"In order to know virtue we must first acquaint ourselves with vice." Marquis de Sade
It was a sticky first day of summer. And here was Damien Nikola Gullucci Provenzano standing in a crowd of black clad mourners as they placed 'Vic' Vice six feet under the earth. It was a sad damn day in all respects. Not only a friend lost but also a great ally against the Genarelli.
He tossed his Lucky to the dirt and ground it under a heel. "Best start shifting back toward the 'mo Nunzio. I highly doubt most of these weeping willows will stop the rain of tears. I saw them place him down, that is enough for me." He turned towards his left hand man. Nunzio Capadocian.
These two were like David and Goliath as best friends. Damien stood a good six foot one but his frame was thin from stress and heritage. Nunzio towered six inches taller and was thick like congealed blood. A mass of muscles housed in black silk.
Damien drew fingers across his own black Gucci double-breasted suit. Meticulous in all things was the boss. It was perhaps a quirk that kept him on top of most things. Obsessive attention to minor details. "Bring it around the front. I want to see Victoria as she places the final affects on the coffin."
With her head bowed respectfully, Victoria clasped hands with a few people that stood next to her at the grave sight. Her bodyguard Andre had insisted that he attend with her, but Victoria wouldn't hear of it.
A funeral was no place for a bodyguard in her opinion. This was something she had to do alone. And Andre was quite respectful of her wishes. He'd been under her father's employment for years and had been assigned to care for Victoria's safety. If she wished to mourn alone he couldn't slight her.