"FUCK IT. FUCK IT ALL!!"

It wasn't clear who he was shouting at, but Pollution was clearly not himself lately. He had been vacant and well.. silent, if truth be told. No one really knew why, no one thought to ask. The family had been running itself with @TabithaGato and @BetsyLou being so comfortable in their positions, so the wheels just kept turning while he found himself sinking deeper into a hole. That didn't explain who he was shouting at though.

**

It started some time ago, back when life was going well for Pollution - too well, perhaps. He should've known something would come along and bite him on the arse, that's the natural circle of life, after all. He had just formed his family, SMOG, under Godfather Disorder in Vegas. Close friends of his bloodline had begun rallying around him to support him in paving his future - he'd even been generously gifted huge tributes to get himself started. Life in the Mafia world for Pollution could not have been more perfect! However, life at home was about to take a drastic turn for him. As a Mafioso in this world of ours, we tend not to let our home-life affect business but some things just have too much pull on a man. While he was a strong, young gentleman - he always had trouble with self-control. Not the sort of self-control that stops you gambling - he'd kicked that habit a while ago, but the sort of self-control that would make rational thoughts a distant memory and drunken thoughts a regularity.

It was a typical Friday night.. He'd been out and about, seeing to business, sinking a few of his favourite spirits as he went about the usual routine. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Friday night until he found himself in the doorway of his own marital bedroom staring at a sight no man wants to see. 

Earlier that night, he had popped into one of the restaurants he often found himself in, it was owned by a well-known Mr. Tepani. While Tepani had never found his own feet in the Mafia world, the connections of his family and the Mafioso of Vegas went back generations. He was looked after and in return, he did a few favours now and again. This particular Friday night, Tepani was nowhere to be seen. It was unusual for him, but at the time, Pollution had thought nothing of it. After all, Pollution was a busy man himself, he understood when others found themselves inconveniently busy - but that depended on what they were busy doing, of course.

So now you've heard of Tepani - back to the bedroom. Pollution's jaw had hit the floor but his head had hit the roof. Before anyone could even say anything, Pollution had drawn his gun and fired until the gun clicked in his palm. His wife had scurried to the top of the bed, gripping the sheets against her naked body. Her mouth wide open and her eyes oozing fear. Once the shots had finished echoing around the walls, nothing could be heard but Pollution's increasing breath. It's unclear who was in more shock - him or his wife. He walked surprisingly-casually toward the bed, his eyes fixated on his wife. He popped his gun open and emptied the shells on the ground before replacing them with more rounds. Suddenly, his wife began to squeal but was quickly hushed by Pollution's movement of his finger to his mouth.

"Shh," he silenced her calmly, "Don't."

Pollution snapped the gun shut and clutched it tightly in his hand. He squinted his eyes, still staring at his wife before finding words of his own,

"Get some clothes on. Wait for me downstairs." She scuttled out of the room as fast as her legs would carry her.

Pollution stood staring at the wall for a few moments, his gun still clenched in his fist. Tears began to fill his eyes as his thoughts ran away with him. It took him a few moments to calm himself enough to move. He slowly lent further forward and peered over the side of the bed to see the face of the dirty son of a bitch he'd just found fucking his missus in his own bed. Remember the aforementioned Mr. Tepani? ... Yeah, you guessed it - that once-respected scumbag was now the bloody mess of a corpse found on his bedroom floor. Pollution couldn't fight the anger and failed to stifle a small weep. Not only had he just found his missus with another man - but he was forced to kill an old friend. Just to add to that, now he had to dispose of the body!

Pollution had finally mustered enough thoughts together to move a litle. He returned his gun to its holster and took a deep breath. He calmly walked out of his bedroom door, slowly and quietly closing it behind him. The few thoughts he had gathered had disappeared quickly and he headed for the exit. As he reached the front door, his sobbing-mess-of-a-wife had caught his eye in the living room. His blank expression remained as he stared deep into her eyes before leaving the building and heading for SMOG HQ.

Upon his arrival, he headed straight for the top floor. He'd rushed straight past his own office and banged on the two next available doors - the two belonging to @BetsyLou and @TabithaGato. They had been left at the office clearing up the last of the paperwork before the weekend. He hadn't considered that maybe they weren't there anymore, he just had to see them as soon as possible.

"Ladies. There's shit that needs sorting. Get out here."

Pollution paced up and down the hall for what felt like forever - really, it was just a few moments. He'd gone from calm to very-fucking-irrational far too quickly and suddenly burst into rage,

"LADIES. PLEASE. GET THE FUCK OUT HERE." He paused before darting back towards the stairwell, when one of the doors quickly creaked open...

One too many sheets of paper caused the pile to slide gently to the right. Unfortunately, the right was the end of the desk. The movement caught Tammy's eye just a little too late, she jumped from her chair and dropped her pen, a coarse curse in close tow. It wouldn't be enough and she was forced to watch helplessly, almost in slow motion, as the organised stack of invoices glided chaotically to the ground. She slumped back down to her chair and planted her face into her palm, pressing her fingertips into her skull.

"Aw, shite."

Her fingers shifted apart and her body tilted to the right, allowing full sight of the carnage which lay scattered across the office floor.

"Awww, fuckedy-shite."

The young woman stood, her palms pressed into the desk forcing her knuckles a stark white. Her curled dark locks would usually bounce from her shoulders and hang obediently either side of her face. Today was a different day though, her mane was instead tied up in a clearly hastily prepared pile toward the back of her head. She was wearing a short dress which was composed of a single piece. It was typically black and nondescript, though considering the times, would raise eyebrows from those whose opinions were not dissuaded by her position, or line of work. 

She walked barefoot from behind her desk and crouched to collect paper work up. The carefully written drafts were a more daunting task than any of the other aspects of her role which she was required to perform in. Running a legitimate front was harder than being a smuggling, cheating, deviant of Las Vegas. Though she still wasn't entirely sure what the front actually did. While her hands scooped together the documents, she found herself scowling at the ground and made a mental note to question Pollution on this at a later date.

She stood with a huff, her dress effortlessly falling back into position around the top of her knees. A single curl fell from the messy bun held up by a black velvet band and drifted across her face. She blew it to the side with a second huff and dropped the paperwork back on the desk. Centered, this time, and sat back against it, looking out across the city through the window. 

"LADIES. PLEASE. GET THE FUCK OUT HERE."

She raised her brow as her head turned sharply to the left.

"Well that was feckin' rude."

She opened the door a portion, just as the one opposite her opened too, and BetsyLou appeared, also curiously irritated by the demand.

It was Friday Night and BetsyLou was getting ready to finish up work at the HQ and hit the town with Tammy. Having palmed off all the boring paperwork to her, treating her to a meal was the least she could do. 

As she was smearing on some lipstick and powdering her nose Betsy heard the boss arrive. He sounds a little agitated, she thought with a shrug as she put on some rouge. Pollution then raised his voice impatiently. Rolling her eyes, she growled under her breath as she slammed down her make up brush and headed towards the office door. As she swung the door open wildly she noticed the perplexed face of TabithaGato. Betsy turned in the direction of the stairs.

What the fuck is all the racket about?

Pollution had spun instantly as he heard the voice of his Right Hand and life-long friend. He stared at her, attempting to fight the tears. Her attitude had fallen entirely on deaf ears and all Pollution could hear whizzing through his head was the dominant whistling of insanity creeping in on him. His teeth were clenched, his breathing was struggling to find rhythm. He was trying so hard to keep it all together. Next, he saw the concerned young Tammy step into the hall - the confused look on her face grew as she caught eye-contact with Pollution. Pollution was a typical man, he didn't cry unless he was chopping onions, but this time, he was beaten. A single tear drop made a track down his cheek. Before he could allow a second out, he burst into anger,

"THE CHEATING FUCKING BITCH WAS FUCKING TEPANI."

He was still angry. He thought shouting would help - it didn't.

"THE CHEATING..." he began to whimper before he could repeat it.

"... Fucking whore..." his voice cracked. He'd finally given into the pain and let his body slump as he broke.

"I found them. IN MY FUCKING BED." He was slipping between anger and heartache.

Pollution was out of words. His body grew less rigid as he'd finally realised what this meant. He released a huge sigh and dropped to his knees. As his legs met the ground, he threw his fist into the nearby wall before leaning his head against it and muttering angrily to himself. The hall had fell silent, which only left him room for more outburst. Banging his fist against the wall, he suddenly stopped and lifted his head. He stared into the crack on the wall which much resembled the state of his life right now.

"Hang on..." he rose from the floor, standing as his face changed shapes and colour. Quickly becoming a deep red, he burst open again,

"She's pregnant... She's fucking PREGNANT. What if it's his?!"

At this point, he'd gone through more emotions than his body knew how to handle. He was quickly burning through his energy and grew so tired, numbness was creeping in on him.

"Ladies.. I just.." he struggled for words

"Tepani is at my place." He took his keys out of his pocket and dropped them on the floor before throwing his back into the wall and sliding down it.

"One of you go over there. Take some of the lads. Get rid of him. Get rid of my wife. I don't care where you take her, just get her out of my house. I'll deal with her."

He let out a sigh and closed his eyes.

"And someone get me some fucking whiskey."

Betsy stood in stunned silence for a moment as if her eyes were deceiving her then shook her head while inhaling sharply as she marched across the floor. As long as she had known the man she had never seen him react like this before, although in the circumstances she could hardly blame him, the poor guy had been through the mill lately with personal shit.

Drawing near him now she knelt near where the keys were and picked them up in her left hand. Betsy looked Pollution in the eyes and as he stared back with the look of a little boy lost, she knew what she had to do. Tilting her head sideways a little as if to show some sympathy, she extended her right hand and slapped him across the face.

Now, GET UP! Laying there like an eejit...Get off the cross! Someone else needs the wood.

Extending her hand towards his, she wondered how he was going to react. Pollution had a look of bewilderment in his eyes...she might just have got away with it. 

You left a few bodyguards behind, didn't you? He nodded his ascent. Ok, I'll take care of this. We'll get your wife sent off to her mothers for a while, I'll drive her myself. 

Helping the boss to his feet, Betsy glances over to TabithaGato, without needing to speak Tammy nods, it's meaning clear.

I'll make a few calls, put out the feelers if anyone is really missing this scumbag...get this cleaned up.

Reassured that the boss was being looked after Betsy went back to her office to pick up her coat and favourite bodyguard, TomRawrdy.

We're up Tom. Clean up on aisle 6. Grab a few of the guys...

There was silence as Betsy and her small entourage stepped purposely past them and down the hall. Only the noise of shuffling clothing and footsteps on the ground. Gato watched over Pollution's shoulder as the bodyguards passed through the doors at the end and into the waiting elevator. Betsy looked back though, almost emotionless if you didn't know her better. Tammy happened to know though that if she didn't care, she wouldn't have looked back at all. The chime of the elevator rang as the gates opened and closed behind them. Soon it was just the two of them.

She looked him up and down for a moment, slumped disconsolate against the wall. At least he was standing.

"What d' ya' tink then, 'fella?"

Gato watched him for a moment, her head tilted back slightly, as it did looking most people in the eye. There was no coherent response, but she wasn't really expecting one. She smiled and pushed her door open as her steps took her toward him. She took his arm in hers and they walked into the glowing office. Only the lights of the city and the setting sun lit the room, offering a soft orange glow contrasted by the exciting vivid casino frontages. She cleared her desk without thought. The piles of invoices and documents became an indiscriminate pile of paper on the floor. She pulled up one of the armchairs positioned for visitors and edged it around the desk.

Pulling open her draw, she took out two bottles, both full and shimmering in the lights.

"Scotch or Irish?"

She smiled and placed them on the surface, taking out the glasses which clinked together between her fingers. She lifted the bottle of her fathers single malt and pulled the cork. Once the liquor was poured she prepared to seat herself, though as Pollution stood watching the lights of Vegas, her smile dropped and her brow raised. She could see he wasn't quite there, despite how much he needed Betsy to slap him.

As the neon glows hit his face, he wouldn't see her coming, and she soon had her arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace. 

"Ya' don't have ta' tell her you needed a hug, don'tcha worry."

Pollution released a huge sigh from the depths of his chest and responded with one simple word,

"Irish."

If there was anything the Irish knew how to do - it was to drink. It was only natural he'd pick the Irish over the Scotch, regardless of society's general preference for Scotch. Pollution had always been a drinker of some description. It was almost inevitable in this way of life. He'd had an ancestor which always remained off the sauce and actually found himself in huge financial debt instead, in an attempt to feed his endless gambling addiction. Pollution felt he was wiser and while he had the odd flutter, he always swore he'd control it. However, every man has his vice and it seemed Pollution's was the occasional few-too-many bevvies. It often gave him the strength to get through the rough days and the relaxation to enjoy the finer times in life. What could possibly go wrong with something that could affect your mood so much...?

Pollution paced the room a little, his eyes fixated looking out onto the beautiful city of Vegas through the floor-to-ceiling glass pane. By this point, his dark attire was screwed up and barely clinging to him. Just hours ago, he was bustling around the streets cracking jokes, enjoying fine cigars and collecting payments. Now he looked like he'd been dragged off the street and left out-of-place in a swanky office. Tammy would never treat him differently for his appearance, though. While he looked a state, all she cared for was ensuring the man could go on to continue another day in the stressful times they lived in.

It took him a few moments to notice the liquid resting in the bottom of the glass on Tammy's desk. Taking it from the dark oak surface, he slumped himself back into the surprisingly-comfortable 'visitors' chair. He'd not found himself on this side of a desk for quite some time, but anything soft would've been comforting for his aching body at this point. He swigged half of the liquid, clenching his face as it warmed the inner confines of his chest. Releasing a refreshing noise, he lifted the glass in the air and took a look at Miss Gato,

"You paddies do a good job with your booze..."

Pollution downed the remainder of the glass and slammed it on the desk, almost aggressively. He'd found himself avoiding the subject of his wife but his brain still couldn't shift it and so the mental torture began. The slap Betsy had laid on him hadn't marked his face, but it had definitely had a stronger effect on his soul. He knew she was right - he should man up and deal with this shit like he does anything else, head on. However, the softer tone he heard from Tammy was also true, he wouldn't refuse a hug. He didn't often show himself as a man who required affection but after all, he was only human - regardless of how much he'd try to claim otherwise.

"Tammy... Your Daddy had the finest taste in whiskey. Not the smartest of people when it came to tending for his children but, his view on whiskey? I can't agree with him more."

Pollution allowed his head to flop back in the chair. He sat for a moment staring at the ceiling. Thoughts of how his potential-child would see him in years to come ran through his head. He wondered what sort of future tonight's happenings had left him. He needed to dull his mind and numb the thoughts for a while before they numbed him.

Waves of emotion passed through the young Gato. She felt frustration for the man she looked up to, frustration that he was no doubt feeling at a greatly increased dose. He was clearly stuck at a cross roads, or was perhaps resigning himself to the one path he knew he had to take, however reluctant. The future he had planned was now in tatters, and that was no doubt casting a looming shadow of uncertainty and frustration through his mind.

Next came anger, anger toward the one who had done this to him. It took intense malevolence to knowingly and purposely maim the trust and loyalty that bonded husband and wife, especially in the manner to which Pollution had been subjected to. Tammy wouldn't make it visibly known that she was feeling such resentment, she simply let it bubble around inside her, curling into her fists and igniting her eyes.

Her emotions gradually drained away as she understood that no amount of her getting excited would help the situation. Compassion remained as she finally broke her empathetic stare and pulled her chair up to his, sitting opposite. 

"Way I see it, she's nay' worth bein' upset over. Anyone willin' ta' hurt the one that loves them like that doesn't deserve your time, let alone your grief."

She filled up the glasses, letting the liquor flow freely into the vessels. Carelessly and promptly, the whiskey licked at the edges of the glass, before finally being allowed to settle.

"As for tha' kid..."

She took a moment to allow him to entertain the thought once more.

"Currently, that kid is at risk of growin' up without a father. I'll be tha' first ta' tell ya', that it isn't blood that makes a good parent. It's certainly not a privilege that cheatin' ..."

She held her tongue.

"...she should be allowed ta' walk away with. That kid will be what you make of it, and that isn't decided by who tha' daddy is." 

Much of what had happened in the last few hours had become a blur. Pollution was undoubtedly confused, torn fiercely between the countless different emotions pulling him all sorts of directions. He loved his wife. Everything he ever did was for his wife. How could she do something like this to him, something so carelessly destructive? Sure, he'd made some mistakes in his time, but he didn't deserve this sort of payback after all he'd done for the woman.

However confused he was, the young lady's calming, delicate voice brought some light to the chaos his brain was dealing with, like a soothing tide, still interrupted within the crashing of choppy waves. She'd touched on something Pollution should've spent more time considering - the child. Yes, he was heartbroken and angry but he had to consider what this meant for the innocent unborn child about to be thrown into the middle of his marriage's debris. Could he raise a child that potentially wasn't his? He was a compassionate man, but he was unsure whether he'd be able to see past the resentment and give the child the love it deserved. Who was he kidding? Of course he could. He was a mafioso - not a monster.

He'd seen the pain and strife that followed a Fatherless life in his Left Hand Lady. The struggle she'd face daily due to the shortcomings of her Father were not something he'd wish upon any child - least of all one that his own wife had carried. Even if there was a slight chance it wasn't his blood, he knew it'd still carry his name.

He released a sharp sigh and lifted the refilled glass from the table, nodding at Tammy in subtle appreciation. Swirling the liquid around the beautiful shimmer of the clear glass, he took heed in the wise words the young lady had to share. For all the pain a Fatherless life had caused her, perhaps it had played its part in sculpting the astute young woman.

"You're right Tammy. The child is what's important here. And I'll do all I can for the precious little soul."

He'd admitted the inevitable and slid himself to the front of his seat, sipping the Irish elixir. It had taken a lot for him to calm and Tammy had grown so adept to talking him down. However, the rage and pain caused by his wife still lay in wait within him. Once again, it had began frantically contaminating his mood, spiralling into acceleration and finally gripped his control,

"What about her..?" He couldn't help but extend his question.

"What about that cheating bitch?" His anger grew to fury.

Quicker than Tammy could sooth him, he'd slammed the glass on the wooden desk, the echo muffled by his sudden ascent from his seat. He begun pacing the office once more. He appeared to have almost lost control of his bodily movements, running his hands hopelessly through his lacking hair and interlocking them behind his head. He respected Tammy and didn't want her to feel her words were wasted on him but he struggled to fight his growing frenzy. He lacked restraint and a harsh growl burst from his chest.

"FUCK IT. FUCK IT ALL."