December 25th, 1979

23:12

13 Miles Outside of Eagle River, Minnesota

Vincent trudged through the snowfall that covered every inch of land for miles. This was one of the worst winters he had ever had to deal with. One wrong step and he would've crashed through the ice, dying a quick and numb death on hypothermia. He was already starting to feel the infamous burn that he had read so much about.

The term was called "paradoxical undressing" which was some condition people who die of hypothermia usually get. The story goes that your mind goes crazy and you feel really hot, so you end up tearing off all of your clothes.

"I shouldn't have to deal with this any longer, the stop's just ahead," he muttered to himself.

A half hour later the lodge was nowhere in sight. He heard the distant bell that marked midnight from the next town over, which was now closer to him than Eagle River. Of course the though of whether or not he was going the right way came to his mind hundreds of times, but he knew this walk.

15 more minutes of walking and intense cold later, Vincent saw a lodge that was illuminated by red and green blinking lights. He ran towards it, knowing there was warmth inside. When he got to the door, he took his gloves off, revealing that his pinky finger on his left hand had a mild frostbite. He got inside and took all his layers off, which took him about a good 15 minutes.

He walked into the room on the right, where his new dealer, Wilson was,

"Hey, Dimitri, good to see ya!"

"Good to see you two, buddy."

"Nobody followed you here, did they?"

"You fucking kidding me? I walked like 15 miles. If anybody followed me, props to them. Better give them some coke, too."

"Right, yeah. How much coke do you want?"

"Usual. Half a bail."

"You walked all the way here for one bail? Tell you what, I'll give you an extra half bail for how much fuckin' work it took you to get here."

"You're awfully generous today. Fine, 15 hundred bucks it is."

"Thanks man, have a nice night. Unless you want to stay a bit longer."

"I don't know, I'm gonna walk back."

"Why didn't you take the bus?"

"The bus? To a known drug dealing location and coming back with extra shit in my backpack? I don't think so."

"Suit yourself, you got a car?"

"Nope. Impounded."

"Good." Alfonso stared out the window.

"The fuck does that mean? What are you doing?" Vincent asked as a white van plowed full speed into the other side of the lodge. The ground shook and flames bust out of the van wreckage. 15 men wearing navy blue suits came out. Wilson pulled a gun on him.

Vincent quickly kicked him in his chest. He strattled Wilson and raised both his fists above his head. He slammed the outside of his hands onto his face as hard as he could, and Wilson screamed out. Vincent went at it again, and he could clearly see blood vessels bursting in his face. He did it one more time until Wilson stopped screaming. He did it one more time for good measure, and quickly scrambled for the gun. One of the men in a navy blue suits kicked open the door. He held a Remington Model 870, a classic choice for the mob. Vincent recognized the man as part of the Italian mob because of his accent, suit and weapon of choice. He immediately knew what this was about.

Vincent shot the man in the forehead, and he had a minute to think before the other 14 men would bum rush him and kidnap him, or worse. He ran off and locked himself in the boiler room in the basement. He knew that his uncle's division of the Italian mob had finally found him out, after all these years of witness protection.

"Come out Vincent, or we'll burn this fucking lodge down if we have to!" Vincent finally built up the confidence to kick the door open. Two men with .45 automatic machine guns stood there, and he emptied the Remington into both of their chests in quick succession. He picked up one of the .45s, knowing it would come in handy. One of the men was still moving and yelling, so Dimitri stomped on his head several times until it was just a mess of brain matter, blood and bone. His vision started to go red and he felt a wave of pure rage wash over him.

He started to walk up the stairs, but then realized that the 12 other mafiosos would waiting for him at the top, so he had to improvise. He routed through the basement, and he found a half empty bottle of bleach, and a bottle of ammonia. He knew mixing these up could knock out anybody, so he had to work quickly. He got an old beer bottle, mixed the two chemicals together, held his breath and sealed the bottle with some aluminum foil and duct tape. He walked below the stairs and hucked it as hard as he could.

He took a peak upstairs after 3 minutes to see that all 12 men were unconscious, so he put his arm over his mouth and sprinted outside. He started up the white van that was outside and drove off back to his house.

An hour later, he walked inside and his mother was waiting for him.

"Vin-, Dimitri, where the hell have you been? The police are looking all over for you!"