Note To Moderaters, Admins, and Readers:
This is a story not for the faint of heart. Think of this as Scarface or even The Godfather. This is not a novel a little kid would read. Please, mods, if you want to delete this topic because of its intenstiity and graphic nature, by all please, do so. This was just a change I needed from my other current story, My One and Only. Both stories will still continue to grow, but with the school year passing by, more and more SPansih Projects will be given to me. Grr. So, enjoy the story, and if its too graphic, turn back now. Please. Now. PLEASE!
SORRY! WRONG AREA! PLEASE MOVE!
Prologue:
You all know the story of Mario Mario, famed video game character and a staple in the industry. Totting a moustache and overalls, he Is the ultimate hero.
But what if he didn’t have the chance to turn into the man he is now? What if his childhood wasn’t spending time with Yoshi, holding a bomb-omb in hand, instead having a .50 Caliber pistol and spending time with the mob boss? How would this happen? What if? What if he wasn’t the hero, instead the anti-hero, given the choice to be one, when he didn’t want to? What if he didn’t take the chance? What if he did? The gritty streets of New York is not a usual setting for a Mario fan-stories, the set usually in the back alleys, away from the construction area of Donkey Kong. The story isn’t the usual Happy-Go-Lucky plot that adorns the past Mario fictions or the fantasy-like story of others. A Mario story usually contains Toad and Princess Peach, but what if those characters never met Mario, actually being the background of the story. Please, if you never liked books or movies like The Godfather or maybe Mafia, then leave. You wouldn’t feel welcome here. You wouldn’t be happy here. The grittiness and recklessness of Mario would repel most Mario-fans, but if you are up to the challenge, then bring it. Plot your mind to my story of gangs and guns, and just forget the past games like Super Mario Bros or Super Mario Sunshine. They never happened. Might as well throw ‘em out the window. You wouldn’t need ‘em now, anyway, Its too late to turn back now. You already went too far reading the prologue. Long, isn’t it? Just remember, while reading through this fiction, look for events that should’a happened. But never did. If you don’t understand me now, you never will…
Chapter 1
The mafia. They killed my parents. I watched it with my own eyes. Mom cooking cookies in the kitchen, dad watching The Sopranos in the Living Room. The smell of cookies filled the house, cheery, happy, nicely. Then came the odd presence of a large hand banging on our door. Its odd because its seven in the morning. Nobody ever comes knocking this early in the morning.
“Don’t answer the door in the wee hours in the mornings.” my mom always reminded me. I didn’t listen. Why should I? I never open the door anyway. My parents do. But came the time when I was too ignorant to recall these thoughts. The TV was too loud, so nobody heard the knock, except for me. I opened the door, of which a large man, totting a shotgun, walked into the door. One of his men behind him asked,
“Where’s the snitch, BB?” The large man answered,
“In the Living Room” BB and the other man pushed me off into the wall. Luigi climbed down the stairs and walked towards me.
“Who was that?”
“I dunno? He reminds me of Scarface.” We peered into the Living Room. The group of thugs, three in all, including BB and his main guy, stood in front of the couch, looking at dad.
“So, Greg. Decided to side with the triads?” Dad looked up at BB and said,
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, you do. You gave them our plans. OUR plans.” Before my dad could answer back, the big man shot his shotgun at dad. Noises of blood gushing and the men screaming and my mom screaming filled the air. Dad sat motionlessly on the couch. He was slouched, his head buried in his sweatshirt. Red stained his grey sweatshirt. I felt sick, horrified. Mom walked in and hollered,
“What have you done?” The man shot her at that instant. She flew back into the wall and sat on the hard, cold floor, leaning on the wall. The wall was full of blood. Then the men looked at me. He pumped his shotgun. PUMP-A. And aimed at me. I jumped out of the way from the blast, the shots instead hitting the flower pot behind me. Luigi just stood there. BB pumped his shotgun again and shot at Luigi. Luigi flew back into the hallway and laid on the ground, motionless. Streams of blood came from under his shirt. He neither blinked or moved, instead, his leg twitched. Then, he was dead. I ran over to him.
“You monster!”
“I am no monster, kid. I’m yur worst nightmare.” PUMP! I flew back into the kitchen. BB shot and pumped and shot again. The pans and oven mitts hanging on the wall fell, having bullet holes. I ran out of the kitchen and into the garage. The garage door opened, and light filled the dark room. The men burst into the room, cracking up at the little kid, me, Mario Mario, struggling to get his bike out of the corner. He pumped his gun again. PUMP-A! I hopped onto my bike as it was now free, and went away. The men packed into their BMW, and followed after me.
