Marco didn't know about the existence of the Deadly Seven until he met Malcolm the second time. About a month after Carl got out of the hospital, but the hospital bills weren't cheap. Someone had to get at least twelve hundred euros which was barely a quarter of the full price for medical for gunshots and blood transfusion. B- wasn't a common bloodtype either, the African European wasn't as fortunate that the only person to share the same bloodtype as him was Pietro.

If it weren't for Pietro who was adamant in finding the woman of his dreams again that he didn't care about everyone else and since the girl had volunteered to donate blood to save Carl despite they were all competing to become Malcolm's successor since being charitable was against everything of what the representative of Greed, unless it was for their own benefit.

And since no one benefitted from backing out, the other candidates suspected of an ulterior motive, but since Pietro, who wasn't part of this mess volunteered to donate blood because of love. A noble cause which baffled Marco himself since he hadn't seen Pietro so head over heels for someone for as long he had known him at least.

“Sharon,” Pietro beamed at the sight of the girl who was willing to sacrifice her place in partaking in one of the Deadly Seven to save another. The suntanned blonde wept and embraced Pietro, thanking him for his generosity and for his kind gesture.

Even though the Italian lad had the original intent to score with the attractive tourist, he found her physical attributes and moment of selflessness caprivating. Sharon became automatically disqualified in becoming the Vice of Greed for she already had an attachment and that was none other than Pietro.

Marco only came to the hospital to interrogate Malcolm. How on Earth did he make all the machinery from the casino go haywire? Who were those people? What game was he playing? And how dare he call him a bambino? He was an uomo not a piccolo bambino! Once he found the erstwhile Vice of Greed he bombarded him with these questions.

This man crossed his arms and eyed Marco's angry expression. The ideal candidate to become a part of the Deadly Seven had to obtain some of these traits:

• A weakness.
• A desire.
• A goal.
• A passion.
• A flaw.
• A secret.
• A motive.

Anyone can fit the bill with these traits, though to summarize these traits to find at least one candidate lied one question: “What do you want?”

If it's power, Pride; if it's vengeance, Wrath; if it's wealth, Greed; if it's love, Lust; if it's fame, Envy; if it's abundance, Gluttony; if it's R&R, Sloth.

Everyone wanted something, many are in need of something in exchange for what they want and only a few are willing to make sacrifices in order to get what they want. That's how the world worked.

And Marco didn't know the full extent of that meaning when he came to face Malcolm, even after an entire month of the incident had occured at the casino Marco tried to get a glimpse of the mysterious person who knew every trick in the book, but the main task was at the time was to get Carl out of the hospital and pay the damn bill before they found out more them. There was always someone who was subservient to higher power, regardless if it was a superior, a progenitor, or an entire organization. Discretion was key in survival.

Marco was a liability and Malcolm gave him an ultimatum, either he gathered the money to pay the hospital bill to get his answers or get targeted by the mafia despite not having any relation with the fiasco linked to the deceased member of the mafia. Just because Riccardo got killed didn't mean that an eyewitness like him was exempt in being followed. Even a hearsay would be sufficient to rouse curiousity, and that curiosity attracted unwanted attention.

So far, none of them had managed to take him down but that didn’t mean he could trust anybody else. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t try and use him or someone else against him just to benefit themselves.

There wasn't enough time to observe anyone's reactions or the outcome of each player's game. So instead, Marco tried to study everyone who entered the game.

And he had to make a choice, and the answer was obvious. He took it just like how he took the money he stole to pay the hospital bill in a span of three days. Eighty four hundred euros in total, cash. He stole every single bottle of alcohol from his stepfather and used it as a decoy to rob every drunkard and harlot that got in his way and he borrowed Malcolm's gun to pull it off.

He got a stab wound on his leg from broken bottle shards from one of the drunkards at a dingy bar and another on his left hand. He limped his way to the hospital and got the cash.

Malcolm applauded him and took the money. Carl got out of the hospital and they were off the hook. It was a tough job because most people kept trying to avoid each other's eye to avoid looking suspicious, but Marco managed to catch glimpses of the strange man every now and then. When someone moved away in search of a seat or a snack, or some fresh air, the stranger would stand up to leave.

Marco's weakness was his inability to get rid of his odious, violenr drunkard of a stepdad who exploited his mother to work day in and day out while the arrogant bastard had the audaciry to raise his hand to beat her when she couldn't bring enough money to the table. That impotency drove him to do things he wouldn't have done for her sake, but when he found out that she went back to his arms as if nothing happened. He not only cut classes, he dropped out of high school to fend for himself. He refused to be under the mercy of another vile alcoholic. He had enough of the same vicious cycle repeating itself. He chose to get over his weakness and risked everything he had to leave the hellhole and stick it to him by smashing one of the liquor bottles against his head and left the alcoholic struggling before the lummox passed out from intoxication.

Marco's desire to make a name for himself became the fuel to burn down the bridge linked to his past. The mediocre lifestyle of living on minimum wage, the growing scarcity of employment and opportunities that became am empty promise along with the toxic home life was the result of his rebellious attitude. When he came face to face with his predecessor, he became more restless than before. He wanted answers, so he went after it like a bloodhound.

Marco's goal was to become like Malcolm. He wanted power, riches, results, and refused to take no for an answer. He didn't fight tooth and nail in vain to get to where he was now. Malcolm knew the potential he had to become an eligible candidate to be his successor. And since he rightfully earned his place as a candidate, Malcolm welcolmed him to his world. The world he had gotten used to control.

Marco's passion to possess everything Malcolm had became an obssession. In order to be able to become the Vice of Greed needed to have mastery over their impulses. His predecessor put him to the test, the same thing applied to the other candidates at the time.

The test was to see which of the candidates succumbed to the vice first.

A hooded man walked over to a trashcan and pull a large red ball covered in gold foil out of a plastic bag. The man threw the ball into the rubbish bin, closed the lid, and walked off. Marco waited, but the weirdo didn't return. No one else came out either, so Marco went back inside and watched the game from a distance.

But then, he had a sudden urge to get it, he couldn't explain it but he wanted to take it for himself. As Marco went to get it, the other two were after it as well. The only thing they shared in that moment was the urge to take something that wasn't theirs to keep.

Finders keepers!

None of the candidates suspected that by having a fraction of the vice bestowed upon them they'd become chronic kleptomaniacs. Malcolm did, and left a surprise for them. Marco and Daniel fought each other and pushed each other back from reaching the rubbish bin while Stanley opened the lid and took the ball covered in gold foil. Marco pushed the tattooed brunette while blonde opened the gold foil, once he held the red ball in his hands he read the words out loud.

“You're disqualified!” Stanley showed the ball and dribbled it. “Losers!” The blonde laughed victorious before he threw the ball. Something thing was off about this test.

“No Stanley, you failed.” Malcolm stated before Stanley's triumphant smirk faded. He figured the weirdo must have already won or lost the game by now.

“What?” The tattooed brunette facepalmed when his frenemy failed to get the hint.

“You failed, get lost.” Marco couldn't help but snigger when Malcolm just straight up told the guy to leave after failing the test.

“Shut up! Stop laughing!” Stanley barked before Daniel sniggered as well before the blonde gave the middle finger at both of them, then at Malcolm. “To hell with you bastards!” Stanley took the red ball anyway and ditched them.

Now that Marco was in Malcolm's shoes, it all made sense. It hadn’t really crossed his mind to start looking around for candidates in his own circle and instead, he had been trying to stay alive. Now the world turned against him as if time itself plotted against him to rob back everything he took for granted.

Marco's flaw was that he was too stubborn for his own good. Now that he had to pass the Vice he had worked so hard to keep after all theses years had to ne passed on to a new generation.

He was sitting on his desk chair, processing what he ought to do. Marco was beginning to suspect that the odds of him finding his candidate before the deadline were next to nothing. He was reluctant at first, but he had no other but to accept the option the devil's advocate had suggested. Take an intern as his candidate even if it meant swallowing his pride. Marco sighed, then called his intern through the phone.

The phone rang and a feminine hand picked up to respond. The intern was a zigfid woman with unflattering glasses, wavy brown hair tied to a ponytail and chestnut eyes teeming with concern.

“Hello? Yes Mr. Montana, I'm on my way.” She hung the phone and brought her clipboard with the reports. By the time she arrived to Marco's office he was revising the statistics and prices for the following month.

“Thank you for coming Miss. Davis. How can I help you?” Marco looked up from the paper and gestured for her to sit down.

“Mr. Montana, I've been assigned to take care of your interns and I noticed that your interns are having a difficult time adapting to the workplace. Not only have they taken up a lot of your time but also there is a very low level of productivity among them and I thought that it might be better to give some space between them to relax. You know, they need that after all these years working with you.” She offered a friendly smile as she said it. Marco nodded as an understanding and agreed with her idea. “Well then, I will have an internship ready for you tomorrow morning, please tell them to come here at 7:00am sharp.” Marco instructed as he finished writing the figures.

“Alright,” she smiled sweetly once more. “I'll have a copy sent by 9 AM tomorrow. Do you want to review my work first?”

“Of course.” Marco smiled politely back and handed her a folder containing his personal research and reports on various employees who were having trouble adjusting to the job.

The company was undergoing through a drop of sales and they needed investors to boost income, even with the advertising on social media they were having some drawbacks.

Marco's secret in pulling through tiring situations like these was to put a straight face, especially with his enemies lingering around under the guise of mutual interests.