The Mafia on 6th Street

Forgotten Faces

-Unedited-

3rd Person POV

Provinces of Sienna, Italy

Present day

(Vincent)

"Shit." His eyes widened massively before sprinting behind this swift teenager who had just high jumped a metal towering fence. Vincent sped, his legs vigorously accelerating, and easily flipped over the fence in no effort. That's why in between his men, he was called "Cheetah Vince". He could thank the whole two years of gymnastics his mother had put him in, on the expense of his father, behind his back. He could say that he was the most flexible one, since he did do dance and can do back hand springs, a cartwheel, front and back flips without the usage of his hands, and etc.

But he had to give credit to the kid that was probably involved in some Sienna local gang. Not that Vincent was scared, because he was enthusiastic to meet someone below his ranking. Note the sarcasm. His enthusiasm was so overboard that he had already prepared the pistol in his hind jacket, and was ready to kill all of them if he had to. He simply didn't have the time to deal with amateur rookie gangs.

He wanted the car back. How idiotic can Angelina be when she wanted to? Who would leave a Ferrari behind in the outer gang sectors, where crime rates were toppling over the population? She would....

The kid's partner already started the car and was trying out how to actually drive it. Vincent cursed underneath his breath when he realized that he was about to lose the kid, so he leaped over the fallen garbage can, and took a sharp right, letting the kid believe he had succeeded. Vincent climbed an apartment's outside set of emergency stairs and made it onto the ratchet roof. He quickly unleashed his gun looking gadget and shot it towards the other building, his aim accurate without second thought. Out shot a rope with a tip of a metal piercing hook. It punctured the building and before Vincent sprinted off the apartments, he gave it a reassuring tug to make sure it was intact.

He swung through the air and let go of the rope gun's handle, free falling towards the concrete cracked ground. He naturally tucked his head down, and curled into a downward fetus position, rolling safely onto the ground and quickly recovering. He would admit that his breath was knocked right out of him, but he knew better than to do that, while he pressed his firm back against the wall, heaving in breaths. Wasting no time, he glanced at his watch, and the moment the larger hand had struck the 5 second quarter, he hurled himself out of his resting position and tackled the kid.

The kid's face smacked the ground with a hard thud, as Vincent felt the pressure applied onto the kid's ribs from his weight. The kid yelled in dismay and Vincent hauled the kid up, locking his hands in place as he pulled out his pistol to the side of his head. The kid thrashed in place, but Vincent was much stronger and taller, and rolled his eyes at the kid's struggle.

"What is your name?" Vincent wickedly asked, a bead of sweat glistening down his face.

When the boy didn't answer, Vincent dug the gun harder into his skull.

The boy automatically replied. "Syrom."

"Syrom," Vincent repeated, immediately disliking the name. He couldn't help but wonder how his mother could have been drunk or on drugs as she decided his weird and pathetic name.

Vincent noticed how the kid discreetly tried to usher his partner that was no more than 16 years of age, to escape with the car and leave him with Vincent the stranger. Vincent grinned at the thought, but quickly knew that they had lost when he saw Syrom's partner with a vulnerable and innocent look on his face.