Monday, July 13, 2009
2:38 AM
THE AMERICAN DREAMCHAPTER 5 - CHARLIE'S BISTRO.
Charlie Bruci went about his business, walking around in the Mazzo Compound. He felt strange being Consigliere, especially since it was to replace his good friend.
"Charlie, come here." Don Mazzo spoke. He signalled Charlie into the meeting room. A few other made men, including Frankie, were already sitted.
"The Felucia's are making us a "peace" offering, and we've chosen Charlie's Bistro to be our meeting place. Its not that crowded, not alot of mob activity, perfect for a meeting. Sadly, i dont trust those Felucia fucks. Last time around i remember Carlo getting his head cut off. Sons of bitches," The Don stopped for a pause, then continued. "I dont trust those fucks anymore. I bet they'll shit all over me. Thats why, i want someone to plant a gun under our table. Make sure its concealed good, so i can pick it up and make their Don's brains spill all over the fucking table." Sonny smiled.
Everyone looked at each other, then everyone stared at Frankie. Frankie knew what had to be done.
"The gun will be there, dont worry." Frankie said as he left for the bistro.
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LATER THAT NIGHT.
" Good evening, Don Mazzo, " Don Felucia said, as he nodded towards Sonny. Sonny nodded back to him. A man came up to Sonny and patted him down, making sure he was clean, and then did the same thing on Charlie. The four men then sat down on their seats. They were deep into conversation, talking about a possible peace treaty and what not. As Sonny took his drink, he noticed Don Felucia's eyes looking away, probably at someone else. It was time to do it. He placed one hand under the table. He heard footsteps walking towards him.
"You know, you're a real son of a bitch." Sonny said, as he pulled the gun from under the table. Before the Felucia man could shoot, a bullet impaled him through the head. He then pointed the gun at the don, and fired 2 shots into his skull, then to the Felucia's Consigliere. Sonny and Charlie quickly walked out of the scene, with Sonny dropping the gun at the doorstep. They ran for the car, which would take them to Portland Harbour, more accurately to port 52. The Crimson Beauty was what they were heading for. It was headed for one place - Sicily.