It's a family business. Antonio's been doing it since he was your age. He'd seen more bloodshed than most people would've in their entire lives at the age of seven. It's not ideal, but it's what he's grown up with. And family tradition is important. If anyone thinks that he's going to end the cycle with you, his child, and prevent you from involving yourself in this crooked, unjust, criminal business, then they're wrong. He doesn't particularly want to subject you to this harsh environment at such a young age, but you need to adapt and know what exactly it it that your family does to earn. You'll learn the ropes, just like he did. And you'll learn them while you're young.

"No, honey. You're not holding it correctly," Antonio speaks quietly and firmly as his hand wraps over yours. He rests his chin on your shoulder as he crouches down behind you to reach the same height you are. Before you can even react, he's fired the gun that was in your hand, three consecutive bangs in a row as the three dummies across the room fall right down, a large gunshot in each one of their heads. You scream at the sudden sound, covering your ears and tearing up. All the while, your mother clicks her tongue as she leans against a wall, smoking a cigarette, her red lipstick leaving a mark on the stick of nicotine. "Go easy on the kid, Antonio."