Insane and Madman

The sun-soaked Sicily Island baked in the relentless heat as the Shelby Brothers successfully 'acquired' a cache of weapons and ammunition from a poorly guarded British army camp. Sweat glistened on Lorenzo's brow as he supervised his men loading the loot onto their truck. The haul, combined with the items he'd already acquired from the US Army, was impressive.

Later that day, in a secluded alleyway, Lorenzo met his contact, a burly man with a scar running down his left cheek. The Major in the US Army inspected the goods, nodding in approval. "Don Corleone will be pleased," he said, handing over a thick envelope of cash.

Lorenzo's eyes glinted as he stuffed the money into his jacket. "Send my regards to the Corleone family." In truth, he didn't care what the don thought of him; all he wanted was profit and money—enough to build his own family empire in the future.

"Alright." The Major looked around and left with his men.

Lorenzo turned to his own men, a ruthless glint in his eye. "Job well done, boys. Now, we need to prepare for our next score."

As they drove back to their camp, the dry wind whipping through their hair, Lorenzo couldn't help but smile. With each successful heist, he edged closer to his ultimate goal: enough money to build his own empire, one that would surpass even the Corleones'.

---

In the British camp, the Shelby brothers shared a wary glance, doubts creeping in about whether Lorenzo Lupo from the US Army would pay them as promised for their efforts. Arthur voiced their concerns, "Tommy, what do we do if that Lupo doesn't pay us proper or stiffs us altogether?"

Tommy took a drag on his cigar, exhaling a plume of smoke before responding, "We've got no choice, mate. He's a bloody Lieutenant Colonel, and we're just a bunch of lads in 'is majesty's army. We can't afford to cross 'im."

John scoffed, "So, we're just gonna let 'im walk all over us?"

Tommy flicked the cigar away, his jaw clenching. "If 'e does, we'll make it clear we won't be doing any more of 'is dirty work. Stealing for 'im once is one thing, but twice? Nah, we're not mugs."

The brothers nodded, accepting the situation, but the flames of resentment were already being stoked within their hearts.

As the Shelby brothers continued their hushed conversation, Danny burst into their tent. "Tommy, that Yank Lieutenant Colonel's here with three of his blokes."

The brothers exchanged tense glares before standing as one, straightening their uniforms and following Danny out of the tent. They emerged into the blinding sunlight to find Lorenzo Lupo and his men waiting, all business-like.

Tommy scanned the bustling camp, too many prying eyes and ears around. "Lieutenant Colonel, we should talk in private." He jerked his head towards their tent.

Lorenzo Lupo and his men exchanged glances but followed the Shelby brothers nonetheless.

Tommy couldn't help but be a bit surprised that the American officer had agreed so easily, without even a hint of hesitation. It spoke volumes about his confidence, even on foreign soil and away from the safety of his battalion.

Once inside the tent, Danny took up post outside, ensuring their privacy.

Inside the tent, Tommy leveled a cold stare at Lorenzo. "Where's our payment for the job we pulled off two nights ago?"

Lorenzo smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Tom, I'm not the kind of guy who—"

"Don't call me Tom as if we're mates,"

Tommy interrupted, drawing the line.

Lorenzo's smile faded, replaced by a smirk. "So aggressive, aren't we?"

Arthur and John tensed, their hands drifting towards their weapons. "Just give us our bloody payment, Yank."

"Yeah, we're not ones to be messed with," John added, his grip tightening on his gun.

Max, Patrick, and Ben, sensing the tension, straightened up, ready for a fight.

Lorenzo held up a hand, signaling his men to stand down. "Easy, boys. No need for that."

Lorenzo reached into his jacket and casually handed Tommy a thin envelope. "For your troubles."

Tommy's frown deepened as he counted the meager sum of 80 dollars inside. Before anyone could blink, Arthur and John had their Webleys drawn on either side of Lorenzo's head.

"Don't you or your men fucking move, or your head will be blown to pieces!" Arthur growled, the barrel of his gun pressed against the American's temple.

John mirrored his brother's actions, his own gun trained on Lorenzo's other side. "Don't you think you can fool us, Lupo!"

Tommy watched the escalating situation unfold, but didn't intervene.

The Shelby brothers expected fear, panic, anything but the nonchalant smirk that curled Lorenzo's lips. His eyes were cold, unwavering, as if he were merely an observer in his own life-or-death situation.

Seeing the Shelby brothers' growing impatience, Lorenzo leaned in even closer to the Webleys pressed against his temples.

"You know, I've seen men like you before," he drawled, his voice chillingly calm. "Think you're untouchable, don't you? One squeeze of a trigger, one slip of a finger, and it's all over for me."

Tommy watched, his heart pounding in his chest. This man was either insane or had balls of steel.

"The illusion of power," Lorenzo continued, his eyes boring into theirs. "It's intoxicating, isn't it? The thought that you hold my life in your hands?"

Arthur and John exchanged glances, their grips on their weapons faltering ever so slightly.

As Lorenzo sauntered closer, his posture defiant and fearless, his men exchanged uneasy glances.

A chill ran down their spines, creeping up their spines as they beheld the sheer audacity of the man before them.

The muzzles of Shelby's guns, mere centimeters from his head.

"Don't you dare walk any closer," Arthur growled, his voice unsteady despite his best efforts to sound fearsome.

Yet, Lorenzo paid no heed to the threat. He continued to advance, his steps unhurried, till he was within arm's reach of the Shelby brothers. The barrels of the guns were now so close that beads of sweat trickled down their foreheads, their hands slick against the cold metal.

Lorenzo's voice, however, was as composed as ever. "I'm impressed by the both of you," he drawled, his gaze flicking between the twins. "It's not often that I find myself in the presence of such capable men."

Arthur and John's eyes locked onto his, their resolve faltering in the face of such unwavering confidence. They had seen their fair share of bluffs and bravado, but this... this was something else entirely. The seconds dragged on, their fingers tense on the triggers, and in that moment, they found themselves unable to pull the trigger, nor lower their guns. A strange mix of fascination and dread coursing through their veins as they awaited Lorenzo's reaction.

The corners of Lorenzo's lips curled into a white-toothed grin. He tilted his head, as if oblivious to the guns that threatened his very existence. "Kill a man with a gun, and you'll never leave your room without it again," he drawled, his accent tinged with the cadence of his homeland. "The gun becomes your protection, your safety... your salvation," he continued, his voice taking on a hypnotic cadence. "It's your loyal dog, your savior... in truth, it's your bloody god."

His gaze drilling into the Shelby brothers', he taunted them further. "Let it control you. Worship the thing that brings you so-called peace. You're not the master, are you? The gun is your master, and you're its slaves."

Max, Patrick, and Ben stood stock-still, their bodies covered in goosebumps. Even the unflappable Tommy felt a changeling dread creep up his spine as he watched the scene unfold. This man, this Lorenzo, was a madman—he was practically goading them to pull the trigger.

"That's enough, boys," Tommy finally bellowed, unable to bear the tension any longer.

The sound of his voice shattered the trance that had settled over the room, and the Shelby brothers' fingers, slick with sweat, loosened their grip on the triggers.

Lorenzo straightened to his full height, his dark eyes locked onto theirs. "Now, shall we chat like civilized men, or do you lot need to fondle your 'worries' a bit longer?"

Tommy's voice cut through the tense silence. "You're not even afraid, are you?" he demanded.

Lorenzo chuckled, unperturbed by the near-death experience he'd just faced. "I figured you lot were smarter than that," he drawled. "Killing a highly respected man like myself? That would've been a right bloody mistake, wouldn't it, Brits?"

Arthur snorted in response, spitting just inches from Lorenzo's feet.

Tommy got down to business. "What's with the 80 dollars, Lupo? That's not what we agreed on."

Lorenzo's smile widened. "Ah, well, I simply wanted to see your reaction, Tom," he said, he added. "I must say, I'm quite impressed. Most would've lost their nerve by now, but you lot? Cold as December."

Tommy's frown deepened. "So, it was a test."

"Not quite," Lorenzo corrected, wagging a finger. "Had you not reacted, I'd have been inclined to keep the rest of the original payment. Can't blame a man for trying, eh?"

"You fucker," Arthur growled, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Greedy pig," John added, his jaw tense.

"Aye, aye, lads, no need for that," Lorenzo said, seemingly unfazed by their ire. "Here, take your money," he said, handing over an envelope stuffed with crisp notes to a visibly surprised Tommy.

The tension in the room dissipated somewhat as Tommy's eyes widened at the sight of the crisp notes stuffed inside the envelope. Greed, it seemed, had a way of soothing even the fiercest of tempers.

"Well, now that we're done with the pleasantries," Lorenzo drawled, "I've got better things to attend to."

He turned to leave, pausing only once at the entrance of the tent. "Keep up the good work, boys. If you lot ever find yourself in need of more coin, feel free to 'borrow' from our friends across the pond," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the nearby British campsite. "Just don't get caught, a right pain that would be, eh?"

With that, he sauntered out of the tent, flanked by his men.

As soon as the flap fell back into place, Arthur and John shared a look, their animosity momentarily forgotten in the face of their significant windfall.

"Bloody hell," Arthur finally muttered. "He's got the balls of a lion, I'll give 'im that."

"Aye, that he does," John concurred, running his thumb over the stack of notes. "Crazy as a loon, but got a point."

Tommy, on the other hand, watched the Italians' retreating backs with a calculating look in his eyes. "Let's not underestimate this one, lads," he said, a steely glint in his eyes. "Crazy as they come, but we could learn a thing or two from him."