Scarface: The Assassin
Prologue
Angela Marciano looked at the corpse of her dead father. He was an open casket at the funeral, to which he was the deceased. There was a satisfied look in her eyes, only few people had shown up to the event. The ones who attended were part of his mob connection. Angie did not feel remorse for what she did. (Daddy, no! Please!) All she can think about was the abuse suffered by his hand. The man who had raised her, trained her, and beat her mercilessly for 14 of her 18 years on earth. (Take it all you filthy slut…) Angie winced remembering every count of abuse, nobody around her believed her. And the ones who did, were too afraid of retaliation to do anything about it. An elderly Italian woman sat crying, this was Angie's grandmother Maria Marciano, her son Thomas wasn't a perfect man. In fact he was scum of the earth, but he was her only son.
Raccoon Trailer Park, Miami, Florida. 1979
Thomas Marciano had finished his fifth of whiskey, he was feeling good and mean as can be. The Italian low level mobster was a joke of a gangster, he wasn't in what could be considered a normal mob family. Just a bunch of ex greasers who had come into some money. Thomas was feared through his gang though, as he was the best fighter, and the best shooter. He passed his skills onto his lovely daughter Angela, who was known in her circles as "Angie", "Angel", and her pet name "Princess". But to Thomas, she was called "slut" "whore" and "slave". Thomas had an unusual, and sickening incestuous passion for his only child and would express it in a physical way. Since Angela was 11 years old, the abusive father would molest her in a drunken stupor. While he was sober he would play the parenting role, often buying her items and clothes. For her sweet 16 he had bought her a 1969 Dodge Charger muscle car, along with a skimpy outfit that she liked wearing to tease and trap the guys into alleyways so she can rob them at gunpoint.
Thomas had taught the young Angela how to shoot and fight, both of which she excelled at. She was a pro shooter and a terrific fighter, this act of parenting sealed Thomas's fate and spelled his demise. This particular night he gotten drunk happened to be Angela's eighteenth birthday, and he was on his way into Angela's room to have his way with her. He tried to open the door but it was barricaded shut, Thomas started banging on the door. "Open this door you fucking cock gobbler!" Thomas shouted. He took off his belt, an object Angela was all too familiar with. He started kicking the door, each time inching the desk further from the door. On the other side of the door, Angela was loading a magazine for a .50 caliber handgun pistol known as a Desert Eagle. She finished loading the clip and stuck it in the gun before sliding the chamber back, cocking the pistol. Thomas had broken through the barricade, he had a wild look in his eye. His madness turned to horror as Angela had the pistol pointed right at him, he fell to his knees. Angela smiled, she walked over to her father. She knelt down and kissed him passionately on the mouth as a last "Fuck You" she stuck the barrel to his chest. She pulled the trigger and his insides splattered on the wall.
At The Funeral
Angela smiled looking at her father's corpse, she didn't feel guilty for what she had done. The man deserved it for the rotten way he had treated her. She turned around, she rolled her eyes at her grandmother, who always beat her when Angie would try to tell her what was going on. Angela walked out the door of the funeral home, got into her muscle car, and drove off through Miami. She was broke, she was jobless, but she was free. She knew a woman of her intelligence, attitude, and skills could find no trouble finding work in Miami's criminal underworld. As our heroine will find out, sometimes a good oppurtunity can find you unexpectedly. Especially when The World Is Yours.