" The job has been done," said Levi, his beanie scrunched in his hands. The warehouse was a mess. Once a working farm, the place was a living, freaking work of mess. Grandfather or 'Ded' was some lunatic. An insane, predominant, asshole who seemed to be alive even though he didn't even move his precious ass from his ' leather chair'. Mafia boss is neither "God," nor "Father," and thus only a twisted society could call them a contraction of the two. That made Grandfather's idea of life more as a relationship between fear and power, jumbled up together to create a ' life'.

" Well that's great mate." Ded replied with his husky voice. He was like a frog. On a journey till he croaked his last croak. Gosh he's a mental old man. " So, what's the job count eh? " Grandfather shuffled in his chair, the smoke from his cigar wafting far. His other hand occupied by the glass of champagne on the side. " I think it's been 50 or so " replied someone in the crowd. Ded turned his head around, his champagne taken hand, lifted into the air. He placed the glass down, the echoing of the glass tapping against the table. Deadly.

In his left pocket was his fun toy.

They carry guns here, those soulless clunks of metal. They call them "arms" - but they ain't. Arms are what your mama hugs you with, or maybe the cold kind which you get when no-one hugged you enough. But either way, this warrior's weapon is his toys. It is his love for it that is the everlasting bullet, forever fired and safe in the barrel, in the target and never left, exploding and intact. Real men are all about love. But according to them, ' pure love' isn't the love for a wife or a child, it's the love of their toys. Their toy guns.

He tucked his other hand into the side of his suit, the barrel of his gun pointing straight at the voice. You could hear the cocking of the gun. You could see Ded, his hand still as always, his eyes flickering, his eyelashes dancing still. Bang.  And of course, while you were thinking ' Oh, look how stupid that guy was to talk without permission, or you should never mess with a Mafia boss' you would also be able to hear the resonating sound of a single gunshot, the single moment of silence, the dropping against the floor, the groaning, the smell of blood. Bamn, the man went against the warehouse walls, the dripping of the blood floating down the mouth of the stream.

Grandpa stood up. His eyes flickered towards Levi and then back to the golden drink. He picked up his champagne, took a sip then walked towards the body. He got his cane, and with his champagne slowly poured it across the man's face. You could see the glistening colour of the golden drink, running down the neck of him. Bang. His face was a mess now. His eye sockets flopping out, his nose broken. His lips gone, his hair singed off. And then with his fingers, Grandpa touched the blood. " Oh, that was very fun indeed. I haven't had that much fun in a long time" Ded said, his cane tapping against the floor. The silence that sung across the hall was life deafening.

Then, Grandpa shuffled back, dragging his limping left leg as well. He flung his glass backwards. It flew, and smashed right in front of the body. Then, He sat back on the chair, put his G43X back into his pocket, and then he did something he hadn't done in a hella long time. He smiled.