Apologies to Snype - you will be in a story, just not this one. Dx
And to you, SirSalt, I counted 16 intelligent posts, and 50 are required for entry. However, no members have the authority to allow you in, so it's up to a capo (Boris, Charlotte, or Britkid)
At 10/30/06 04:48 PM, GhandenHanden wrote:
These are fucking awesome. I'd like to shake your hand and buy you a drink.
Very well - thus, you have. xD
Notice: I don't believe this is as good as the other two parts, but serves to lead into the fourth.
Under Fire
Continuation of The Guest
Red's death sent shockwaves through the Mafia - considered a friend by many, his death caused some to lose it, and made the capos more conscious about themselves then ever, surrounding themselves with personal bodyguards wherever they went for protection.
The work kept pouring into the poor scientists, who were already before overworked, pouring out new technology for Mafian protection. With higher demand than ever for new security devices, they weren't finding much time for rest.
On the other hand, some departments claimed they had never done less. Nomader began finding himself sitting in the bar more often than his office, drinking so much that hangovers turned into slight headaches.
"Let me buy you a drink," said Handen, approaching Nomader from behind one day, about a week after Red's death. Nomader smiled, somewhat pleased, always happy to take a free glass of booze when he could get one. "Business is pretty dry, huh," said Handen, picking up a beer that the bartender just tossed him.
"Nothing going on. The last time I went to court was nearly two months ago when we still had people outside the mansion's gates... I tell you, everyone's crazy," said Nomader, sipping on his glass, then placing it back on the counter.
After putting back down his glass, Handen laughed a bit. "Well, it's great to know we have hermits running our paychecks," said Handen, smiling. He turned towards Nomader, who he found slumped over on the counter. "Damn, must've been one drink too many," said Handen, tapping Nomader on his side. "You there?" he asked.
Nomader didn't move - Handen looked closer, and realized that Nomader was dead - his hair was coated with blood, and a small hole entered through the back of his skull, where a bullet passed through.
"Jesus," said Handen, quickly taken aback. In all his time at the Mafia, no one had ever died right beside him - he was the driver, not the shooter.
"Don't move, Handen," said a voice from behind. Handen stopped where he was. "Brit, you asshole," he whispered, quietly.
"He was too loyal to Boris," said Britkid, smiling behind Handen's back. "Too powerful too - could've changed people's opinions, and it wasn't a chance I was willing to take," he said strongly, as if he didn't have to think twice about his decision.
"Jesus, Brit, Ghost isn't even dead yet! Leave the power struggle for later!" shouted Handen angrily, thinking the capo's behavior as idiotic, while still making a last ditched effort for his life.
"What do you mean, 'Ghost isn't dead'? He killed himself last night," said Britkid. "And now you'll die knowing it," replied Britkid, almost cruelly, pulling out his pistol with the bulky silencer on the end, and fired at Handen's head. Handen slumped to the floor like a splintered piece of wood, in pieces, even though only one shot brought him down.
"And here dies the liar Nomader and the venerable Handen, sipping a drink one second, and dead on the floor the next," said Britkid, laughing as he walked away.
The next day, the Mafia had a massive burial for Ghost alone - the others were unimportant. "Here lies the greatest man in Newgrounds," his epitaph read, carved into the tough marble, as if it spoke for his character. His body was covered in dirt, sealed underground forever.
As the last shovelful of dirt fell, the Mafia ended as a whole. Boris claimed rightful ownership to the Mafia, and Brit claimed Boris was unfit, threatening him with death. And Civil War was on the horizon, about to begin.
The Mafia had collapsed.
Will be continued!