Okay, the truth is I've had this chapter ready for a while... but I've been using it as incentive against myself to make sure I completed the next two.

Sorry for the wait. Been busy- got a few new projects this semester.

Enjoy.

x

Inside the cheap Italian restaurant, there was a groan and some sobbing to be heard. A woman in a waitress uniform was crouched against a table, clutching the cloth adorning it with an almost completely white hand. The knuckles themselves were cut up a bit from where they had just hit the hardwood floor with tremendous impact. Contrasting against the pale skin and bleached uniform was the bright red color that just spelled disaster. It trickled out like spilt paint from the woman and as she stared harder at it, the sobbing increased.

She had just started at this restaurant for Mag's Sake! Maybe that's what the boss meant by be careful. Samantha had always heard that Luigi Largo was a very, temperamental sort- but being the naïve person she was, she thought she would be fine just serving him dinner.

Obviously that wasn't the case. Now, as she lies here, probably dieing, she wondering if this job was really necessary. The only reason she got it was to pay for the extra cosmetic surgery she had agreed to go along with her organ transfer. Really, all she needed was a new heart- she didn't have to aim higher! If she had just kept her face looking the way it was, and had not tried to emulate all those stars in the magazines, she wouldn't be here! She wouldn't need to have to pay off the extra fee, to avoid the Repo Man, and she wouldn't have needed to get a job in a dingy restaurant known for the unscrupulous clientele it held.

This made Samantha quiet down a bit. It wasn't Luigi's fault that she was on the floor, practically dead. It was her's. Well, the infamous Luigi Largo certainly had some play in this, but for the most part, she had dug her own grave. Literally.

The man in question stared at her from his seat at the wooden table, shifting slightly to catch a better view. He mumbled to himself, as his rage receded slowly. He cocked his head in a confused manor, trying to recall what had just happened. He was sitting at the table, and he saw a plain looking waitress come up and ask him what he wanted. Luigi remembered ordering the spaghetti, and going to his pocket to answer the phone. His brother had been on the other end, berating him for not attending that day's business meeting. A yelling match had started, and Luigi had gotten more and more angry. The waitress had returned. And he… he stabbed her.

She wasn't doing anything wrong, and that's what always bothered Luigi after he went into one of his rages. Most of the time, the people he hurt hadn't done anything to deserve the blade through their ribcage. His father had realized what a temper he had, even when Luigi was just a tiny child. His father had given a damn and tried to help him control it. But Luigi had stupidly taken that for granted. That was probably the biggest thing he regretted about his father's death. He couldn't even just attempt to change! Rotti Largo had at least managed to impart his wisdom and skill for running a company in one heir. But unfortunately, it was the one child that couldn't even control himself long enough to sign a contract.

He tried to be good. Every single second was a struggle not to stab the nearest person for just breathing the wrong way. Every moment was another accident waiting to happen.

Well, maybe he didn't try as hard as he could. There was a slight rush he got when he pulled out that spare scalpel or knife he had managed to get his hands on in the morning. That feeling of overwhelming adrenaline that released with each swipe of the knife. It was addicting, just as much as those drugs his sister was hooked on.

Luigi wasn't the only one to blame for his deeds though. People knew it was a terrible idea to give him a sharp object. Most, were too afraid of what he might possibly do to them if they made an effort to take it away, and therefore did not bother- instead opting to steer clear of the deranged man. Unstable as he was normally, it was nothing compared to how Luigi could be. That was a sight better not witnessed. So it was really as much a fault to them as it was him.

A choking noise brought Luigi to his feet; the girl was inching closer and closer to death. He sighed slightly, and reached his hand into his pocket for the phone. Best to call in a clean up crew before word could spread of another murder-by-GeneCo-boss. The cook wouldn't tell anyone what happened, old Robert knew that a man such as Luigi Largo could shut down the restaurant in a second if he did- and quite frankly, it was getting harder and harder to find a job.

Luigi swiftly dialed the number as the blood continued to spread on the maple floors. The stain would be a killer to clean up. He didn't even attempt to help the waitress. It was far too late, and he had committed so many crimes similar to this he knew it would be pointless. As he brought the phone up to his ear, he smiled bitterly- for he knew that the cleaners GeneCo had around the city probably had people standing by for moments such as these. Moments which one little slice of the knife told the ending of a life, and another story that had to be hushed before it hit the press.

He had barely closed the phone, before Luigi heard the sound of the front door slamming and a frightened gasp.

Great, one more body for those clean-up crews.

He turned around slightly to catch a glimpse of the person who had entered, and the waitress in the crisp, clean, un-bloodied uniform surprised him so much he dropped the cell phone.

He turned around to catch a glimpse of the person who had entered, and stared shocked into the equally startled eyes of the woman standing at the doorway in a crisp, clean, un-bloodied server's uniform.

x

And as a treat, here's a preview of the rough draft (also the non-proofread draft) of the next chapter. Sorry it is short, but I figure the less I give away, the more you'll all have to read!

Next Chapter:

"'GeneCo...' a figure walking the deserted streets of the near morning mused to herself. It was GeneCo's fault..."