Or, at the very least that's precisely how I feel right now. In the sweltering heat of the Mojave as the sun slowly drifts away and fades from view, one would assume my face to be a haven for sweat underneath the black mask I currently wear. However, as it stands I feel not a drop of perspiration running down my cheeks as the Organizer grabs Luca/Lazarus by the arm and pulls him closer to us. Still armed, I can sense Luca's undying urge to continue his bloodbath yet common sense is starting to win over. His grip on the gun loosens and then it falls from his hand entirely, falling to the earth and landing with a bang; the bullet flies off in some direction no one was walking in. I can still hear Maria's screams as she bleeds out in the backseat of the car we provided her: one investment ruined as with all the evidence now pooling up in it we'll have no choice but to destroy it once the clean up crew arrives. Anyone else wouldn't have expected this outcome; the Organizer certainly didn't. He thought that Maria and her crony would've killed him before he set foot outside the car and left his body for us in the middle of the road, risking not only discovery but a chance of the crime being tied back to them and eventually us. Forcing us to rebuild him, make him into another Lazarus and render our actual plan useless. However, as we can both see now that was most certainly not the case and the world is much better of for it. Two career scumbags lie dead, and an entire criminal empire could very well be crippled without the guidance of their trusted leader. The best part of the entire situation?

Complete and utter protection.

Once the clean up crew picks over this site with tender care, no one will ever know that anything happened except for them. They know that they couldn't hope to challenge us. Maria's eagerness to fall under our control proved that much. No no, we had nothing to fear from them; no retaliation attempts as they'll be too busy killing themselves over the newly vacated position. Who cares to know how many faces clawing for the title of King of that rapidly shrinking hill until what's left is barely a street gang, let alone a hollow shell of their former glory.

We could snuff out the rest of them and end the suffering in under an hour, but no. Watching them spill blood and the survivors end up inevitably in jail would be a very amusing spectacle to behold.

Speaking of street gangs however, there was still the issue of what to do with the sole survivor of the attempted assassination.

"What the fuck are you guys even doing here?"

"Oh, Lazarus. You of all people should know the lengths we go to in order to ensure our investments pay out in our favor. Did you just expect us to let you slip through the cracks so easily?"

"Considering what you did when the screws were put to ya, yeah."

"That was a momentary distraction."

"Momentary? Took you a long time to find me again."

Luca/Lazarus looks back at me, expecting me to open my mouth which I fail to do. I'm a fly on the wall, waiting to see how everything unfolds. The Organizer, seeming to lose his patience tightens his grip on our old possession's arm and spins him back around.

"We found you right away. You're predictable. Always have been."

"Alright, so tell me, what was your angle with all this? Kill me again, so you can rebuild me again and hope that I don't remember everything this time around?"

"Placing you in our debt again would prove shortsighted. No, we've decided to go with a different option this time around."

The Organizer sifts through the inside pocket of his suit jacket as I smirk underneath my mask. There was something especially sinister about this situation; moreso than our usual endeavors. Not on a national level mind you; our operation in El Salvador and the following concealment would definitely take the cake should it ever be traced back to us. Something that The Organizer has assured me multiple times will never happen. Especially now that the news of the overthrow has been aired publicly and the first seeds of the new McCarthyism are being planted in the earth. Finally, after what felt like an eternity to me and likely even longer to Luca/Lazarus, he pulls a set of pictures from his pocket and hands them over to our soon to be loyal foot soldier. I can't help but sidestep my way behind him to look over his shoulders.

The first picture actually makes him smile: the woman who would come to mother his child, Lynnette Drake laying dead in a pool of her own blood. A single bullet wound in through the front of her skull and out the other. Standard procedure stuff there, really. However, something in the picture seems to put him in a state of uneasiness, as he gulps before looking at the second.

Oh boy, the second picture.

His child, in the home of the loving family that adopted him. The loving family that just a few days ago put out an AMBER Alert.

"What the fuck is this?"

"It's a choice Lazarus. A simple choice. Either you accept our offer or your son dies."

'You bastards..."

"Swearing at us won't solve anything." He stops to fix his tie. "Go on, look at the next picture."

With reluctance and shaky hands, he slides the picture to the back of the pile and in its place now is the newest one: his son, completely unharmed and in a cell not unlike the ones he became accustomed to while we measured whether or not he could enter the field. His hands ball into fists and he charges at The Organizer, who, retaining his grip on Luca/Lazarus' arm flips him over onto his back effortlessly.

"Are you going to play this game with us Lazarus? I thought I made it perfectly clear that we weren't playing anymore."

"I'll," he begins with tears welling up in his eyes, "I'll fucking kill you all!"

"I don't think you're in the position to be making threats, Lazarus. Not when the life of a loved one is at risk. Oh, right. I forgot just how experienced you are with condemning loved ones."

"Fuck. You."

"Your friends; Victoria; now your own son?"

"Don't fucking put this on me, you sack of shit! Victoria and the others, they forced my hand! And you're the ones threatening to kill him. You sick, sick motherfuckers!"

"Is that so Luca?" I ask, finally breaking my silence. Luca/Lazarus looks up at me, both parts puzzled by my sudden interjection and my insistence on uttering his first name. The reason was something that should be clear as day for him but isn't; I know him better by that name than the fake one we gave him upon his reawakening. It's all for something that he should've gotten by now if he only opened his eyes.

"You're forcing our hands by not cooperating. You're at fault if anything happens to your child."

I think it's all beginning to flood back to him.

I think he's beginning to realize what seemed so off about the first picture.

Something, familiar.

"So, Luca, what do you say? You always gave your father a hard time about abandoning you; how are you going to let your son die?"

It's here where I finally remove my mask and toss it to the ground, letting him see just exactly who I am.

Jeffery Heiman.

"You... Fine. Fine, I accept."

Just like I expected.

"Good, now come with us."

The Organizer finally lifts him to his feet and drags him with us to our transport: yet another Midnight Black SUV.

The family special.