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In this criminal spaghetti, you're the Giant Meatball. The mob boss has absolute control of his minions, from whom he receives unquestionable loyalty. This makes sense, of course; you don't really get to be the Big Cheese by sitting back and letting your goombas walk all over you. That means if anyone gets out of line, you make an example out of them.

No, that doesn't mean you give them a stern lecture and a time out. You've worked hard to get this power, but you'll have to work even harder to keep it. And that means making life and death decisions.

As far as the extent of your power, you have what's called your territory. In your territory, you're the Taco Supreme. If anyone wants to blackmail a politician or extort a store owner or eliminate a witness or two on your turf, they better come ask your permission first. Because if they don't, you've got the tools at your disposal to showcase your power—the loyal and well-paid muscle you have surrounding you.

The best part about being the mob boss is that you have thugs who do your bidding. Not only do you have people tailoring your clothes and washing your car and walking the dog as if their lives were on the line (because they are), but you also get to use the biggest and baddest of your crew to push other people around. It's easy to walk wherever you want when everyone else just wants to get out of your way.