pay Surveil a visit."

"The cat?" Cembranu seems confused.

"Not just anybody's cat." Van said. "He is the pride of America."

Vanbrilliance ordered eggs and salami while mentally drafting out the plan. Cembranu felt worried and excited at the same time, yet he managed to eat his fix with such speed. Maybe he is hungry or what. 

If the raid is successful, Van will have extra thousands to spare. Additional kickup to the great Don Ballard too. 

Van hoped for the best. 

**

A little bit of gunpowder.. few formulated tea leaves.. then a drop of salted water... *knock-knock-knock*

The door bangs several times just when Surveil's about to wrap-up his small barrel bomb. It's a revised edition and never been tested yet, so he felt frustrated being disturbed in the middle of excitement.

He went to the door and slide-up a piece of paper with his paw marked on it just next to the welcome mat. It's his way to know if it's someone who know's him, or just someone. After few seconds, the paw print slide back with a smiley face. It's a friend he thought.

"Nya-go" (It's been a while. How have you been?)

The door opened and he saw Van smiling with a handful of fresh meat buns! Silver's eyes rolled as Van threw it to his direction. He snatched and bit it chunk by chunk until Van threw another one. When he got finished with the buns, he sat tight and looked at Van. He also noticed a skinny figure beside him.

"Nyaa" (These nails are bothering me)

Vanbrilliance fixed his tie and let out a short cough. His companion, Bryan Cembranu, began sweating profusely for some unknown reasons. Surveil, on the other hand, expressed an elixir of anxiety and sheer excitement.

"Surveil, my furry friend, I hope you're doing fine." Van started. "By the way, let me introduce this fine lad, Bryan Cembranu. He seems jittery but we can trust him. He knows many things in the city."

Bryan smiled and offered his hand. Surveil meowed and placed something in Bryan's hand - a smoked fish.

"Uhhh...thanks..." Bryan stared at the smoked fish, totally puzzled.

"He expects you to eat that." Van said with a stern voice. "It's respect, Bryan."

Bryan gulped. This is the first time in his life that he encountered a smoked fish. He quickly studied the crispy, burnt features of the fish - its accusing eyes staring with menace. Bryan wished for a glass of momma's milk, but it's very impossible now. Not in the presence of a hyperactive, bomb-throwing feline and a deranged Sicilian butcher. 

Palm sweating, Bryan Cembranu raised the smoke fish to his mouth and took a bite. Surveil meowed and clapped its paws in delight. Van smiled and pondered if he can enter the smoked-fish business, but he quickly ditched the idea. 

"It's salty..." Bryan almost grimaced then remembered to be respectful. "But it's the best!"

"Okay. Let's move on. Surveil, we got a tip about a den in motherfuckin' Holmster's. It's the most popular in the area, visited by hustlers, goons, bros, and anyone who wanted to gain a couple of fazools. They're rakin' approximately 50g's per night."

"Nyayayaa~!" Surveil jumped in excitement. He could use the extra cash for his new bomb projects.

"But we can't go in there like martyrs. We'll be pummeled to dust. The place is heavily protected. I heard they brought the boys from Harlem in. Plus a couple of Durdens. A good thing, though...Bryan here told me about a secret entrance."

Bryan felt his stomach grumbling. Must've been the fish, he thought.

"The entrance is small, friend." Van continued. "I can't fit in there. Bryan can't fit in there. So, I figured...you can go. We'll formulate a grand strategy. In the end, if we're successful, we split the loot evenly. I just need few bodies for my....experiment."

A wave of silence filled the room. Thoughts raced in everybody's mind, like harpoons in the belly of Moby-fucking-Dick.

"Whaddaya think, my friend?" Van asked Surveil with the sincerity of a preschool teacher. Bryan rushed to the nearby bathroom - explosive, diarrhea-inducing sounds followed afterwards.

Surveil scratched his nose and pondered deeply.

**

After some moment of silence (except for the occupied bathroom);

"Nyaa~go" This way. (When guiding)

Surveil lead Van to another room. The lights are quite dim that Van can barely see a thing. Surveil meowed and reached something that turned on the lights. Van got stunned for what he saw. It's a 6 ft wall full of sketched plans written in tracing papers. He doesn't know where to start looking. There's like 50 or 70 individual plans on it. Surveil walked to the lower left side of the wall and started ripping of some plans.

"Sorry just need to.. W-w-what in bacon's name is this place?!"

Just when Bryan's about to take a good look at the room, his stomach rumbles and he rushed back to the conform room.

Meanwhile, Surveil grabbed few sketch plans and bomb designs. He walked to Van and started to lead him to the drawing table. Several minutes passed and they're still planning each move, possible outcome and weapons fitted for the raid.

Then it all comes to a conclusion.

Bouncing Bombs. One of Surveil's recent technological advancement. The power of gunpowder, the prowess of flying fish all wrapped-up in tangled sea weeds. Bombs created by Silver are created with biological species, not with gears and metals. 

"Hhhmm. Not bad at all. Have these ever been tested?" 

Van looked at him cautiously and Surveil just smirked. Excitement can be felt on Surveils actions. Van shook his head. But he thought that this Cat creations are his old pals creation too. So he felt somehow confident that this tool will pull-up the raid.

Bouncing bombs. Vanbrilliance tried to imagine the potency of such weapon. Somehow, he wondered why the fascists still haven't talked to Surveil yet, given the latter's technological skill. The silence in the room is deafening, as Van and Surveil are thinking about their possible moves. Bryan, however, is overcame with a barrage of flatulence as the liquefied turds came dropping off his sphincter.

"So, you're planning to put the bombs in spots that they won't notice, right?" Van asked Surveil.

"Nyayayaa~!!" Surveil nodded, his eyes gleaming. 

"Once the bombs explode, ceilings and walls will come crashing down like hell. This will attract lots o' attention, but we're ready for it."

A loud fart came from the restroom, distracting Van. It sounded like a dying cow on steroids.

"Bryan!! For God's sake, man!" Van shouted. "Now, we have to figure out how're you gonna plant those bombs, friend. I'll take care of the weapons. A good friend told me about a secret stash full of badass, hell-bringing Tommies."

Surveil felt more excited than ever. He wondered about this 'good friend.'

"This friend..." Van stopped for a while. "Me and Sceadu...God bless his soul...we worked for him. We killed in his name. But alas, he's in the ground now due to unfortunate events. Don Scratchy."

Surveil felt Van's sadness. He took a smoked fish from a pot and handed it to Van.

"Anyway, Don Scratchy always thinks ahead of time. The stash is still intact and I always told Julia to watch over it."

Just the simple thought of Julia made Van sweaty. Her flesh, her hair, her scent...she evokes the pure essence of a woman, mixed with the badassery of a Mafioso. Surveil meowed twice to distract Van from the carnal thoughts.

"Thank you for bringing me back to reality, friend. I leave the mastery of the bombs to you. We'll deal with the weapons and other arrangements, as soon as Bryan is done shitting."

Van stood up and prepared to leave. He approached the comfort room and knocked hard. Bryan got out after a minute, sweating real hard. The gaseous stench almost immediately filled the room, causing Surveil to open up a box of scented leaves. As Van and Bryan left, Surveil went back to his plans...

**