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Description
A group of well dressed men varying in age from 24 to 57 sat around a table in a dimly lit private room in a restaurant.  Empty and now ignored plates sat in front of each of them until a waitress glided over and delicately picked up each plate with deft skill and hurried away.  The youngest sat on the opposite side of the table from the older men.  They all wore expensive attire; Armani suits, Gucci shoes, and Versace belts were seen all around. Smoke from a cigar writhed in the air, stretching for the ceiling.  An older man spoke.
“Marco Mache seems to be causing a problem for the establishment.  I believe we might have told you about this before.  He is the reason we had to cancel the August heist.  Our income seems to be…downsizing since this little problem arose.”  His voice had a thick Italian accent and the words flowed out of his mouth, which drooped with age.  His once dark brown hair was graying in one fell swoop.  Green eyes, however, still pierced the space in front of him as they always had, not dusted with age.
“I have been studying him quite a bit.  I can have him taken care of by tomorrow night.” The youngest man said.  He had lightly tanned skin and dark brown hair.  His looks faintly resembled those of the older man who had spoken, and they shared the same emerald green eyes.
“Good…good.  You have never failed me before, Claudio; don’t pick this time to start.  As a Don, I give you my total trust to prevent our group from falling.”  The older man spoke clearly.
“Naturalmente.” The young man named Claudio said with a sincere nod.
With that, the group of men stood up, shaking hands all around and picking up their black briefcases.  They walked out of the building, all of them silent and headed their separate ways, a few of them getting into the same car, but all of the cars were the same.  Sleek, black, polished, and crouched in the street like a pride of steel lions.
When Claudio reached his car, he sat in the back seat and slipped a paper out of his snakeskin briefcase and handed it to his driver.  On the page was written an address of a large mansion in the upper side of the city they were in.  Venice was a classy city with many beautiful buildings, but there were some things the tourists didn’t know about.  The Italian mafia was one thing they couldn’t point a camera at.  When the car moved into motion, Claudio slid a drawer out from under the seat he was sitting in.  Inside were various weapons.  Handguns, daggers, grenades (though seldom used, Claudio saw them as messy) adorned the drawer.  Claudio pulled out two handguns and a GPS system.  The handguns slid into holsters on Claudio’s waist, covered by his classy suit jacket.
After a ten minute drive, the car pulled up two blocks from the destination.  Claudio glanced at his watch as he spoke to the driver.
“Grazie.” He said quickly, and slid out of the car.  The car pulled away slowly to a destination the driver was familiar with.  Claudio began to walk towards the house, which wasn’t far away.  He had an even, slow pace and his eyes were indifferent as he readied himself for what he was going to do.
Claudio walked up the drive-way of the home and saw the white BMW still in the driveway.  A smile draped across his face as he walked up to the door.  He knocked once and waited.  After no answer, he simply walked in and began to search.  After a quick glance around the back yard, it was determined that Marco had realized their plans and fled.  Apparently, he hadn’t fled too far away because his car was still at his home.  Claudio flipped open the GPS and groaned a bit in frustration.  He stormed out of the house, having a faint idea of where to go
He had seen men flee there before.  A huge church five blocks away was where many people sought what they thought would be refuge.  Claudio opened the gargantuan wood doors that opened up into the ancient church.  Two people were inside.  Only the backs of their heads were visible, but it was apparent that one was an elderly woman, and the other was a man.  Claudio smirked to himself and strode up the isle.  The man’s face was down, and he tensed as Claudio drew near and when Claudio pulled out one of the handguns, the woman gasped.  In the blink of an eye the man had jumped up and was jumping over the pews, from seat to seat, loping across the church to get to an exit.  Several shots rang out from Claudio’s gun but none hit the man dead on.  The old woman ducked under the pew and began to whisper Hail Mary’s as Claudio ran after Marco.
The slam of a door was heard as Marco spilled onto the ally way.  He franticly looked around, black hair clinging to his face from sweat and saw no exit.  A scream was rising in his throat as he ran to a brick wall.  He scratched at it with his hands, trying to find a way to climb up the cold, unforgiving façade.  At that moment, Claudio walked out into the ally, panting slightly and looked around until he saw Marco facing away from him.  He slowly walked towards Marco with his gun raised.
“Ah, Marco.” Claudio said in an almost charming voice.
Marco turned around, tears welling in his eyes, and when he saw Claudio, he froze.  Claudio stopped walking and the smirk he had on his face slowly faded.
“Claudio Georgetti.” The man against the wall whispered.
“Dante Machiavelli.” Claudio said, slightly stunned.
Both men were stunned for a moment.  It seems strange how fate can end up like this; two childhood friends standing in an ally way, one with a gun, and the other about in tears.  It is also strange how this came to be; One leading a life of crime and glory, and the other leading a life of dishonest trade and treachery.
“Marco Mache…You always did like the name Marco.” Claudio said, his arm still rigid and the barrel of the gun still glaring at Marco…or rather, Dante.
Dante coughed a laugh and tilted his head back against the bricks and he looked up into the sky, taking it all in.
“Yeah…It’s a nice name…” He said, still smiling.
Claudio felt numb.
“I suppose so.  But this wouldn’t have happened if you had kept your real name…I wouldn’t be here, pointing a gun at you, and you wouldn’t be close to tears and trying to climb up a brick wall.”  Claudio’s voice was hard.
“You’re right.  You always were.”  Dante moved forward, towards Claudio, and Claudio dropped his arm down to his side, the gun no longer holding as much power as it had just a few minutes ago.
“Do you remember when we used to come to this church for our prayers, and we would always fiddle in the isle, making fun of the Nuns?” Dante said with a smile in his voice and his eyes seemed to go out of focus, as if he couldn’t quite see the nun in front of him.
Claudio snorted a laugh and nodded and he turned around with Dante to face the door that entered into the church.  When they looked up from their reverie, a man in a suit was standing by the door with a gun raised.
“Claudio, I thought you said you wouldn’t fail us.”
And a shot rang out, and one man fell.