Sleeping besides the air conditioner, Joseph Marino woke up with his quivering bangs shagging in his eyes. The cold air was refreshing, but being stabbed in the eye by his own hair was not. Thus he sat up and reached for the power cord, snatching it out of the wall before hearing the slowed whining of it dying down. [I]Freezin' my balls off anyway.[/I]

Swiveling his legs off his bed, he scooted off and walked through the room with his eyes shut until he couldn't stand jabbing his toes against the dumbbells and handguns scattered on his floor.

He'd gone to sleep wearing a sleeveless undershirt. The first thing he put on was a white t-shirt, tucking it into black jeans and slipping on a navy blue windbreaker over it. He finally woke the rest of the way up when he styled his hair, weighing it down with cold water and slicking it back with heavy get. He scooped a dark blue ball cap over his hair before skidaddling downstairs. Another generation would say he resembled the unibomber in a way. That generation was [I]exactly[/I] the group he had business scaring.

Cutting through the dining room, he froze when he saw some disgraceful One Direction wannabe eating breakfast at the table of killers.

"Damien," he scoffed. "What the hell are you wearing? We're the Italian mob, not a boy band."

"Go choke on a dick, Joe. At least I can get a girl."

"Fff, whatever. Just leave the twelve-year old skanks at whatever nursery you usually fish 'em out of."

"F*** off Joe. Tonight I'm going to a party at the park."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure that you got business helping with a cleanup job tonight and [U]I'm[/U] goin' to the park."

"I ain't gotta job tonight."

"Ya do now. If ya' don't like it take it up with my pops. You know [U]Manslaughter Marino[/U], right?"

"F*** you, Joe," he mumbled before going back to his breakfast in defeat.

At that, Joe slipped away, cutting through the foyer and out the front door into his car and out the driveway. Damien watched the red sports car fly down the brick driveway, past a fountain carved to resemble a pissing angel and through the treeline before stopping at the gate at their house's perimeter. The house was designed to protect them from any competing criminal organizations or a raid from law enforcement. At the drop of a hat they'd be able to electrify the fences, burn down the house, and ride away using a tunnel under their house on specially reserved mopeds. They also had a helipad. [I]Cuz plan B.[/I]

No sooner did Joe clear the fence and give the neighbor kid the finger like every day than Damien recieved a call. Thirty seconds later and it was a voice message.

"Listen Damien... I'm sorry. You don't have a job tonight, I'm just tryin' to help you before you make a fool of yourself. I'll be at school. Next time I call though, pick up the damn phone. Bye."