Mafia Game Narrator Script Novels & Stories

What does he mean later? Come with me. "No." Then everyone here dies. I look around. Count automatically. 147 innocent people trapped because of... what? My keychain? "You're insane." He doesn't deny it. Just writes: Probably. But I'm the only thing standing between you and something worse. Come with me. Now. Before I can respond, someone grabs my wrist. Richard Ashford, the third. I've served him before. Old money. Entitled attitude. Smells like expensive bourbon.

I explain, pushing my bottom lips into my mouth so I don't stop talking. “What world?” She asks, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. I take a sharp breath, here goes nothing. “The mafia world because I am the Don of the Italian Mafia.” I tell her. “WHAT!!”

Imogen asked shifting his gaze intending to hide the blush from Orion and Fergus. The voice over the ph beamed with surety sipping from each word," È di moda in questi giorni. Perché dimenticare che ora sei un maestro della mafia, nessun uomo comune sul ciglio della strada. E un'altra cosa qui non si può fare senza che io lo sappia) ( It's in trend these days. Why forget you are now a mafia master, no ordinary man on the side of the road. And one more thing nothing here can be done without me knowing ),"

I shook my head negatively "Well here's the thing, just like I'm a mob boss, Nicklaus is the leader of Bratva underworld, trust me sweetheart he's gangs are more dangerous than mine and he's the King of the underworld" "No…no…no…" I shook in terror looking at Nicklaus "Boss…." The guy by my side suddenly called Marcus and pointed the gun at Marcus "James put the gun down, what are you doing?" Marcus ask "Sorry boss" The guy muttered "You motherfucker!!!" Nicklaus screamed and suddenly pulled out a gun from his suit, he shot Marcus straight in the head and he dropped dead immediately Just like that, gunshots started flying in the air I couldn't take it anymore, I started slowing down to the f

Trust the man in black. I frowned when an echo of words repeat themselves in my head. I shake my thought away and focus on getting to know Dante. 'How are you feeling? After such a bad experience?' He asked. 'Good, actually. Gio is keeping me alive and well, so.' I shrug. 'Sure he is.' He smirked and winked at Gio. 'Fuck off, Dante.' Gio laughed.

I could feel her hesitation in her voice. " We can argue later. Hit me on my head. " I said to her. " You can pretend. " She said. " He is Duante Rego, The Mafia Emperor. He will easily get this. " I heard footsteps increasing, " He's coming. Do it fast. Give both guns to Duante. You know the summary. " I said. She nodded and hit me with the back of the gun on my head. I felt hot red blood, dripping down. It got black all of a sudden as I hit the ground.

” The first voice was resilient. ‘Just shut up, you are giving her unnecessary hope. Poor thing!’ The second voice paused before going on. ‘Anyways, if there's one thing you should have in mind, it's the fact that this man looking all sweet and beautiful I must say, is a freaking Mafia!! Does that ring a bell in your head? Guns, drugs, firearms, killing, blood and war, those are special synonyms for someone like this. Do you really want to get attached?’ They kept going at it for almost twenty minutes, while I got a headache from just sitting so still.

Just then, we hear Neo starting to approach, there are two other voices, and a brief gun battle starts. I hear a thug trying to wrestling Neo down. “Look at this goddamn idiot. Walking straight into our hands.” “Who is you goddamn idiot.” “This is fucking hilarious,” The thug bursts out in laughter, “Our new mafia boss has the dumbest crew members.” They are creating a long enough distraction to get us in. “Let's go.”

It contained vital information, details that would help shed light on the ongoing complexities of our world. Heretic rose from his chair, accepting the paper with a sense of purpose. I watched as he carefully examined its contents, his eyes scanning the words that held significance to both of us. Without uttering a word, he turned and left me with the enigmatic lady, their departure cloaked in mystery. "So you're Mafia," the lady uttered, her voice carrying a distinctly Mexican accent. I met her gaze, trying to maintain a level of professionalism despite the allure of her physical presence. "Yes," I replied simply, acknowledging my affiliation without hesitation. My eyes momentarily shifted