Raven sighed and looked away from the man standing in front of him. He had grown tired of the meeting, even though important things were to be discussed. The movement of their dirty money, the manufacture of drugs to sell, and the list of undesirables just seemed to stretch on and on for ever. He twirled a strand of black hair around his finger, pretending to be listening to Raide, the man who knew the most about numbers.

"Yes, well. It all seems to be doing well," Raven said, waving his hand to show that he wasn't interested any more. The man fell silent, watching Raven with the awe that all his members did. They were afraid of him, of the things he did. He knew this because their minds were so easy to read, just like open books. "Is there anything I need to know that isn't boring as all Hell?"

Some would call him rude, others childish. Raven was simply impatient. He hated the organized workings of the mob and longed for chaos and anarchy. Raide glanced down at the list he had written on paper.

"Piaz hasn't paid for his last shipment of Ghest," he said quietly. It was as though he didn't want Raven to find out, as though he was afraid at the reaction. Raven never killed his followers, unless they displeased him in some way.

"Piaz... That little rat... Get rid of him for me. I've always hated that bastard."

"But, sir... He's a Government official. Even the Police wouldn't be able to ignore his murder..." Raide said, trying to word it so Raven didn't have a reason to believe that he wanted to protect Piaz.

"Raide, I do not like giving away free things. He is not getting Ghest for free. He has enough money. He uses it to pay prostitutes and fly around the world with... So why isn't he paying for his drugs?" Raven was speaking softly now, leaning forward towards the bespectacled man.

"I... I don't know, sir..."

"Then order a hit for me. Get someone if you have to. I want him gone."

"Y-Yes sir!" Raide left the room, an air of relief over him. Raven didn't understand why his followers were so afraid of him. Perhaps it was the way he looked, the way he knew what was on their minds or maybe it was the way that he enjoyed killing for fun. He turned from the door and peered out the small window that overlooked the city. He was rich and powerful, yes. But there was something missing from his life, and he could never quite pinpoint what it was.

His penthouse suite was situated near the wealthier part of Big Vegas, near the casinos and fancy clubs. He owned one or two of these buildings, adding a cover to his work and an extra cash flow. He sat at his desk and looked over a few papers, but gave up after awhile. Who was he kidding? This was not for him. The only reason he stayed was for the protection. He had the cops under his belt, so they would never come to him after the crimes he committed. If he wasn't the leader of the biggest mob in Big Vegas, he'd be sent to prison for his crimes, possibly Death.