Two men sat alone in the back room of an abandoned home in downtown Los Angeles, lighting some joints. Another man walked in and sat next to them, throwing a bag of weed at their feet.

"What's that?" The man on the left asked roughly.

"It dat good shit I got. Cost me 200 but it ill' fuck. YOU. UP!" The new man said, throwing his arms in the air, "but if you want some, you best be chippin' in, 'cause my dealer is HARSH. You don't pay him back on time, you don't get no second chance."

The man on the right threw down three 20$ bills, rolled a joint, and smoked it, "DAMN! Who the fuck is yo deala'! I need a' get me some a this shit!"

"He's some mafia guy, the dealer himself ain't that bad, but his little friend 'ill fuck you up." He put a joint in his mouth and lit it, "He don't look real bad at first glance, but he scary. Real thin, lean. Blond with some stupid hair cut, always wearin' black leather, looks kinda like a stripper if ya ask me. Pretty sure he even wearin' eyeliner too and he ain't neve' seen without a chocolate bar."

"What are they names?"

"Hmm? Oh the dealer goes by Rod Ross and His little friend is called 'Mello'."

…

Speaking of the two, they were both trekking through the desert, towards a trailer park in Nevada. They had a job to do, seeing as SOMEONE didn't pay up on time.

Mello sighed, "Does it get any 'otter out 'ere? Why can't we just take a car? I don't like the desert."

"Maybe, If you'd stop wearin' skin-tight, black leather in 100 degree weather, you'd feel better?" Ross said. "And you know damn well we ain't gonna waste gas for A TWO MILE TRIP."

Mello just groaned and put his hood up. The heat wasn't the only reason he hated the desert.

"Why are you wearin' a jacket in the desert if you hate the heat so much?"

"I!..." Mello breathed through his teeth and calmed down for once in his life, "Listen, Ross, I'm a Russian, who was born and raised in blooty England. DO YOU THINK MY PALE ASS SKIN IS USED TO BEING IN THE SUNLIGHT?! NO. IT IS NOT. So now, I 'ave to wear this fucking 'eavy ass coat in the blazing heat. DO YOU THINK I'M 'APPY?"

"Are you actually ever happy? 'Cause it seems like you have two moods, angry and more angry."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" Mello screamed. It was the only way his 16 year old mind thought to handle the situation.

The two arrived at their destination. An old, dusty trailer park filled with old cars and dead plants. Empty beer bottles and cans lined the ground, broken glass and gravel crushed against their shoes as they walked past the old homes. A big, black chained up rottweiler barked at them and Mello cringed in disgust as he noticed the poor pup had no shade or water out here in the harsh sun.

They arrived at the trailer. The stairs leading up to the deck were breaking in some spots and bottles and needles covered the porch. He shuddered. God he was thankful for his boots. Ross pounded on the door.

No response.

He banked his fist on the door again, louder.

"Wait, wait, I'm comin'" Came from the inside.

A pale, slim man with bags under his eyes, an unshaven beard and yellow stained teeth creaked open the door. He looked up at Ross's angry face and closed the door, undid the chain lock and welcomed them in. "It's been awhile. Y'all need somethin' ta drink?" The man, his name was Bill if Mello remembered correctly, asked.

Ross walked right in, "No, I'm fine." he said. Mello, hesitated a bit. The home was filled with smoke and smelled absolutely horrendous. He covered his mouth and spoke as he walked in, "No, thank you." In truth he was very thirsty, however he did not want to drink whatever rancid beverages they had.

As he stepped in he noticed a few things. One, the whole place was a mess, trash and cans thrown around the place, furniture stained, torn, broken or all three and the insects. Oh dear god the insects. Two, the illegality of it all. Needles on the floor, blood stains on the carpet (at least that's what he hoped they were), lines of coke and jars of moonshine. And Three, the worst of it, THE KIDS. It's not that Mello hated kids, he was actually quite fond of the clean and smart ones, it was that, WHO THE FUCK RAISED KIDS IN THIS ENVIRONMENT?! There were three in sight, all toddlers around two to five. Another baby could be heard crying in the back and the mother was sitting on the couch holding one in her arms along with a beer. She was wearing some raggy, old, unwashed tank top and jean shorts, smoking a cigarette. WHILE PREGNANT.

Whole place made Mello sick to his stomach, combined with the smell and the oncoming heatstroke, he was surprised he didn't throw up. Not that he really could, he hadn't eaten anything as of late (chocolate would have just melted in the heat) and he was thus, starving.

Ross stood up and waved his hand to Mello as he walked to the door. Bill opened it for them and the two walked out. Mello was relieved to finally breathe, yet confused as to why something bigger hadn't happened. "I thought you said we were going to make them pay for being late on their payments?" he asked.

"I did, mixed that coke I sold 'em with cyanide."

Mello smiled a bit, "Nice trick, still wish I could 'ave shot them."

"Scratch your trigger finger somewhere else. Don't need the police on us right now." Ross said walking down the stairs.

Mello followed. They walked past the dog again. Mello still felt bad for the poor thing. Then he spotted something that gave him an idea. Ross was already at the gate, he turned around, "Hey, come on, we don't got all day. Suns goin' down. You know the desert ain't a nice place at night."

"Yeah, in a moment." Mello said. He was completely distracted digging through some old car parts until he found what he was looking for. An old hubcap that had enough space to act as a bowl. He dusted the old thing off and ran over to a hose he hoped worked. It did, luckily and he washed it off and filled it with water. Mello then approached the dog carefully. This dog did not appear to have a good home-life and thus not a friend. He made himself as small and nonthreatening as he could, extending the water out to the snarling beast of a hound. It stopped and sniffed at the water, before drinking. Mello sat the water at the dog's paws, patted it's head and walked away.

"Was that really necessary?" Ross asked

"Yes." Mello flipped his hood down and walked away.

The desert was much cooler at night. Darker and more dangerous, however. So the two made their way to the inn they were staying at for the time. It was dark when they returned. They entered the room to find Matt, Rashual and Glen (those are the names of two high ranking members in the mafia, as stated by the 13th bonus volume of the manga) playing cards. It was a nice room. A small kitchen space was to the left of the door. Two queen size beds sat in front of a large TV at the back of the room and a fold out couch and in the middle with a table. Another room with two more beds, another TV and a bathroom were connected to the main room. That room was Mello and Matt's. Glen, Rashual and Ross slept in the main room.

Mello flopped down on the couch, "Mmmmm. I'm hungry."

"Yeah let's go get food." Matt mumbled, putting his fist in the air, face buried in his video games.

"Then I guess, we get food." Ross said, "Common, let's go then. There's a good place down the road."

The five got up and left.