On the Brink

by The-one-and-only-Rome

A short and sweet one shot in the dark that had crept into my mind whilst thinking about getting into Mafia AU's. Also, seeing as I haven't stated before in my recents or anything, my stories aren't written to historical views or happenings. I don't know all the Ancient's names and all that jazz, or how all the wars were going on and such. I just like to write ok?

It all happened so quick and smoothly, the cards Feliciano had been holding were now flying through the air, scattering about as he fell onto his back, spread eagle and limp. Bullets split the air, Antonio grabbing Lovina and throwing her to the ground as he pounced on top of her, the few stray bullets rippling along the ridge of his back, tattering the suit he was wearing.

Police sirens split the air as the cars raced down the narrow streets; the gun fight had carried on throughout the casino. The attackers moved swiftly, kicking over Antonio's body and silencing the younger Italian's scream with one dull gunshot, before stepping over her as well. The great Italian Mafia leader of Italy was dead now anyway, soon so will the rest of his family.

Marcello came tearing out from behind the bar, holding a small and lightweight Mini Uzi in his hands, bursting small and quick shots as he ran towards the exit, not stopping to see if any of his relatives were alive or even making an effort to get back up. "Chase me, stronzi-ACK" He was caught off, the butt end of a sawed off double barrel shotgun was thrown into his lips, causing him to flails backwards and fall onto his back, withering and clutching his mouth, dropping the gun and whimpering. The boot of the owner of the shotgun soon found its way onto the chest of the struggling Italian, applying pressure until he was fighting to even breathe. "Looks like you're finally out, Romulus" The voice sneered, not even wavering as the echoing blast of the shot sounded through Marcello's ears, silencing his scream. The Persians had taken over.