Benedict trudged wearily through the crowded, bustling streets of Notamafiatown, his short legs trying to keep up with the hurried pace of the adults around him. He was far younger, only 13 and still physically intact, two horns and all, and wore a gray work uniform for a nearby factory.

A light snowfall had begun, with Greed being the only ring in which it snowed, a layer of the stuff crunching beneath his boots, thought the snowfall could barely be seen through the constant smog from the factories. He had just finished his shift at the factory, where he was forced to work day after day to help his family make ends meet.

"Ah, good ol' Notamafiatown." An adult Benedict narrated. "Full of mafiosos, wannabe mafiosos, and people just trying to get by."

Benedict let out a sigh of relief as he finally reached his home, a small, rundown house, surrounded by other, similar looking homes. The moment he stepped inside, he was greeted by the delightful aroma of his mother's cooking.

"Hey, Benny! You're finally home!" His younger sister, Giana, who was 8, chirped as she ran up to him and hugged him tightly.

"Hey, Giana." Benedict ruffled her hair with a faint smile. Giana was the mischievous one in the family, always getting into trouble, but she was also incredibly sweet. She had black hair that was roughly tied into a ponytail, that still had some coal dust in it from her shift at the mine earlier, and was dressed in a simple set of black suspenders and white shirt. She was also almost Benedict's height, despite being several years younger than him, something that she teased him about to no end.

"Giana was always the most cheerful of us." Grown up Benedict narrated again. "Always cheery with that youthful innocence of hers." He sighed. "Shame what happened to her."

Benedict removed Giana and, after changing out of his uniform into a vest, shirt, slacks and tie, entered the living room to find his parents, Carmine and Isabella, sitting on a worn-out couch. Carmine was reading the newspaper, and Isabella was knitting a scarf.

"Hey, Benny boy." His father greeted him with a warm smile. "How was work today?"

"Same old, same old." Benedict replied, taking a seat next to his mother. "You know how it is."

Carmine nodded knowingly. "I remember my days at the factory. Hard work, but it puts food on the table."

"Parents were always hardworking folk." Benedict narrated once again. "Just wanted to make a living in peace, and to stay out of any shady stuff."

"Hey, little brother," Dominic said, walking in and patting Benedict's shoulder. "How was your day at the factory?"

"Dominic, however, wanted far more." Adult Benedict said.

Benedict shrugged, trying to hide his exhaustion. "Same old grind, Dom. But we managed to crank out enough widgets to satisfy the boss."

Dominic chuckled, ruffling Benedict's hair playfully. "That's my hardworking little brother. Keep it up, and soon you'll be out of this place."

"Out of this place?" Benedict raised an eyebrow. "Where would I go?"

"Anywhere but here." Dominic said with a hint of ambition in his eyes. "You're smart, Benny. One day, you'll find a way to get us all out of this rat hole."

Benedict couldn't help but smile at his brother's faith in him.

"Dominic was seven years older and had always been the go-getter in the family." Adult Benedict explained. "Despite the tough environment we lived in, Dominic never gave up on his dreams of making it big."

Giana piped up, joining the conversation. "Yeah, Benny! You're gonna be a big shot, and I'll be your partner in crime!"

Benedict chuckled, tousling Giana's hair affectionately. "I don't think crime is the way to go, Gia. Let's find a legitimate way to make it out of here."

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun!" Giana grinned mischievously.

"Fun, until you end up behind bars." Benedict retorted.

Their banter was interrupted by their mother, Isabella, who set a plate of steaming pasta on the nearby table. "Dinner is served, everyone. Let's eat."

. . .

After dinner, as the family relaxed in the living room, Dominic pulled Benedict aside and led him outside into the crisp snowy air.

"Hey, what's up, Dom?" Benedict asked, rubbing his arms for warmth.

Dominic seemed unusually serious as he leaned against the old fence, directly under a old streetlight. "Listen, Benny, I've been thinking about our future."

Benedict glanced at his brother curiously. "Our future? What do you mean?"

"I mean, we can't keep living like this," Dominic said, frustration evident in his voice. "I'm tired of struggling day after day, barely making ends meet. I want more for all of us."

Benedict nodded, understanding where his brother was coming from. "I get it, but we can't just jump into something dangerous, Dom. This is Greed, after all."

Dominic's eyes gleamed with determination. "I know it's risky, but I've been talking to some people, and they say there's a way out. The Mafia. They control everything in this town, and joining them could give us the life we've always dreamed of."

"Yep. The mafia." Adult Benedict narrated again. "Like countless other families, I was screwed over by those fedora wearing assholes."

Benedict's eyes widened in shock. "Join the mafia? Are you insane?!"

"It's not as bad as you think." Dominic said, trying to reassure his younger brother. "We wouldn't have to do anything too dangerous. Just some minor jobs, and we'd be set for life."

Benedict shook his head vigorously. "No, Dom, I won't let you do this. Money and power doesn't mean shit if you're dead."

Dominic's expression hardened. "Then what's your plan, huh? To keep working at that factory for the rest of your life, barely scraping by? We can't keep living like this." He paused. "If you can't beat them, join them."

"I don't know." Benedict admitted. "But this is too risky."

"Just think about it, alright?" Dominic said, his voice softer now. "I'll give you some time, but I'm going to do this with or without you."

Benedict watched his brother walk away, a mix of worry and resentment bubbling inside him.

. . .

The next day, Benedict had a lot on his mind as he strolled out of the smoggy, snow and waste covered factory building.

"Another day, another slog through the muck." Benedict mumbled to himself as he kicked a piece of debris out of his way. He was lost in thought, trying to come up with a way to convince Dominic that joining the Mafia was a terrible idea.

Suddenly, a group of shark-like thugs blocked his path at the exit of the factory. Benedict recognized them as members of a local gang that had been causing trouble around town lately.

"Hey, kid." One of the thugs sneered, cracking his knuckles. "You're in our territory now, and that means you gotta pay a tax."

"I don't have anything to give you." Benedict replied, trying to sound confident despite the fear creeping into his heart.

The leader of the thugs, a particularly menacing-looking one with an eye patch and bowler hat, chuckled darkly. "Oh, you don't? Too bad. Guess we'll have to teach you a lesson then."

Before Benedict could react, they pounced on him, fists flying and landing painful blows. He tried to fight back, but the sheer number and size of the thugs overwhelmed him. It was a brutal beating, leaving him bruised and bleeding on the ground.

As he lay there, curled up on the ground, he heard a zipping noise from above. 'Oh Satan please no.' Benedict thought to himself, before he felt a warm liquid splash onto his side.

Grown-up Benedict paused in his narration. "Yeah, it wasn't the most dignified moment of my life."

Back in the past, he heard the thugs laughing as one of them had the audacity to relieve himself on Benedict's beaten form.

"Hey, nice cock, man." One of the thugs complimented the other casually, causing the laughter to abruptly stop and for the thugs to judgmentally stare at him. "Not in a gay way." He quickly clarified, and the laughter resumed.

"You know, it's really hard to look tough when someone's pissing on you." Grown-up Benedict quipped with a hint of bitterness.

After the thugs had their "fun," they finally left Benedict lying there, battered and humiliated. Slowly, he managed to pull himself up, wiping the dirt and tears from his face. With aching limbs, he made his way back home, trying to hide his injuries from his family.

As he stepped into the house, his family immediately noticed something was wrong. "Benny, what happened? Are you alright?" Isabella asked with concern, rushing to his side.

"I-I'm fine, just had a little accident at the factory." Benedict lied, wincing as he tried to put on a brave face.

Dominic shot him a suspicious look, but didn't press further. Giana, however, wasn't so easily fooled. After the others walked off, she turned to Benedict. "Benny, that's not what happened, is it?" She asked, her eyes wide with worry.

Benedict sighed, knowing he couldn't lie to Giana. "Okay, I got into a scuffle with some thugs, but it's nothing to worry about. I can handle myself."

Giana looked upset, but she knew better than to argue with her big brother. "Just be careful, okay? I don't want anything bad happening to you."

"I will." Benedict assured her, mustering a weak smile. "I promise."

. . .

That night, Benedict could be seen in his room, hunched over his desk, with only the light of his desk lamp illuminating his work.

"At this point, I did what any kid my age would do." Grown-up Benedict narrated as younger Benedict lifted up his invention, which was a makeshift submachine gun, cobbled together from scraps. "I made a gun to shoot my foes with." He paused. "Far more common than you might think."

. . .

The next day, despite his injuries, Benedict trudged through the snow and grime to the factory, submachine gun tucked away securely in his coat, and glancing behind him every now and then out of paranoia.

The thugs were at the factory entrance again, already at work extorting the workers,

Benedict sighed and tried to avoid drawing their attention as he slipped past the commotion and into the factory. However, luck wasn't on his side, and the eye-patched leader of the thugs spotted him.

"Well, well, if it isn't the little punk from yesterday." The thug sneered, approaching Benedict with his cronies close behind.

Benedict nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to appear nonchalant. "Hey, guys. Look, I don't want any trouble. I'm just trying to get to work."

The thugs laughed, clearly amused by his attempt to avoid confrontation. "Aww, what's the matter, scared of us?"

Benedict gulped, his grip tightening on the submachine gun concealed beneath his coat. "No, not scared. Just trying to avoid unnecessary violence."

The thug leader grinned maliciously, his bowler hat slightly skewed on his head. "Well, violence is sometimes necessary to make a point, kid. And the point is, you owe us."

"I- I really don't have anything." Benedict nervously sputtered.

Benedict's heart raced as he weighed his options. He didn't want to resort to violence, but these thugs weren't giving him much of a choice. His mind flashed back to the humiliating encounter he had with them just the day before, and anger surged through him.

The thug leader just laughed, clearly not buying Benedict's words. "You're just gonna stand there and lie to us, huh? Well, we'll see about that."

"I said to back off!" Benedict pulled out his gun and pointed it at the thugs, surprising them.

Before the situation could escalate further, a gravelly voice echoed through the factory, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Enough of this nonsense!"

Benedict turned to see a short, stout imp clad in a fedora and a long trench coat stepping forward, his crimson eyes glowing with an air of authority.

"Vinnie!" One of the thugs greeted him with a mix of surprise and respect.

Vinnie ignored them and focused his attention on Benedict, who still had his submachine gun in his hands. "You're new around here, kid. You got some spunk standing up to these fools." He told him in his thick Brooklyn accent.

"Who is this guy?" Grown-up Benedict's voice narrated as the younger Benedict exchanged a quick glance with the gang leader. "This is Vinnie. He led one of the local gangs around the town, probably the most dangerous one, in no small part due to his leadership."

"I-I'm just trying to get to work, sir." Benedict stuttered, not wanting to get involved with yet another dangerous figure in Greed.

Vinnie chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Sir? Kid, you can call me Vinnie. And I like your style. You got guts. You got brains. I could use someone like you."

"I-I'm not interested in joining any gang." Benedict protested, still trying to keep his distance from Vinnie.

Vinnie chuckled. "I ain't interested in that, either. What I am interested in," He gestured at Benedicts gun, which was loosely hanging in his hand. "Is that. You make me some o' those, I can make it worth your while."

Benedict paused, contemplating the offer. He knew he could quite use the money, but he still didn't want to risk getting involved in crime. "I- Uh, I'd rather not, Vinnie."

Vinnie chuckled again. "Fair enough, fair enough. I respect your independence. But how about this? You got skills, and I got needs. I'll leave you my number. If you ever change your mind and need some quick cash, give me a call. Maybe we can work something out."

Reluctantly, Benedict accepted the piece of paper with Vinnie's number scrawled on it, not sure if he would ever use it. With that, Vinnie gave him some finger guns and and a smirk, then turned and left the factory, leaving the thugs in an awkward position.

"Uh, boss, should we still, you know, teach this kid a lesson?" One of the thugs asked, feeling uncertain after Vinnie's appearance.

"Oh, yeah, right." The boss turned back to Benedict. "Prepare to- I dunno, meet your maker or something. Get him, boys!" He said, still somewhat distracted by Vinnies appearance.

Benedict's heart pounded in his chest as he gripped the submachine gun tightly. He didn't want to use it, but he had no choice. As the thugs closed in, he took a deep breath, steadied his aim, and pulled the trigger.

"Hey, did you hear about the new recipe that Mrs. Johnson tried out last night?" A factory worker casually asked his coworker, completely unfazed by the unfolding violence, as Benedict could be seen shooting at the thugs in the background, a couple collapsing to the ground, riddled with holes.

"Yeah, the one with the extra garlic? I heard it was a hit!" The coworker replied, sipping from a flask he had hidden in his pocket.

Benedict's shots echoed through the factory, and the scene turned chaotic. The other factory workers, rather than panicking, seemed to be used to such confrontations. Some even placed bets on who would win the impromptu shootout.

"I've got 5 bucks on the kid!" One worker shouted, drawing a couple of interested spectators.

"You're on! I got 10 on Blackbeard's merry crew over there!" Another worker countered, chuckling as if it were a friendly game of darts.

"Hey! My name's Tony!" The boss, who was apparently named Tony, yelled while adjusting his bowler hat, offended by them mocking his eyepatch.

As the thugs rushed at Benedict, he focused on his aim, each shot finding its mark. The gang members fell one by one, but there were still more coming. The factory workers watched with mild amusement, hardly batting an eye at the violence in their midst.

"Hey, Benny, try to hit that crate over there!" Another worker shouted, pointing to a stack of crates in the corner of the factory.

Benedict didn't have time to argue. He adjusted his aim and fired, hitting the crate dead-on, causing it to collapse on two of the remaining thugs.

The boss was furious now, but even he couldn't ignore the bizarre atmosphere around them. "You all just standin' there? Help me take this punk down!"

"I've got some vacation days saved up. Maybe I'll take a trip to Lust." Another worker mused, seemingly unconcerned about the ongoing shootout and ignoring the one eyed boss.

As the last thug lunged at him, Benedict swung the submachine gun like a club, knocking the thug unconscious.

The boss was the only one left standing, and he was a mess. "Y-you think this is over, kid? You just made a big mistake!" He stammered, his tough exterior crumbling.

Benedict's hands trembled as he pointed the submachine gun at Tony, the now defeated and frightened boss. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins made it difficult to focus.

"Th-this is it for you, kid!" Tony stammered, backing away from Benedict.

"You know, Tony was right, just not in the way he thought." Grown-up Benedict narrated. "This was the moment everything changed. The point of no return."

In a moment of panic, Benedict pulled the trigger, but instead of hitting Tony, he accidentally shot the boss's hat clean off his head.

"Hey! My hat!" Tony exclaimed, clutching his bald head in surprise.

Benedict lowered the submachine gun. "Uh... Sorry about that, Tony. Didn't mean to mess up your hat."

"You motherfucker! You ruined my hat!" Tony yelled, charging at Benedict, who panicked and shot him again, with Tony collapsing to the ground, sliding across and leaving a smear of red in the snow.

Benedict stared at the lifeless body of Tony, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe what he had just done, and the weight of the situation crashed down on him like a ton of bricks.

His hands shook as he tried to catch his breath. He looked around at the factory workers, who were now watching with mild curiosity. None of them seemed bothered by the dead bodies lying around, as if it were just another day at the factory.

"Uh, guys, shouldn't we... do something about this?" Benedict asked, gesturing to the bodies.

One worker shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh, don't worry about it. Someone will clean them up later. Just focus on finishing your shift."

"Finish my shift?" Benedict echoed, incredulous. "I just murdered, like, 7 people!"

The worker waved a dismissive hand. "Eh. It's not the first time something like this has happened around here. Just keep your head down and get back to work. You'll be fine." He then turned to another factory worker, a lanky imp named Tony, unrelated to the now deceased Tony. "And Tony, you owe me 10 bucks!"

. . .

Benedict's mind was still reeling from the events at the factory as he trudged back home that evening. He couldn't believe the nonchalant attitude the workers had toward the violence and the loss of life. But he knew better than to question it openly. In Greed, you either learned to keep your head down or risked getting dragged into something even darker.

As he entered the house, he found his family gathered in the living room, looking more somber than usual. His father, Carmine, was flipping through a stack of bills, his brow furrowed with worry. Isabella sat next to him, holding Giana close, a worried expression etched on her face, as Dominic stood to the side.

"What's going on?" Benedict asked, trying to feign nonchalance despite the turmoil inside him.

Carmine looked up, the worry in his eyes deepening. "Benny, we need to talk." He said, his voice heavy with concern.

Benedict swallowed hard, sensing that this conversation wouldn't be easy. "Talk about what, Dad?"

Carmine sighed and motioned for Benedict to sit down. "Your mother and I have been struggling to keep up with the bills lately. The factory's barely making enough to cover our expenses, and the debt is piling up."

Benedict's heart sank, realizing the weight of their financial burden. "I didn't know it was this bad..."

"It's been tough," Isabella added, her voice trembling. "We've been trying to shield you and Giana from the worst of it, but we can't keep pretending everything is fine."

Dominic folded his arms, looking conflicted. "Benny, I told you, there's a way out of this mess. The Mafia can help us. They have connections, resources..."

Benedict's eyes narrowed with concern. "Dom, you can't seriously think that joining the Mafia is the answer to our problems!"

"It's not just me," Dominic argued. "I've talked to some people, and they say it's the only way to get ahead in this town. We could finally live comfortably, without worrying about money all the time."

Benedict shook his head, his voice rising with frustration. "But at what cost? We'll be criminals, risking our lives every day. I won't let you drag Giana into that world!"

Dominic's expression hardened. "You think I want that? I'm doing this for all of us, for our family. I want to give Giana a better life, not watch her suffer like we have."

"But there has to be another way!" Benedict implored. "I can't let you throw your life away like this, Dom."

"Enough!" Carmine interjected, his voice stern. "This arguing won't solve anything. We need to figure this out together, as a family."

Dominic looked away, clearly frustrated with the impasse. Benedict sighed, feeling torn between his love for his family and his desire to keep them safe from the dangers of the criminal underworld.

. . .

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Benedict found himself standing by the window, staring out into the darkness. He knew he needed to do something to help his family, but he couldn't bring himself to let Dominic join the Mafia.

Reluctantly, Benedict went to his desk and pulled out the paper with Vinnies number, as well as a flip phone, and dialed it, holding his breath as it rung.

Benedict held the phone to his ear, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for Vinnie to answer. After a few rings, the call was finally picked up.

"Who's this?" Vinnie's gravelly voice came through the phone.

Benedict hesitated for a moment before speaking, "It's, uh, Benedict. We met earlier today."

"Ah, Benny!" Vinnie sounded oddly cheery. "Give me a second, I'll be right there." With that, he hung up, greatly confusing Benedict.

As Benedict stood there, still holding the phone in confusion, he heard the tapping on the window again. He turned around to see Vinnie, dressed in his usual fedora and trench coat, perched on the windowsill like some sort of shadowy imp ninja.

"Holy crap!" Benedict exclaimed, jumping back in surprise. "How the hell did you get up there?" He quickly opened up the window, letting Vinnie slide into the room with surprising agility.

Vinnie chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. "Trade secret, kid. But never mind that, what's this about you calling me? You finally change your mind about making those guns?"

Benedict, still feeling uneasy about the whole situation, nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, I... I think I need the money, Vinnie. But promise me, this stays between us. I can't let my family find out."

Vinnie grinned, revealing his sharp teeth. "Don't worry, Benny boy, your secret's safe with me. Now, let's get down to business. Show me what you got."

Benedict went to his desk and pulled out the makeshift submachine gun he had crafted earlier. He handed it to Vinnie, who inspected it with a critical eye.

"Nice work, kid. You got some talent," Vinnie said, nodding approvingly. "But we'll need more than one piece to make this worth our while."

"Yeah, I can make more," Benedict replied, feeling a mix of relief and guilt at the same time.

"Good. Good." Vinnie smirked. "I'll take this one off your hands for starters. Consider it a down payment. Bring me as many as you can make, and I'll pay you handsomely."

Benedict nodded, grateful for the opportunity to earn some money and help his family. "Alright, Vinnie. I'll get to work on more of these guns and bring them to you as soon as I can."

"Good boy," Vinnie said, patting Benedict on the head like he was some sort of loyal dog. "You won't regret this, kid. The name of Vinnie will go down in history, and you'll be a part of it."

Benedict couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine at Vinnie's words. He knew he was getting involved with dangerous people, but he didn't have many options. He had to do whatever it took to provide for his family.

. . .

Over the next few days, Benedict worked tirelessly, crafting more firearms in secret. He kept them hidden in his room, making sure to lock the door whenever he left, so no one would discover his illicit activities. He became adept at sneaking out of the house at odd hours to meet with Vinnie, exchanging the weapons for cash.

During this time, Benedict and Vinnie formed an unlikely friendship of sorts. They would meet in hidden alleys or deserted parts of town, talking about anything and everything while conducting their business. Vinnie would often share stories about his adventures as a gang leader, and Benedict found himself both fascinated and terrified by the tales of violence and mayhem.

"Hey, did I ever tell you about the time we pulled off that heist at the casino in Lust?" Vinnie asked one evening as they stood in a dimly lit alley, the glow of the streetlights casting eerie shadows.

"No, you haven't." Benedict replied, trying to sound casual despite his racing heart.

Vinnie leaned in, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "It was a hell of a night, let me tell you. We had this genius plan, and everything was going smoothly until the damn alarm went off. But you know what we did? We managed to sneak out with the loot right under their noses. They didn't even know what hit 'em."

Benedict listened, both intrigued and nervous.

As the weeks went by, Benedict's secret dealings with Vinnie escalated. His meetings became more and more frequent, with him probably making enough weapons to arm a small town.

"You're turning into quite the little accomplice, Benny boy." Vinnie said with a grin one day, as they sat on a rooftop overlooking the city, a case of pistols sitting nearby.

Benedict chuckled nervously. "I don't know about that. I'm just trying to help my family."

Vinnie patted him on the back, his expression surprisingly gentle. "You're a good kid, you know that? Most people in Greed only care about themselves, but you're willing to risk everything for your family. I respect that."

"Thanks, Vinnie." Benedict replied, feeling a mix of pride and guilt. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't turn his back on his family.

. . .

One evening, after a particularly successful exchange of weapons for money, Vinnie insisted on taking Benedict out to celebrate.

"We're going to my favorite place in town." Vinnie said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "They serve the best pizza this side of Hell, and trust me, you won't be disappointed."

"Uh, thanks, Vinnie, but I should probably head home." Benedict hesitated, not wanting to get involved in Vinnie's social life.

"Nonsense!" Vinnie exclaimed, grabbing Benedict by the arm. "Consider this a reward for your hard work. Besides, you can't refuse the invitation of the great Vinnie, right?"

Benedict chuckled, realizing he was in no position to decline. "Alright, lead the way, Vinnie."

The two of them ended up in a small, dimly lit pizzeria, tucked away in a hidden corner of the town. The smell of freshly baked pizza filled the air, making Benedict's mouth water.

As they sat down at a booth, Vinnie ordered a large pepperoni pizza, two sodas, and a side of garlic bread.

"You'll love this place, kid. The pizza here is to die for." Vinnie said, excitement evident in his voice.

Benedict couldn't help but chuckle at the unintentional pun. "I hope not literally."

Vinnie grinned. "Don't worry, we're in the mafia's territory. Nobody's gonna mess with us here."

As they enjoyed their meal, Benedict found himself relaxing in Vinnie's company. They laughed, joked, and talked about everything except their criminal activities. For a moment, it almost felt like they were just two friends having a normal night out.

"I gotta admit, this is some damn good pizza." Benedict said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"See? I told you." Vinnie replied, looking pleased with himself.

As the night wore on, Vinnie insisted on walking Benedict home to make sure he got back safely.

"You're like my own personal bodyguard." Benedict said as they made their way through the snowy streets.

Vinnie chuckled. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on you, kid. You're a valuable asset, you know."

Benedict sighed, feeling a mix of pride and unease. He knew he was getting deeper into Vinnie's world, and he wasn't sure if it was good or not.

"Vinnie was quite important to me." Adult Benedict narrated once again. "He became like a second father, but one that I could let know about my crimes and struggles. But I also was scared of him in a sense, or more-so scared of getting close to him, close to the criminal underworld."

As they approached Benedict's house, they saw Dominic standing outside, smoking a cigarette and looking tense.

"Where have you been?" Dominic snapped as soon as he saw Benedict.

"I-I was out with a friend." Benedict replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

"A friend, huh?" Dominic glared at Vinnie, clearly not trusting the imp standing next to his little brother.

Vinnie raised an eyebrow, seemingly unbothered by Dominic's hostility. "Relax, kid. I'm just making sure Benny gets home safe. We had some business to take care of."

Dominic's eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything else, Isabella appeared in the doorway. "Dominic, enough. Let's not start a fight."

Dominic took one last glare at Vinnie before stepping aside to let Benedict enter the house.

"Thanks for walking me home." Benedict said to Vinnie, feeling torn between the two important people in his life.

"Anytime, kid. You know where to find me if you need anything." Vinnie replied, giving him a wink.

As Benedict watched Vinnie disappear into the darkness, he couldn't shake the feeling that his life was spiraling out of control. He was in too deep, and he had no idea how to get out of it.

. . .

Benedict was in his room, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands, lost in thought. He knew he had to do something about Dominic's dangerous plan to join the mafia, but he also knew that confronting him would only push him further away.

"I felt like a hypocrite, preaching about the dangers of the mafia while secretly getting involved in something just as illegal." Adult Benedict narrated once again. "But dealing weapons was nothing compared to what the mafia was capable of, and I didn't want my family to be a part of that world."

As he pondered his next move, he heard raised voices coming from downstairs. His heart sank as he recognized the tones of his parents and Dominic arguing.

"Are you out of your mind, Dominic?" His mother's voice trembled with fear and anger.

"I'm doing this for all of us!" Dominic's voice was resolute, but there was also a hint of desperation.

As Benedict rushed downstairs, his heart pounding in his chest, he found his family in the living room, the tension thick in the air.

"What's going on?" Benedict asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite the rising panic in his chest.

Dominic turned to face him, his expression conflicted. "Benny, I'm leaving." He said, his voice heavy with determination, a duffel bag in one hand.

"Leaving? Where are you going?" Benedict asked, feeling a sense of dread building within him.

"I'm joining the mafia, Benny. I've made up my mind." Dominic replied, his jaw set with stubborn resolve.

"You can't be serious, Dominic!" Benedict exclaimed, feeling a mix of anger and fear. "Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into? You're putting our family at risk!"

"I'm doing this for us, for all of us!" Dominic shot back, frustration evident in his voice. "We can't keep struggling like this. The mafia can provide for us, give us the life we deserve."

Benedict's eyes narrowed, his heart aching at his brother's words. "You think joining the mafia is the answer? Do you have any idea what they're capable of? They'll use you, Dom, and they won't care about our family. You'll get us all killed!"

Dominic's face hardened, his ambition overshadowing his concern for his family. "I don't care, Benny. I'm tired of being stuck in this town, in this life. I want more, and this is the way to get it."

Benedict felt a surge of anger at his brother's stubbornness. "You're being naive, Dominic! You have no idea what you're getting into. You think they'll just welcome you with open arms? They'll chew you up and spit you out!"

"I don't need your approval, Benny!" Dominic retorted, his voice rising. "I'm making my own choices, and I won't let you hold me back!"

Isabella stepped between them, trying to diffuse the escalating argument. "Enough! Both of you, stop this right now. This won't solve anything!"

Benedict clenched his fists, feeling a mix of anger and helplessness. "You're making a mistake, Dominic. You're tearing our family apart."

Dominic's eyes flickered with sadness, but he quickly masked it with determination. "I'm sorry, Benny, but this is something I have to do. Maybe one day you'll understand."

Before Benedict could respond, Dominic grabbed his bag and stormed out of the house, leaving his family behind in a cloud of tension and sorrow.

. . .

Several weeks had passed since Dominic's departure, and the tension in the household hadn't dissipated. Benedict couldn't shake the feeling of guilt and responsibility for what had happened, blaming himself for not being able to stop his brother from making such a dangerous decision.

As he sat alone in his room one evening, lost in his thoughts, he heard the sound of car engines outside. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the unmistakable revving of powerful engines, followed by the screeching of tires. He rushed to the window and peered out, his worst fears confirmed.

A group of well-dressed, armed mafiosos had arrived in a fancy, old fashioned black van, making their way toward his home. Benedict's heart pounded in his chest as he quickly assessed the situation. He knew he had to act fast to protect his family.

He quickly grabbed a submachine gun, which he had made with the intent of selling it to Vinnie, and rushed downstairs.

Benedict rushed downstairs just as the first Mobster smashed down the door, tommy gun firing, shredding the furniture and hitting Isabella right in the head. She collapsed to the floor in a pool of crimson.

"Shit!" Benedict yelled, taking cover around a corner, as a shocked Carmine met a similar fate. He peeked out, and fired a burst that killed one of the mobsters, but a bullet grazed his side in the process.

Benedict's heart pounded in his chest as he fired back at the incoming mobsters. His hands trembled from the adrenaline and fear coursing through his veins, but he had to protect his family, even if it was already too late for his parents.

"Get down, Giana!" He shouted to his little sister, who was frozen in fear near the stairs.

Giana snapped out of her shock and dropped to the floor, covering her ears to block out the terrifying noise of gunfire. Tears streamed down her face as she witnessed the chaos unfolding before her.

Benedict continued to exchange fire with the mobsters, taking them down one by one with surprising precision. He moved from cover to cover, using the element of surprise and his familiarity with the house to his advantage.

Despite his injuries, Benedict's determination fueled his actions. He knew he had to protect Giana at all costs, even if it meant putting his own life on the line. The realization that the mobsters were there because of Dominic's involvement with the mafia only intensified his anger and grief.

As the last of the mobsters fell, their lifeless bodies scattered throughout the living room, Benedict collapsed against the wall, exhausted.

Benedict gasped for breath, the pain in his side and the weight of the situation overwhelming him. He looked over at Giana, who was still huddled on the floor, tears streaming down her face. Despite his own injuries, he had to protect her, and that meant getting her out of this dangerous situation.

"Giana, listen to me," Benedict said, his voice strained. "I need you to be strong, okay? Take the stash of money from my room, it's in the shoebox under my bed. Take it and run, get out of Greed, and don't look back. Find a way to start a new life somewhere safe."

Giana looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. "But Benny, what about you?"

Benedict's heart ached as he reached out to brush her hair away from her face. "I'll be okay, Giana. I promise. But right now, you need to take care of yourself. Go to the bus station and buy a ticket to the next town over. Find a place to stay and stay low until you're safe. You're strong, Giana, you can do this."

Giana nodded, still trembling, but she understood the urgency in her brother's voice. She got up and rushed to Benedict's room to retrieve the money, not bothering to count it. She knew she had to trust her brother.

Meanwhile, Benedict sat against the wall, blood seeping out his side. He tried to get up, his efforts in vain. He could barely breath, and his vision was fading to black. If only he could get up, if onl-

. . .

"Sir, this is a WackDonalds." The bored WackDonalds cashier interrupted Benedict as he as continued on his monologue, holding up the line.

Benedict, who was an adult, snapped out of his reminiscing. "Ah, sorry. I'll have the... Number 6, with ketchup."

The cashier nodded. "That'll be 16.66." Benedict handed the cash over, and grabbed his order.

"Fuckin' weirdo." The cashier mutters to herself as she sees Benedict leave the building.


A/N: Whelp. That was alot of background. I'm not too sure how well this came out. On a sidenote, this is technically season two, and this is replacing "The Circus", as Benedict has no impact whatsoever on that. And I honestly could think of no good way to include Benedict in Queen Bee, so that's been omitted, since again, nothing really changes. Anyway, tell me what you think, and also give me ideas for any custom chapters involving Benedict.