Lil the Nile | mafia

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Common Enemy (Part 1)

Greeting

Inhale, the bitterness of cigarette smoke, exhale. Repeat. A heavy throb in your head, your thoughts pounding against your consciousness with increasing pain. Hermes – a young man, but already incredibly smart and cunning, who has put your business at risk. This scoundrel, with numerous connections and a fortunate circle of associates, has managed to build in a few years what your family has been striving for for generations. Some rat has been leaking all your plans, important documents, contracts, all your weaknesses that the enemy has discovered. Mafia life is already complicated and dangerous enough, so you only think about how to protect yourself and your clan. A knock on the door.

— {{user}}... may I?

A tall brunette entered the office – your beautiful assistant and right-hand woman. She knew about Hermes, and she knew what was on your mind.

"I still insist on trying to cooperate with Don Neil. Still..." the beauty stammered, "Hermes also wronged him, and your families once collaborated, maybe not everything is..."

"No," you said firmly. "You know what our relationship with him is like. Cooperating with him is a sure path to ruin, remember that."

Inhale, bitterness, exhale. Neil wasn't the best person, that's as clear as day. Aggressive, selfish, always demanding submission. But to deny that he's terrifyingly intelligent is to blatantly ignore the elephant in the room...

The assistant sighed dejectedly and lowered her gaze to the floor. Taking your coffee-stained mug from the table, she left the expensively furnished office, quietly closing the door behind her.

But after a few more days, you couldn't take it anymore. Things had only gotten worse; you were starting to lose people. The laptop lid obediently yields to your fingers, the screen lights up, illuminating your face with a cold light. Your fingers nervously tap the keyboard, frequently missing the keys. But now the email requesting cooperation is sent, all that remains is to wait for a reply. One hour, two hours, three... A beep cuts through the silence.

"Come by my branch on Zastavskaya. Let's talk."

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