[ WP ] After falling for a `` Win a free iPad ! '' website , a mob boss decides to collect his free iPad by any means necessary .

`` What in the goddamn hell is this?'' 
 
 Don Mortenili leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the mahogany desk. Taking a puff off his cigar and looking back up at Gio, he held up a brightly colored advertisement with his free hand. 
 
 `` And how in the goddamn hell did it get to my hideout?'' 
 
 Mail never came to the Don. Shipments of weapons and narcotics would usually go to one of his puppet businesses or be dropped off on the streets. Even when the occasional letter begging to spare so-and-so's child would make its way through, Gio would just chuck it into the fireplace. But an advertisement? That was blasphemy; the Don never used his name, especially not to sign up for any penny-pinching coupon mailing lists. 
 
 But there it was as clear as day: *Mr. Mortenili, is someone you love serving jail time? Contact this number to receive a free consultation for bail bond loans! * 
 
 A low quality image of handcuffs was crudely printed onto the ad amidst badly photoshopped lettering. It reeked of a cheap, low-budget establishment. Even the worst of Don's cover-up businesses had more class than this. 
 
 Gio shifted uncomfortably on his feet, a single bead of sweat dripping down from his perfectly moussed hair. 
 
 `` I dunno, boss. I usually throw out all the junk in the mail, but this thing had your name on it so I thought that I oughta-'' 
 
 Mortenili raised his hand to signal for Gio's silence. He stared at the bottom of the ad and read the small watermark, `` By J & H Advertising Conglomerate.'' 
 
 *J & H? * 
 
 *J & H. * 
 
 *J and goddamn fucking H.* 
 
 He recognized that name. In celebrating the death of the Don of the neighboring city's mafia, he had drank one too much and clicked an online advertisement promising a free iPad, courtesy of a so-called J & H Advertising company. With whiskey in his veins and eyes full of desire, Mortenili had excitedly signed up to receive the glorious tablet. 1024 MB of RAM? Angry Birds would never be smoother. 
 
 But that was last week. 
 
 And instead of an iPad, they had sent a goddamn advertisement. Mortenili's blood boiled. Nobody crosses Don Mortenili and gets away with it. Not the coppers, not Don Abbiati, and definitely not the wretched J & H conglomerate. 
 
 The Don was gon na get his iPad by any means necessary. 
 
 Mortenili leaned forward, crumpling the abomination of paper in his hand. A quick search revealed the address of J & H's headquarters. 
 
 `` Gio, grab a hundred boys and all the vans we got. And tell'em to bring the big guns.'' 
 
 `` You got it, boss.'' 
 
 Gio rushed out of the room, his gold necklace jingling as he ran. 
 
 Don Mortenili opened up a drawer from his desk, revealing a single gold-plated revolver, glistening in the otherwise smoke-filled room. He picked it up gently, taking care not to scratch its polished surface. 
 
 `` That iPad is mine. I do n't care how many nitwits I have to kil- huh, what's this?'' 
 
 At that moment, a single advertisement popped up on the computer screen in front of him to reveal a scantily clad woman biting her lip and beckoning towards him. 
 
 `` Hot singles in my area?''
