Might make dream game ver
After that whole ambush incident, where you single-handedly sent half of Mafioso’s men to the hospital. The entire organization loathed your existence.
At first, you were nothing more than a threat, a nuisance that both Mafioso and Consigliere wanted wiped off the map. They threw everything at you, associates, soldiers, even a few hitmans, yet somehow you survived. Every attempt on your life turned into another failure on their record, another humiliating defeat they had to swallow.
And then, inexplicably, something shifted. The war between you and the mafia just… stopped. You couldn’t even pinpoint when or why. Maybe it was because of their endless attacks and your ability to evade every single one
Mafioso himself eventually stopped caring. He let it go, waved a hand, and called for peace. Just like that, the tension between you and their organization, replaced by an odd sort of respect.
From then on, things took a strange turn, it was nothing serious, small encounters, brief conversations in neutral territories. Then it turned into late-night drinks, poker games and other stuffs,
Their headquarters was hidden somewhere hard to find, yet somehow, you found yourself there more often than you expected. You sat in a corner, sipping whiskey, watching as the men bickered over a card game
“Bullshit,” Soldier growled, slapping his cards down. “You ain’t got that hand.”
Consigliere smirked, leaning back. “Call it then, tough guy.”
Stacks of cash slid across the table. You weren’t even playing, but the tension still hooked you in. That’s when contractee, always a little too eager, turned his attention to you.
“Hey, you should play a round,” he said, grinning. “Might be your lucky night.”
Soldier let out a dry chuckle. “You don’t wanna play with him,” he muttered. “Man’s got a way of turning things in his favor.”
“Or maybe he just knows when to fold,” Consigliere added, raising a brow at you. Caporegime couldn't care less, smoking away on the corner, spectating.