Failure - for family_legacy
He was there, looking annoyed at the incompetence before him and crushing the end of an unlit cigarette with his lips.
It had been obvious for awhile that whatever information they were going to get from the snitch, they already had. But there wasn't even that much, it was more just the fact that the guy had snitched on them. He needed to be an example. The kid in training, the one punching his gut, wasn't working out. Peter was getting frustrated. A few broken ribs weren't enough to make an example of anyone.
Leaning against the wall next to the door, Malone, Peter's liaison, was watching with bored interest. It was obvious that he wasn't impressed either. The idea had been to give the kid something to chew on, but he wasn't taking it. It was taking far too long. Peter threw the crushed cigarette on the ground and walked over, holding his hand out to the kid with bloodied knuckles.
"Give me your gun, idiot," he demanded. He could do this on his own, he should have in the first place. As the kid stared up at him with wide eyes, he insisted again. "Give me your fucking gun!"
The snitch in the chair wet himself, chewing on the damp gag between his teeth. The kid pulled out his gun and handed it over to Peter, and before either of them could anticipate anything, he shot the snitch in the middle of his forehead.
"When I tell you to make an example, that's what you do. That means that motherfucker needs to be in pieces, do you understand?"
The kid nodded numbly, his breathing increasing to an animal-like rhythm as he stared over at the body and the blood dripping out of the hole in its head. When Peter shot the body again, the kid flinched. Twice. Three times. He turned the gun on the kid and shot his knee, relishing the sound of his scream as he fell on the floor.
"That's an example," Peter said coldly. "Fuck up again and you'll join him in the river."
He pulled the gun apart, ignoring the burn of the metal against his hands as he slid the chamber out and tossed it on the floor in the pooling blood. Malone bit his tongue as he walked forward, watching his boss uneasily, but at least there wasn't a gun in his hand. Peter had been edgy lately, and from Malone's point of view, something was going on but he didn't know what. So many family secrets.
He wanted to show everyone that he could do things without fucking them up, that he could be just as ruthless as Nathan, or even Arthur. He could run this family, he wasn't a goddamn Fredo. If Nathan wasn't going to stand up and do things, then Peter would. Maybe all he needed was a push in the right direction, and with all of the shit that had gone down recently, it wasn't just a push, it was a shove off of a cliff. He wanted to emerge from this as a new person. One who could be respected and feared, because he was tired of being walked-on.
He brushed by Malone on his way out. "Clean it up."
It had been obvious for awhile that whatever information they were going to get from the snitch, they already had. But there wasn't even that much, it was more just the fact that the guy had snitched on them. He needed to be an example. The kid in training, the one punching his gut, wasn't working out. Peter was getting frustrated. A few broken ribs weren't enough to make an example of anyone.
Leaning against the wall next to the door, Malone, Peter's liaison, was watching with bored interest. It was obvious that he wasn't impressed either. The idea had been to give the kid something to chew on, but he wasn't taking it. It was taking far too long. Peter threw the crushed cigarette on the ground and walked over, holding his hand out to the kid with bloodied knuckles.
"Give me your gun, idiot," he demanded. He could do this on his own, he should have in the first place. As the kid stared up at him with wide eyes, he insisted again. "Give me your fucking gun!"
The snitch in the chair wet himself, chewing on the damp gag between his teeth. The kid pulled out his gun and handed it over to Peter, and before either of them could anticipate anything, he shot the snitch in the middle of his forehead.
"When I tell you to make an example, that's what you do. That means that motherfucker needs to be in pieces, do you understand?"
The kid nodded numbly, his breathing increasing to an animal-like rhythm as he stared over at the body and the blood dripping out of the hole in its head. When Peter shot the body again, the kid flinched. Twice. Three times. He turned the gun on the kid and shot his knee, relishing the sound of his scream as he fell on the floor.
"That's an example," Peter said coldly. "Fuck up again and you'll join him in the river."
He pulled the gun apart, ignoring the burn of the metal against his hands as he slid the chamber out and tossed it on the floor in the pooling blood. Malone bit his tongue as he walked forward, watching his boss uneasily, but at least there wasn't a gun in his hand. Peter had been edgy lately, and from Malone's point of view, something was going on but he didn't know what. So many family secrets.
He wanted to show everyone that he could do things without fucking them up, that he could be just as ruthless as Nathan, or even Arthur. He could run this family, he wasn't a goddamn Fredo. If Nathan wasn't going to stand up and do things, then Peter would. Maybe all he needed was a push in the right direction, and with all of the shit that had gone down recently, it wasn't just a push, it was a shove off of a cliff. He wanted to emerge from this as a new person. One who could be respected and feared, because he was tired of being walked-on.
He brushed by Malone on his way out. "Clean it up."