Antonino Thomas Bruchetta.
A middle-aged man walked down the abandoned street. Jet-black hair, Glistening and shining as he ran a shivering hand through it. A smile that could tantalize any woman was plastered to his face. A jagged scar lay from his forehead to his cheek, but was covered from the blackness of the night.
Two heavily armed guards stood only steps behind the now shadowy silhouette of Antonino; .44 magnums holstered at their waist. Their suits almost as identical as the other, apart from the easily missed snake skin shoes.
Antonino started to fumble around his pockets for his stainless steel lighter and highly expensive Cuban cigars. The smile disappeared to a disappointing frown as he delved his pockets to no avail.
The guards each searched their pockets to no advance. “Sarry bawss, we aint got none left.” Both men apologized monotonously.
“`As alright boys, Lets get goin’ before ma and Antonio get worried.” Antonino’s voice came out in a heavily Sicilian accent.
Antonino combed his hands through his hair before placing one into the pocket of his dark green suit jacket and the other hooked into his belt. He donned a fern green suit jacket as well as matching pants, an icy blue under shirt and a Khaki tie. His suit showed no damage but was covered with decorations since he was the Major General.
His lavished Italian shoes clicked against the pavement with each gliding step. Antonino’s boys stalked behind him; staunchly looking for anything that could do harm to their boss.
Suddenly, a blond haired jogger ran past, panting and plashed murky water over the bottom of Antonino’s pants. The man in the military uniform pulled both his index and middle finger to the jogger before yelling impolitely in Italian, “ Gesù Cristo, guarda dove stai andando.” before continuing his walk. - For those who do not understand the Italian language, here’s a translation: Jesus Christ, Watch where you’re going.-
Antonino flipped his hair forwards so that his fringe was drooping in a caesar cut. “Much better, right boys?” His men were slow to reply
“Dio mio, you two are buffoons. I aint even sure why I hired such idoti to look after me. Can you remind me? Anthony, Michael? No? muti idioti.” Antonino swore lightly in Italian. -If you haven’t figured out already he said: My God, You two are buffoons. I aint even sure why I hired such idiots to look after me. Can you remind me? Anthony, Michael? No? dumb idiots.-
He remembered the time that he had spent with his wife, Chloe before his departure. How he had loved and adored her. How she, her brother and his mother were the reason that he was still living. Either that or the fact that he wasn’t shot, but mortally wounded.
The house was only blocks away. Not yet past a few yards, but moderately close. The charcoal night stalked him traversed through isles of buildings. The lamp lights watched over him with each movement.
The smile glued to his face showed no signs of vanishing. His hair was now combed to one side. His Khaki tie whispered in the wind.
It’s only a few more blocks away. Antonino thought silently to himself. He slowly approached the oak door and opened it with caution.
The sounds of gun fire hollered loudly in his ears as the memories started to flood back. The blood, The guts, The glory; He fought for his people in Sicily. Never for the foul taste of Victory. The thought of the millions of people that were slaughtered before his very eyes…
Suddenly, Antonino found himself at the top of the stair case. It was cold, dark, damp, even. The sound of a local street cat, Clovis sent Antonino into a panicking frenzy.“ ‘Eyah, fur ball. Hawzit been?” Antonino softly pet the cat before following it to his mothers sanctum.
With a heavily scared hand, Antonino knocked on the doors of the Bruchetta house hold when suddenly, an old woman came to the door.
“ I’m home, ma”
A middle-aged man walked down the abandoned street. Jet-black hair, Glistening and shining as he ran a shivering hand through it. A smile that could tantalize any woman was plastered to his face. A jagged scar lay from his forehead to his cheek, but was covered from the blackness of the night.
Two heavily armed guards stood only steps behind the now shadowy silhouette of Antonino; .44 magnums holstered at their waist. Their suits almost as identical as the other, apart from the easily missed snake skin shoes.
Antonino started to fumble around his pockets for his stainless steel lighter and highly expensive Cuban cigars. The smile disappeared to a disappointing frown as he delved his pockets to no avail.
The guards each searched their pockets to no advance. “Sarry bawss, we aint got none left.” Both men apologized monotonously.
“`As alright boys, Lets get goin’ before ma and Antonio get worried.” Antonino’s voice came out in a heavily Sicilian accent.
Antonino combed his hands through his hair before placing one into the pocket of his dark green suit jacket and the other hooked into his belt. He donned a fern green suit jacket as well as matching pants, an icy blue under shirt and a Khaki tie. His suit showed no damage but was covered with decorations since he was the Major General.
His lavished Italian shoes clicked against the pavement with each gliding step. Antonino’s boys stalked behind him; staunchly looking for anything that could do harm to their boss.
Suddenly, a blond haired jogger ran past, panting and plashed murky water over the bottom of Antonino’s pants. The man in the military uniform pulled both his index and middle finger to the jogger before yelling impolitely in Italian, “ Gesù Cristo, guarda dove stai andando.” before continuing his walk. - For those who do not understand the Italian language, here’s a translation: Jesus Christ, Watch where you’re going.-
Antonino flipped his hair forwards so that his fringe was drooping in a caesar cut. “Much better, right boys?” His men were slow to reply
“Dio mio, you two are buffoons. I aint even sure why I hired such idoti to look after me. Can you remind me? Anthony, Michael? No? muti idioti.” Antonino swore lightly in Italian. -If you haven’t figured out already he said: My God, You two are buffoons. I aint even sure why I hired such idiots to look after me. Can you remind me? Anthony, Michael? No? dumb idiots.-
He remembered the time that he had spent with his wife, Chloe before his departure. How he had loved and adored her. How she, her brother and his mother were the reason that he was still living. Either that or the fact that he wasn’t shot, but mortally wounded.
The house was only blocks away. Not yet past a few yards, but moderately close. The charcoal night stalked him traversed through isles of buildings. The lamp lights watched over him with each movement.
The smile glued to his face showed no signs of vanishing. His hair was now combed to one side. His Khaki tie whispered in the wind.
It’s only a few more blocks away. Antonino thought silently to himself. He slowly approached the oak door and opened it with caution.
The sounds of gun fire hollered loudly in his ears as the memories started to flood back. The blood, The guts, The glory; He fought for his people in Sicily. Never for the foul taste of Victory. The thought of the millions of people that were slaughtered before his very eyes…
Suddenly, Antonino found himself at the top of the stair case. It was cold, dark, damp, even. The sound of a local street cat, Clovis sent Antonino into a panicking frenzy.“ ‘Eyah, fur ball. Hawzit been?” Antonino softly pet the cat before following it to his mothers sanctum.
With a heavily scared hand, Antonino knocked on the doors of the Bruchetta house hold when suddenly, an old woman came to the door.
“ I’m home, ma”
