I found Uncle Simon in his office, staring at the map he
still used to plot out the various gangs, families and groups that made up the
underworld of our fair city. He swirled a glass half full of bourbon in his
hand, as he stared at the string and pins.
“Uh, Boss?”
“Too many players…”
I walked in and tried to take the glass away from him, but
he jerked his hand away and looked up at me.
“Too many players who don’t understand the game. Who think
flipping the board is a viable move.
Break out the Molotovs.”
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