"W-who are you?" asked  Narrator to the strange man that just walked into his room shortly after throwing his mother out.

"What? Don't you remember me? Come on kid I know it's been a while, but these good looks are hard to forget." said Richard as he motioned to his blinding smile.

"Were you a friend of my father? Is that how you know who I am." said Narrator.

"Friend? Your father wasn't my friend. He was family, that means you're family... really? Nothing?" said Richard.

"What do you want me to say? I've never met you in my life. Am I supposed to jump for joy that you're here? said Narrator.

"I'm getting real frustrated here kid so let me cut right to it. I came back to take what is rightfully mine, and yours. said Richard while placing his hand on Narrator's shoulder.

"What do you mean? I haven't lost anything." said Narrator while brushing off Richard's hand.

"You've lost everything. Look at how you're living kid. For god sakes, a bright future was taken from you. A life where you could have actually lived and not just survived was taken from you. Your father wanted more for you than this." said Richard.

"My dad is the reason my life is like this! If he wasn't off selling dope and murdering I could have had a fucking normal life" screamed Narrator.

"Selling dope? Murdering? What kind of bullshit has your junkie mother been feeding you? We're we perfect? No fucking chance, but you're father never laid a hand on anyone that didn't deserve it. I'm talking scumbag husbands that beat their wives, people abusing their kids or taking advantage of the elderly. Talk to anyone back in the old neighborhood; Bobby protected those that couldn't defend themselves. He made them feel safe." shouted Richard as he paced back and forth trying to calm himself.

"As far as that drug accusation. No one in the Demarco crew dealt in drugs. Sure we might have gotten high a couple of days out of the week but no one sold, my brother made sure of that." said Richard.

"Okay, so you came all this way to let me know that my life would have been better if I didn't grow up in a single parent household? Wow." said Narrator sarcastically.

"Alright kid no need to be a dick about it. Bobby didn't want your life to turn out like his, that's why I know he's turning in his grave for the reason I'm here. I'm here to offer you a chance, a chance at having the life your father would have provided you." said Richard

"You're giving me a better life?" asked Narrator.

"Nothing is ever given in our line of work, you want something you take it." said Richard.

"Our? No no no, I'm not my dad. I remember the way my father looked on the coroners' table, I don't want the people I love to see me in the state my father was. " said Narrator

"The people you love? I'm sorry kid but look around. You stay here, and you're going to end up like your mother. I know you don't think so but its a cycle. You don't want your children living like this, do you? We pull this off, and you get an education that's worth something, a career that not only provides for you and your family but a career that you love." said Richard.

"What do we have to do? asked Narrator.

Richard extended his hand to Narrator and brought him to his feet, wrapping his arms around him. They walked out of the apartment to find Narrator's mother talking to the cops. Richard pulled Narrator back into the apartment and locked the door without being seen or heard.

"How about we use the fire escape eh? smiled Richard.

The plan was rather ambitious, even for a creative mind like Narrators. The local crime boss had grown content or old, and fat is how Richard put it. The crime boss was too busy spending his hard earned money from the past decade to notice or even care that everything that was his was being taken over by some new guys in New York. By the time the crime boss gave a damn his turf had been reduced to a couple of neighborhoods on the northwest side of the Bronx.

The invading party had grown tired of fighting the local crime boss and moved on to more pressing matter in Manhattan. Even though the crime boss was outgunned and nearing bankruptcy, he wouldn't let up; attacking shipments and warehouses belonging to his new foe. Even though he was nothing more than a thorn in their side now, the now established New York Mafia were looking for a solution to their minor problem, and they found it when they caught some info that the local crime boss didn't always run the show in the Bronx.

The toughest part for them was actually finding the youngest Demarco brother for he had vanished a decade earlier. After putting the word out and putting the squeeze on a few people, they managed to track him down. Richard was hiding in plain view in his old neighborhood which his brothers once ran. Richard had assumed a new identity and used the last of the crew's cash to buy a house a block down from where he was raised.

Their offer was simple, finish the job they had started with the local crime boss and Richard would be allowed to assume control over the neighborhoods the crime boss' still had influence over, including Richards old neighborhood. Richard had everything in place, he didn't need to come to me or offer me anything. He just felt that I could receive some amount of closure if I were able to help bring down the man that took my father's life. My limitations were apparent to Richard, I was not a violent person at the time. He believed I couldn't pull the trigger if it meant my life or the person across from me.

The plan was simple, there was no diversions or trickery. After the endless war draining the crime boss' accounts, he wasn't left with much. Richard had learned that the crime boss would retreat to his only surviving legitimate business for the evening to relax and unwind. A tiny Italian restaurant next to an alley. Every other business around was closed at the time except for the dry cleaners right next to it. My job was to ensure the owner of the dry cleaners didn't run out and tried to be a hero once the shooting started. 

Due to our shit luck though the owner of the store wasn't there that night. Instead, the owner had asked the crime boss if one of his guys could close the store since the owner had to leave sometime around the afternoon for a doctor's appointment. He had gout or something like that, it was noticeable too because the guy couldn't go more than a couple of steps without limping. Richard didn't want me to go through with my assigned job, that he would find something else for me to do that wasn't so dangerous. I knew what I was getting into, I may have been young, but I wasn't stupid. Any person in that line of work was dangerous from the top boss to the lowest wiseguy, so I came prepared without Richard knowing.

The most I was supposed to do was just keep the guy occupied during the shootout, at most prevent him from leaving the store by blocking the entrance. I could have gotten away with that if it was just the old man, but these were different circumstances. John Howell was his name, and I'll never forget the look on his face when he realized he was slipping into permanent darkness. 

The job went done smooth for Richard and his hitters. The real hiccup was on my end. He didn't seem like a bad for the 45 minutes I got to know him, just someone that needed the money like everyone else out there. Once the shooting started a cold shiver went up and down my spine. It wasn't the first time I heard gun shots, growing up in the slums I got my daily fill of gun violence, but this was different. For the first time, I heard what a bullet connecting with flesh sounded like. The screams, by God I will never forget the dying screams of those men.

After the initial round of shots, John rose from behind the counter, double barrel in hand and sprinted towards the door. I didn't choose to do it, at least that's what I tell myself. It felt more instinctual than a decision. Two shots center mass, I expected him to drop dead instantly. Instead, he ran a few more steps before hitting the ground, but with his forward momentum the shotgun slid to the door; hitting it and making a loud "thunk" noise.

Gurgling, that's the sound he made. What words he tried to speak I'll never know. He could have been praying for forgiveness or cursing me to hell. I don't even remember walking towards him, but by the time I came to, I was directly standing over him gun in hand as he attempted to crawl towards the shotgun. One more to his upper back, an inch or two off the spine. Still, he crawled. As he placed his hand on the butt of the gun my model 22 chambered another round. I wanted to run out the back and go home to pack a bag to leave town never to return. Yet I understood John would have suffered a painful death if I didn't finish what I started. I tried to stare into his eyes as he lifted the gun to aim at me, once he realized he hadn't cocked back the hammer he locked eyes with me. I uttered an apology as I placed my fourth shot into his right eye socket.

On the drive back to the old neighborhood Richard told me he made the old man beg for his life before emptying the rest of his magazine into his chest. I felt nothing, not joy that my father's killer was dead or sympathy or the family of the poor fellow I had just murdered. Instead, I knew what I had to do. My father wanted a better life for me, but I understood I could never have the perfect life he wanted for me. Richard saw me motionless, staring at my hands, so he put his hand on my shoulder. It doesn't get better kid, it never does. I realized the white picket fence life wasn't going to be for me, but I could give that kind of life to my child.

I joined Richard in rebuilding the old neighborhood, he never had the knack for the business side of this life of ours so instead of following my passion I got a degree in accounting to manage the books. A few years then I'll settle down I thought, a decade later and there's no end in sight. I still dream of having a family that never needs or wants but I know deep down I'm just gonna end up like my father. Just another schmuck face down in a pool of his own blood.