this chapter is going to be kind of a strange perspective, and because of that, I am going to split it in half to avoid confusion. I think it turned out pretty fun to read though, and I hope you enjoy it! I will try to have the next chapter up tonight as well if I can!
P.S. there is no song for this chapter, as I didn't find it necessary. :)
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Harry
You know how when you're a kid, you're just naturally afraid of your basement? Usually, there is no reason to actually be afraid, you just have to turn on a light or something, and then you see that there's nothing to be scared of at all.
But in the case of the basement of this house, turning the light on might just make you more afraid.
There were many different places where we conducted this sort of business, and tonight, there just so happened to be a party occurring conveniently overhead, the shouts of drunken people and the rattling speakers being the perfect disguise for any suspicious sounds that might occur within the basement.
Oh, shit. I bet you're still wondering what exactly it is that we do, aren't you?
Ugh, fine. I guess I will tell you. But listen up closely, because I am only going to say this shit once.
The term mafia is one that many people are familiar with. Upon hearing that word, most people's minds instantly go to some stocky Italian dude with thick ass chest hair and greased back hairstyles and chunky gold chains hanging around their neck, perfectly visible due to their shirts that are always unbuttoned one button too far.
And honestly? Those dudes do exist, as cliche as it may seem.
But I'm not just talking about those fuckers. No, that would be way too simple of an explanation for what I am about to tell you.
There are many different branches of the mafia. And in case you haven't caught on yet, I am part of the mafia...I am only clarifying that because I've had some pretty ridiculous ass questions when trying to explain this before and I don't think that I have the patience to deal with those types of questions tonight, I might get annoyed and put a bullet in your skull.
Anyways, being in a mafia is considered being part of an organized crime. And with most organized crime, there is usually some sort of legitimate business used as a front to cover up what's really going on behind the scenes. You know, like Jordan Belfort, he ripped off a shit ton of people by pretending to be a legitimate brokerage with the front of Stratton Oakmont Inc. The whole operation looked completely legit from the outside, but all it took was a little suspicion from such an intense surge of income and a bit of sneaking around to figure out that the whole thing was a fucking scam.
See, that's the problem with most organized crime these days. They make it too easy for law enforcement to realize that something is up. They'll have a dry cleaner's that suddenly starts making profits upwards of nine million dollars, and then they act all surprised when people start asking questions. Even if you were the best fucking dry cleaner in the world, you'd have to iron a shit ton of shirts to be making that sort of money.
Don't you dare fucking ask about the cars, I'm getting there, okay?
As I was saying, most organized crime groups kind of fuck themselves in the ass, they think that if they blend in, they will go unnoticed, but if you're making that kind of money, people are gonna know you're lying through your teeth.
YOU ARE READING
full throttle || h.s. ||
Fanfiction"Who's that over there?" The man looked at me like I was from outer space, or perhaps like I lived under a rock, maybe a mixture of both. "Him? They call him Full Throttle," he chuckled with a hint of nervousness in his voice. I scrunched...