(I DO NOT own The Walking Dead, Code Lyoko, or any names/brands that might appear in the story. Any references to any person living or dead is merely a coincidence, and should NOT be taken as intentional. All of that being said, I hope you enjoy the story!

It was a cold and rainy night throughout most of upper New York State. Everyone was going about their daily business that night, everyone was going out to do whatever it was they were out to do... including the criminals as well. On the shore of Lake Ontario discreetly set away from the other more-busy places near Rochester, a lone black car sat parked near an old and unmaintained pier long since forgotten by most. It was quiet. It was discrete. And no one would come looking for anything over here.

Three men in fancy suits and ties were standing near the car, with two standing at the trunk and the third rummaging inside of the back seats. The man rummaging in the back seats pulled out a large aluminum baseball bat while the other two men opened up the trunk. Inside the trunk was a bruised, bloody and beaten man who was tied up. His right eye was so swollen that he couldn't even see the men who had kidnapped him from the streets of Brooklyn several hours earlier, but even so he knew exactly who they were... A gag was inside of his mouth so he couldn't ask or say anything. He was completely at their mercy.

"Boys, get Frankie outta the trunk! It's time to end this..." the first man, 'Ray', barked an order at his two underbosses.

The two men did exactly as Ray ordered them to. Michael Beneventi and Henry De Luca have been working with their don Ray Moretti for years now and they've actually been friends with Ray since they were all young kids living in Bath Beach together, and for their loyalty and friendship throughout their lives Ray christened them both as high-ranking underbosses when he took charge of the Moretti Family after the death of his father. So naturally they were both very used to doing all sorts of illegal things over the course of their whole lives.

The only real problem that they had at the moment was a man named Frank Romano.

Frank had been with the Moretti Family for the last five or six years and to be fair he had done a pretty decent job doing their dirty work throughout New York City. Mostly he did things such as intimidate store owners into paying protection money to the Family, rough up some deadbeats who owed the Family debt money, eliminate people whom the Family decided needed to be eliminated... those kind of things.

Frank had earned quite a reputation throughout the criminal underworld of New York and about a year ago he was even christened as a made man, a soldato, for his efforts. But last week the Family found out from some very reliable sources that Frank had been doing some very alarming things.

As of late, Frank had apparently started to publicly brag about many of the illegal activities that he did for the Family as if it was the most normal thing a person could do. Like washing your fucking car, or taking your dog for a walk. Even worse, the Family had also heard from the same reliable sources that feds of the New York Police Department were beginning to notice Frank's loud mouth: sparking a police investigation into him and his associates.

Frank truthfully didn't mean anything by his blabbering. Hell, he was just trying to use his horrible ego to impress some cheap women into fucking his brains out back at his apartment, ain't no one can blame him for wanting to get laid. But unfortunately, because of what he was saying, the Moretti Family had decided that he was now far more of a liability than an asset. He was simply a threat to their very way of life.

If Frank was picked up by the feds for everything he was saying, then what would happen if he turned state's and decided to squeal about everything else he knew about Mr. Moretti or his associates? What would happen to the Family at large if he told the wrong people about the countless things he's done for the Moretti Family? It was too risky of a possibility. The Family couldn't afford him leaking their secrets whether intentionally or not.

The Moretti's got all of the authorization they needed from the rest of the Commission for what they were about to do to Frank Romano. No one was going to question what was to happen, literally none of the other families would give the slightest of shits, and Frank certainly didn't have anyone left in his life who would care too much if he suddenly disappeared...

It is what it is.

Ray shut the door to his car after he leaned out of the backseat, casually setting the aluminum bat on his shoulder. Mike and Henry pulled Frank out of the trunk and they dragged him out onto the concrete ground a short distance from the front of the car's headlights, the captive grunting with frustration and a feeling of pain since he couldn't resist. Ray smirked as Mike and Henry forced Frank onto his knees, making him crouch in front of the don so they could look each other in the eyes.

"Hey, hey... Frankie, relax... It is good to see you tonight." Ray said, full of sarcasm. "You worked with us for a while now... What was it? Five years now, right? Six? Somethin' like that? But now all of that's been thrown away because you just couldn't keep your fuckin' mouth shut..." he suddenly frowned.

Frank quietly whimpered a little when Ray raised the bat and rubbed it against the side of his skull so he could feel how solid it was. Frank was afraid... very afraid. Don Moretti was famous in the New York criminal underworld for his golden rule: never kill anyone unless you have a legitimately good reason to do so. Killing was a matter which Ray always considered to be both serious and solemn. Ending a life was only a last resort for the Moretti Family in most cases.

However, Frank realized that he had given Ray a pretty damn good reason for Ray to end his life. He was just praying he could find some way to get out of this alive...

Ray then hit Frank in his stomach with the end of his baseball bat pretty hard. Frank coughed violently as he fell onto his side, cringing and feeling pain all over his abdomen and stomach. But even so, this pain would be nothing compared to what he was sure he would be feeling in a few brief minutes... Henry and Mike then walked over and tied a pair of cement blocks to Frank's ankles with some lines of strong rope, causing Frank's eyes to widen with even more fear.

Mike and Henry lifted Frank back up onto his knees and Ray went to crouch in front of him, giving him a sinister smirk. According to Ray, the worst thing that anyone on this Earth could do was commit an act of betrayal against any person who is loyal to you. By blabber-mouthing and putting the entire Family at risk, Frank did just that in Ray's eyes. Such an act simply could not stand without restitution.

Never kill anyone unless you have a good reason to do so, right?

"You know, I actually trusted ya with my life, Frank..." Ray began with a sigh. "You were a good earner. A good soldato (soldier). And you were family... Fuck, I even made you myself! I made you into a made man! I gave you power!" he exasperated.

With an angered sigh, Ray turned his back to Frank and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so disappointed in Frank's actions... After six years of loyalty from Frank even Ray was surprised that it all led to this moment.

"But I guess that didn't mean shit to ya, right?" Ray accused, turning back to the captive mobster. "You just wanted to get some stupefacente (amazing) pussy and fifteen minutes of fame! You just didn't give a shit about the Family..." he accused with a glare.

The captive mobster just whimpered as a reply to these statements. He was truly afraid for his life... Ray, however angry he was, was enjoying every bit of this situation. This fucker was gonna get everything he deserves and nothing less. No one goes against their way of life, the code of omertà. Not even made men.

"But here's what I'm gonna do for you, Frank." Ray said to his former soldato, patting Frank on his shoulder and causing him to flinch in terror. "I WILL make you famous just like how you wanted to be. I owe ya that much, buddy..."

Famous...? No, no, he didn't want to be famous...

What was Ray getting at...?

"I guess you wanted to be on the front page for the city papers, or somethin' right? You wanted to be all over the news? The internet? Well, I can help with that." Ray smirked. "'Brooklyn mobster Frank Romano declared missing and presumed dead!'" he suddenly announced a hypothetical headline for tomorrow's paper back in New York City.

That's when Frank started to scream with utter realization. Ray had just signed his death warrant and there was nothing he could do about it. He was dead! He was gonna get fucking whacked! WHACKED! Frank tried to beg Don Moretti to let him live but alas the gag in his mouth made sure he couldn't say a word. All he could do was scream, scream, and scream some more.

Henry and Mike were both laughing at Frank's reaction to his fate. They truly thought it was hilarious to see this scumbag screaming for his life. They only laughed harder when they saw that Frank apparently urinated in his pants out of fear...

"Hey, look! He's screaming with joy, boss!" Henry sarcastically joked to his boss.

"Frankie, I'm jealous! I really am! You're gonna be as famous as Jimmy Hoffa!" Mike laughed, full of sarcasm but being completely literal about the Hoffa reference.

Ray was also laughing as he suddenly raised his bat and gave some very hard hits to Frank's kneecaps. Within moments both of Frank's kneecaps were shattered and the captive mobster was now screaming in unbearable agony as well as fear. The cement blocks were tied, Frank's hands were bound, and his kneecaps were basically powder at this point. There was nothing stopping the three mobsters from dumping their former soldato into the lake and he certainly wouldn't be able to escape from the water in such a state.

Simply put: Frank Romano was fucked.

"Get him to the edge of the pier and toss those blocks into the water, but keep him up here for another minute or two. I wanna speak to him before we send him off." Ray instructed his two cronies.

Mike and Henry grabbed Frank from under his shoulders and they dragged him to the edge of the pier. Frank was struggling and wailing the entire time, but with his hands binded and his legs broken there wasn't really much he could do. The two men kept a tight hold on Frank as they forced him up onto his broken knees, making him wail with even more agony as Ray crouched down to look him in the eyes.

"Hai rotto il tuo giuramento di omertà, Frankie. È un crimine che non può essere perdonato. (You broke your oath of omertà, Frankie. It is a crime that cannot be forgiven.)" Ray smugly told his former soldato.

Frank watched with fear as Mike and Henry kicked the cement blocks into the water, the plopping sounds only adding onto his screams of agony and utter horror. He was about to die... Ray gave a nod to his two men and they began to drag Frank towards the edge of the pier until they were holding him directly above the deep water. Frank could only look Ray in the eyes, seeing the feeling of satisfaction the mafia don had within them.

"Possa Dio stesso avere pietà della tua anima. (May God himself have mercy on your soul.)" Ray said as a goodbye to Frank Romano.

And then Mike and Henry let go. Frank's muffled screams were immediately silenced as he fell into the water. The three mobsters peeked over the side of the pier to look at Frank struggling in the water, and they stuck around for a few more moments to witness the air bubbles rising out of the water. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't long before the air bubbles ceased and his life finally came to a premature end. All they could see now was the corpse of a dead mobster staring back at them through the murky waters of Lake Ontario.

The three mobsters felt absolutely no sympathy for their former friend, and after Ray gave one last insult by spitting into the water the three began to head back to their car... Their task was completed, and now it was time to just head back home.

It is what it is.

After managing to make their way down through the state the three mobsters finally made it back to the outskirts of NYC. They drove through the heavy traffic in Manhattan and they were finally beginning to approach their home borough: Brooklyn. As Henry drove their car along the Brooklyn Bridge, Mike was absent-mindedly staring out of the passenger window while Ray laid in the backseat focused on a crossword book he picked up at a gas station somewhere in western Pennsylvania.

Henry got them through the bridge and he drove into an exit-ramp. There was still a bit of traffic but since it was still before dawn it wasn't anything like in Lower Manhattan or Jersey. Hopefully they'll be back home within the hour, but he wouldn't be surprised if they ran into a traffic snarl along the way. Ray didn't really give a shit when he got home as he had taken care of everything he needed to do that day, and if there was anything important he was sure his consigliere could handle it back at the house.

Ray chewed on the eraser end of his pencil and stared down at the crossword in deep thought, trying to figure out a word that just simply wasn't coming into his mind. He loved crosswords ever since he was a young child. They always helped him to keep his mind active when it should be, and half the time it seemed like he'd buy crossword books by the pound. Plus it made for a damn good hobby.

"Boys, what a five letter word for: 'a pooch living in 2062'? It's part of the film and television category." Ray asked his two underbosses, as he was wondering if either of them could help him answer this question.

Henry blinked at the strange question and he had absolutely no idea what could be the answer to such a thing. But Mike, the movie and TV show aficionado that he was, simply shrugged and turned to look back at his boss with a know-it-all grin plastered on his face.

"........is it: 'Astro', boss?" Mike guessed an answer that he had a good feeling about.

Ray experimentally wrote down 'Astro' under the empty space, and sure enough it fit perfectly. Satisfied, Ray thanked his underboss for the help and then he continued trying to figure out whatever the last two remaining answers were. Henry continued to drive the car through the streets of Brooklyn, and in a sign that he was back in familiar territory he looked out the window and saw Mama Moretti's: the Italian bistro restaurant and bar which Ray's mother Carmela used to run before she died about a decade ago. It was Ray's property now according to her will, but he still kept the name of the place the same as a way to honor her.

Turning down the street which led to the Moretti compound, Henry couldn't help but think back on what had happened to Frank. He felt that the motherfucker got exactly what he deserved, but truthfully? In his honest opinion? They could've handled the execution a lot better. And certainly they could've gotten rid of the body a little better too...

Anyway, it wasn't his job to go against Ray's decisions. Henry was an underboss, Ray was the don. Underbosses simply don't go against their dons. It is what it is... Henry shook his head and he decided to just stop thinking about Ray's decision-making or that fucker Frank Romano. That fucking guy wasn't even worth thinking about in the first place.

Henry drove his way through Brooklyn until he got to Jefferson Avenue in Bedford-Stuyvesant, and he saw that he saw he was approaching the Moretti compound. Ray set down his crossword book on the seat next to him and he straightened his tie as Henry parked the car in front of the building, all three men taking a good look at the place. The compound was a brownstone row house located deep within Moretti territory, and since 1966 it has served as the de-facto national headquarters for the entire Moretti organization. Whether you were in Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Chicago, Detroit, Toronto, St. Louis, Miami, New York or Timbuk-fucking-tu then you, as a member of the Moretti Family, were obligated to get your orders from the made men who in turn got their own orders from the guy who called this building home.

By and large the place appeared pretty normal to anyone who happened to look at it, but Moretti gunmen were throughout the entire borough and there was several guards just on Jefferson Avenue alone: all of whom had pistols or sub-machine guns underneath their jackets. Although the Moretti Family was a bit smaller than other famed families like the Colombos or the Luccheses, they still had plenty of firepower and plenty of good men working under Ray's leadership.

One of the guards standing at the front door came to the car and he opened the back door for Mr. Moretti. Ray climbed out of the back seat as Henry and Mike got out of the front, and the two underbosses followed close behind their don as he walked up the front steps of his home. Killing Frank Romano had to be done but the five hour drive to Lake Ontario and the five hour drive back to Brooklyn was a huge pain in the ass for all involved. The extra few hours there and back where they were stuck in traffic didn't help either.

"Lucy's probably sleeping so try to keep quiet..." Ray informed his two underbosses since his wife was usually asleep around this time.

The two mobsters nodded at their don's request. Taking off his shoes and leaving them by the front door, Ray appeared to be pretty relaxed as he walked into his home. Henry and Mike left their shoes next to Ray's as the mafia don headed straight into the living room, where he plopped down on his chair and put on the television. He was absolutely exhausted and he just wanted to catch up on the news a little before he went upstairs to get some sleep.

"Christ, what a day..." Ray sighed as he turned on his TV, trying to relax a bit.

Mike and Henry were just as exhausted as Ray was, so it wouldn't be long until they decided to head back to their own apartments to get some sleep too. But like Ray they wanted to chill out and relax a little bit before they headed home. Luckily their apartments weren't too far away from the Moretti compound, so the drive there would be pretty easy and hopefully pretty quick. They had to get some shuteye tonight since they had even more business to attend to for the Family tomorrow...

The three heard the front door open and shut again. Turning to see who it was, the three mobsters saw Sam was walking into the house. For the last thirty years Sam Occhino has been the consigliere for the Moretti Family, loyally serving right under the don. First it was to Ray's father Ennio, and since his death Sam's answered to Ray himself. He was a damn good man for the job and the Family has prospered time and time again due to his work. In many ways his voice was considered to be almost an equal to Don Moretti himself. He earned that himself.

"Sam, come va? Come sono andate le cose nel Queens? (Sam, how are you? How'd that business in Queens go?)" Ray asked his consigliere.

"Eh, avrebbe potuto andare meglio. (Eh, it could've gone better.)" Sam sighed, speaking in the only language he knew.

"Beh, dimmi di quello che è successo. (Well, tell me about what happened.)" Ray replied with a tired voice. He did NOT have the energy for more business today, so he was just praying that whatever happened in Queens could be easily dealt with sometime tomorrow.

Sam could tell that his don appeared pretty worn out after that business he had to deal with up in Rochester, and he started to feel a little bad for the guy. He cared a lot for this kid ever since he was... well, a kid. Sam was very good friends with his father and in many ways he was kind of an uncle to Ray when he was growing up, but no matter what he felt the Moretti Family always had to come first and foremost for everyone who was in it.

"Conosci quel club del sesso? Quello su a Jamaica? (You know that sex club? The one up in Jamaica?)" Sam inquired to Ray as he sat down between Mike and Henry.

"Sì, certo che lo so. 'Sinner's Palace.' (Yeah, of course I do. 'Sinner's Palace.')" Ray shrugged. "Il proprietario ha accettato i nostri termini? (Did the owner agree to our terms?)"

Sam shook his head. "No. (No.)" he began to say. "Si è rifiutato di vendere e mi ha detto di andarsene altrimenti avrebbe chiamato la polizia. (He refused to sell, and he told me to leave or else he would have called the police.)"

Ray leaned his head back against the back of the sofa and he let out an annoyed groan. For the last three months the Moretti Family had been trying to get that sex club in Brooklyn's Jamaica district under their prostitution ring. It was a popular place for countless horny john's in Brooklyn and it had the potential to make the Family a lot of money, but there was just one problem with it: the owner.

For whatever reason the guy just simply kept refusing over and over again to sell the business over to the Family, even when the offers grew more and more lucrative. Ray had no idea who he was since dealing with unwilling owners was usually Sam's line of work, but if the bastard kept this up then he'd have to send Mike and Henry. And if he sent Mike and Henry, then the guy's brains could very well end up as a splatter on a wall somewhere.

"Sam, questo sta sfuggendo di mano e tu lo sai. (Sam, this is getting out of hand and you know it.)" Ray stated to the consigliere.

"Ho provato tutto quello che mi veniva in mente, ma il cazzo non si muoveva. (I've tried everything I could think of but the prick just won't budge.)" Sam said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration at the situation.

"Bene, forse ora è il momento di inviare le armi grosse. Ricordare... (Well, maybe now's the time to send in the big guns. Remind...)"

Ray trailed off from his words as he tried to think of what the name of the owner was. He had no clue why but for some reason it seemed like forgot the fucker's name each and every time it came up in conversation. It was growing tiresome... normally he wasn't the type of guy to forget a name.

"...Sam, come si chiamava di nuovo il ragazzo? (...Sam, what was the guy's name again?)" Ray sheepishly asked.

"Campbell. George Campbell." Sam replied with an amused chuckle. "Da quello che ho raccolto le sue ragazze lo chiamano: 'La Volpe.' (From what I have collected his girls call him: 'The Fox.')" he further added.

"What a stupid fuckin' name..." Mike commented in English with a roll of his eyes.

The Moretti don looked down towards the coffee table and he began to think of ways to try and convince the guy to sell. They couldn't kill him since it would've hit the revenue the place generated, and it was obvious that Sam's negotiations wasn't working either. Maybe now was the time to send in the big guns...

"Mike? Henry? Change of plans..." Ray began to inform his two friends. "That thing I asked you to do tomorrow in Yonkers? I'm gonna get someone else to handle it. Probably Derek or Vinnie 'Ice Pick' or someone... I want you two to head to Sinner's Palace and I want you to deal with the Fox yourselves. Make him see reason, but don't kill him. Right now he's more valuable to me alive than dead." he instructed.

"You got it, Ray..." Henry said with a nod.

Ray appeared a bit more relaxed. "Good. One less thing for me to worry about..." he sighed.

Sam, Mike and Henry all nodded as Ray turned his attention back over towards his television. He flipped through a bunch of channels and passed on watching things like a few children's cartoons, a Subdigitals music video, some documentary on the Statue of Liberty, a congressional report on the state of the economy that month... Y'know, just a ton of really boring shit which wouldn't interest him in a million years.

Eventually Ray got to the channel showing the evening news and he set the remote down on the arm of his chair. He saw that some American reporter was standing in... wait, where the fuck was that? Moscow? Ray had to keep the volume low so he wouldn't wake his wife, but he and the other mobsters in the room listened as closely as possible to the TV since they were all curious to see if anything happened over there.

The reporter still looked professional and calm despite the number of police officers which could be seen throughout the background.

"-and we're back to Emily Woodward reporting live from Moscow's Red Square... Emily?" they heard a news anchor as the news apparently just came back from commercial.

"Thanks Chet." the reporter replied, taking it away. "To add on to what we were saying earlier, the Russian government has officially declared a nation-wide quarantine of all flights and ships heading in or out of the country. Apparently this is due to the reports of the sudden, fast-moving virus coming out from Siberia over the last four days." she explained.

Virus? What virus? They hadn't heard anything about a virus...

"Although Moscow has not reported any official deaths as of tonight, the number of infected is said to be growing into the hundreds and rumors persist that the number of dead has topped well over 100. So far no state officials are confirming these reports, however." the reporter continued.

"And what of the persistent rumors of acts of cannibalism being committed by infected persons? And the social media blackout the Russian president ordered throughout the country earlier this morning?" the anchor inquired.

"Chet, all I can offer at this time is speculation and hearsay. So far I have heard nothing to confirm or deny any of those rumors or-"

Sam suddenly took the remote from Ray's chair and he turned off the TV before the reporters could continue. Although Ray appeared pretty annoyed, he realized that Sam was probably right in turning the damn thing off. Some stupid little coughs and sniffles 6,000 miles away wasn't gonna be a threat to the Moretti Family or anyone in it, so it was best to not even be concerned about it. Even so, Ray needed to get away from the TV and get some sleep anyway.

"Well, boys... I'm gonna call it a night." Ray yawned as he got up out of his chair, stretching his arms up.

"Alright. We'll handle Sinner's Palace tomorrow..." Henry nodded as he got up to grab his shoes.

Mike looked over at the elderly consigliere as he put his suit jacket back on. "Sam, hai bisogno di un passaggio per tornare a casa tua? (Sam, do you need a lift back to your place?)"

"L'ho coperto, ma grazie comunque, ragazzo. (I've got it covered, but thanks anyway, kid.)" Sam replied with a shrug as he hobbled towards the front door with his cane.

The underboss nodded as he watched Sam walk out the front door. As he went to get his shoes on, Ray bid them both goodnight and he started heading back up the stairs to his and Lucy's bedroom. Henry and Mike were just as exhausted as the don was so they were pretty anxious to get out of Ray's home and back over to their apartments. The two underbosses returned a goodnight to Ray before they left to head home.

The don himself quietly got to the third floor of the row house and he inched his way to his bedroom. Trying his hardest to not wake his wife, Ray quietly entered their bedroom to see she was peacefully sleeping in their bed. Ray tiredly took off his clothes and he changed into a t-shirt and boxers, and then he laid down next to her as softly and quietly as humanly possible.

Ray laid on his side and he took in his wife's sleeping appearance. Out of instinct he brushed a hair out from the front of her face and gazed at her beauty for who knew how long. Ray and Lucy have been happily married for the last ten years and he still thought of her as the prettiest girl in all of New York City...

Closing his eyes, Ray sighed and pulled the covers over himself and he tried to get some much-needed sleep.

He still had plenty of more business that he'd have to deal with tomorrow...