Template:Story Godfather

The Godfather leans back in his chair, a cigar puffing out amongst his accomplices. "So? Any idea who should fall tonight?" The Consigliere speaks up. "The man on 5th Avenue, the one with the limp. He's our Investigator. He's the one we should take out." The Godfather nods his head slowly, and then glances towards the two men sitting on his right. One's hands are scarred, burned by the acid he uses. The other has a revolver strapped to his waist. Both men glance at each other, and then look back towards the Godfather. "Then it's done," the Godfather says, removing the cigar from his mouth and pressing its end into a small portrait of the Investigator. He spends the rest of the night brooding over the table of the remaining portraits. Suddenly, a knock is heard at his door. He stands up, covering the portraits and paperwork. He opens the door, and there stands the Sheriff. Known as a well established businessman, he shakes the Sheriff's hand and sends him on his way. He goes back to his chair. Gunshots ring out at 5th Avenue, and a smile spreads across the Godfather's face. (credit)