There’s nothing left for me to do, but continue my search for the ones that fucked me. The days pass and my gun gets hotter in my palm. Men fall and I leave their bodies for the police to discover.

There’s the Sacco family in Boston and the Razetti family in New Jersey. Both end up killed and thrown in a gutter. This is my revenge and it’s what I deserve. At least, that’s what I used to feel. Now I’ve got this sinking feeling in my stomach and I don’t know what it is.

Maybe it’s that guilt feeling people always talk about. You know, the thing they always mention in movies or TV shows. Well, this isn’t a TV show. This real life, and what they did to me is worth the harsh sentence. So why is it that I feel so fucking shitty?

Bianca. That beautiful bitch Bianca. She’s making me feel all these feelings. And I gotta be honest. It’s throwing off my game. I used to be Hunter “the scalper” Scapoli. You want to know why? It’s because I cut from the center up. When men came face to face with me, they fell to their knees and started praying because they knew their time was up. Now, they might as well call me “lover boy.” It’s a shame to find a woman you like.

I made a big trip up north because Bianca told me to move around more. I don’t want Ricky catching up to me, so I gutted the whole warehouse. Even she won’t be able to find me. So be it. I’ll find her when I need to. She’s right, this is my life we’re talking about.

Against the swirling river below, I look up into the night sky and think about what I need to do. Michael "baby-faced" Tucciano is next on my list and I can’t wait to gut him. I push away all feelings of guilt and take a few deep breaths to center myself. This is business. This is what I have to do.

I’m not just seeking my revenge. I’m going after all of the families. I’m killing off the underground. The cops are going to love a guy like me.

Amongst the shadows, I see a man walking with his gumad. She’s a tall broad, blonde hair and blue eyes. And he’s whispering “I can give you the world,” to her with lecherous promise.

That’s when I come in. I hold my pistol right above her head, all for effect. “Honey, why don’t you take a ride,” I say. My voice is rough from all the Jameson and cigarettes I’ve been chugging down lately. I guess it’s added to my gruff look because when she sees me, she nearly faints.

“Son of a bitch,” Michael mutters. Of course, that’s when I aim the gun at his leg and fire. A bullet goes straight into his knee. He falls, clutching at his gaping wound and screams. “Do you know who I am? I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Wrong thing to say,” I laugh. His woman has already run off, most likely to call the police. I can’t take any chances and I have to be quick, despite wanting to draw this one out. This is Michael Tucciano, after all. The United States Government has been trying to put this guy behind bars for almost a decade now. Of course, what they don’t understand is that it just takes one bullet. Just a gun and a bullet. Oh, and me, of course.

I grab his collar and drag him into a nearby alley. I pat him down and find two pistols, a knife, some cigarettes and a lighter. His wallet has about 300 bucks. It’s nothing special, but I take it anyway because why the hell not? Plus, I’m thinking Bianca deserves something nice.

This is where things start to become a problem for me. This feeling of revenge draws me out of the woodwork. It makes me feel special again, like a gangster. Suddenly, I’m not a homeless man anymore. “I’m Hunter Scapoli,” I say, through gritted teeth.

He looks up at me and I slam my pistol against his cheek. “No,” he breathes heavily and spits out shards of teeth. “That’s impossible. I killed you!”

“You didn’t kill shit,” I say, grabbing his hair and pulling him up. He winces with pain. “You left me for dead. What a stupid fucking move.”

I aim my gun and pull the trigger. It clicks, but no bullet comes out. He shudders with relief. I toss the gun away and grab one of the two that I took form him. “Don’t go thinking it’s your lucky day. I’m sending you to hell.”

“Wait, Goddammit!” he screams like a little fucking baby. “You were an informant. Did you really think we’d let you walk?”

I grab his ear and twist. “An informant? Who the fuck told you that joke? I was the underground’s best chance at taking us back to the golden days, before Rico. I was going to make us all rich, you idiot.”

He screams and falls to the floor, exhausted and ready for what’s coming. “Ricky! It was Ricky Luciotti.” I aim the gun at his face and put the barrel in his mouth. He tries to shield his eyes and for some reason this makes me feel a sense of pity. I have to get this done before I turn into more of a pussy.

“Ricky?” I question him. “Since when do you take orders from the Luciotti family? Answer me!” My finger is wrapped around that trigger and I’m about to fire until there’s no tomorrow.

“We were all tipped off. You were seeing that girl. You didn’t know. She was FBI,” he sighs and gulps down when I take the pistol out of his mouth. “She was setting you up. The bitch was going to take down the Five Families.

“Catherine? Bullshit,” I say, but now the thought has taken over my brain. I can’t stop thinking about her. Catherine. The one I thought I loved. She disappeared fast, didn’t she? “She died. Cancer. Everyone told me!”

“They lied to you. That’s what the Feds do,” he says. I shove the gun back into his face and he closes his eyes shut. “Do what you have to do, but know that you were set up like a fucking punk. I guess we all were in the end.”

“I don’t feel an ounce of guilt, you lying son of a bitch. The only thing I feel is complete and utter hatred for your kind,” I say, clenching my jaw.

“You were just like me once,” he laughs, knowing his time is almost up. “You would have done the same exact thing if you were in my position, so don’t go acting all high and mighty. Your time will come soon enough. Go ahead. I’m ready, you motherfucker.”

In the near distance is the sound of sirens and I realize what I have to do. “Goodbye,” I say. I pull the trigger and a small plume of smoke and blood shoots up into the air. My mind seems to slow everything down. I feel dizzy. Shit, I feel faint.

I stumble to the cobblestone steps and I hold the sides of my head. “Fuck. What’s happening?” I say out loud, but of course no one is around me. The sirens are muffled and slowed down, but they’ re getting nearer. I roll over and puke. Then, I pick myself up and stumble away, clutching at my gut.

I used to be hard. I used to be Made. Now I’m some soft asshole, and all I can think about is getting back to Detroit to see Bianca. She’s the only good thing in my life anymore. Everything else has turned to shit. On the other side, it’s all blood, guns, and death.

I just want to be normal. I just want to be like the rest of society. I want a shitty 9-5 job. I want two happy kids, a boy and a girl. I want them to go to a good school and to grow up happy. I want to wake up in the morning, to kiss my wife’s cheek, and sip on my coffee while I cut into my perfectly scrambled eggs and toast.

But the reality is, I won’t ever get that life. No, instead, I’m an outlaw. I’m society’s reject. I’m the bit of pond scum people scowl at and scrape off the bottom of their boots. I don’t deserve love. I don’t deserve anything good.

I’m Hunter Scapoli, the killer. Nothing more. Nothing less.