(Y/N)'s personal car along with two other trailing vehicles both drove down a deserted avenue down the poorer areas of Gothic Prime in the early morning. (Y/N) having dismissed himself from the party and rallying as many loyal men as he could in order to retrieve a new shipment of Ashford-brand weapons from a couple of lower mooks who had stolen it from his facility. The mission? Kill every last one of the gang that had stolen the crates. (Y/N) was able to gather 11 men, 7 were riding with him. 4 had Tommy Guns, the other 3 had Machine Pistols. (Y/N) had brought along his pistols that he had taken to the party secretly along with a Tommy Gun. The other 4 were in the previous car, and all had pump-action shotguns, one had a stick of dynamite and dozens of canisters of gasoline. Right before they reached the rendezvous point with (Y/N)'s other men, he decided to give them a debrief on the current situation.

(Y/N): "This gang is 15 men strong, most have pistols. Expect some of them to use the weapons in the crate. Being careful is my only say in this. Once we kill them all, we take back what's ours and burn down their excuse of a home with gasoline."

(Y/N) said dismissively, as if reading off a shopping list.

Guy 1: "Got it Boss."

One said assuredly. His boater hat mimicked his nodding.

(Y/N): "Stay safe gentlemen."

(Y/N) said, tipping his black fedora to every man in the car with him.

Driver: "We're here boys, cock and lock because we're in enemy territory now."

The rain had subsided only a few hours ago which meant the large group of Mafia embers didn't need umbrellas. (Y/N) disembarked first, being greeted by Jeremy and 3 other workers from Operation Alcatraz.

Jeremy: "Oh thank god you're here boss. They're holed all up in that warehouse of theirs, we knew we couldn't take on all of them head on so we waited like you said."

(Y/N): "So you follow orders, as expected. I hope this ain't a tip off ambush. Because if I survive, I'll hang you up until there's nothing more to hang."

Jeremy gulped, he hadn't betrayed (Y/N). Any mere mook knew their place in the Mafia and never ratted out their contractor. Lest they have to deal with the consequences. Not so from the police, but more of their employer. the (L/N)s were not exceptions.

(Y/N): "Let's see how these street rats deal with real gangsters."

(Y/N) confidently stated, cocking his Tommy Gun and straightening his tie. The other men he were with all did the same as one stepped up with a sack of Dynamite. (Y/N) followed him to the door as he placed the bundle of joysticks right next to the entrance door.

Dynamite Guy: "All yours."

(Y/N) made sure his cigar was lit up bright. As he pulled it out of his mouth, sticking the smoking end of his blunt into the fuse of the explosive. Sparks flew, as (Y/N) motioned for his men to get back. He stepped away as far as needed from the dynamite, before a deafening explosion rocked the empty avenue. (Y/N)'s face lit up with glee as the explosion illuminated his and his colleague's faces for a few mere moments before rubble of the building's side rained down around them, screams from within the lair began echoing throughout the entire vicinity.

(Y/N): "Make em' piss lead boys."

(Y/N) and all his men wielding Tommy Guns took cover on the sides of the gaping hole made in the entrance, sticking their sub machine guns in the still smoking gash in the building's side. The ear-splitting sound of half a dozen Tommy Guns firing eclipsed the screams of pain that erupted inside the building. A few pistol shots were fired back at the invaders but they only were able to knock someone's fedora off, another scratching some other guy's knee.

(Y/N): "You like that, you cheap bastards!? Have all of it! Ha ha ha ha!"

Cackled (Y/N), once everyone ran out of ammunition. (Y/N) held up a finger, motioning for everyone to stay silent for the moment. A single whimper of pain could be heard from inside the building as (Y/N) and his men all strode into the ruined room that lay just beyond the hole. Couches, alcohol bottles, chairs, bodies. All were filled with bullet holes, and the floor began running red only a few seconds ago.

(Y/N): "Where are you pipsqueak? We promise we won't hurt you, much."

He chuckled to himself, pulling out his pistol.

He looked around and saw a boy about his age. Cowering behind a dirty refrigerator sitting in the middle of another room, a blood trail followed him as he shuffled out. Almost collapsing at the sight of a plentiful mob of Mobsters awaiting him in the next room.

(Y/N): "Hey sonny boy, nice night out ain't it?"

The other men alongside him all chuckled. Two of them strode over and grabbed him, forcefully pulling him up as (Y/N) pulled up as surprisingly undamaged chair, placing himself in it as the older men in suits plopped the other boy into a bullet-riddled couch opposite of (Y/N).

(Y/N): "Where are my weapons?"

Boy: "I dunno wha-"

(Y/N) as ruthless as he was, did not hesitate and quickly pulled out his pistol. Shooting the boy's foot. He cried out as he watched red leak out of his cheap shoes. (Y/N) only cocked his pistol again and aimed it at the boy's chest this time.

(Y/N): "Time's up."

Boy: Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait. Okay, okay I'll talk...

(Y/N): "Give them to me, now!"

(Y/N) shouted, finally losing his temper after a long night; having to have cut his dance with Elena short, because of the interference of some simple bums from out of the street that could've driven his plan into the ground.

The Boy led them to a small vault, where he inputted a code. Successfully opening the door, revealing two decently sized crates inside. Those crates were the last things he saw before his ears were deafened by a loud pop, and his vision blurred as he lost his footing and fell onto the ground effortlessly. He heard the scampering footsteps of the attackers flee the area as the crates disappeared from his view. Before he blacked out for good, he could smell the distinct scent of gasoline.

- Timeskip -

(Y/N) and Jeremy hauled the last of the crates inside the warehouse. The other members of the (L/N) Mafia having left with (Y/N)'s paycheck for the night, (Y/N) yawned and checked his watch, it displayed 4:30 AM. Rubbing his eyes he patted Jeremy's back before he left the Alcatraz warehouse.

Jeremy: "Wait, sir where are you going?"

(Y/N): "Home, I gotta sleep. I ain't some robot."

He said without turning to look back. Jeremy almost screamed at him in protest.

Jeremy: "What about the last of the boxes that need accounting for?"

(Y/N): "You're here aren't you? Stack those 'Egg' crates with the rest of them alright?"

(Y/N) asked in response, taking a few dollar bills from out of his jacket and throwing them on the ground behind him as he too left for the night.

(Y/N): "Keep the change you filthy animal."

Jeremy: "...Come on!"

He finally broke and exclaimed, but it was already too late as (Y/N) had already gotten into his car and his driver had driven off.

Jeremy: "Least he pays me."

(A/N: "Why is there so much violence?" You ask? It's a Mafia book, Mafia ain't pretty, Mafia ain't clean. Mafia's a dirty business that involves dirty acts. That's just how Mafia works.)