I guess you could call a generic gangster story. Yes. I guess you could.
Larry stumbled down the alleyway, his new fine jacket soaked in blood. He looked beind him, and his heart flopped. 3 silouettes stood at the entrance. Pusselli, Kurt, and the ever-generic Knuckles. "No real gangster's called Knuckles..." Larry chuckled to himself, and then he winced. His wounds wouldn't let him laugh. As Larry turned back towards the alley, he realised that his only escape was over a large wire fence. He slumped. There was no way out.
"Larry. Turn around."
Pussellis voice cut through the twilight. Larry slowly did what he was told, as he always had done. Why was this happening?
"Hey Mr Pusselli..."
"Larry, why do you do these things?"
Pusselli shook his head. "Ah, Larry, you always were slow. You've been talking to the police, haven't 'cha Larry?"
Oh god. They found out.
"Mr Pusselli, I'm real so-"
"Me too Larry. Me too."
Pusselli faced the entrance of the alley as the sky filled with the screams of Larry.