Hours after contemplating if I really should become part of the mafia, I meet up with a shady man in the farthest alley in town. To be frank, I've never travelled farther than the bakery shop two streets from my home because the outskirts seemed too dull for my glamorous aura. I hate to admit it, but the grayness of those areas could be enough to rip the shine from my soul.
The man I meet up with looks homeless, dressed in rags with a beard white and greasy. I would never touch this man. "I will take you to the base where Necksnapper resides." He tells me, his voice shakey like it's about to die out like a candle. I'm going to assume Necksnapper is the head of the mafia organization. It's just--NeckSnapper?? Really? This guy gives me those cringey emo kid vibes. I nod, ready to go, but next thing I know, I'm on the ground with a bag over my head. I'm screaming out and not really caring for the limited oxygen in the damned bag that smells like dried semen, but of course no one will help me because these corners are the dead places of town. I'm shut up by a punch and am dragged away to somewhere I don't know.
I've been dragged for about twenty minutes with no mercy, despite my huffs and 'ow's against the pebbles that scraped against my hands, when suddenly we come to a stop. That surprisingly strong, lanky, old man hulls me to my feet and walks me, in front of him, inside a building.
I'm shoved down onto a creaky ass chair, which I think has thorns on the seat because holy hell is this uncomfortable, a white light in front of me. It's bright enough so I can see through the seams of the bag over my head, but I can barely make anything out. Actually, I can't make anything out.
I expect to be handcuffed or for my ankles to be tied down to the legs of the chair, but that doesn't happen. I'm just left on this wooden piece of junk, free to use my limbs and pull off the bag on my head whenever I want.
I can hear large footsteps approach me, and I tense. I'm about ready to jump up and attack until someone very friendly helps me with a punch right to my cheekbone. I curse, tasting the metallic flavor of blood flow onto my tongue instantly. On instinct, I jump up and throw punches back, looking for the head of the asshole in front of me before I throw some more hands and maybe a couple of kicks.
I can feel the little hair this tough guy has and I yank as hard as I can, hearing him scream and hit me in my stomach. I wheeze and lose balance, taking a moment to regain the breath in my lungs before finally taking the bag off my face and tackling the man to the ground, putting that dried-semen disaster over his round head to suffocate him. I keep hold as this egg-shaped man flails his limbs and tries to throw me off, but I'm prevented from finishing the job as I'm pulled back roughly by more hands.
The guy, admitting defeat, takes the bag off his head and coughs profusely.
"Well done! For a man your size, you're very aggressive and fire-spirited." A voice echoes from my right. I turn and see a larger, rounder man come out from within the shadows, a pleasant smile on his face. He's not the first person that's grinned seeing me attempt murder on another person, to be honest, but I'm still unsettled. "You Necksnapper?" I ask, then I wipe my lip and see my whole finger print covered in blood. Huh. That must be why my mouth feels liquidy inside. I spit on the man on the ground.
"You already know me, I see. Yes, I am. And you?" The big man, Necksnapper, asks me. The man who was holding me earlier has since released me, so now I can rub my right arm and feel the scratches that man and this rough ass floor gave me.
"Antonio Finley, sir." I say, letting go of my arm.
"Nice to meet you, Finley. What brings you here? Why do you want to be a part of us?" Necksnapper asks, coming closer. His bald head shines brighter than the sun under the light.
"Heard your crew was wealthy. Decided to partake in the charity." I say, watching the man on the ground be escorted away by the other man who was holding me steady.
"Mm. So you come here out of greed. I'm assuming you've done all you could to place your hands on some cash already?"
"Yeah. I'm the robber that's always on the news." I don't mean to brag, but . . . I'm pretty damn awesome, not gonna lie.
"I see. Well, Finley. If you want to be part of this group then you'll have to accept two things. One; you have to complete any I mission I give you to earn your money. Two; if you ever try to overthrow me any time, you pay with your life. Got it?" His voice had dropped considerably, sprinkled with a hint of sharpness.
I nod. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Welcome, Finley, to the mafia."