LuciusSweet frowned and looked down at the paper in front of him again. 

"This has to be some sort of joke." He said as he handed it over to Disorder, who's eyes were shining like his bald pate used to on his afternoon walks in Brighton "I mean, he can't be serious....wait....are you crying?" he asked, caught out mid-flow.

"What?" Disorder stammered, hastily brushing away the tear with the cuff of his sleeve "no, of course not. It's just....fucking unbelievable, isn't it? Our bloody Don..." he said, trying and failing to keep the fatherly pride out of his voice. 

Lucius wasn't convinced; Disorder was significantly, significantly older than the rest of the group and they were well accustomed to his mother hen routine by now so Lucius knew it when he saw it. Even so, he didn't press it. He had bigger things on his mind.

"Yes. It is, unbelievable" He said, his eyes narrowing with suspicion "Fitzgerald Chivalry Jnr, Godfather? Surely this is a wind up."

Disorder continued to scrutinise the words on the missive in his hand "looks real enough to me, says right there that Fitz is going to challenge the old man for control of The Strip and the crayon certainly matches Fitz' handwriting."

Lucius shook his head. How could that useless motherfucker actually achieve what his dear old Dad, green, could not? It just didn't warrant entertaining because there was no way FitzChivalry was better than green; there were at least 48 reasons he could think of right out of the gate. 

"Says he wants us to round up the lads and meet him down there too" Disorder said, reaching for his bomber jacket and flat cap "I'll meet you there pal, aye?"

Lucius nodded, still not quite believing that Fitz could do something this impressive. He still remembered the first time they had met and just how ridiculously underwhelmed he was. green was still running things back then, "the glory days" as most people referred to them, and he had introduced Lucius to his 'protege' FitzChivalry, who was an overweight, dog-shit smelling, mullet-sporting, simple-looking bastard and he had asked Lucius to keep an eye on him.

What a fucking curse that had turned out to be and although Lucius had tried his best from that moment to this, it hadn't always gone to plan. There had been the "claymore polishing" incident with Kurgen in the Chamber of Secrets, the endless "will they/won't they" scandal with Isabella, not to mention the "don't worry, you don't need a pro" advice to his beautiful Dad, green, which Lucius still suspected was a ploy to usurp the great man. And, that was before he even thought about the stupid fucking axe he always carried around with him. What was he, some sort of ridiculous desert lumberjack? Lucuius shook his head again, trying to brush it all off like he had been for what felt like his entire life.

He looked around Fitz's office again as he put on his coat and the disdain he felt for him was hard to ignore.

"Cunt" he muttered to himself as he walked to meet with the rest of the troops to 'celebrate'.

"Lucius!" Disorder called, raising a hand in greeting to the Don's number two, who stalked over to them with a face on that looked like somewhere between thunder and constipation. Disorder had suspected Lucius would be jealous. He gave MonsterHair a nudge in the ribs to get his attention, but he merely glanced up for a couple of seconds, flashed an ill-disguised bored smile at Lucius before returning to his hunched over crouch beside Disorder.

"What's with him?" Lucius asked, gesturing towards MonsterHair, who now seemed to be cursing and frantically admonishing himself for some sort of mistake.

"Pulled that little shit away from the dicing tables to make sure he was here." Disorder said, the anger slowly giving way to pity "Apparently I ruined his "streak" and now he's rolling his own dice until he gets hot again....poor lad's lost it."

"I see." Lucius said, the former two-time billionaire well familiar with such urges, before quickly changing the subject "Where's Fitzybollocks then?"

Disorder shrugged "Haven't seen him. Camp's supposed to be meeting us here as well. Orange was balls deep in a pile of charlie and Anathema's still sulking that she couldn't stay behind, so I doubt either of them will turn up."

"I see." Lucius answered again. He really was an arrogant bellend and Disorder was glad to be shot of him, but he wasn't going to let the misrable twat spoil the day, so he let it pass. He stood in silence beside Lucius for awhile, MonsterHair's occasional curse at a bad roll the only thing breaking the calm, before he felt himself drifting into memories. Before he knew it, he started talking out loud.

"I recently snuck back into The old Farseers offices over the road." He said to nobody in particular. Lucius stared at him balefully, which he ignored and continued.  

"I'd been meaning to collect the last few items from my old office and, although I'd been trying to pick my moment so as to avoid the big man, you wouldn't let that happen" Lucius had the grace to appear a little sheepish "So after you confidently assured me Fitz had gone to the track, I headed over the road to find the fucker very much at home. Know what he was doing?" He asked. Lucius shook his head.

"The moment I walked in the door I could hear him roaring up a storm upstairs....I had no choice so I went up and along the hall toward my old office. I thought I'd be safe with Fitz's being right down the end of the hall, right? Wrong. You can only imagine my surprise when I found him in my office, astride a fucking full grown race horse, doing awkward little circles around my old desk. You know he did that?" Lucius looked dumbfounded; a not unfamiliar expression for him to be wearing it had to be said, so Disorder ploughed on.

"I guess he'd been trying his best to face up to the inevitable departure of you and I, but seems like he was struggling. All the front and bravado was being fuelled by an increasingly complicated cocktail of chemicals and alcohol. Admittedly, we've both found him in some very compromising situations over the years and have covered it up quite effectively so far, and to find him naked, astride a horse making Tarzan calls now was hardly the worst of them. I'd seen it all before. So've you." That drew a derisive snort from Lucius and even a "heh" from dicey Dave. 

"But I was mainly concerned for the three chorus line girls sitting all glittery and confused on chairs pressed right against the wall. They looked at me despairingly. So often I'd find young women who'd come to our building thinking they were in for a simple evening of casual molestation, only to be disappointed by one of Fitz bizarre floor shows."

"What did you do?" Lucius asked, clearly intrigued.

"I quietly ushered the girls out of the room and talked the highly charged Fitz, down from his horse. We went back to his office where he got back into his clothes and lay down on the large couch for a nap."

"Should have left him there" Lucius said, but Disorder ignored him.

"This is only the most recent of a lifetime of stories. I'm sure you've got plenty too. Old bastard has led quite a life." Disorder said with a nod "Yes, it was with a heavy heart that I left the old office..." He burst out laughing, much to Lucius' surprise "Sorry no....I can't. I was fucking delighted to go. Its so nice to not be regularly invaded by Fitz pretending to be a sea lion or reenacting a battle from the civil war. Its glorious to be free! That's why I am so happy the bulk of the crew will now get to experience the same liberation! This is a victory for all of us really. Don't you think?"

That drew a first smile from Lucius and Disorder gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.

"Also, it must be said that for all his challenging ways, I love the old bastard with all my heart. I'm delighted he's getting this recognition for all he's been through and more glad the pressures of running a large family are now behind him. Now all he has to deal with is intercity diplomacy and international trade arrangements... My Godfather. FitzChivalry......" He said, before adding "May God have mercy on our souls."

Camp half stepped out of the back alley he had been lurking in. Camp was good at lurking. Too good in fact. He had a Master’s Degree from the University of Chicago in Lurkology, given to him by non-other than Professor T Lurk the foremost figure in lurking.

From his pockets Camp produced a boiled egg and started to deshell it. If there was one thing women loved, it was watching an effeminate medical giant shelling an egg whilst winking at them. And Camp was good at it. Too good in fact. He had a…

Camp’s train of thought was derailed as he noticed LuciusSweet talking in the streets. He was congratulating FitzChivalry on his recent Godfather’dom. FitzChivalry, a Godfather.

“Ahhh Fitzy, Fitzy, Fitzy, or Ol’ Fitzy Bastard as he’s known on the streets.” Camp said out loud to no one in particular. “I remember meeting him like it was yesterday…

…yesterday…

…yesterday…”

Camp drifted off into his own memories, his entire body going rigid. Erect if you will. In fact, even if you won’t.

***4 months earlier***

“I don’t care anymore Fitzelroy. You’ve done this to me for the last time!”

A vase flashes over Fitz’s head, smashing into a hundred pieces exactly on the floor.

“Please darling. Please. Just calm down. We can talk this through.”

“Get out Fitzel. Just get the tits out of here. And take your fat mother too!”

“Now there’s no need for that Janine! You leave my mother out of this!”

But Janine was no longer listening. Fitzel gathered up his things, and his fat mother, and left.

***3 ½ months earlier***

Fitzel knocked on the large ornate wooden door. Not too ornate you understand, just ornate enough for the purposes of being a door. Footsteps could be heard on the other side slowly and ominously walking towards the beautiful ornate wooden door.

The door swung open.

“Yes?” the doorman asked.

“Hi, I would like to speak to the proprietor please?” Fitzel said, his voice wavering.

“That be I, m’lord.” Said a hideous poc-faced gentleman.

“Oh excellent. I’m Mr Fitzel Chivalry, and to whom am I addressing?”

“I am Mister Dee Dubyah, the owner and proprietor of this here establishment.”

“Well, yes I know you own the place, we’ve already established that…”

“Excellent. What do you want?”

“I’ve recently broken up with my long standing girlfriend but I need a date for this polo match I’m going to shortly. I’m trying to set up a business deal you see.” Fitzel said.

“And what kind of ‘date’ are you looking for?” Mister Dee Dubyah inquired, his scarf fluttering in the indoor breeze?

“Are you putting quotation marks around the word date?”

“Aye, that I be.”

“’Yes I am’, not ‘that it be’. Good Lord.”

“Fucking hell mate, this is all for fucking effect. Do you want a date or not?” Mister Dee Dubyah shouted, losing his patience in a fraction of a second. Truth be told he was mashed out of his face right now.

“Yes, yes. I’m sorry. Give me your tallest one.” Fitzel said, cowed.

“…my tallest?”

“Yes, your tallest. Please hurry or we’ll be late.” Fitzel said now all of a sudden irritated himself.

“Ok then. There are no refunds…”

Mister Dee Dubyah rang a bell and the room went silent. A loud bang was heard upstairs, followed by heavy footsteps.

“This is taking forever. Can you tell her to hurry up please?!” Fitzel said.

“Her? You never specified a woman…” Mister Dee Dubyah said. “Hahahahahahahhahahaahadbfaksjbwelhbrtwehjtbewht febofuicehi”

“What….”

All of a sudden all of the light in room was blocked out. A monstrous figure stood at the top of the staircase. Slowly, but incredibly daintily, Camp minced down the stairs.

“I’ve only got two rules” Camp stated to a gobsmacked Fitzel. “No kissing on the mouth, and if you want me to perform a Fresh Daisy on you it’s double.”

And with that, Camp picked up Fitzel and headed to the car.

***

Camp snapped back to reality with a start. A cold breeze washing over his entire body. He looked down at himself. He was naked.

“I’ve been robbed again…”

He looked to the God’s beseechingly.

“I really need to stop having 5-minute-long flashbacks in back alleys.”

Still erect, Camp shuffled off into the shadows.

Anathema joined the party exuding an aura of disdain. Making her way to join Disorder and the others, she grumbled and made her presence felt by glaring at them all.

Well? I'm here, what's the big deal? Anathema had been working on a potion that she hoped would make Disorder more tolerable to work for and she hated to be interrupted. 

When she listened to the news that Fitz was challenging the Godfather, she felt next to nothing at all. It was safe to say that little excited Anathema and this was no exception.

Fitz is a weird kinda guy, she had found. Always behaving strangely around the HQ. To say he was a little pervy was an understatement. She'd notice him eyeing up MonsterHair and licking his lips. 'Odd being' was her conclusion. She was pretty sure that it was he that was the phantom HQ knicker stealer, she just couldn't prove it. Although why anyone would have wanted to steal Camp's undergarments was beyond her. After a time, she had learned to keep her knickers in her handbag after losing a few pairs of her favourite frillies. 

So is this gonna take much longer? Is he off polishing his weapon? She asked petulantly. Noticing the grumpy stare from Disorder, Anathema rolled her eyes and vowed to get that potion right.

"Is that....Camp, over there?" Lucius said, pointing towards an alley across the way, confused.

"I think so" Disorder muttered squinting "looks like he's off in la-la-land again. Yep! See?" He added as two men began taking Camp's purse out of his handbag and nonchalantly stepping him out of his trousers whilst he stood idly by, limp-wristed, fat and useless.

Lucius sighed "how that lummox made his bones, I'll never fucking know."

"Nor me" Disorder said looking a little embarrassed "but I promised Fitz I would take him with me...not sure how he would do alone in the old HQ."

Lucius nodded, before looking at his watch "where is Fitzy anyway? He hasn't left again, has he?"

"I don't think so, plus he'd be back in like ten minutes even so. I think he must still be wrapping up with the old boy. Not sure what's the hold up is though. This is taking more time than that last Fight Night!" 

"It really is....I'm still a little sad he spoiled my idea of the Fight Night, but I guess I can always resurrect it one day" Lucius said, scuffing the pavement with his shoes.

"You should do, man. Fitz is probably too busy playing in the soccer big leagues anyway with bateson87! Number 1 in the world!!" Disorder said before the pair broke into hysterics. The idea of FitzChivalry doing anything other than sitting on his fat arse in a corner playing with his axe was preposterous and would be met with ridicule wherever it arose.

"What are you two clowns laughing at? Quickly, get it together! I heard Fitz is coming and I sent one of our many, many members to round up a few more people to celebrate. This was looking like a bit of a shit show" Anathema said looking at Lucius, Disorder, the continually dice rolling MonsterHair and the naked Camp drooling off to the left. Lucius reckoned she had a point.

"Fine, fine. Monsty, go and bring Camp over here." MonsterHair gave him a look so filthy that it would make DW blush, but complied without comment. He returned a few moments later with a dazed looking Camp, just in time to see FitzChivalry's dog, Marvin, come bounding into the square. A few moments later, the man himself arrived.

"I DID IT!" yelled Fitz, swaggering towards his assembled associates, balls like boulders "BEST START CALLING ME GODFATHER FROM NOW ON, MOTHERFUCKERSSSSSSSS!"

Lucius looked at Disorder. Jesus Christ. What had they unleashed. 

"... OR IN FACT. MAKE THAT LORD FITZ!"

FitzChivalry's bollocks had grown somewhat in the short moment it had taken to walk into the old gent's lounge and smother him while he slept with a pair of HighPitchEric's undercrackers, and he made damn sure that the rest of the crew knew it too. 

"Yes Lord Fitz, that sounds much more fitting. Look I even drew up a little Coat of Arms for you all to sport in my honour!" Fitz, ever the artist, pulled out a piece of paper with a drawing on.

"I expect you all to have tattoos of this in the coming days, there's a place between Disappointment Burger and my gym where you can get yourself inked up, I don't care where they're located on your bods but I'm getting mine on my chest, a bit like a super hero sign. I'm sure you'll all agree that's quite appropriate."

Lucius had rolled his eyes and Fitz was certain he'd heard the words "bellend" and "cunt" muttered several times during his short statement. Wondering what the displeasure was about Fitz looked around to see Camp, naked again. Clearly they were talking about the fat man, they wouldn't be talking about dear old Fitzyboy that way, the guy was #1 in the world in the soccer pro clubs after all.

Feeling much the same way as his associates towards Camp, Fitz shrugged this off and hoisted his axe a little further up his shoulder. The night was young and Fitz had some more boasting to do. Not only that but at some point he had to go and ensure the builders were working through the night to continue the work on Lucius' new head quarters. Fitz was finally glad to be rid of the self proclaimed two-time billionaire, all he did was bleed Fitz dry, reminding him of a greedy babe at it's mother's tit. Lucius had sucked his way through 10's of millions and still he continued to suck and so Lord Fitz was relieved that there'd be no more surprise withdrawals and promises of repayments, along with talks of Lucius having "cracked it". The guy was a terrible gambler and Fitz had said so one evening when he caught him betting over who would create the loudest botty burp on "Flatulent Friday's". A traditional night here within The Farseers HQ that had been created by the resident fat fucks of the family, Camp and HighPitchEric. Again this was something he'd be pleased to see the back of and was looking forward to a flatulent free zone from now on.

"So guys, where to next?"

Zootopia stumble upon this laugh.

Yes any dickhead and slacker too boot can become GF but what you left out is the clowns above you that get your blessings and fuck all else. That is the true definition of a bellend.

When does anyone else matter?

Zootopia got to put this out there as well and ask: What did you do besides gain a huge win one time in the gambling ring?  Many under you worked their asses off but you were granted rank. How is that possible unless of course nobody else mattered.

Case n Point when I ask does/did anyone else matter.

Lord Fitz had heard some low life bottom feeder rambling on in the street, looking around to find the source he found he seemed to recognise the culprit as someone who he had worked with in the past, surely it couldn't be Isabe... No, no that was ridiculous. Fitz had done away with that dullard a long time ago. After she had staged a sit down on the floor of Fitz' office in protest due to Lucius declining her advances, Fitz had called for Disorder to mop up the tears, sadly the broad was too heart broken and couldn't seem to take it on the chin. Lashing out with her wicked tongue (or so Camp told us) at anyone who crossed her path, she quickly became an outcast within The Farseers. Eventually Fitz decided enough was enough and he sent HighPitchEric across to do the dirty work that needed doing.

A full report of the incident followed and Fitz recalled parts of it when Eric told the tale of how he had tied up the mobster and spent hours having fun with them. Rubbing sandwiches over the soon to be dead wise guy and squirting hot sauce in their eyes. Safe to say this mobsters last moments were far from a fun time. Especially given HighPitchEric fulfilled the assignment with his signature move of a smothering with the buttocks.

Fitz shuddered for a moment and it brought him back from his reverie.

"Hey Lucy, is that that cunt Eric sat on?" Breaking the celebrations momentarily, everyone looked to where Fitz was pointing.

"No" Monsty replied, it was the first time he had spoken in a while, the guy was trying to develop a new technique with his dicing that he and Lucy had referred to several times as "cracking it". Silly cunt, didn't they know it was a game of chance?

"Then who the fuck is it?" Fitz enquired.

"That's her great great great great great great great grand daughter. She's just as ugly as all the rest of her parents." Monsty stated

At that moment HighPitchEric pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, Fitz assumed he had a sandwich tucked away in there but when he opened it he revealed a picture. According to him he kept pictures of all his victims. Referring back to his picture of the victim he pointed out that there was an uncanny resemblance there.

"Here guys, she is the spitting image, she looks a little younger then her ancestor though but she definitely has the hair line and the teeth." 

At that point Eric had whipped the picture around to the rest of us to see. Fitz had forgotten just how hideous that face was, even so if Fitz was honest Lucius would have been punching above his weight had he accepted her advance.

Kurgan had been relaxing in his Chicago Penthouse he had bought this place on the sly as a retreat and safe haven from SisterMaryJane just thinking about the yard stick bought back painful memories. Kurgan poured himself a glass of Vodka which was another reason he had this place he didnt want the stigma of being labled a red. The States was going mad with the red under every bed the prohibition seemed to take 2nd place to this hysteria Kurgan gulped his drink down as his phone began ringing Kurgan walked to desk and picked up the receiver. 

"Issssshh Thishhh sumkind of joke?" Kurgan frowned  as a barely coherent @LuciousSweet shouted into the phone "Calm" Kurgan was cut off as Lucious continued his drunken triade "The fucking Bellend of Vegas is a Godfather how can this happen?" 

Kurgan Sighed "Look" Kurgan again was cut off "I have did everything you have asked  from taking FitzChivalry from you so the girls didnt have to put up with his unwanted advances. I even talked that twonk Slash into leaving just so the price of real estate would increase in Chicago how could you let this happen?"

Kurgan knew there was no way he could reason with Lucious in this state he was pretty sure Fitz had fluked his way to GodFather, Kurgan had given HighPitchEric  a .38 loaded with blanks for that reason Eric was to switch the guns. The plan should not have failed Kurgan picked up the box of Doughnuts on his coffee table opening it it was empty except for a .38 revolver Kurgan let out a sigh Fucking Eric