Chapter 2

Eduardo lay lazily on his bed, a leg dangling over the side. He was waiting. Waiting. Today was the day. He had known for weeks. He was getting made. Finally, he wouldn't be just "a guy". He would be Eduardo Limbardi, full fledged wise guy. Soldier in the Mafia. He stared at the clock on his wall. Tick, tick, tick, tick... There was an impatient knock on the door and it flew open. Eduardo's gaze tore from the clock to the man in the doorway, not even registering that he had bolted up from the bed.

"The boss is ready for you." Eduardo recognized this man. He was Gary Lloyd, a Soldier of four years, he was usually gaurding the Mansion or spying on the Irish mob. Gary eas half Irish, half Italian, this gave many reason to be suspicious. Yet, he was always just doing his job.

"Okay," Eduardo replied. He followed Garry out of the rather large apartment and slipped into the backseat, slamming the door. He hid his excitement with a mask of nonchalance. He looked down at himself. A nice, black jacket, with a white dress shirt underneath, new, dark blue jeans, and black tennis shoes. He pulled out a dark, red silky tie from his pocket and tied it on. He exhaled slowly, staring out the window.

They drove in silence, parking outside one of his father's resteraunts, Dante's. There was a closed sign and the shades were drawn. Gary's arm was around his shoulder. Eduardo was ushered inside. He took in the room. The tables, how they were polished. The bar occupied by Jack Pazzini(Soldier), Max Norolah(Soldier), Ben Volionra(Underboss), Denny Foland(Capo), and Parker Gyrino(Capo) was smooth and shone despite the dark. He was led by a scowling Nico to the table in the center of the small resteraunt, it was at this table Don Charlie Bachoroni, aged fifty-eight, sat. Bachoroni stood, everyone made a crowd around them. There couldn't be more than fourty-fourty five people there. Bachoroni looked into Eduardo's eyes, pulling out his switch blade slowly.

"Will you serve this generation?" Bachoroni's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yes."

"Are you willing to face pain?"

"Yes."

Are you willing to keep our secrets?"

"Yes."

Bachoroni had a golden plate with a lit candle and a St. Francis card. Bachoroni's blade glinted in the candle light. Eduardo stared at the magnificent blade.

"Your trigger finger." Bachoroni ordered. Eduardo held out his hand. Bachoroni dug the blade into the skin of his index finger, causing blood to spill out. Bachoroni took the knife from his hand and squeezed more blood from his finger, onto the card. Eduardo lifted his hand, watching the blood cascade down his hand. Bachoroni picked up the card and dipped it into the flame of the candle, passing it gingerly into Eduardo's hands. The flame engulfed the card. Eduardo felt the flames burn his hands, yet he was still. Silent.

"Swear the oath."

"As this card burns, may my soul burn in Hell if I betray the oath of Omerta."

Eduardo brought his hands together and squeezed out the flame, rubbing his burned hands together, even afterwards. Everyone started making a fuss, congradulating him. Bachoroni maneuvered around the table and embraced him.

"You're one of us now," He said, beaming at him. "Now be among La Cosa Nostra." Bachoroni gave the golden plate to Nico. "Return it." He told Nico. Nico nodded and took the plate away.

Eduardo smiled and was engulfed by the crowd, most of whom he knew. His friend, who had recently been made himself, walked up to him.

"Hey, Eddy! Congrats, man!" His friend, Francis Donavan said jovially.

"Thanks Francis," Eduardo said, beaming. "Look at us. Wiseguys! Goodfellas! We got it made!" They grinned at eachother. Francis took out a pack of cigarettes, handing Eduardo one andputting another between his lips. He tried to flick on his lighter, resulting in mere sparks.

"Dammit." Francis muttered glaring at the lighter. It was then Eduardo spotted Nico trying to get through a crowd. Eduardo vaulted over a table, quickly followed by a confused Francis. Eduardo reached Nico.

"Hey, man," Eduardo started quickly. "One last thing," Eduardo tipped the two cigarettes into the flame Nico had stupidly left lit. "Thanks!" Nico looked very peeved at having to deal with another lowly soldier. Nico gritted his teeth and forced himself not to reply as he stalked away. Eduardo and Francis smoked at a booth, playing poker with a deck Francis had brought.

an hour later, Eduardo was standing by the entrance, chatting with Joey Merril(Soldier) who was telling Eduardo about his savior, Vincent Marcella who was the stuff of legends. He had four back to back life sentences in prison.

"-and he always kicked ass at pool, actually, this one time-" The door banged open and thirty armed men with green hoods stormed in.

"TONIGHT," a voice roared. "YOU ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!" Francis threw a knife that landed with a THUNK! into the mans head. A man stood forward and shot Francis in the chest, four inches from his heart.

"Slowly." The man growled. He pulled Francis up and threw him on the ground in front of his men. They took no haste in kicking him merclessly. Eduardo glanced around and saw gasoline in the corner. Very convenient. He slid over n silently poured gasoline on their shoes. Nico stared at him. Eduardo pleaded with him silently. Nico flung his lit zippo at their feet and the flames lapped up their legs as they screamed in agony. Taking this chance, the rest of the Mafia pulled their weapons and opened fire, sparing no one. In about a minute all of the oppressors were on the ground, sizzling.

"Help...me..." A voice croaked. Eduardo looked down at the man who had spoken. There was blood all over him and his hood was under him. Eduardo couldnt believe his eyes!

Gary.

Gary was a mole. A rat. Snitch. Eduardo was flooded with rage. Gary had watched as Francis was shot. Joined the other Irishman in beating him within an inch of his life. Eduardo acted in a second, clouded by anger. He closed his hands around Gary's throat, shaking him as he pressed on his windpipe.

Eduardo was silent as he strangled out what little life was left inside of Gary. Eduardo merely stared, snarling slightly as Gary's face turned red then purple as he gasped for air, recieving nothing. Eduardo's mind flashed to Francis as Gary stomped on him, laughing with the others. Rage boiled inside Eduardo and in that instant he was vaugely aware that there was no way in fuck Eduardo was going to let Gary live and not send him to his proper place in the ninth circle of Hell. Fear shone bright in Gary's eyes, silently begging for mercy. Eduardo took no notice, his face contorted in rage, he only strangled harder, stopping when Garry no longer moved. There was no light in his eyes.

Eduardo stood. He stared at the burned, shot, and strangled body of Gary Lloyd. Lifeless.

Don Bachoroni walked over to him and put an arm over his shoulder.

"It'll be okay, kid. It's good you're angry. Shows humanity. We grieve with you." Eduardo nodded. He walked over to Francis,an arm burned badly he was still gasping for air he already had.

"We'll get you help, man. Just hang in there." Eduardo and Nico carried Francis over to the hospital down the street. Their tires had been slashed. Once delivered, they walked back to Dante's.

"Thanks for the help, Nico." Eduardo said quietly.

"Don't mention it, kid." Nico said nonchalantly.

Eduardo shook his head but didn't reply.

(AN: The next chapter will be on a happier note. Review.)