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"Is it done?" THe old man puffed his cigar, looking at the familiar and favored contractor from his plush leather seat behind the desk.

A small black box slid across the varnished wood into the old gangster’s hand.

“Good work.” The syndicate head groaned, spewing smoke from his lungs as he sat forward and opened the box.

A smirk came to his face before he pushed a briefcase down the table, stopped by Arson’s gloved hand. Opening and closing the briefcase, he found what he wanted inside and immediately turned to leave, ignoring the old man’s send-off, “I’ll see you again soon, my friend.”

He suppressed the scoff that wanted to break his professionalism as he closed the door without a sound.

Friends aren’t something he’s entertained in a long time. 


A journey of revenge, learning to work with others to defeat a common enemy, and maybe find a place of belonging along the way.
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