The words kept echoing in my head, relentless and unchanging: Your father is dead. It's still hard for me to comprehend the true extent of what that means. He was only forty years old; his own father, my grandfather, lived much longer despite our line of work. And yet here I am, sitting at his funeral, staring at his lifeless body in an open casket. I know I'm the heir, I'm next in line, but do I have what it takes?
This is inspired primarily by the TellTale game series, alongside bits of Sopranos and other bits of media that I consume.
Open to ideas!
Censored: No
Version: 0.01
Language: English
