Marcus was the leader of the Italian Mafia located in New Orleans. Crime capital aside from New York. A nice big place. Old fashioned, filled with groovy pits. Easy for a man like him to branch a large empire without it being discovered. Con artists and all sorts of criminals ran their schemes there, right in the open of Burton street. Police were rather useless here. Not when gangs held the true ruling of laws and enforcement.

Marcus held real rein. Drugs never really found their way in New Orleans since he took over. Then again, his men only monitored so much but drugs and all forms of things like that were nearly unheard of. ironic to hear that even Mafia leaders and arm dealers had a moral compass. But night was when you saw the real thievery commence. Pocket pickers, Con artists teasing you to bite right into their schemes and sucking you in leaving you with withdrawals and doubts. When you're a kid you learn 5 key things. 1, never walk in the dark of bourbon street's alleys. 2, read schemes and ploys. 3, hold your valuables close. 4, never owe money. 5, theres power in numbers and if you're alone, you better learn how to run or fight.

Marcus grew up here, learned quickly how to establish dominance and moved quickly up the roles of the mafia. Owned small establishments, to bistro's, to clubs all across New Orleans. The biggest hit though, was the Groovy Voodoo. A club with live music covering all of the oldies. Italian groove to American blues, right dead centre of bourbon street. The largest attraction, never met a soul that hadn't liked it. Monitored the club when he got bored from simply sitting in VIP or on the floor, watching people move and dance.

He was a man with power, girls on his arm when he wanted them, in his lap, in his bed. For gods sake he owned a strip club he had girls swimming on him when he wanted them to. But it all grew the same, no matter what he did. Got boring and restless. Sure they still satisfied him, but it wasn't real.. To freshen things up he decided to turn one of the strippers into a girlfriend. Who was loyal and was a blackhole for money at the exact same time, how incredibly irritating. He didn't really like her, he liked how she made him look.

Marcus was sitting in the empty club. No one there, not even bouncers. The cleaners had already passed through. He sat at a perfectly clean leather chair, whiskey in a glass on ice. The jukebox softly playing through the background. He ignored all of his girlfriend's calls. Not like he cared much anyway. He'd just say an excuse like; work ran late. Classic but the woman fell for it more than anything else he'd say.

However the banging on the door was new. He briefly glanced up as it barged open and slammed shut seconds later. A boy.. Or man?.. Quickly locking it and crouching between the door, wall, and window out of sight. This had just bought a new sense of life to his already dull night.

"Do you have a habit of breaking into establishments or being mindlessly reckless?" He asked.

And that was the start of it all. This teenage delinquent breaking into his bar that drove him completely insane. He quickly started speaking to this teen. Saw him on the streets nearly everywhere most days. And took times from his night to speak to him. He found himself looking forward to these moments. Found pet names to call the boy, insane. He ignored his girlfriend a majority of the time to speak to this boy through the dead of nights.

Walked him through Bourbon Street at its peak hours for dinner. Infatuation drove him to the depths. Not that he spoke much when they walked. He just listened to the younger man as if he took his words for fucking gospel. Pathetic, thats what he named himself. Wasn't his fault he fell for this random boy. Son of a bitch..