It was a normal windy day on September 11th of 1953 when I was still on the "Good Memory", a cargo ship, not a fast one but filled with tons of goods, travelling from Southern England, and planned to arrive in Boston on the 23rd.
The trip on the Atlantic Ocean has never been so sad for me. I was born in America, while taken back to England in 1919 by my parents. After 14 years I got married and again went cross this water with my wife Aoife· She was a beauty and my Muse. However after several years when we went back to England, she didn't make it through due to diphtheria. What is more painful is the death of my little girl. She went to heaven with her dear mother in the same year.
The ocean was cold, and never ever been so sorrowful. The winds drag the water up, and roar like a lion. I planned to go inside the cabin, for it was too stupid to remain outside in the biting winds.
He was there when I met him. I could not find a proper language to describe him. But the first time when I saw him, there were no words that could work better than mysterious. He was there, sitting near the windows, nearly blended into the environment while looking me into the eyes.
"Have a seat, sir, would you?" He asked me with a cold smile, which gave me a strange feeling that he could see me through into my soul.
I opened my mouth, but my question was stuck. I sat down opposite him and started to study him. He's an English man, I can assure that. His long, high nose and his pale skin showed this information. His hair is silver white, with a little bit ginger red inside, just the same color as his old wool waistcoat. He dressed well, showing an unquestionable feeling of a noble. I estimated his age, which I felt unpleasant to ask.
"You look cold." He said softly with his silver eyes staring at me.
"Oh, yes, indeed." I quickly answered. ”Wasn't ready to face such harsh winter in the Atlantic."
"Yes, you are. And you are cold inside, too."
He handed me a cup of red tea and said some strange words.
"Here, it would probably help you feel better."
I accepted his tea and silently sat there. It took me minutes to give myself courage to talk to him and rip away my bad thoughts about the reason for his questions.
"I'm Dean, Dean Carter,a writer." I introduced myself. "And you are?"
"Cyril, the trader." He answered softly again, like a ghost.
"Owner of this ship?" I asked.
"I'm afraid not." He chuckled.
"This ship is actually my friends', and I'm just borrowing it for my own business."
"I saw those goods outside before." I said, with a bit of discomfort due to the coldness." Tea, right?"
"Yes, yes." He smiled, looking at me like I'm a kid who got a good answer. "Indeed."
We continued on this topic about trades after the war for minutes, until we were both really tired about this.
"It's 7." Cyril stood up. "Allow me, I'm too old to stay on such a cold night."
"Help yourself then."
Then it was me who stayed up till 9 that day. I was afraid. I lost Aoife and my daughter, and honestly, I was not sure whether I can go on. The idea of what I can do later and what I should do is becoming further away from me. I looked out of the windows for so long, until I was really frustrated to stay. It was just one of the nights after that heartbreaking truth.
Next morning it was sunny, and the winds made us faster, which was good news for everyone. I met Cyril again on the deck when I was trying to write something about the sea. He gently nodded at me, as I am already a good friend.
"Nice sleep?" He looked at me from above, with a taste of strange schadenfreude.
"Well, actually, no." I answered tiredly with a pause.
"What's the matter then?"
I decided not to tell the truth but explained it as a loss of creativity in my writings. Cyril looked at me curiously. I can tell he did not believe in me. While he did not break my lie. He took me to the little bar on the ship and treated me with nice tea, just like what he did yesterday. And to be honest, that was what he did everyday after.
Then on the last day before our journey's ended, I finally encouraged myself to talk about it.
"I lost my family."
I have to admit I said that coldly. I tried my best to make it sound cold and unable to change. Cyril silently looked at me, narrowed his eyes a little bit.
"I lost one of my family members, too. Just this year I have to say." After an awkward silence, he replied.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's fine."
He sighed, and started to explain. He told me that day he saw me painfully pacing around the edge of the ship, and that was why he decided to talk with me. He hoped I would say it out so that I would not give myself too much pressure. He also explained his trouble, his three grandsons, and the loss of one of them. I listened to him in great silence, until he finished his words in deep sorrow.
"I'm sorry. But I could not find a single possibility that he is still alive, that was the most sorrowful thing I have ever experienced. However I told myself, though I lost one of them, at least I have two to take care of. And life has to go on."
He got a tear down his right eye. I felt so touched and stood up.
"So, tell me now, Mr. Carter." He looked up at me. "Would you live happily after all these things happened? Would you have the courage to face your future without your beloved ones?"
"Yes, it would be sad and lonely, and even painful to step across the truth. But you will struggle to live, would you? We are both old men, and we know that there are still days to be alive. Besides, we are the ones who have courage for that, right?"
He is right. I have to admit. Though I never understood how he had that strong power to discover my secret minds, and was so gentle to help me, I did come over my scar after that. Now I got my small bookstore near the street's corner, having nice or strange people coming in everyday. I still cook my Aoife's favourite cookies, but only for strangers. When I felt better after a year, I even started my career as a private detective, hoping to help others with their messy lives.
Cyril? Well this strange, mysterious old English man never later appeared in my life. After I got down the ship, he left quickly without even looking back. I suppose he was in a hurry for a meeting or another new trip. Who knows, maybe one day I can still see him healthily standing across the street, wearing his old wool waistcoat and gently smiling at me.
The one who talked with Dean•Cart was indeed Cyril. While Dean knew nothing about him.
Cyril•Stuart, that is his full name. This British was born in west England, with together a brother and a sister.They lived in their family's house on the bank of the Wolf River for their whole childhood.
Among the three children, Cyril was the only healthy one. His sister passed away soon after her birth due to illness, and his brother Martin made himself alive until 25, but with an unhealthy skeleton body, and was later murdered by Cyril naturally near the forest at their house.
He was too weak to lead his family. That was Cyril's logic.
This logic remained in his mind even when his three grandsons got birth. They are Charlie, Warlock and Raymond. While other kids in the village got free choices, these three had to follow his order from a young age. To train them until they can do anything for the family is Cyril's only wish about them. He specifically likes Warlock due to his intelligence, while Warlock personally hates his way of education. But he could do nothing, for Cyril is the eldest member in the family and his order could be everything.
What's more, a long time being noble and rich caused the Stuarts to be proud and even arrogant. This personality shows the best in Cyril ,for he cares nothing about others. He had no interest in anything until he found the joy to see someone suffer.
He enjoys others' pain, for he can stand up high to see it, feeling strong like he is the winner of life.
The winter of 1952 was the coldest than ever before. Snow covered the west coast and also brought bad news to this family. German's war with England and the liberation of the colonies all pushed harder on Stuart's business. They have less sales and an urge to find a new customer. And what is more for bad luck, Warlock left the family and never turned back in that August.
"I'm feeling good enough about my grandfather's trick." He wrote in the letter which was later found by his maid."I'm going to America for a brighter future."
That was the time Cyril decided to go to American.
To Cyril, he was hoping this trip would be much more boring. However this idea disappeared when he saw Dean pacing near the edge of the ship.
He's suffering, Cyril knew that at his first look. And he knew if Dean kept on, he would fall into the ocean.
But that's not interesting, he thinks. At least to him, he would prefer seeing Dean's body in a cold, dark alley and see his eyes sparkle painfully at him after he tried his best to last for a longer time.
So he made a decision to help him.
Dean was suffering, and he did need someone to talk to. Maybe to him Cyril is just mysterious and gentle, while that is all his tricks. Step by step, Cyril wanted to see him feel better. For being higher, the disaster would strike harder on a person. To be nice to others has been a long-term practice for Cyril. He smiles, but always in a cold way. He asks, but actually for more information he could use. His tea to Dean is also nothing but a fake lie, to show his "friendly".
The last day of the trip when Dean told him everything, Cyril got excited and satisfied. That is what he wants. The story about Warlock's death had never happened, and Cyril's tears were just a show. But that tricked Dean enough.
When Dean got off the ship, Cyril already had a plan. He knew that someday Dean would fall. Even he got his new business near the street, or decided to be a detective.
" Those are just struggles before his death."
Cyril said softly to himself.
" I'm looking forward to your death. Mr.Cart. And I'll be the mourner of it."
巨大的圣象被黑色正装的人群围绕着，像是篝火四周干枯焦黑的木柴，中间飘荡着几缕黑烟，新兵单膝跪在圣象前接受那垂怜的目光，低吟着至死不渝的誓言手握利刃在掌心留下一道血痕，紧捏的拳头挤出鲜红的宝石滴落在焚毁的圣象上，黑烟和火焰发出滋滋的噪声，新鲜血液已经注入了这个家族，全新的生命诞生于此。
皮鞋把带着火星的劣质香烟碾进泥土里，欧尼斯特看着拿出手帕按压着伤口克制不住兴奋的年轻人产生了一丝烦躁。群鸟会迁徙，人也会离开，这些还带着青涩的新兵们不知道会在哪条道路上前进，也不知道会在哪个街角离开，像是飞越的候鸟一样，下次再见已经不是同一只了。
“嘿，小子你想开溜了？”腰间被肘击袭击了，欧尼斯特下意识想去抓住袭击者的手，但是被对方闪过，比尔吸了口雪茄抬头把烟喷到了欧尼斯特的脸上，拽着这家伙的衣服拖到了角头们该站的位置，“BOSS还有话没说完呢，轮不到你小子先走。”
“啧……”
“好家伙，我还是怀念你跟那些愣头青一样的时候，至少那时候你礼貌很多。”比尔弹弹烟灰，露出不是那么友好的笑容，对着望向角头这边的愣头青们打招呼，鬼知道会有哪个家伙分到自己手下，总之先让对方觉得自己比身边摆着臭脸的傻大个要好才能找到有用的下属。
欧尼斯特小声骂着脏话，从大衣口袋里摸出皱皱巴巴的红白烟盒，抖出了一根带着折痕的香烟点燃深吸了一口，甩甩手熄灭了火柴不知道弹到哪个灌木丛底下了。
烟雾从鼻腔里喷出来模糊了眼前的视界，他晃神想起了山羊说的话，吹开面前的烟雾发出不屑的哼声。
他加入家族已经十七年了，最开始确实也是愣头青，甚至只是被给予了一丁点可以复仇的机会就聪明的理解了权利在自己手上是什么感觉。
“报仇而已。”如果最开始问他为什么要加入黑手党的话那就只能从那张没什么表情甚至会斜着眼睛看你的脸上得到这个答案。
金发与棕发的少年躺在草地上闲聊着，从浓缩咖啡聊到意面和千层面，在两个人深深的鄙视了一番菠萝披萨之后金发的男孩翻个身偏过头看着棕发的家伙。
“喂！欧尼斯特，以后你想干什么？”
“没什么想法吧，和老头过上好日子就行了，希望能够搞到点钱做点生意，毕竟老头子年纪大了腿脚有点不太好不能去太远的地方。”
“兰德尔叔叔啊……确实，你要喊他少喝酒啊！太伤身体了！”
“这本来应该是妈妈去劝他的……算了不说了，我都没有见过妈妈。”欧尼斯特坐起来拍拍背后的草屑转头问着身边的人，“奥斯维德，你呢？以后想干什么？”
“嗯……我想做警察！喂喂喂，不要用这种眼神看着我，去保护别人有什么不好的吗？你也不是没看到贫民窟那边的孩子们，帮教会做点事情还可能会被小混混抢走黑面包！”被称为奥斯维德的金发少年挥舞着拳头大喊着，“我想解决掉这些混蛋们！”
“噗……说这话之前看看你的样子，不要被混混揍回来抓着我的手喊‘欧尼斯特哥哥救救我呀！’吧。”
“你他妈放屁，我比你大才对！混蛋来打一架啊！”
欧尼斯特弹起身子就跑开甩了奥斯维德一脸草屑，十几岁的男孩幼稚的可爱，小草坡上断断续续的笑声在不同地方响起，惊走了藏在灌木里偷吃果子的小鸟。
“哼哼哼……啧啧啧……”奥斯维德绕着欧尼斯特转了好几圈，看着穿着和自己一样警校制服的家伙发出了意义不明的笑声，“说是准备去做生意但是没想到啊，你居然也来了。”
“奥斯维德，麻烦你搞清楚一点，我的成绩合格了，老头现在不酗酒了所以我能出来读书了。”
“是是是，我明白的，聪明又冷静的‘欧尼斯特哥哥’用自己优异的成绩换到了奖金进入了学校，绝对不是什么舍不得最好的朋友奥斯维德·菲尔德先生所以奋力读书锻炼为了和最好的朋友进入一个学校。”奥斯维德摸着为了显得成熟没有剃掉的胡子揶揄着自己的好兄弟，最后换来了伸过来的一只脚。
“尊敬的菲尔德先生，麻烦您先躺着吧，我去学校了。”丝毫没有绊倒挚友的愧疚感，欧尼斯特甩开步伐往前走，假装自己并不认识地上那个捂着腰打滚的家伙。
扑棱棱的群鸟飞过道路，不知道是哪只艺术家觉得地上这位翻滚着的家伙很适合留下一副画作，在高空中喷撒了白色的颜料弄脏了奥斯维德刚熨好穿上的新制服。
“哦！我的老天！！！！！欧尼斯特——帮帮我——”
当然，听到这样的呼喊声欧尼斯特选择温柔地关上了耳朵的大门，没把好兄弟的话放进去，脸上挂着适合今天这个舒爽天气的微笑越走越快，直到消失在奥斯维德的视线里。
声音嘶哑的男人跪在地上，大衣被血迹浸透，斑驳的暗红花朵开放在浅色衣服上像是哀悼的花束，他的双手沾满鲜血紧紧摁在躺在地上的人喉咙上。
“混蛋，混蛋，操他妈的为什么是你，给我醒醒，奥斯……不要睡着，千万不要睡着，等等就有医生来了，不会有事的好吗？”
“欧尼……斯特……”
“操你妈，别他妈说话了，没事的，血管破了而已！等医生到了之后咱们包扎好了你没事了我听你说一年废话好吗兄弟？你说菠萝披萨好吃我都听！”
血迹顺着喉咙的微微起伏一波一波涌出来，奥斯维德那双被夸过只剩下真诚的蓝眼睛开始失去光芒慢慢涣散，体温逐渐流失的手搭上了欧尼斯特的手，后者感觉像是冰块贴上来，但是他没有甩开也没有握住只是努力的捂住奥斯维德的被割破的动脉。
“欧尼……嘿……兄弟你在哭吗……哈……咳咳……”他的声音像是坏掉了只会抽气的手风琴，在欧尼斯特的手中拉出难听的悲鸣，血液淹没了奥斯维德，咕噜的气泡声越来越响，奥斯维德无力的压住欧尼斯特的手说着，“我睡……睡一会……明天……明……”
手滑落到了地上，人也露出僵硬的微笑闭上了眼睛，血液再也没有一股一股往外冒，而是顺着欧尼斯特的指缝带着温暖缓缓流出来，把奥斯维德的金色短发染成湿漉漉的红。
过了好几分钟，一直到血液也不会继续流动了，欧尼斯特像是反应过来了一样紧紧抓住那只之前盖着自己的手，带着鲜红的血摁在了自己的额头上。
“明天……见……哥哥……”
还未凝固的血液顺着额头滴下，染红了欧尼斯特半张脸，带着他眼眶里的泪水混合成复仇的流星落在沉睡的奥斯维德脸上，乌鸦在唱着哀悼的死亡乐曲。
欧尼斯特站在如黑鸦一般的人群之中，跪在慈悲的圣象前用利刃划破了自己的手掌，看着渗出的血滴黏连在一起汇成血线最后铺满整个手掌，仿佛像是一年前的那次守护任务，被随便叫去帮忙完全没有经验的年轻人最后死在了子弹与利刃下。
拳头狠狠捏紧血液溅了几滴在脸上，欧尼斯特结束了对着圣象的宣誓静静起立，随便用衣袖擦掉了脸上的血迹退到属于新兵的那块区域聆听着克劳德·帕拉帝佐的话。
“……作为男人，需要无情地将邪恶消灭。”
这位二代教父宛如漆黑雄狮巡视领地一样用审视的目光看着自己的下属们，平静地和大家说完家族的要求之后没留下任何对于新人来说算得上鼓励与激励的话语，就这么转身离去了。
“你小子先跟我干几天吧，要是没本事的话劝你不要到黑帮来，怎么死的都不知道。”咬着雪茄的男人走向了欧尼斯特，不耐烦地拍着他的肩膀说，“不过如果你干得好的话有俩老家伙要换人了，也许你也有机会爬上来。记得叫我比尔先生。”
“……好的，比尔先生。”欧尼斯特想了想低了低头表示给予了尊重，在比尔咂嘴声中问了第一个问题，“比尔先生，为什么加入仪式这时候会有女人？”
不远处倚靠在一位年迈角头身边的是黑短发的颓废年轻女人，半眯着眼睛亲吻着装着长滤嘴的香烟，时不时对着搂住自己的老年人轻笑着，似乎是发现了欧尼斯特在观察她，吸了一口香烟往欧尼斯特这边吐了一口，烟雾遮住了她嘲讽的笑脸，等到散开的时候这个女人又贴在了老角头的身上调起情来。
“小子，你叫什么？”比尔盯着他的眼睛问他。
“欧尼斯特·兰德尔。”
“那好，兰德尔，在这里我告诉你第一课，你永远不要去好奇别人为什么会存在于某个地方，为什么会在你眼前做这种事情。”比尔往前走了几步，想了想停下来转头看着欧尼斯特，“好奇心不是用来讨论家族成员的，你该做的事情应该不是和女人一样八卦吧？”
“……”
“好好想想，你该干嘛。”
“我想复仇，把那个……混蛋的奢侈的懦弱的有钱胖子狠狠地揍一顿，打爆他的眼球，让他身上没有一块完整的地方，然后切开他的喉咙让他唱歌。”
“那你就应该去准备动手了，但是你的第一战家族肯定不会给予你什么，自己努力活下来吧，要武器和协助人的话可以去申请。GOOD LUCKY，小子。”
欧尼斯特看着走远的比尔，没有听到那句被鸟叫声盖住的“别和某些个混蛋小子一样轻易死了。”他只觉得能够报复了那个害死了奥斯维德的混蛋就够了，至于以后想做什么，以后再说吧，至少现在父亲是支持他的。
“兰德尔先生？那个……兰德尔先生！”新兵拘谨地站在欧尼斯特的面前，做了好几次心理准备才把这位走神的角头唤回这个世界。
“兰德尔先生！我是这次被分到您手下的新兵，我叫……”
“停。”欧尼斯特打断了他带着兴奋的自我介绍，“我现在还不好奇你的名字，只有你在我眼里合格了之后你才配有名字。”
“这……啊……对不……”
欧尼斯特根本没管面前新人再说什么，冷淡地看着那双因为自己说的话产生不安的眼睛用低声喊了出来：“第一课！”
“好！”
“跟上我的步伐，把你的目光全部用上去看身边的一切事物，记录身边一切事件，为了家族献出你的一切，但是记住把你没用的性命给我留着继续使用！不要给我像路边的野狗一样随随便便被流浪汉打死拿去当晚餐，你现在是意大利家族的猎犬，给我动起来！用你那没用的鼻子找到新鲜的尸体去！”
“遵命！……那么……兰德尔先生我应该做什么才对？”
欧尼斯特抽完了最后一口烟，把折歪了的烟头丢在了地上，踩熄了之后按住了比自己矮一些的新兵的头，说：“先去街上熟悉一下你的地盘吧蠢狗。”
安顿好了自己下属的洋金花找到了山羊碰头嘀嘀咕咕着：“说起来比尔，过去十七年了你知道欧尼斯特报仇了吗？他不是和狂战士一样嚷嚷了好几年吗？”
“好像去年找到机会最后杀了对方全家了吧？”
“不是吧，他不是那么……呃……”洋金花试着抬手比划了一下，“那么给人感觉优柔寡断妇人之仁的人吗？怎么会杀了对方全家的？”
“小孩放了，但是好像老婆看到他爹死的那么惨也快疯了，最后带着孩子从楼顶跳下去了。”
“啧啧啧……男人……”
“我没去啊，只是听到有家政人员传过一桩灭门案就是了。”
洋金花听到了这个回答之后沉思了片刻，戴着手套的手搭上了山羊比尔的肩膀上凑过去小声说：“我们……晚上喊他喝酒吧？”
“你确定？”山羊挑眉看着眼前像是毒蜘蛛一样的坏女人。
“确定，你去喊，地方我来定。”
比尔抓抓胡子想了想看那个臭小子喝醉也是很有趣的娱乐活动，于是大步走上去抓住了欧尼斯特大衣的后领热情地邀约他晚上一起吃晚饭，不允许拒绝的那种。
春末的杜鹃鸟欢快叫着往北方飞去，意大利家族在这时候又迎来了新生的血液，而活着的人关系仿佛更加亲密了，这一切似乎都向着更好的方向在发展……
“砰砰——”子弹击中了墙壁崩断了棱角上的砖块，飞起来的石砂弹起来划破了欧尼斯特的脸，血液从伤口一颗一颗渗出来连成一条血线，贴着墙的男人根本没有时间去擦掉脸上的血，紧紧盯着街口视线死角的方向，随时准备指挥身边的人冲出这条街。
比尔和本挡在BOSS身前，山羊看着面前被击飞的铁招牌吐了口血沫愤愤骂着：“操他妈的，库里家该死的老鼠！”
“BOSS，我们应该分头。”本越过比尔看着换子弹的克劳德以及藏在爸爸大衣外套下的芬，“必须要突破前面这群婊子养的东西，不然今天我们谁也走不掉。欧尼斯特！”
被叫到的人头都懒得回一下，几声枪响意思意思回答了本。
克劳德实在是没算到这一步，收到邀请函邀请他和芬父女二人去库里家谈合作时他已经做好了应对，喊了三个角头同行，甚至还让欧尼斯特多带了些人手，结果因为事情谈崩了就面临这种局面，饶是以他的性格都焦躁起来。
眼前比尔嘶地抽着冷气，这家伙从库里家冲出来的时候不小心挨了一枪托，破掉的嘴唇和被自己咬上的口腔双重刺激着他，山羊骂骂咧咧在墙后走着，对上芬的眼神时马上露出了因为受伤变得扭曲难看的笑容。
“芬，乖乖藏到爸爸的身后哦，不要害怕，等下我们赶跑了老鼠就能回家了。”
“比尔叔叔……”克劳德的大手蒙上了芬的眼睛把小姑娘藏得更深，枪声还在响，但是对于芬来说现在的黑是能给她安全的黑暗。
“他妈的你行不行？快点啊！”
“别吵。”欧尼斯特打断了本的话，他抬眼四处观察着，这条街是属于库里家的地盘，估计能冲出去的那个路口已经全是埋伏了，看起来老鼠头子从一开始就不想完成这次合作。
估计是欧尼斯特这边的观察停止了回击，帕拉帝佐家片刻的安静让对方在意起来，甚至有胆子大的开始从商店宣传牌后冒出头来看，回报这位愚蠢老鼠的信息是他额头上漆黑渗血的洞口。
满脑肥肠的库里估计只考虑到这片街区的出口，想玩老鼠抓猫的游戏把猫堵在自己的老鼠洞里，但是完全没考虑到其他的地方，比如——花店适合攀爬上屋顶的花架。
“黑犬来几个跟我从这里上屋顶，小心点弄死他们，白犬护着BOSS和大小姐突围。你俩随便。”
本把枪塞进裤腰带里，二话不说跟着黑犬队往屋顶上爬，他受够这种躲在墙后憋屈的样子了，能跟着欧尼斯特那混蛋去给那些婊子养的东西一点麻烦他乐意得很。
比尔在白犬队的人墙里护住了克劳德身后大小姐在的位置，一行人静静等待着另一边的讯息。
屋顶上的人数着地下的人群，老鼠们除了前排在盯着，后面的甚至胜券在握地闲聊起来，断断续续传出来的话语仿佛已经是库里家毁掉了帕拉帝佐家开始盘算接手哪条街道哪片商区了。
“砰——”
还在吸烟的某只老鼠不知道为什么自己的烟里飘散着铁锈的味道，感觉好像过于热导致整个人都开始冒汗，还没来得及抬手擦汗他的视界就从对面的同伙变成了天空，以及屋顶上站着的粉色衬衫的男人。
“妈的忍不住了!”本开枪的手收了回来，对着做准备的欧尼斯特没有一丝破坏对方计划的歉意，“老子都没有去盘算家族里的商区，这蠢驴在这里说什么。”
“敌袭——！”
黑犬们已经被本暴露了，欧尼斯特缩写也不藏着了，指挥了大家占据高地开枪之后就吹响了狗哨提醒白犬注意冲阵，手里的手枪也开始瞄准一只只在地上爬动的动物。
也确实是方便，老鼠们像是在井底一样仰望着屋顶上的敌人，处于下风的家伙即使枪法再准也会被空中的太阳晃住眼睛，这种时候就是欧尼斯特他们的机会。
枪声就像是死神的琴声，此起彼伏连绵不断，混杂着换弹夹清脆的弹响声收割着地上的老鼠，而老鼠们不亏是老鼠，发现很难打中这些家伙之后终于有聪明的人去找背阴的地方，几次子弹擦着黑犬的人过去，也有几个身上被开了洞。
但是帕拉帝佐家不止只有黑犬，白犬在狗哨响起之后就已经准备好了，此时已经奏响的枪声更是突袭的信号，一部分换上了大口径霰弹枪的家伙们顶在前方，配合屋顶上的死神开始收割地上的猎物。
可能是库里太过自信了，根本没想到看似只带了三个人赴会的帕拉帝佐还会有两队人在不远处的街道阴影处待命，他实在是对自己的领地过于信任，信任到这种事情只做了暴力的埋伏根本没有在其他地方多看一眼。
鼠群被冲散了，想捉猫的老鼠倒下了一大片，白犬踏着尸体冲出了街口，就连被护着的芬都好像踩到了什么柔软的东西惊呼了一声。
克劳德和比尔抓住了家里这位小公主，虽然在爸爸身后她无法看清东西，但是脚下还能能够看到一些的，头上还流着血的尸体倒在了脚边，狰狞的脸和松掉枪的手仿佛是要抓芬一样，即使是在黑手党家庭里出生的她也无法在孩童的年纪接受这种事情，挣开了爸爸和比尔叔叔的手，芬含着眼泪往前跑去，只要再往前一点点她就能跑出这个街区，逃到自己家的车上。
“妈的小婊子，至少也要让你……”
两声枪响重叠在了一起，地上的混蛋彻底倒在克劳德的枪口下，但是没有一个人能把离开枪膛的子弹再塞回去，旋转着的金属朝着芬飞驰而去，穿破了红丝绒的洋裙、扭曲了柔嫩的肌肤、撕裂了鲜粉的肌肉、撞碎了坚硬的骨头，再从另一头飞了出去。
女孩的尖叫声响彻了街道，然后跌倒在石板上，脸颊手臂都擦出了细密的血痕，而洋裙下的腿已经被鲜血浸透。克劳德冲上去，不用仔细检查都能看出芬的膝盖被这颗子弹打断，他的脸阴沉的像是暴风雨来临前的夜幕。
“爸爸……好疼啊爸爸……呜呜……爸爸……”
克劳德紧紧搂住芬，小心翼翼用外套裹住挚爱的腿，用不会给伤口更多疼痛感的方式平稳快速地前进到街区外的轿车旁。
本已经从屋顶上跳下来了，走之前还给放冷枪的混蛋尸体上补了几个洞眼，用更快的速度去拉开车门钻进了驾驶座，等到克劳德抱着芬坐稳了之后开着车扬长而去。
“欧尼斯特……”比尔看着开走的车，张嘴发出嘶哑的声音喊着跳落到地上的人。
“是我做的不够。”
“报仇吗？”
“绝对不会让他们好过……”
“先带还活着的兄弟去医院。”好在比尔也留有一丝理智，让没事的兄弟开车带着伤员跟去了医院。
病房里，做了伤口处理的芬因为麻药已经睡着了，眼角通红还挂着泪痕。比尔靠近床边抬手摸了摸可怜的小家伙的头，他看着芬出生长大，把这孩子当成自己孩子一样对待，结果因为失误让孩子受了这么重的伤，他内心的怒火仿佛可以烧掉这幢病院，可是抚摸芬头发的手是那么温柔。
“乖乖听医生的话就不会疼了哦……”睡着的孩子听不见任何传达过来的爱意，“你的山羊叔叔去给你买好吃的等你醒过来。”
比尔松开手看着坐在床边的克劳德，犹豫片刻不知道如何开口，最后是站在BOSS身后的本解围，说：“报仇吧。”
“嗯，地盘那边和瓦伦缇娜她们联系好了，会先稳住一段时间，那么BOSS……我们去干活了，有些下水道该清理一下了。”
比尔对着看着孩子一言不发的克劳德深深鞠了一躬，和本走出了病房，门外的欧尼斯特叼着没点燃的烟等着他们，然后弯腰捡起地上的袋子丢到了比尔的怀里，里面是准备好的枪支弹药。
“不去看看大小姐吗？”
“没杀了那玩意之前没脸去。”
“白痴又不是你一个人的问题。”本勾住了欧尼斯特的肩膀，把他嘴里的烟抢走塞进自己上衣口袋里，“医院里不能吸烟。”
“我没点……算了。”
等到山羊清点了包里的东西之后，从里面抽出一把斧子，把包丢回给欧尼斯特，挥舞了一下斧子之后说：“走吧，该去清理一下下水道乱跑的老鼠了。”
城市里的居民知道库里家和帕拉帝佐家来了一次简短的火拼，但是没想到仅仅只是一条街上的血水并不够清洗这块地方，等到被人发现的时候失去了几队私军的库里先生死在了自己的会议室里，身边座位围绕着当时护卫他的普通下属们，整整齐齐像是睡着了一样围着圆桌坐着。
但是等到有人搬动尸体的时候才发现，隐藏在圆桌下的这些尸体们膝盖都被打碎了，有些是钝器或者利器击碎切开，有些卡着好几颗子弹，有些甚至是被人踩碎的。
芬醒过来了，床头放着自己最喜欢的花，直愣愣一大把地插在花瓶里，桌上还有一份漂亮精致的泡芙。爸爸温柔的陪在她的身边看着醒过来的她，腿上的石膏让她无法自由活动，但是不管有什么事情都有爸爸帮忙，他还细心温柔问着身上还有没有其他疼的地方。
而隔壁病房躺着三个人，身上裹满了纱布，直愣愣地看着病房的天花板。
“我说……我们三个人是不是不够啊？”
“嘶……妈的别说了我嘴角又裂开了。”
“我想抽烟……”
