New Model City


Marco Orsini Baresotti
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​


Marco nodded, the tone he heard detected minor annoyance though nothing more. He walked steadily by the car, taking his seat by Mr. Torres. By the looks of Mr. Torres, he seemed quite distraught and sick. How could the fool survive such a life? He thought.
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​


He heard the Spider's next spiel. So Mr. Cullens would be in prison. It was bound to happen at some point, one man gets too clumsy and all of a sudden everything goes to shit. The Don gets shot and now one of our guys are in jail. He heard the rest, taking notice of the thing between Eliza and Lorenzo. It was known amongst the mob that they were having an affair though he wasn't quite sure what he did. 
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​


Perhaps the man went in too deep, he chuckled in his mind. The Spider handed him the ID. It seemed to be particularly accurate than most. Had he not been told it was fake, he almost would have guessed it was stolen.
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​


"Seems accurate enough, the fools would be well, fooled" he said dully again. He was fatigued though he dared not express any feelings. It was much easier to speak to the Spider if he was talked to like any other person.
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Darcy K. 
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The phone rang at the compound. Darcy had the cord wrapped around a slender finger, swirling it delicately. Her stance and mannerisms seemed casual and cool as she usually was, but really, she was terrified. Three rings, then someone picked up:
​


 
​


"Adolfo, did you get my present? I sent a few Leprechauns to the end of the rainbow to save your pot of gold." 


She was partly joking, and partly speaking in code. She knew the family; they were sneaky to outsiders, but once inside the household you knew every little detail. There was a mole within the compound. It explained the hit on her as well. She just wished she'd seen it sooner. Would've saved her a lot of trouble...


@Shireling
 
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Nestore's ears perk up at the sound of a muffled sob on the other end of the room. Eliza had heard, then. He couldn't help but partially sympathize with the girl. She'd been reckless and foolish, but Shakespeare could have drawn wonderful inspiration from her. Regardless, this was real life, and not a play. 


Mustering his best familial tone and expression, Nestore stands and approaches Eliza's bed. Seeing her in a hospital bed was distressing to say the least. The last time he'd seen her this helpless and upset was, truth be told, the day she was born. She'd grown much since then, but he'd always remember the little girl she used to be. 


"We were just beginning to worry about you, you know. Could have given us a ring before you went on vacation." He says pleasantly. 
 

The Compound
​




The Don spoke briefly with Adolfo before hanging up, which was helpful as the startling ring of the phone a second time ensued. He took the phone off the hook only to hear Darcy's sultry voice. 


"Yeah, you were a real help." He muttered, trying to remember if there was some deeper significance to what she was saying. It seems as if there was a code attached to her words. 


"Listen, I know you wanted to see me, but I need to be here. The Family needs me." Adolfo said into the phone. 


Central Holding
​


 
​


The Duce chuckled a small, good natured laugh. "Good god, Mr. Cullen. I'm not going to kill you, although this paranoia over Mr. Smither is quite alarming." 


The Marinello capo stood and brushed his coat off. "Listen, your theatrics over the past several weeks have annoyed Don Marinello to no end, but you were once family." He didn't have to add that Mr. Cullen knew important things about the inner workings of the organization. 


"You will go to prison for what you've done," said the Duce, "and in return for your garuntee of secrecy, I can assure you that your time in the penal system will be agreeable, and that if you were to ever leave you would find yourself a wealthy man. This is conditional." 


The Duce leaned closer, but far enough away that Lorenzo could not reach him through the bars. "You must never reveal the secrets of the family, if you do, you will die. Or worse..." He adjusted his glasses. "And you must never speak to Eliza again." His last words weighed heavy on the cold air. 


"Do we have a deal?" 
 

Darcy K.
​


She nodded. 
​


"I figured. I respect you for that." She paused, taking a drag from her cigarette on the other side of the line. 


"I'm going to be paying our new friends a visit tonight. Personal business but...expect some heads to roll. I doubt there will be a need to retaliate." She chuckled bitterly, tossing the remaining nub of her cigarette into the ash tray on the ottoman. 


"Unless they kill me. Then they've done you a favor, pretty boy." 


She sighed into the phone, crossing her legs as she shifted. 


"Anyways, wish me luck doll, and send my men back soon. I know I sent them by the truckfulls on loan, but leprechauns don't come easy these days." 


With that, the line went dead.
 

T H E   S P I D E R
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Clark nods for himself as his right hand manages to take out more papers, a lot of them, though this did not seem forged or faked. All the documentation seemed legit, "There is more to that. Mr King might not be please." "None of them knows Mr King." ". Orders of the judges, manifest of cargo, foreign documentation, and even some letters and signs that belong to the minister of justice. The Spider had it's influences and doors in the backyard; all thanks to his old good therapist. The amount of information and resource stored on his car was enough to fill the co-pilot's seat alone. There was no gun, showing how he could manage to win a war without firing a single bullet.


He stopped the car right before the Central Holding facility, Donwtown. He searched for the right needed information and looked back towards Marcos and Kenny, "Mr Torres, take pictures of whoever gets in or out the building. Mr Baresotti guard the car just in case we find any more, compromising situations." he walked off the car to the facility with quite charismatic vibe and rhyme. He even wears glasses to look clever, a suitcase to represent a man of business and a necklace that showed who he 'is'.


(-)


To pass through the police enforcement wouldn't be hard, but to get an audience quickly with whoever was in charge might as well call off the plan. Clark had it all set up, the right paper work and the excuse that would break most of the rules and laws of the police department. As much as the overseer of the facility would try to find a loop end or a mistake, even fake, the information was accurate to a point but also impossible to verify. " 'Under the representation of the organized British Counter-Intelligence, I, John Herbert King, express my apologies for the abrupt events of our operatives and request the immediate release. Any damage to both the institution and government shall be paid on advance as expensive of a MI5 operation.' and so on, and so more. When we have wealth and power, there are no doors we can't open. Marvelous move, Clark, marvelous. They can't confirm the information neither deny it, and to deliver the dead blow we only need to show the magistrate's request of release."  As the plan unfolded on his mind it as well unfolded on the reality though persuading them of the same would be rather... difficult. Shaking hands, nodding back, smiling; that was not enough but it does boost his influence while the information he had on his suitcase gave him a ground where he can stand as lawyer of Mr Cullen.


Finally, he would manage to reach deep enough to get to the bars that Mr Cullen owned, as well to register the man close by him. "Gentlemen, sorry I am late. I will be take it from here." a police enforcement, which seemed under Clark's orders; maybe an informant inside the police advanced towards the door's jail, "My client's charges are out of jurisdiction, therefore he's free to go until further notifications British government."  he smiled once more, clearly still impersonating his role on all this, not wanting curious eyes to see through his lies.
 

Eliza L. Marinello
​


Eliza heard Nestore as he approached her bedside. She brushed the tears from her eyes and tried to form her expression into a blank mask. She knew she failed. She'd never been very good at hiding her feelings. It was one of her greatest weaknesses. She got it from her mother. Both women were terribly emotional people. 
​


 
​


"We were just beginning to worry about you, you know. Could have given us a ring before you went on vacation," Nestore said. His familial tone took her back to the days in her childhood when he'd spoken to her in the same fashion.  Nestore's voice always reminded Eliza of who she was before she grew up, and she missed that part of her. She rolled over, wincing when she jostled her leg. She pushed herself into a sitting position, leaning back against the pillows as she he raised her eyes to Nestore.
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​


"I'm so sorry, Uncle. I don't know what I was thinking. My actions were foolish," she said.
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[SIZE= 22.6px]@Vudukudu[/SIZE]
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Nestore shrugs and waves a hand dismissively. "Relax, piccola. I, for one, cannot find too much anger in my heart over young love. Even your father will cool in time. For now, focus on rest. Once you're back on your feet, we'll have a chat about all this at home over some coffee. Sound okay?" He replies, reaching down and gently squeezing her upper arm. 


It was a shame this had all happened, but hopefully she'd at least be able to tell him how it had come to this. Such behavior was.. unexpected. What was going on that he didn't know about? 
 

KENNY TORRES
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Kenny nodded silently, readying the camera. He was quieter than usual, and much more focused. Kenny was questioning most of his choices in his life at that moment. He should never have joined the mafia, he should have never helped Clark when he was shot, and he should have never gone to protect the Don. A more capable soldier should have taken that role. Kenny took pictures as people entered and left the station, silent and lost in his thoughts.
 

Lorenzo Cullen
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Listening to the Duce's words carefully, Lorenzo heaved a sigh. Prison wasn't bad, better than Germans. Money wasn't such a big thing for him, he had planned to move down to Cuba or somewhere tropical with Eliza. But the man's next words woke his icy eyes up. "One last chat before i'm shipped off, and i'll be as silent as i've always been." He said simply, his eyes flashing down the hallway he couldn't see as footsteps began to ring. 
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When the man rolled around the corner, his eyes turned into slits, almost snake-like. The disguise was well, but nothing could be indescribable than the Spider's eyes. Black, like the skin of a Widow. Listening to the reason he could take him sent a chill down his spine, it was a good one sadly. His hinted European accent from his time in German screwed him over here, it could be believable for him to be an operative. Breaking eye-contact with either man, instead staring down at the cool concrete for solace.
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Marco Orsini Baresotti
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​


Marco nods at Clark's orders. He left his gun in the car as it would draw too much attention. Instead, he had his pistol in his coat. If he had a newspaper, he would have read it. Unfortunately, he had his journal and that was about it. He stood there contemplating on whether he should ask for a pencil or smoke. He decided on neither as asking for a pencil defied orders and smoking was not permitted in the court house. Instead, he shook his head and stood, leaning in the side if the car and enjoying the fresh air.
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@ReverseWells (Clark hasn't made it past the desk sergeant yet, so I'm just gonna ignore the latter part of your post.) 


Willy the Duce
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Being a man who was kind in most circumstances, The Duce pondered the request, then nodded. "When Eliza is better, I will bring her by here. Unfortunately, they will not let you out. You have been remanded without bail. I know a jail cell is a poor place for goodbyes," The Duce's voice suddenly turned cold, "but I believe you chose this, my boy. You shot those people. You deserve to be here." 


With that, the capo turned and walked. The heavy iron door to the cell block slammed shut behind him and was locked by the guard on the other side. 


Central Holding Processing Desk
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​


The desk sergeant was, understandably, taken aback by a British agent coming to his desk and demanding one of his prisoners, but the policeman was a New Modelite, and he was not going to be intimidated by some tea-drinking punk. 


"Listen here, mac," the desk sergeant shoved a stack of papers across the desk towards Clark, "here's the local papers for extradition. After you fill those out, take them to the courthouse. The courthouse will put in their paperwork to the circuit court, and then the DoJ will take a look at it. Or you can go to the Justice Department's offices in Washington. Then, take your papers and go fuck yourself. Lorenzo Cullen is a cop killer and he'll stand trial here in New Model." 


Adolfo Marinello 
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​


Adolfo sort of chuckled. "Your men already left, Darcy. Hey listen, I wanna talk to you about something later. But it ain't important right now. Call me back tomorrow if you can." 


Adolfo hung up the phone and walked back into the living room of the compound. Napoleon Bonaffacio and a few senior soldiers were standing around the coffee table with notepads and cups of coffee. 


"Hey, listen, Adolfo." Napoleon said, walking up to the Underboss. "Why don't we try to hit the Abandanos in one swoop, just like they did us? Except, you know, actually get them." 


"We could go in there guns blazing!" Someone suggested. 


"Go in where?" Adolfo asked. The room remained silent. 


"That's the issue. We gotta pound the pavement. Figure out where Don Abandano is holed up. We don't even know that much." 
 

Eliza L. Marinello
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Eliza smiled gratefully at Nestore. His easy forgiveness over her actions were undeserved, but she appreciated them. She was glad to know her betrayal hadn't completely alienated her family. She knew he was right when he said her father would forgive her, in time. But what of her mother? Adolfo? The rest of the Marinello men? Would they all be willing to be so forgiving? She doubted it. She looked up at Nestore and smiled weakly. 
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"Of course, Uncle," she murmured.
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[SIZE= 22.6px]@Vudukudu[/SIZE]
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Darcy K.
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The younger Kelly was back in the car.
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Her limo pulled into the edges of the Italian Quarter, gaudy engagement ring cold in her bare palm. The car stopped outside of a seemingly unassuming home. She exited alone and entered after 3 sharp wraps on the door were returned by 2. 
​


She stepped inside of the door, a butler removed her coat, and she observed the handsome Italian in front of her. 
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"Hello, Emilio." 
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He embraced her, and she did her best not to draw away. 
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"Your brother's men attacked us today. We couldn't finish the job." he admitted, kissing a trail from her bare shoulder to her jaw. 
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"Better luck next time, then." She murmured, stroking his hair calmingly. "Take me up to your room. We need to talk."
​


The Italian eagerly complied, Darcy following behind with a roll of her eyes. For someone so 'sinister', he was a bit of a half wit. He was Adolfo's equal in this family, and it annoyed her how simple he was. Lucky her; she'd get to take out her aggrivation, plus some. 
​


The red head trailed him until they reached their destination, gracefully lifting herself into his four poster bed. Emilio, 'obviously' seeing where this was going, crawled in beside her, attempting to start his assault again. Darcy frowned, pressing a manicured finger to his lips. 
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"I take top." 
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He opened his mouth to object, but readily thought better of it. Darcy grinned. 
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"Good." 
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She pinned him down, watching him like cat who'd snagged a mouse by the tail.
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"Sorry, sweetie," 
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There was the click of a revolver being cocked.
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His eyes grew wide, and Darcy merely smiled, her red lips stretching in a Cheshire grin.
​


"This is for the Don." 
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BANG
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The thick doublet and mattress covered most of the sound as the bullet ripped through the italian's head. She climbed off of him, hopped on the bed a few times, and moaned for effect. No one downstairs would ever guess she'd killed him, they'd just assume he was having the best night of his life. Little did they know...
​


Darcy picked up the phone once more. It'd been a mere hour or so since she'd called, but oh well. She worked quickly. 
​


The phone rang a few more times before he picked up. 
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"Emilio Abadano, deceased. My location is 3454 Via Sacra Court. You may find some useful information here. You're welcome." She purred, a smile coming over her face, "How's the Don?"
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"Get well soon, Eliza. You'll need all your strength so Mama doesn't crush you when she hugs you, hmm?" Nestore says softly, then turns away and limps back to the Don's side. He'd forgotten his cane in his rush, and he could feel his hip screaming out in agony. He'd hidden it well the last few years, but today.. today, he'd let it get the better of him. With a pained sigh, he slumps down into a chair, clearly favoring his left leg as he did so. 


"Miss being young, Salasar. Always thought I'd die in some nighttime hit. Never wanted to get old. Not like this." He mutters, then reaches into his coat. "Mind if I smoke?"
 

Don Marinello
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​


"Go ahead." The Don muttered dismissively. He stared up at the ceiling, trying not to think of how much he wanted to leap out of bed. He wanted to take charge of the Family, but maybe there was something symbolic about him being left impotent, confined to the hospital bed, watching as the Family took itself into an uncertain future. This is what it's like to be old, to wind up your kids like toy soldiers and watch them march along all grown up and strong. 


"Maybe we are too old for this, Nestore." The Don sighed. "If I do go home from this... I think I'll step down. The Family needs a strong, fresh leader. There's a time for wisdom and a time for vigor. Nowadays is one of the latter." 


Salasar Marinello leaned back against the pillows and sighed one more time. 


Adolfo Marinello
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​


Adolfo picked up the phone again and was, rightfully, shocked to hear what had transpired. He was torn between zeal and anger. 


"Darcy, you know you're not supposed to talk about this stuff over the phone. The Fed could have us wiretapped." He doubted it at this point, but J. Edgar Hoover was a little overzealous with the wiretapping. 
 

T H E  S P I D E R
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Clark did only smile in retaliation once the local paper work arrived and the Sargent explained him what he already knew, continuing the impersonating posture of a reckless lawyer that knows exactly how to handle situations like this, experienced man. "Mac? Who the hell is mac?" although his mind was still confuse from the man's way of speaking, "Not under the eyes of the law you sworn to protect, Sargent, no he won't." he spoke once more as another paper came out from his suitcase, "This paper, which you may recognize the name of your superior's sign, gives me your complete collaboration on this case, avoid me further and I will have to swipe you aside for negligence and fault on chain of commands. So, 'Mac', I will give you five minutes to call your superior over, tell him how fucking sorry you are; just after I see my client as it's on his right to have a lawyer." then he took out a pencil to write down his name on another paper with the word 'Report' was big on the top of the same. "The MI5 will be greatly appreciate your collaboration and so does your precious government." his left hand would slide something from under his deck, something sticky but small like a pencil, hardly seen as it gets attached below the desk like chewing gum. He kept his left hand there for just a moment, his finger close by the small button.


He did not need to take him out from the front door after all, just give Mr Cullen the means to walk out of prison on his own with the resource The Spider could give him. Regardless the paperwork works or not, as Lorenzo's lawyer, he will have to see his 'client' 'privately'. What did something impressed Clark was that his skills matched to impersonate a MI5 Agent, he couldn't avoid a smile on his mind though he kept his severe, reckless, seeking for justice lawyer.
 

Central Holding
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​


The desk sergeant frowned, this just wasn't adding up at all. How could this guy be a British spy and a lawyer? Doubtful. He picked up the phone and dialed in a number. 


"I've got a guy down here trying to take Mr. Cullen for a ride. He's got a paper with your signature on it." 


A long pause. 


"Yeah, but his paperwork isn't in order."


Another pause.


"Look, the guy is fishy. I know you sign a lot of papers, but I'm telling you this guy is a fish. Besides, extradition is a federal matter and he doesn't have any of the federal paperwork. Alright."


He set the phone down on the receiver.


"Look, I'm sorry, but that paper alone won't cut it. Extradition is a federal matter, and if you ask me..." The sergeant leaned in. "Something about this whole operation is a little fishy. If I were to pick up the phone and call the embassy and ask them if they were seeking extradition, they would probably say no. Mr. Cullen doesn't even have a passport, my wager is he hadn't been to England. So you'd better leave before I do any more digging." 


As the desk sergeant spoke, Willy the Duce was walking out of the jail on the far side of the desk. He had his hat down and appeared to be just another detective. As he walked past them and out the door, he muttered to himself, "Shit, what the hell is he doing here? Maybe Cullen isn't so paranoid after all."  
 

Darcy K.
​


Darcy clicked her tongue dismissively. 
​


"Addy, Addy, Addy, what am I going to with you? First rule of telephone, never reference being listened to, just in case you are. Proves you have something to hide." She smirked, opening her mouth to go on when a faint click could be heard behind her. 
​


The phone stayed at her ear. 
​


"Oh, hello, I didn't hear you come I-"
​


BANG 
​


The line went dead.
​

 
Nestore sighs heavily and takes a long drag off his cigarette. "Think we might have been too old for this for awhile. World's not the way it used to be. Maybe cutthroats and bastards are the future, and folks with integrity are just relics." He mutters, flicking a bit of ash off the tip of his smoke. "Adolfo's ready. More ready than you were when you had to step up. Plus, he'll have both of us around for a bit longer. You've earned yourself a break, I think. Its about time you get the chance to rest. Be a family man instead of a Family man, as much as that's possible." 


Nestore coughs and leans back in his chair. "Ever seen one of those airplane rotors? Spins so fast you can't really tell if its going left or right? I'm beginning to think that's what planning for the future is like."
 

Campbell Street, Downtown
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​


Willy walked a half block down from the police station and got into a red Packard. It was his wife's car, probably not noticeable to Kenny standing outside as he drove past Clark's car and turned a corner.


After driving some ways, he stopped and got out near a payphone. It was nighttime now, and the lonesome whistle of the express train could be heard over the sound of traffic as if left the station across town. Willy got out and shut himself in the phone booth, inserting a nickel in the coin slot and picking up the receiver. 


Marinello Compound
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​


Adolfo's face blanched over with a look of concern and confusion. He looked down at the receiver, making sure it was still connected, before putting it to his ear again. 


"Hello? Hello?" 


He dragged his left hand over his face in an action indicative of stress before calling a young enforcer to his side. 


"Go to the hotel on Sacra Court. Call me when you get there and tell me what you see." 


The enforcer nodded, putting on his hat and bowing out of the room. Adolfo was about to hang up when the phone rang again. It was from a payphone. He raised the phone to his ear. 


"Hello?" 


"I saw Clark at the cop shop Downtown. He was trying to spring Cullen with some fake papers. Did you put him up to it?" 


He recognized the voice as Willy's. 


"No, I didn't." He said, his voice full of intrigue. "Did he see you?" 


"I don't think so. He's dragging around two of our guys. I don't think they know what he's up to." 


"Alright. I want you to go down to the hospital and see Pop. Tell him what you told me. I'll deal with him in my own way." 


Adolfo hung up the phone just as Napoleon walked into the room. 


"Boss," he said, "one of my guys says he thinks the Abandanos are getting together tomorrow night at a flower shop in Broca Heights." 


"How sure is he?" 


"He's pretty sure his source is legit. I told him to go scope it out." 


"Good, Napoleon." Adolfo turned towards him with a militant glare in his eyes. "By the way, keep an eye on Clark." 


"You thing he got your old man gunned?" 


"I don't know. Just keep an eye on him." 
 

T H E  S P I D E R
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Clark tries to restrain his snort as he answers back, "Then you leave me no choice but to request the order once more, I will be back for my client." he said as if making an entrance for his next move, his focused on the Sargent when he hesitated for a moment, "And Sargent, my apologies for any inconvenient, we both are trying to do our jobs. I respect your institution and your and your plate. Cop killer or not, he is my client." Clark's vision wasn't capable to distinguish Will on the office but he wasn't dumb enough to not believe someone may already have seen him. If not the Marinello, maybe some other family. Regardless, Mr Cullen was already in jail, there is nothing Clark could do about it. The only loose end is Eliza. "The Hospital. I can't go there. Checking on Mr Cullen and then Eliza, it's not of my concern and we have still much to do." his attention returned to the suitcase and the pencil below Sargent's desk as he recovered all his devices. He moved to shake the Sargent's hand, polite as always.


He would turn around, his dark black coat would follow like a tail, walking neither quickly or relaxed out of the station. Once out of the door, he focused on reach his car and give a sign of disappointment to Marcos as he beckoned him to get on the car. Once inside, he waited for the both to be inside as he spoke, "Mr Cullen will go to jail, nothing can be done by it. According to the Sargent, he is a cop-killer." both hands reached the steering wheel as if holding his failure, "I wonder if he killed Elizabeth too, his stupidity knows no bounds..." he shook his head once more as he expected to get his camera back, his right hand moving to get it, "Anyone interested get in, out or lookout?" 
 

KENNY TORRES
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Kenny handed Clark his camera back and stayed silent. He didn't care what Clark's motives were any longer. Any ideas Clark seemed to have at the moment seemed half-baked and useless. He stared out the window of the car, tapping on his lap gently. Kenny didn't want to be in the car anymore. He felt trapped. "I doubt he killed Eliza." Kenny mumbled suddenly. "Adolfo himself woulda gone to the police if Cullen had." Kenny then looked towards Marco for back-up, scared that the Spider would merely ignore anything he said.


@ShadowBroker @Proxploxtops
 
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T H E  S P I D E R
​




Clark nodded once more, "Then again, Adolfo is too busy worrying about the Don to focus on others more urgent matters." he expressed indifferent if any of the possibilities were actually the case, either Mr Cullen tried to kill her or not, "Regardless, you neglected my question, Mr Torres." Clark indeed requested for a debrief, a report of everything he saw yet he did not do such thing. The Spider merely register as if Kenny wasn't any more capable to fulfill it's duties and moved along with Marcos. "Speaking of negligence... we have been absence for quite a long time at the compound." he wanted to bite his lips, but hesitate and smiled, "There is no point to remain here. We shall return to the compound."


Wouldn't take long to reach the compound once more, although with a slower pace than when they were coming. Beyond how Torres might felt caged and Marcos may feel scared; none of the both feelings compared to the paranoia growing wide on Clark. He felt how every single invisible  sweat tears on his body crafted a new sensation all together. Part of him wanted to laugh so hard that would turn his throat dry, the other wanted to commit a "car accident" and kill the both soldatos blaming someone else for such inconvenience, accelerating the incoming war. But he remained calm as The Spider finally arrived to the compound, ignoring the two of the men, entering the place and rest anywhere he could to sit down and have something to drink.
 

Marco Orsini Baresotti
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​


Marco saw the Spider walk over to the car. He was too tired to care and instead got up. The obvious show of dissapointed from the Spider confused him. He heard the Spider's words.
​


 
​


"I'm with Mr. Torres in this one, from what I gather, they've been too close for murder," Marco added.
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​


Marco stayed in the car silent for the rest of the trip. He watched as cars passed, the speed steadily increasing. The fear growing in Marco's body rose ever so steadily in hopes he would make it to the compound alive. 
​


 
​


When they had finally reached the compound he got out silently. The Spider seemed paranoid as he gathered from his body motions. He seemed worried over something...Maybe scared? 
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​


Impossible that he is scared... More unstable if anything. The fool had all the materials but not wits to effectively use them, Marco thought to himself. No doubt the Spider was a smart though at the moment, his plans seemed half-assed and rushed. 
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​


Marco got out of the car, slinging the BAR gun over his shoulder. No doubt the Abanados are on their way soon. They would want to finish the job. What was needed now was the Don and Adolfo back at the Compound to decide their next move. He wasn't exited if he was to meet them both as he entered the door.
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((I was a bit confused about what you're asking in your question))
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