Falling (PG)
(censored version) (PG)

Is it a joke? (PG)
(censored version) (PG)

Fietka (PG-13)

A Good Night's Work (PG-13)
(censored version) (PG-13)

Eric (PG-13)
(censored version) (PG-13)

Angelo's Death (PG-13)

The Finite Story (PG)
(censored version) (PG)

Angel Eyes (PG)
(censored version) (PG)

Morning with HM (PG)
(censored version) (PG)

Heaven's Mafia (not rated)

Why the censoring?


A Good Night's Work

It's about time to go home. I've got my coat, my hat... I'm a respectable gentleman. There's my briefcase, carefully packed by our efficient Miss Anna Bellezza. What a woman! And look, she's left my cane right there for me. I'll be out of here in no time.

Damn, I look good.

Let's go, briefcase. Our work here is done. We done good today, pal; we're all set for tomorrow. Let's go home, kick back, have a couple drinks... all by my lonesome. Can taste 'em already. Here's to you, Anna, and you, old briefcase.

Speaking of old friends... I ought to check in on Angelo before I go. Poor guy hasn't been himself since they took out Archie's wife and kid. Wonder what's up with him...

Aww, I just wanna go home. Ange can look out for himself. He's a big boy.

But when I mentioned Carl's brood... God, I've never seen him so pale. Something's up with him. Something... big.

Fine. Fine. I'll check. But just for a moment.

This building's too damn big. 'Lo, Miss Bellezza. Yes, going to see Mister Dimorte, Miss Bellezza. May I call you Anna? Oh, no, Miss Bellezza, I'm not the sort to date my own secretary. Chew on that, Miss Bellezza. Good night, Miss Bellezza.

Frank, old boy, how do you do it? Aww, it's no secret, old boy; just keep 'em coming. "Hit the enemy as hard as you can..." You know, the whole shtick. Works every time.

Gotta love the hall mirrors. Hello, Mister Frank Rattino. My, you're lookin' mighty fine tonight, sir. Looking younger every day, sir. How do you stay so fit, sir? Well, kid, just go easy on the sweets, walk home when it's still light, eat your veggies...

...Hell-lo, what's this? Dammit, Ange, you movin' out or what? That's not a briefcase, and even calling it a suitcase would be stretching it. You're not taking all that home, are ya? Hell, Ange, even the devil his own self takes nights off.

Where are you, old pal? Come out, come out, wherever you— oh, hey! Whatcha doin' with all that junk?


Yeah, I'm goin' home. Just thought I'd look in on you before I headed out. No, nothing serious, Ange. Just thought you looked a little nervous earlier.

What is it, Ange? You're paler than a dead fish. You sick? Go home, Ange. Go rest. Leave all this crap behind. Have a rest. You look like you could use a drink or two.


My God...

Don't tell me it's come to this. You think too much, Ange. Stop thinking.

It always comes to this.

Weren't you the one who said we gotta stop being afraid? You said there's no reason to be afraid when you know what to expect. Fear's a luxury we can't afford.

I can read your lips—seen them move too often not to. Always muttering in Italian. Why call for her, Ange? Why do you need mercy?

We know all about fear. We've seen fear flicking in the eyes of children when their mother's blood soaks the ground. We've felt the pulse of it when we lean down to see if a dying man's still breathing it. You can smell it in the air, hear it dancing like a marionette when someone slips up and says something he shouldn't've. We've tasted it on the lips of women, the ones who cling like limpets 'cause you can't shoot 'em when they're pressed against you—or that's what they think.

You know better, Ange. Even when I'm this close, when I could pick your pocket and give you change back without you noticing... I could still blow your brains out.

Why are you afraid?


Dammit, Ange! Whatcha got in that case, bricks?! That was low, even for a hit man! Damn. Look at my hat! Look what you—

Oh, damn. He's making a run for it.

Anna, he's breakin' out! Don't let him leave! Your gun, woman! Where?! In the top drawer, ya goddamn moll!

She missed. Why do we give our women guns, anyway? Can't shoot worth a damn.

Didn't I say this building was too goddamn big?! Did he go up or down? Down, of course, 'cause there's no fire escape—or would he have...? Naw, he was running like a rabbit. Down it is.

Joel! Max! Get yer asses down here! Angelo's bustin' out!

Damn street rats! Get the hell outta my way! Little bastard! Hope that kick killed ya!

Left or right? The kids're lookin' left. C'mon, boys, time for a witch hunt!

God, I hate alleys. More alleys than street kids, even. 'Least he ain't sneakin' around, or we'd lose him for sure. Fear has awful loud footsteps.

Dammit, Ange! Why'd you hafta run?! Damn you!

My God... I can't remember ever feeling so alive... or so tired. Why can't I stop running? Joel's good for that, and Max is better. Why're they going so damn slow?!

Caught ya.

It's no good, Ange. No good backing up. No good pressing up against the wall. No point. Stop running. You're as good as dead, Ange. Stop running away.

See? You're right. When you know, there's nothing to be afraid of. You can stop running. See? You're holding up your head already. Looking me in the face. Looking me in the eye.

...Damn. Don't look at me like that. Don't play the victim. You asked for it, Ange. You ran. You chose your fate. I'm just doing what you asked me to. Just doing what you want. Your choice. Your fate. Your life.

Nice try, Angelo.

You gave it your best? Sweet. I'll write that down when I get back. Death with honor. Some little sentiment to give your family. They ain't gonna see you no more, Ange. Any regrets? That all you're gonna say? Last chance, buddy.

Sorry, old pal. Good night.


Damn, that was messy. Joel, pick him up. Max, drive them kids off. The poor devil's a goner.

Stupid kids. Scatter like leaves if you look at 'em sideways, but underfoot soon as you need to move. Fucked up, that's what it is.

Funny how these old alleys don't seem so twisty when you're goin' slow. Here we are already. The old familiar steps. That funky stain on the third step. Must've stepped on it goin' out. Bad luck—that's what he used to say. Bad luck to step on the old blood. He said that a lot.

Gotta stop thinking. That's what done him in. That's why he ran.

'Lo, Miss Bellezza. Anna. May I call you Anna? Yes, he took a long trip down a short road. Routine job. Hey, nice shot back there. Aww, don't go kickin' yourself, Anna. He runs like the devil and all his angels. Not your fault. Damn hard to hit a moving target.

Hey, Anna, what say we go out tonight? Nothing fancy—just a couple drinks. We're business associates, after all. Celebrate a good night's work. Take our minds off it.

Sure, it shook me up, too. Come on, I'll call us a cab. No trouble, Anna. Anna. Anna. I like your name. Anna. Beautiful Anna.

Gonna fill myself up with Anna tonight. Not even gonna think about Ange.

The dead can bury their own dead.

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