Demos looked out of the passenger seat of his own car, having let Marco drive them to the edge of Little Italy. A store down the road was expecting a shipment of Italian furniture. They normally wouldn't have ripped off an establishment so close to home, but the owner of this particular store had given their uncle Victor a dirty look at a cafe earlier that week. They didn't ask for much in their neighborhood, just respect.

And a small monthly protection fee.

Rather than get violent on the man for the small expression of disrespect, they decided to pull off their revenge in a way that would benefit them the most, a good old fashioned truck heist. Mr. Forzisi would be expecting thousands of dollars worth of freshly purchased furniture the next morning. He wouldn't get it.

Demos loaded a clip into the bottom of his gun, snapping it shut.

"You remember the plan, Marco?"

Marco had been glancing at Demos’ gun a bit warily, but at those words snapped his attention up, a smirk sliding over lips as he started to mock his cousin in a high pitched sort of girl voice.

“Yeah yeah, ‘Stay in the car. You’re too inexperienced to do anything but be the watch out. Blah, blah, I’m so cool.' Seriously, how can I get that wrong? Even I know how to sit in a car and use my eyes.”

His gaze flicked back to Dom, in case his other cousin wanted to chime in that he didn’t possess the skills to sit, adding.

“You guys worry too much. It’ll be some old fat man behind the wheel of that truck. Everyone who works for Forzisi’s an old fat man.”

Dominic bit his lower lip, trying not to laugh at Marco's rendition of Demos' earlier speech, as necessary and truthful as he thought it was, that falsetto was just too funny.

"Ah," Domino's gaze extended beyond his two cousins to the street in front of them. "I think that's the one, come on."

He swung open his door easily, and securing his guns in both their hidden shoulder holsters under his coat, he stepped out onto the pavement.

Demos rolled his eyes at Marco, sliding the gun into his suit and pushing the side door open.

"You can't blame me. I'm not the one who misses my mouth when I'm brushing my teeth, Marco."

The large delivery truck slowed to a stop as it noticed the vehicle obstructing the road. They'd left the hood open, as if they were having car troubles. It wasn't until a gun was pointing in the driver's face that the man realized that something was very wrong.

"Step out of the fucking truck."

Dominic smirked when he saw the look on the driver's face. That certainly wasn't the look his boss had given their uncle a few days previous. Such a pity.

Pulling one of his own guns out he approached the man with his free hand extended.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to borrow your keys, now hand then over."

The driver stared down their barrels of the two guns now poised at his head. He didn't move a muscle.

Dominic rolled his eyes and cocked his gun simultaneously. That was a language the driver understood loud and clear; it only took him a few seconds of panicked fumbling to toss the keys down to Dominic's feet.

"Smooth." He muttered as he stooped down for the keys, still aiming his gun at the man's head even without looking. Sorting through the mess of keys, he hurried around back to unlock the large double doors.

"It's a go, they're all here!" he called around to Demos while he silently counted out the pieces.

Marco had been watching the pair intently, a slightly pouty look on his face at Demos’ comment. Gawd, he was never telling him anything sort of embarrassing again because Demos had a big blabby mouth- but…well they seemed to be handling it all ok. Damn, now he was wondering if he looked that hardcore when he waved a gun around…probably not.

His hand moved to his own waist band, an absent gesture to where his own gun was supposed to be…supposed to…his brow furrowed, taking his eyes off the pair to look down at his front…uh he had brought his gun hadn’t he? He remembered grabbing it. Shit! He dropped his gun? That was so fucking unsly! Ok wait, he’d moved around in the car earlier, maybe it had slipped out.

He squirmed, unlocking his seatbelt- because yes he wore a seatbelt even in a parked car, shifting so he could look around and reach a hand under his own seat.

Nothing…nothing…uh…unrecognizable fuzzy thing…ok wait! There! That felt like it, but he couldn’t quite reach it. He sat up again, squirming some more and half crawling into the backseat, hanging over the little middle console with his feet up, one on the chair on the other on the steering wheel. He fumbled down and around under the seat from the back for a long moment. Fucking thing! It was in that illusive spot right outside of his reach!

He strained a bit more, crawling towards the back even more, ass high in the air over the console, the fact that he was supposed to be, you know, looking out forgotten entirely as he strained to get his gun back into his possession. Just a little more…

And then there was a bit of a click, his head shooting up as the sudden sensation of moving backwards- or forwards since technically he was facing that way- started up, scrambling a bit as he tried to figure out what in the hell was happening.

Before he had any clue about the stupid he’d just done, the car was coming to a very, very abrupt stop, slamming into a low brick wall with enough force to knock him face forward onto the ground of the backseat.

Though Demos was concentrating on his task, the sound of crumpling metal and breaking glass happened to be enough to get him to turn his head around. The man had been watching the entire thing happen, having a step up above Demos' reaction. He took complete advantage of the distraction, pulling his fist back with surprising speed.

"Nnh!"

Demos' attention was brought back to the situation when he felt the hard knuckles knock across his face. His gun was tossed aside and he suddenly found himself thrown to the ground, completely dominated by the larger man. A bit of dirt from the street was kicked up as there was another punch to his face, this time feeling blood run down his upper lip. He struggled to get him off, but physical fights weren't his forte. His arm lifted in an attempt to block another hit, gritting his teeth in the hope that his nose wasn't broken.

"Fuck! ..Dom, ngh!!"

Dominic had perked up at the sound of the engine revving and consequently ended up turning around just in time to see the car go crashing into the brick wall. He stood there for what seemed like forever, blinking and gawking with his mouth hanging slightly open. That...hadn't just happened.

The sound of Demos calling for him snapped him back to the situation at hand with an unsettling jolt. Darting around the side of the vehicle, he was met with the unfolding fight scene, and more importantly his cousin getting bested.

Dominic had a habit of killing people who started shit with Demos. This time was no different.

"Wrong move, motherfucker."

The gunshot rang out like a small explosion, sending crows flying from their nearby perches. The man's body went limp, unfortunately on top of Demos.

"Jesus Christ, are you okay?" He exclaimed as he ran over to lift the fat man off him and help him back to his feet.

Marco was thinking that same numb sort of ‘that hadn’t just happened’ thing too, and he was the one it ‘hadn’t just happened’ to! He’d sort of eaten it pretty good when the car had slammed into the wall, face hitting ground with enough force to make him see stars for a second, though he was quick to scramble up, especially when the very audible sound of a gun going off cracked through the air.

Oh god…oh god oh god oh god, was all that was going through his head in a panicked little chant as he finally managed to right his ass over head position there, sliding back into the seat awkwardly and looking around wildly…oh shit…he had hit the stick shift…he’d let the car fall into reverse. That realization struck him the same moment the gun thing slapped back into the front of his mind. Oh shit! If he’d gotten one of them hurt! Oh god…

He scrambled out of the car, looking all sorts of disheveled and scared, the car at an odd angle off the side of the road, though the damage he’d done there wasn’t in mind at all, only the short jog back up the little dip the car had rolled into to stare wildly at his cousins.

For a second he almost just heart attacked and died, because Demos was lying on the ground under the big fat man, and neither was moving. Oh my fucking god…he’d killed Demos! His hands had shot to his mouth, covering it and looking a little sick, though that horrible HORRIBLE feeling only lasted a moment, because then Dom was hauling the fatty off, and he could see that Demos was in fact still of the moving variety. Not that he looked any less panicked about the whole thing, but did a wave of relief ever wash over him.

Demos coughed, holding a hand to his face. Blood was dripping quickly down his fingers and chin, ruining one of his better silk ties.

"Fucking.."

He took Dom's arm, letting the stronger of the two lift him back to his feet. Demos was a mess. He was covered in dust and it looked as if a Texan had stuck red oil in the middle of his face. His hair was thrown over his eyes, and the moment he pushed it out of the way, he almost choked.

"My car! Fuck!"

He coughed again, wiping his sleeve over his nose and dusting off his shoulder. He was a furious wreck, but there was still a reason he was the boss.

"Marco, help Dom put that asshole in the truck! We need to get the fuck out of here, now."

He shot Marco a dark look that obviously meant he was going to deal with him later.

Dominic nodded in silent reply to Demos, efficient and as calm as he ever was. This sort of thing was his forte, but Marco...oh dear god, Marco.

"Come on, you." He said shortly, grabbing his young cousin by the ear rather than let him walk on his own.

"You take the side with the head." he ordered, snapping his fingers under Marco's nose. Dominic's shot had been a perfect head shot, making that end a bloody mess and the legs virtually untouched. Like hell he was getting any more of that mess on him than he had to; his mother always had a fit when he came home soaked in blood. Not because she was afraid it was his own, but because blood was damn hard for her to get out of his shirts when she washed them.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Marco, pick him the fuck up. Don't be such a pansy, it's just blood." He grumbled as he found himself doing most of the lifting. With a little more effort and way more cursing they got the fat man into the back and thankfully Dominic was aware enough to keep the blood off the merchandise.

Marco's wave of relief was distressingly short lived. Oh. Kay. He hadn’t killed Demos, which was wonderful, but Demos looked like he totally wanted to kill him, which was way less wonderful…Dom did too, which made it all less wonderful to the tenth degree...

He hurried to help, mostly because Dom on his ear gave him little choice, though he made such a sick face at the command to pick up the gore covered end of the man. He was about to protest, but Dom’s tone rang out, and hello, he had just run Demos’ fucking car into a wall stupidly! Now was not the time to protest anything.

He was not as well versed in dead body carting around as Dom was, so sort of ended up stumbling once they got the thing into the van, and landing on his ass with gross fat mans head in his lap…oh god…he was going to be sick…he had brains on him…brainy gross fat man head matter all over him.

He scrambled out from under him, stumbling back out of the truck and then staring back and forth between his cousins waiting for further instructions, so on the verge of either being sick, or freaking out, so he was keeping uncharacteristically silent so he didn’t do anything too horribly stupid right this second.

Demos pulled out his phone, snapping it open with his other hand still holding his face. His motioned with his phone for Dominic to get into the driver's seat of the truck. He obviously wasn't in any condition to drive well, and he now wouldn't even trust Marco to hold a kite string, much less drive a truck.

"Anthony? Yeah I know what time it is, shut up and get over to 43rd and Pine. My car is sitting on the side of the road in pieces. Yeah. Yeah, I know. Okay, sure. Just get over here before the cops do. We made a lot of fucking noise."

He ushered Marco up into the truck and got in after him, slamming the door shut as he put his phone back into his pocket. He was in quite the sour mood.

"Dom, take the expressway northwest. We'll bury him by the river and then drop the truck off at the warehouse."

"Aye Captain," Dominic replied as he started up he engine with the keys he had previously procured.

"I know a good spot not too far from the road. I've used it before." He commented idly while pulling out into what little traffic there was at that hour.

"Marco." Dominic snapped, using his fingers again to get his attention as if he were a child and not nearly a grown man. At the moment, he felt every right to talk down to the poor thing. No doubt he loved the boy and would gladly die for him, but come on.

"Help him." he ordered, fishing a silk handkerchief with his mother's hand embroidered "DG" on it out of his breast pocket to hand to Marco.

"Shit, I hope it isn't broken." he added after glancing at him with a look of pity. He would have loved to fuss longer, but there was an on ramp demanding his full attention.

Oh god…every moment that past made Marco feel worse and worse, until he was two shades shy of the level of distress he’d been when he’d thought Demos was dead for that split second. As condescending as Domino’s tone and hand gesture thing was, Marco needed it, just sort of sitting there dazedly staring at the mess on his own front, feeling entirely too mortified to possibly look either of his cousins in the face at the moment.

He was still in ‘you order, I obey’ mode though, so he was quick to snap back to the now, fumbling for the handkerchief with slightly shaky fingers before managing to force his gaze up and directed at Demos’ face, nowhere near meeting his eyes though. Oh god…he looked…horrible…and Marco looked like he wanted to cry, though he was doing his damnedest to keep it held back, instead focusing on the spout coming out of his poor cousin’s face.

“T-tip your head forward or you’ll swallow the blood…” He managed a bit hoarsely, folding the hanky over once and then, as gingerly as he could manage, pressing it to Demos poor battered nose to apply slight pressure and get the fount to halt.

Demos winced as he felt the pressure, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. He slid his hand under Marco's, holding the handkerchief to his nose himself. It was his turn for his voice to get high pitched.

"Seriously, how can I get that wrong? Even I know how to sit in a car and use my eyes.”

He sighed, tilting his head and mopping the mess off of his chin before pressing it back to his nose. The blood made it look much worse than it actually was.

"It's not broken, Dom. I'm fine." He paused, voice lowering bitterly. "Unlike my car."

Dominic shook his head, just thinking about the car sent a chill down his spine.

"Shit, you are so lucky that wasn't my car, Marco. Demos may never let you forget it, but at least he'll let you live." He mutter sarcastically, as he turned very abruptly off the road and onto more rugged terrain. The truck bounced and shook, but not as much as it might have had it not been a moving truck, the suspensions on it weren't half bad. Maybe they could sell the Forzisi family their own truck back to them.

"This is the spot." They pulled to a halt in a particularly deserted area, lit only by the head lights, and even then not well due to wild foliage. Dominic moved to get out, but stopped suddenly, groaning audibly.

"Please tell me someone brought a shovel."

/end of part I