With the recent untimely death of a former friend along with his ex-girlfriend, Luca vowed to get revenge on Jeffery Heiman, his former employer. Returning to the abandoned warehouse to help him come to grips with the recent losses, he comes face to face with Kyle St. Michael. After physically assaulting his former friend, Luca learned that Kyle in fact was the man who killed Nari and Victoria. Luca killed Kyle by shooting him five times in the head and then proceeded to use the deceased's phone to send a picture to Heiman with the intention of framing The Poltera crime syndicate. Moving forward, Luca vowed to go after Heiman's clique until there aren't any members left.





The light shines through the open window of the inconspicuous house that is owned by Mero, easing the wave of tension brought upon by Luca's announcement mere minutes ago. The shocked look on the face of his new boss is one thing that will not fade however.

"You did what?! Don't you know how important Heiman's clique is to our business?!"

"Relax, for all Heiman knows Poltera killed St. Michael. There's nothing to worry about."

"Oh yes, because that'll solve every fucking problem that comes from it!"

"Look-"

"You fucking look! We may not be part of Heiman's clique, but we do a lot of business with them! We have no time for your fucking vendetta!"

"They killed two of their own on his order! You think that when he's done with you he won't do the same?!"

"You're fucking shitting me..."

"No, I'm fucking not."

"How do you know?"

"You know that news story of that girl the voodoo priest looking motherfucker getting killed? They were in Heiman's clique, and St. Michael fucking killed them."

"Holy shit..."

"I know, man. I know..."

"What the fuck are we going to do?"

"I got an idea."

"Well, out with it!"

"One of Heiman's men runs a club downtown. We go in, shoot the place up real good, and kill that asshole."

"Shit me. Is there anything else we could do?"

Luca shakes his head no, causing Mero to sigh loudly in frustration. The leader of the gang opens his mouth to say something in protest, however Luca interrupts.

"There's no one innocent in that club I assure you. It's ran by scumbags for scumbags."

"Fuck it then. Let's kill this fuck."






With the rest of the gang assembled outside the entrance to the club ran by Gary Lewis, one of Jeffery Heiman's right hand men, Luca and Mero take point right in the entrance. The hassling of the security forces the duo's hand. Two shots from both men's silenced pistols leave the guards lying motionless on the ground with blood leaking from the new holes in their bodies. Content with the results, the two put on their masks, being the last of the gang to do so.

Luca waves the rest of the gang into the building while Mero pushes the door that leads from the security checkpoint into the club that's filled with strobe lights, drug abuse, and scumbags. The smell of booze and sweat fill the air of the hole in the wall social spot of the underground. Death being something that is so frequently on the mind of the regulars that they almost expect it not to happen in this establishment...

How wrong could they be?

With strobe lights being the main source of light, the visibility of the patrons (and consequently the gang) is greatly hindered. Using this to their advantage however, the five motivated gunmen step onto the entrances to the dance floor, rifles already out.

Jared and Lenny on the left. Renee and Mero on the right. Standing front and center however, is Luca Arzegotti. The one with the most to gain from this.

Whispering into the hidden microphone to his accomplices' ear pieces, he starts the countdown to destruction.

"Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One!"

The once deafening shitty club music is drowned out by the roar of gunfire and ear shattering screams of bloody murder. Fitting for the macabre scenario the unlucky club goers have found themselves in.

One of the particularly bold men rush at the man shooting from the center, rage burning like a wildfire in his eyes. A burst of rounds aimed at his knee bring him tumbling awkwardly to the ground, landing on his stomach. Rolling over enough to be able to sit up and cradle the wound and whimper, the man who once thought himself a hero is confronted with death is opting to cower out of it. Much like the others who occupied this monument to the worst traits in humanity.

Greed.

Treachery.

Egomania.

There was a much larger reason why Luca felt a massacre here was necessary. The man with the score to settle steps forth onto the blood soaked dance floor, putting a bullet in the brain of the whimpering man and putting him out of his misery. Followed closely by the rest of the gang, Luca kicks open the door to the office of the manager, Gary Lewis...

The manager and close associate of Heiman is hiding under his desk when the masked murderers storm one by one into the office. Without a single word, Jared and Mero lift him out of his hiding spot, and place him up against a wall. Luca lines up the shot, but is beaten to the punch an enraged Renee! Turning to the fuming woman standing to his left, he can't help but ask the question that's on everyone's minds right about now...

"What the fuck?!"

Cooling down, Renee answers.

"Long fuckin' story. Let's get out of here."

"Hold on, we got one more order of business."

In a similar matter to his dealing with Kyle St. Michael, Luca searches through Lewis' pocket until he finds the deceased's cell phone. Using the camera on the phone to photograph the body, Luca sends that picture once again to Jeffery Heiman, along with the message of...

Getting impatient, Heiman. Real tired of your shit.

-P

"We're going to hide the guns in the van, then we're all getting inked. On me."

Just then, Luca's phone goes off. An unknown number. Odd, Luca thinks to himself but answers the phone nonetheless. The voice on the other end makes his blood run damn near cold.

"Luca. This is Heiman. Don't ask me how I got this number. I just need your help..."



"Let's give it up for the star crossed lovers of the XWF, Chris Macbeth and importance. Because that's the only astrological feat that will be happening come Wednesday night for Chris. A man doomed to languish on the lower cards of XWF cards, going up against the likes of AJ Powell and Steve Davids for the entirety of his career here.

Sure, he may gets wins here and there against those even more useless than he, but is that a true victory?

In my eyes, it is not.

If victories against worthless hacks meant something, I'd be number one contender for every title in this business for decimating the likes of Christian Carter, Beautiful Reginold, and Tyler Vegas. However that is not the case, and that's where Macbeth's credibility ends.

Oh yes, he's naturally an octagon expert or something. Am I supposed to be impressed and/or intimidated? Don't make me laugh, in the octagon there were weight limits in place to keep guys like you from getting hurt by going up against men who are much larger than you. It's funny actually, I don't oft get to call myself the bigger man in a fight, yet here I am against possibly the smallest guy on the roster.

Don't get my words twisted, Macbeth. I'm not underestimating you because you're small. I'm showing you a blatant lack of respect because I have no respect for someone who thinks beating a bunch of nobodies and getting whooped by slightly above loser status motherfuckers is worth a title shot.

I wish only to forget your existence, and move on. For to me, Macbeth is a man who committed regicide to crown himself king, and ultimately loses everything in the end.

Just like you.

You made it to the top of the bottom. The high end of low. The king of the bunny slope. You're merely waiting to be knocked off by the next nobody who'll be gone in a few weeks.

Welcome to reality.

Shakespeare would roll over in his grave right about now if he only saw what the name Macbeth has devolved into.

Come Wednesday, I'll eliminate you from contention.

I'll eliminate you from a shred of relevance.

You won't ever be important.

You will only be nothing.

Plus Rien.

Learn to love it."