Omerta

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The streets were dark and dimly lit as no one stirred, everyone under deep slumber. Armand was awake though staring through his windows space at the dark pavement below. He was kept awak by the amount of homework he had to do. He was fianlly done, and tomorrow was a new day, more school. He escaped the easy and tranquil window for his bed. He slipped under the covers and began to sleep.

--Azrael_Adross

Sleeping was not difficult and in fact, he slept so well he woke in the same position as he laid down in. One arm completely out of circulation stung as he rose to consciousness. The sun had long since been out and even the morning birds had stopped singing by now.

His clock read 10:00 and the familiar smell of eggs and ham came from down below.

"Armand! Get your breakfast!" His mother's voie sounded from the foot of the stairs.

Somehow he'd forgotten, this day was a school holiday.

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

He moaned out as the rays struck his eyes. He gritted his teeth and began to gather his wits and reason and trying to reject the pleasure that was sleep. He awoke fully for the light was also merciless in its arousing of him. He grunted as he stepped away from the bed his wish to sleep being spirited away by the call of his mother. He neared the window and surveyed what object passed through and forth into the streets. He smiled at how life was for him.

He left the solace of the room and paced down for breakfast. He was only dressed in a shirt and pajamas(Oops, forgot to buy this one, lol). The aparment was nice, a duplex suitable for his whole family. They rented it out monthly and thanks to his uncle they had no problems with paying in delay. They were however not abusive of their uncle's power in the streets. They knew their responsibilities.

He smiled as the smell of food, hot food, came to his nostrils. He searched for his brother who always was punctual with such events concerning food, hoping to rub his hair and greet him. He met his mother's eyes and greeted her accordingly setting himself upon the table hoping his mother would not reprimand his eating without washing his hands. He gathered his utensils and began to dig in.

--Azrael_Adross

As the young man ate his breakfast, his mother sat down with a cup of coffee. She watched the boy for a moment and then said, "What are you doing today? I need you to run errands for me."

Her face seemed to always be in a heavy scowl. Years of experience brought caverns to her eyes and a sort of sullen indifference to her demeanor. She was a stern mother, but loving and as her son knew all to well, the request for errands was an order not a simple inquiry.

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Armand wiped his mouth with a napkin from the table and proceeded to drink his milk. He looked his mom in the eye and smiled musing, "Mom, I forgot it was even a holiday today. Besides I'm Italian, not like the white kids down my school who use their time strolling about parks or some other stuff. My place is here with my crew and my family. Your errands are as good as done. What do you want done?"

--Azrael_Adross

She smiled at her son's respect. She'd raised her well, never a question of her authority and never shy to follow her wishes. The moment passed, however, and her face hardened.

"Your cousin Paul needs some help with his trucks today. You go do this. He'll pay you."

Paulie ran trucks for Armand's Uncle and although they were usually clean, they weren't always so. "Running trucks" typically meant taking them from the airport to the Giovanni's warehouse in Jersey. It was a good full-morning activity and wouldn't be the first time Armand participated in such questionable work.

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

"Ah yes cousin Paul I wonder how old he is now," he wondered. He looked at his mother again while he rose from the table driving the last bit of breakfast into his mouth. He finished the chewing and then queried, "When will I be going and where." "By the way, where's Toni?" he added.

--Azrael_Adross

"Your brother went with your father to the market. He'll be making dinner tonight. You do not be late. You be back before seven o'clock," she said firmly, her accent drenched with the Old World.

Honking sounded from outside.

"There is Paulie. You go now, I'll clean. Go, now."

Paul, short and broad-shouldered was clean-shaven and well groomed. He jumped out of his black coupe, wearing nothing other then a suit, tie and fedora. Hardly 19, the older cousin looked like he was in his thirties with the wardrobe.

He honked again, impatiently signaling Armand to come.

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Damn I havne't the time to change, oh well time to run, he thgouht as he heard the car's noise. He ran from breakfast up to his room and rummaged for his wanted drobe. The honking was annoying and picked at his nerves, he jotted out his head through the window and signaled his cousin to hold for three minutes and went back inside to garb himself more properly. He jumbled for his denim slacks and socks finishing of with a pair of sneakers, he had beforehand worn a fresh new regiment of boxers. He took of his worn shirt and replaced it with a fresh one drobing a leather jacket over it. He flashed his hand over his desk and grabbed his wristwatch and was an expert on wearing it speedily. He sped of his room and rattled down the stairs and charged for the outside. He halted abruptly upon reaching his cousin's car and said while he panted droopiong over the hood of his car," Nice, I haven't even taken a proper shower even, thanks a lot cousin."

--Azrael_Adross

"What do I care about a shower?" Paulie said, "What you've been fucking or somethin'? Get in. We gotta go to Long Island."

He smacked the sedan's hood and hopped in the driver's seat. Waiting for Armand to climb inside, he lit a cigarette.

"You grew three inches since I last saw ya."

He offered a cigarette.

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

"Too bad I didn't notice I've grown that much. Who gives a damn anyway, and watch your words, my mom's near," he started with an irritated smile. He straightened out and moved for his seat licking his lips as he opened the door and sat. He passed his hand through his hair and set his eyes upon the offering of his cousin, he looked him the eye for it. He was giving him a peircing gaze greatly stating his dissapproval, "I grew, that's all. I can smoke it right now but still, I won't cuz I don't like it," he answered to his gratious offer.

He shook his head as he motioned for his seat belt fixing himself to its familiar security. "Let's just do this, and by the way, being clean gives us men a better chance of getting laid," he stated as he eased himself to his errand.

--Azrael_Adross

Paulie kicked the car into gear and drove away from the house starting their long trip to Long Island. Usually runs were from New Jersey, being in Long Island it would take most of the morning and probably the afternoon.

"Uncle's cranking up the business, Mand. Got me as a button-man these days. He's taking business from Balducci's. They need all kinds of help. Looking for anyone to take on, you know."

Flicking ash out the window he grinned at his cousin, "Anyone."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Armand chuckled as he opened his window to alloy a batch of fresh air to revoke the cigarette smoke. The Balducci family was truly something. Armand knew this because he knew enough about the kind of life his family lead, a life he accepted and won't change for the better. He also knew that knowledge was power, to survive he had to listen, to observe, to learn. He sighed as he set his eyes upon the passing road before he asked, "So the Balduccis are in somekind of trouble or what? Cuz Uncle doesn't usually do something without reason to. So what's the other reason why uncle is into this?" He smiled as he saw children and the fresh air simming about his hair.

--Azrael_Adross

"Well, I don't know the details, but my pops says the Balducci's are on the way out. They've lost their trucking routes to hoodlums. No organization, you know? Uncle's sending us to take one of those routes now. That's why it's Long Island."

He tossed the cigarette out the window and all joking was set aside, "Hey listen, cous, it may get a little rought out there. You know? Balducci's may not be so keen on giving up their routes."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

"So am I,besides, a job is a job. I was born for this cuz, no turning back if you catch my drift," Armand smoothly said caressing his face with the wind. He was setting his eyes on the landscapes as the car sped fast each one. "Anyway, about those routes, if they do get rough, let's just run 'em over with the car if we ain't got munitions to spare," he mused chuckling. He knew all to well the gravity of their situation but s also knew the place of a proper jest, if it was proper indeed.

--Azrael_Adross

The young man's new sedan coasted through town before finally reaching the suburbs outside Brooklyn. It looked less like a city out there than anywhere else in New York. Ranchers still keeping herds in various places and low level homes passed along their drive.

It was an hour before they finally pulled into the driveway of a nondescript home keeping a large amount of empty land and snow-patched wild grass. Paul parked the car and said, "I gotta do somethin'. You can't tell nobody about it though, okay? This guy owes me some money. I ain't supposed to shit on the side, but I gotta make a buck, you know, got a monkey on my back."

He pulled a semi-automatic from his coat and checked the clip. Pocketing the gun he left the car and peered in.

"Are you comin'?"

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

"Of course dear cousin. I know we all have responsibilities and since we are of blood, I am under Omerta. Just make sure you are too. Besides, I do believe we might not need that if you wanna make this interesting," Armand replied. Rembering his past of a boy calling him Mandy and got pummeled to submission and then became his friend after it, a very good friend. He was puzzled of that simple phenomena though, when he made enemies, and when he talked to them, they tended to befriend him easily.

--Azrael_Adross

Paulie charged into the house, kicking the door open with his foot. The momentum of the door crashed into a nearby floor lamp and knocked it to the ground. Inside was a woman sitting on a couch in her nightgown screaming at the invasion.

A black-haired man with a t-shirt and boxer shorts on charged in from the back room infuriated. At the sight of Paul and Armand, though he stopped.

"Shut up, bitch!" He barked at the woman, "Paulie . . ." his demeanor sounding apologetic and weak, " ... look..."

With unexpected strength, Paul back-handed the man, his nose exploding under the force. He stumbled back, stunned, and looked in horror at the splatter across his white shirt.

"Don't you ever talk to a woman that way. We're not babarians. Apologize to her."

He came up to strike again but the black-haired man took the hint, "I'm sorry ... sorry! Look, Paul, I don't got the money now, but I can get it."

Paul crouched to the weeping woman and said with as much friendliness as he could must, "Sweetheart, why don't you go make some coffee, hnh?"

She nodded, petrified but quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Armand entered the roomas if he was a thief. He was noticed not in any way as he set his back to a wall adjacent to where his cousin was. He was blank of face as he looked into the eyes of the man and said, "Wrong answer."

--Azrael_Adross

In the next moment, Paulie's gun was down the man's throat with the hammer back. Calm rage suffocated his face.

"Two thousand. What in this house is worth two thousand?"

The man weeping as the barrel of the gum crushed his tongue. He pointed weakly to a set of car keys on the coffee table. Paulie gestured to Armand with his head, keeping his eyes on the victim.

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Armand frowned in knowing what hewas bout to do. He was going to condemn the man to death in his next speech, "That car ain't worth shit if we take it." He neared his cousing and then looked into the man's eyes, "We need cold hard cash mate. Its either that or your a dead man. But Paulie here is a christian man, not much in hard cold business like me." He lied and he knew it, but the man did not. He wouldn't hurt a fly if the fly didn't hurt him. He continued, "I suggest one more week for the man cousin. The car ain't worth shit to us. We could take it now easy, but what can we do, sell it? Pawning it gets it a cut off the original price mate, we need cash, and interest." He pierced his eyes right into the man's soul. He was clacking his fists now, intimidation at its best.

--Azrael_Adross

Paulie allowed a small smirk to appear on his face and then said, "Well I suppose it'd help to know what kind of car it is. I wouldn't want to. . ."

Before he could finish his sentence the young woman came crashing through the kitchen door with a .45 and unloaded on Paulie. He took three shots to his chest and one to his head. The blasts were close range and so his wound weren't pretty. Explosions erupted from his torso and his fall toppled his gaping head.

She turned the gun on Armand.

"If you're smart you'll stay put and allow us to explain. I don't want to kill you if I don't have to."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Armand was shocked as it transpired before him. He hated the fact that he didn't see this coming. He narrowed his eyes and sported a dread frown when he screamed, "We were coming to a fair deal you bitch!" Armand paced the steps neared towards her when he continued in fury, "I was coming to a deal for interest within a week and because of you shitty stupid outburst your life and his is forfeit. You kill me now you will die. You won't kill me now you'll still die unless you have an idea of how to apologize to a man you just shot you bitch ass fool."

He was angry and fury spurned him to lose eloquence for speech depicting his aggressive ways. He raised a finger to the woman and said, "You better have something nice to say or else your gun won't save you, even if it does for about three days."

--Azrael_Adross

Frightened, but steady the girl stepped back as Armand advanced.

"Stop!"

As he continued and threw words at her she screamed, "I SAID STOP!"

The next moment was a blur. The unmistakable feeling of impact crashed through Armand's shoulder. It was as someone hit him with a fist made of steel. Coldness immediately spread from his shoulder down his arm and his vision clouded with the impact of shock.

The .45 blasted open his shoulder, just above his arm. He reeled back, but did not fall and although the world temporarily faded, he did not crash into unconsciousness. The pain was at this point numbed, but aching and his heart rate doubled with each passing moment. Nausea fleeted through his stomach, but the impact subsided and his wits returned.

She had been shouting and now at last he heard her say, "Don't make me kill you! We have to talk!"

The man who had been so close to death was now standing, gripping Paulie's discarded gun.

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Armand graced his mind with racing thoughts. He first thought of the farce of him being shot while he was only sixteen because someone a hell lot older than him was at the blunt of his contracting goal with his cousin. He a contractor at sixteen was a very funny and ironic thing, and this filled his mind. He could feel the pain surging through him and these comedies were almost about to make him smile. He did smile, very easily too, despite the blood dripping down his arm. He lost it within seconds though as his wits returned and he gained back his furious eyes and icy, angry voice.

"If you were gonna talk to me?" he started slowly and softly, then blurted in a furious scream, "Why'd da fuck did you shoot me bitch." "If you wanted to talk you could've just pointed the gun at me began explaining, not fucking shoot me you goddamned ho!!" He usually condoned this vulgar profanities but he was angry and anger brought out the worst of him. "You are really dead now unless you can apologize in the right way. Trust me bitch, "He said then turning back to the rising man behind him continuing, "And son of a bitch, you can kill me now, but that'll only keep you alive for three days."

He shot back his head at the woman and said, "So you better start talking or you are all dead with my barehands and family connections." He wasn't scared of death actually, he just didn't like giving up life easy. He always chose to go down hard but trying, not easy but quitting.

--Azrael_Adross

She had enough. It would take very little for her to pull the trigger again. All of his beratements bounced off and she very slowly and calmly waited for him to finish.

"I'm giving you to the count of three to calm down and sit down so we can discuss this like civilized adults. You are way in over your head, kid. Now don't be stupid."

She paused and then said, "One..."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

"Hey lady, your the one that shot me," he said among all his words. He eased himself off as he saw nothing good come out of a dead man. He stood straight and srugged off every trickle of pain where he was shot. He knew it would take more than a gun shot to bring down his soul. He wanted an apology and he wanted it now." He frownd and strained it even harder as he began to shake from more adrenaline surges thorugh him. He stretched his neck and shoulder area to ease himself more until at that very moment that the adrenaline finally wore off.

He breathed heavily before he finally in a very angry but controlled tone, "You can start by saying sorry." He paced straight towards a couch and sat with that same angry look on his face never leaving. He despised this woman and his boyfriend, but he would listen.

--Azrael_Adross

Relieved that the situation was temporarily under control, she stopped counting and waited for Armand to sit. His wound was beginning to take over now, numbness spreading into his torso and neck. Stark coldness radiated from the wound with an epicenter of ice. Nausea gurgled in his stomach and dizziness took his head.

The man took a cigarette from the table and lit up.

"Paulie was unsreasonable," he said, "maybe you can be reasonable. You could be a millionaire if you listen to what I have to offer."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Was he turned over by pain and suffering of the gunshot wound? Yes, and it hurt every bit of his insides. Was he showing it? No, things like that have a habit of making men endure pain like this to make them manly and cry out loud from scratches to make them cute. Did he continue the endurance? No, goddamnit it hurt like hell and already he knew he was losing a lot of blood. Did he like the fact that at sixteen he was already shot? He hated every fucking cliche'd bit of that fact. Teenage heroes were so cliche', good thing he was with the goodfellas, not the schoolboys banishing demons or kiddie gatekeepers or something. He was doing something for the family, a concept most kids his age in modern times don't even understand.

He began to flinch and shake as he tried to maintain his conciousness and not fall flat on his face. He was pained gravely and his stomach did no better to improve it. Slightly the vulgarity of the place anf the cigarrette smoke began to dim his world. He clenched his eyes still trying until he garnered enough strength to keep his voice up. He was smiling with the anger gone when he said, "I said you can start with sorry." He began to shake even more and his shot shoulder was continuing its limp state. He breathed deeply and then said, "I'm bleeding." He pushed away the clothing to reveal the wound as his face began to pale even more. He was shaking his breathing now when he said in almost a whisper, "Money won't make me strong. This does." Upon the statement his bloodied hand clenched to a fist and struck his heart, only to flinch with a yel as the pain seared through his arm. The agony was obvious when he blurted out, "Start talking already."

--Azrael_Adross

Satisfied that he had Armand's ear for at least a moment, the man sighed for a moment and then proceeded.

"Paulie gave me an investment, but because he's an impatient fuck, he wouldn't listen to a god damned word I said. Gina here saved my life and now I'm going to save yours.

"Instead of giving you the return on the money, you can go with me to a hiest of a lifetime. All the plans are in motion. There is an art collector upstate that I've got all prepped. Hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of art.

"You come with me and help me rob the place, you get a cut straight down the middle."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Armand was desperate, desperate to stifle the smile he brought at this man's words. The smile turned to a guffaw and he would have bawled over on the floor but the wound pained him quite. "I'm sixteen and don't even smoke, and you expect me to jack something I know nothing about. I don't even know how to pick pocket and you think on bringin' me in on your little project," he snickered, shaking a bit from his immense humor. He grunted a few seconds later though as the body movement shot at his wound. "I have been givin' a lot of hints already and still you don't get it, Im fucking bleeding here you idiots!" he screamed at them before he grunted again from the pain.

He began to breathe off the hostility from his heart though as he gathered his composure. He looked the woman in the eye with an icy glare sending her a clear message what he wanted, bandages goddammit. He was intrigued though and this picked at his mind, "You have caught my attention though, so please elaborate a bit more on what your both about to steal. I'll think about joining you and if I won't, I won't partake by the cut but I'll short leash my cousin enough for you both to have it done by a week, seven days no more but if less Paulie would be mighty happy. By the way, don't ever call him a fuck anything cuz if you do I won't ever guarantee you your safety. Uncalled for profanity isn't something I allow in my midst. But if I do join your escapade my cut better be seperate from Paulie's invesment cut. I don't have things I wanna buy yet but funds are something you need to get by."

"Maybe I'll even go to china for the rest of my school vacation," he mused but went on with more pressing matters, "But all in all I need to know this from you. I want a detailed plan of what you want to do, I wanna see jinks in it cuz juvinile hall ain't nice and I don't plan on becoming anyone's prison bitch capiche? I wan't to know when cuz I might have school, them where cuz I just wanna lay this out for my mind a bit more."

--Azrael_Adross

After his monologue, the woman went into the other room for bandages and in a moment wrapped his wound carefully. The man continued to speak.

"I'm bringing you in as a favor to him," he said pointing to Paulie, "had he listened instead of pulling a gun he'd have his return and then some. You'll get the cut Paulie was and you'll keep your mouth shut to your friends. The money you'll make in this deal will mean never having to be accountable to them anyway.

"The guy collects art and antiques in a old money home upstate. He's old and crippled. Every Thursday he goes into town to attend a blue-haired social. The security guard works for me. We walk in, we walk out. That's all there is."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

The wound still hurt like hell but he didn't let it get to him. He had bandaged up and that eased it well enough for him to smoothen his composure. He was a very composed young man when times werenot like this. Getting shot at always ticked him off even though this was his first time. He just hated getting hurt for no good reason. The question still remained though, will he trust them enough? Was he willing to endanger his future for the sake of money? Were they smart enough to actually tight up the loose end, which was the guard?

The answer from him was pretty simple as he though long and hard on what to do next. He breathed to blend away his paranoia and replace it with logic. "I know your not gonna cross me on this one, but the question is whether I can trust the security or not," Armand began easily. "I'm sixteen and have a lot ahead of me and I ain't gonna jeopardize it in an idiotic plan. If you want me in this, better make sure my part in it is low risk when regarding the police, understood?" he asked intently.

--Azrael_Adross

The man rolled his eyes after a heavy sigh.

"Look, you little shit, there ain't no guarantees in life. Either you are in and take Paulie's share or I whack you too. Consider this a fucking favor because I have a conscience. The security is sound and if I get caught, you get caught to.

"I'm not some stupid grease-back guinea fuck like the people you are used to dealing with. I'm not part of an organization. I'm a professional. And while I'm at it, allow me to turn the tables. If you so much as slip up, your ass is in garbage. I'm the one taking the risk here, you arrogant punk and if it weren't for my goddamned conscience it'd be a risk I wouldn't take at all.

"Leave the negotiations at the table, kid. They have no weight."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

"You givin me a favor," Armand cried out in anger, "I was about to give you an extension before you girlfriend there almost got me capped." "But sure, I'm in." Satisfied that they were in agreement, the man said, "I'm Bobby Knight and this is my partner Ella McCartney. We steal things for a living."
 * 36: Author: Laveaux,  PostPosted: Mon May 23, 2005 4:34 pm

Offering a gesture of partnership, he extend his hand to Armand.

"Let's get that fixed up."

After a phone call and a fifteen minute wait, a gray-haired, eye-glassed man with a dark suit, bowtie and short-brimmed fedora came into the house. He carried a black bag and set it next to Armand.

Taking a throrough look at his bullet wound, the man said, "Get this boy some whiskey. This'll hurt like hell."

Bobby quickly obliged and handed Armand a cocktail glass full to the brim.

"Take the entire glass, the doc here's going to take out the bullet."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Armand made a slight bow with his head when he clasped the man's hand in his. He expected as much from the man who just said he stole things for a living, a professional.

The man's hand was was sleight and smooth to the touch, a testament to his profession. I don't know why, or how but he didn't act the part of a real theif. The suave was never there, nor the subtleties of his voice. Not one inch of elegance or proper eloquence was in him, or his partner. They spoke laike Americans, true Americans. They spoke to the point, no jousting levity at their words or tones. I stare into the deep abyss of the furture and already I find nothing good come of this bond. I pride mayself in work of more secure manner, but this is risky. I don't trust them yet, but what choice do I have, I'm bored to the bone, besides someone needs to watch over them.

He took alcohol graciously not letting them know that he didn't even drink yet due to his age. He would either get drunk in seconds or just numb his wound a bit.

The glass in my hand was full and inviting. I take a sip and every sip shrills my bones with its bittersweet warmth. The wound was fast dissipating in pain as the hypocratic man entered to men rent flesh. I try to look away and drink and drink hoping to get drunk in seconds rather than live through the painful healing. I can see the room in full view now and the faces within it. Then I realized that my cousin was still unconcious, that when he wakes up hell will break loose. He ain't got no weapon but the attention on me is enough for him to rouse unnoticed. I could smile deep inside if it wasn't for the pain. I try to scream but the alcohol was doing its job pretty good. My eyes start to faze out as my vision blurred. Then I was out.

--Azrael_Adross

Burning everything it touched, the whiskey poured into his mouth like fire forcing his chest into immediate heartburn. In the next second the sensation washed out into numb drunkenness and with each passing gulp the sensation increased. An empty stomach, a young metabolism and an unbuilt tolerance level made Armand an easy victim to the grain alcohol's talons.

Drifting into unconsciousness was not very difficult. He would not have to stay alert and feel the sensation of the doctor's calipers as he dug into the young man's shoulder searching for the slug that resided somewhere underneath the muscle tissue. He would be oblivious to the staunching and bandages as well as the shot of antibiotics injected into his arm.

It would be four hours later, in fact, before Armand came to consciousness at all. A plaster ceiling appeared above him and a semi-comfortable bed beneath him. The woman, Ella dabbed his wound with a wet rag sending numb stinging through his body.

"You should be fine," she said, "sorry about all of this. We didn't think Paulie would try to kill us. I hope you understand we are not like this. It was self-defense. He wasn't just trying to kill my husband, he was about to take millions of dollars from me."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

My cousin is dead and I didn't even notice. I thought the shot bore on him like a club on steel, but know. It was more like a headshot, a real bloody headshot. How the fuck am I gonna tell his mom, my uncle, and my folks about this? These fools had my trust at the price of my ignorance, damn them to hell. Family was family, even the bad ones cuz they could always turn around. Nobody was absolute in evil, we are all perfect in our imperfection. That's why nobody deserves unwarranted death.

Arman looked her hard in they as his mercy passed and went to and fro. He screamed deep inside upon finally realizing that his cousin drew no breath, and he was not very keen in letting this be a secret. He then spoke hissing every inch of his soul, "My cousin is dead."

--Azrael_Adross

"We're professionals, kid. It wasn't personal. He was going to whack my husband. To be honest I'm not sure why Carlo wants you in on this. Something about his god damned 'conscience'.

"Look. I know who you are and I know who your family is. We are not connected and your family will crush us when they find out. I'm just hoping your cut from this heist will be enough to keep you quiet.

"And just so you know, we are not without our friends either."

The wound was numb and her cleaning helped it even more.

"Can you move your arm?"

If he tried he would find that he could with not too much effort.

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Keeping my mouth shut won't save their lives. I'de be blamed by both my conscience and family by these couple's deaths and my cousin's. Just because od bad fucking luck. I was givin the guy a deal with Paulie, a one week extension and then lead started flying. Slugs og minute care and grace, straight and blunt to the point, no mercy, no remorse. The lead feels nothing, but how bout shooter, is the shooter human? always. Those that live feel the guilt of blood on their hands and yet that feeling ain't present of either of them's eyes. Armand was keen to look them both hard in the eyes trying to find hints of guilt or remorse. If he found none, which he did, he was in trouble, and angry.

They've killed before and whoever it was must've been big to see not even fear in their eyes. No worry, just a big sloberring look of joyful tears at the prospect of a big fat check dropping on their lives. They were professionals and scared they were none. They've killed before yet this guy here had a conscience, conscience my ass. Fools, they'd probabaly kill me if a tell them thuis but what the hell, my innocence is broken anyway so why give a damn? Time to be Frank and Rollin.

"Keepin myself shut and silent won't do neither of you any good. Less you both got a plan to escape the blame for this I'de be happy to stay shut, but that would be lyin to my soul. You killed my cousin without even listening to what we were doin Irish," Armand started, grazing off with his best impression of his Uncle Benny, his father's hitman friend, hard and gritty," Yet your both expecting me to lie out shut. You both haven't even said one bit of sincere apologies to me and the dead. Yeah sure, everybody's a bad evil sonnova but that doesn't merit them any whacking unless you ain't got no choice. Paulie's an impatient person but you can't call him a fuck. He's a person person like me even though he might be actin mo' like a brute. He ain't no hardcore waster, yet you still called him a fuck, even when you knew he was high on cyanide now. Now that is real fucking funny."

He sighed breathing off some steam from the rants and then said, "What do you plan on doing to shift the blame for this. Dead men do tell tales even though at the era we are now those are mostly lies. By the way, when's the work? I just wanna get this over with. Oh and yeah, I can move my arm fine thank you.

--Azrael_Adross

She stood and lit a cigarette regarding the young man with callous eyes. Taking a drag she smirked and said, "Your soul? You're a guinea fuck just like the rest of them. And, by the way, I owe you no apologies, it was self-defense.

"Anyway, none of that matters. We just need you to keep your mouth shut and the rest of it will be worked out. You'll be thanking me when the job is done."

"We'll be leaving soon. If you're up for it."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

"Maybe you should stop callin me a fuck now since you'll be workin with me. Besides I used the word on the sense that keepin myself shut won't do neither of you any good,"Armand explained as thouroughly as he simply can, "Which means lyin to myself. So cool Irish, I am a go."

--Azrael_Adross

It took about an hour for Bobby Knight and Ella McCartney to get there things together. When Armand was finally taken from his room, they were in very different apparel, looking closer to wealthy upstaters than their original trashed criminal look.

Paulie's body was no longer in the living room and the residue of his blood remained painted on the carpet. Bobby's black hair, now slicked back, fell in strings over his face as he loaded a pistol. Ella's blonde hair was tied up in vogue fashion.

"We got an errand to run, get in the front seat."

He was referring to Paulie's car and Armand had been connected long enough to know that sitting in the front made it easy for the fellow in the back to make a hit.

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

They most definetely don't trust me, figures.

Armand nodded and smoothly set himself upon the seat watching them move as he did. He waited calmly and began to plot out a plan, and then just halted.

What plan, what do I need a plan for? What is done is done, so be it.

--Azrael_Adross

Once again Long Island drifted by the window as Bobby took the car back toward Manhattan. They were quietly listening to the engine, not saying much. It wasn't until he turned toward upstate that the conversation picked up.

"After we are done with this thing, we can go our separate ways. I think you'll be please and won't want to go to your family. Maybe you can get a place in Brazil. I hear Rio is nice this time of year."

He grinned, as if they had been friends for years.

They at last pulled into the driveway of a very large four-story home. Parking the car quietly, they watched the house from afar. The sun was setting and it seemed they were just waiting for nightfall.

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Nothing changes you godforsaken twit. Paulie is still dead and I'm a failure to my family you son of bitch. Fuck you and your Irish bitch ass whore. Oh, and by the way you stupid fucks I'm fucking sixteen what the fuck am I gonna do in Rio. I dont run away from something I can handle. Integrity is my only asset deemed valuable. I may have failed my family but treachery has yet to touch my person. They will forgive me as my uncle would but you two are in for a long ride after this. We may go seperate but the world is small and now I have a mission in my career. I'm gonna be detective someday and your asses are on the top of my list.

Armand kept to his silence briefly nodding at his words while keeping his eyes on horizen.

--Azrael_Adross

At last the sun set and darkness consumed the landscape around them. Large winter trees were lit only by the large house's interior lights. As the night went on, the lights went out until the only the one in the upper floor remained. It was then that Bobby leaned forward, the familiar feeling of his pistol pressed against the back of Armand's head.

"There's a lot of shit in there, kid. We only want one thing, the rest of it is yours. Above the old man's bed is a post impressionist painting. You get me that and you're free. Take whatever else you want along the way."

He paused for a moment and then added, "We'll wait here. And don't get caught, you stupid guinea fuck."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

These fucks are worms past the due of turds and cretins. We have come upon a deal yet a gun still touches my head. I am now beginning to feel that they really wanted Paulie dead. Hmm, must think, I need a plan to get these guys both without myself implicated into the scene, or hell I really don't care if I do get myself in preison with these fucks. At leaast I can hurt em back.

"Your words equal you manner. I fear that thought of you two working alone, together, at nights such as this," he said with a smirk, and insulting smirk as he opened the door and stepped outside. He surveyed his surroundings cautiously trying to piece up an exact assumption of the home he was to thieve. He stared and glared at it harshly despite the creeping darkness. He truned to the to motherfuckers and then said again, "You two must have plans of the house, can I at least bring it with me, and if possible, leather gloves and a face mask."

--Azrael_Adross

Not justifying Armand's slanders, he tossed him a small canvas bag.

"Gloves, flashlight, mask. We don't have a map, so you'll just have to deal with it."

The woman couldn't hold back a snorting giggle.

"We're watching you. Don't try to run, like your kind always do," he said.

The house seemed quiet and the last light finally turned off. Armand was left alone with tools and a task.

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Fuck, my cousin is dead and now I'm these fuck up's dough boy. I'm gonna end up a loser cuz of this and lose my credibility. I need something, a plan, a plan to take my own justice. Paulie was about to listen and this was the Irish bitch's fault. The fuck ups are doin' nuthin' more than setting me up. I don't trust them, they'll pay, they'll pay now.

The plan for him was already set upon his mind. He would act now and it was do or die, there is no try, no restart. Armand slithered about in silence as darkness and night would allow him. He circled the house to its rear and searched for an entry. He tried his best to find it and soon enough it was there, the door. He slowly began to turn the knob, hoping it was open.

--Azrael_Adross

The young patsy circled the house with little effort. There was a finely catered garden and iron fence, but it was easy to surmount. Around the back in a beautifully decorated Venetian patio, the snow was recently shoveled off to reveal a path going to French doors. As luck would have it, the doors were unlocked.

It became very clear, however, that luck had nothing to do with it. Inside was a very familiar form. Vincent Giovanni himself stood in front of him, smoking a cigar. His hazy white hair was combed back and he wore one of his many nice suits. This one was navy, with larger lapels and a wider tie than the more conservative types wore. His aged face was framed with wire-rim glasses and an indifferent expression rested on his face.

They stood in a reading room with white Venetian chairs and a small fountain. Heated air wafted in from above and flickered nearby potted plants with its breeze.

The Don immediately approached Armand with a hug and kiss on the cheek, his cigar tobacco radiating away from the old man's mouth like bad fruit.

"I am sorry that a boy such as yourself had to witness our business up close. The two bandits are gone now. I hired them to reason with your cousin . . . you see, if it was one of my own then he would have known. We didn't think you would be there, but since you were, we must have a conversation. Please, sit."

He offered one of the white chairs and sat down himself, unbuttoning his jacket so his belly could hang over his belt.

"Your cousin was involved in some dirty business, Armand. We had to clean the business up, you understand. He would have brought heat on the whole operation."

Reaching over to a side table he poured some scotch that was set out waiting for him.

"Drink?"

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Now I undersand but still, if an unjustified answer was given, those two outside were dead.

"I'm sory sir, but had I not known this I would not have thought out a plan to kill those bastards outside. Forgive me for the vaulgarity but those fools no know respect once given to them. Tell me sir, I wish to understand more," Arman said as he took hold of the glass, awaiting the answers he sought.

--Azrael_Adross

"Sometimes hired help is bitter, but for the needs of the business it is best to keep them close. If you can be convinced of their loyalty, a rotten core is not so intolerable.

"I am pleased that you kept your head clear during this, Armand. If it is acceptable to your mother, I should like to offer you work in my house. I will pay you well and treat you as if you were a child of my own."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

"Had it been in truth that they did not work under you, I would be dead right now trying to kill them both, or might have succeeded. Very well uncle, you have me at your service," Armand raised his glass with eyes unmoved and drank to his future.

--Azrael_Adross

The old man smiled and took his toast, then kissed him on the cheek.

"You'll make me proud. I have a car waiting for you. Go home and get the blessing of your parents. You know where my downtown house is? Meet me there in the morning."

He paused, "It's a great deal of work, but loyalty and family go very far with me."

"One more thing, try not to worry about your rat cousin. One day very soon, you'll understand the whole story."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

"Done."

Let it be so that his day was done. He stood from his chair and bid his leave. Afterwards he was off to the car, ready to go home, "What would his mother think?" he thought to himself.

--Azrael_Adross

Although somewhat discouraged about the Don�s offer, Armand�s family had to oblige. They wished him the best in his new life and secretly prayed for his safety. No one could deny the old man�s wishes.

The first couple days at the home were rather uneventful. Armand was asked to keep watch over the grounds, patrolling his five-acre estate with a young man named Bruno. Only 18, but already 250 pounds, Bruno was not to be messed with. He was one of many goons the boss had around the house at any given time.

On Friday morning, the Don called both Armand and Bruno into his study where he poured them scotch and asked them to sit.

�There�s a problem downtown. A shilock�s taken control of one of my rackets. I need someone to go and let him know my name. Will you two do this favor for me?�

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Armand smiled and looked at his partner with a smile. He turned his eyes back at his uncle and still held that simple smile, "Where does he live? I'm bored."

--Azrael_Adross

"Over at Washington Heights, Bruno knows the place. Take his car. They call him Red and if he's a part of the Farley's I need to know. They know better. Find out what he's pushing, who his customers are and let him know there are other places to do business.

"You'll need to find his customers and get them back on our inventory."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)

Armand nodded and turned to his partner then to his uncle. He smiled at the corner of his mouth and said, "Shall we go now or do you need something else from me and Bruno uncle? And about this Red character, is he a weakling we can just beat up or do we need a little bit more finesse in this?"

--Azrael_Adross

"The word is, he is a crafty son of a bitch. May not look like much, but he's got smarts and isn't afraid to use them. Finesse is a good word for it."

The Don finished his scotch and sat quietly as cue for them to leave. Bruno took the hint and they were both out in the driveway getting into his sedan inside the minute.

Bruno put a cigar in his mouth and said, "This is the sweet life, kid."

--Laveaux 20:17, 14 December 2005 (CST)