NationStates Jolt Archive

OCC: First off, if you want to join, go to the sign-up thread first, don't do it here. This is for the gameplay only. Try to keep the OCC posts to a minimum, please. Also, no godmodding. If you do any of that, you will not be recognized in this game. Other than that, have a good time.

For the sign-up thread:
Page 1: Types of different mobs, gangs, syndicates, nationalities, personas to choose from.
Page 5: List of players and other locations
Page 6: territories already claimed and controlled

here is a map of NYC, even though that is not the only place that the game will take place:
http://www.microtekcomputerlabs.com/images/facilities/maps/New%20York_city.gif

This will take place in the locations on page 5 of the sign-up thread. The time if around 1946, just after the end of WWII. the economy is booming greater than any other point in American history. It's easy to get rich, the easy way or the hard way. The legal way or the illegal way. There are near endless possibilities. Will you control through force? Or pecefully? How will you run your part in this game? It's all up to you. make allies, bribe police, extort protection money, set up hits, start mob wars. You do what you will. Businesses out there are just waiting to be taken over, territory to be gained. Loyalties to be made or unmade. Will you remain lyal to the family? Or sell them out? The choices are yours!

Fredo's Bistro, Little Italy

The bistro was busy. The music was playing and people were eating and having a good time. It was a light atmosphere. The waiters busied around. The cooks were working hard, their minds full of old world recipes. Two men walk in. They are Renzo ''Pots" Patalia, one of the top soldiers of the Massena Family. The Massenas under Don Adriano massena have become a powerful force in Little Italy, controlling it completely. But he is a good, trustworthy man who doesn't overburden the people of the boro. The other one was a young man named Sergio Garibaldi, he was an outsider who just began. Pots was showing him the ropes. The owner, Fredo Basorli had a run in with some street punks, who trashed the loading dock out back. They approached him in his office.
"What do you want Pots? I pay protection and look what happens! I was attacked and three cases of wine and other things are broken, that was some very fine wine! I might as well stop paying protection, you are useless!" he stood up and yelled.
"Fredo, calm down" Pots said "We apologize for what happened, the Don sends his regards and wishes you are well. Tell us where these hooligans are and we'll take care of them. And we will pay for the broken goods. How does that sound?" he asked. Young Sergio stood there, learning and observing.
"They hang out back of this bar, The Immigrant bar, just a few blocks from here. You make them hurt!" Fredo yelled
"It will be taken care of, good day to you" replied Pots and he put his hat back on. Sergio followed.
"How are we going to do it?" sergio asked as they departed the bistro.
"We'll get a bat for each of us and teach them a lesson that they won't forget" Pots replied and lit a cigarette on the streets.

Rocky hurried down the alley. He knew he was being tailed by someone, probably one of the guys from another Family. But nobody knew New Brunswick like Rocky.

His name was Rocco Scodellari. Born and raised in Castellmare, Sicily, he had been in America just eight months. He had been brought over by his Patrone, Don Vito Santorelli because the Don had been told that Rocky was the best hitman in Palermo. The Don always needed good hitmen.

As Rocky came out of the alley, he found himself on George St., just north of Livingston Ave. He ducked into a doorway, pulled his revolver, and waited.

The guy following him came out of the alley, looked first up the street, then down. Seeing no one, he headed towards Livingston Ave.

Rocky saw him walk away from him, and slowly let the hammer down on his gun. He placed it back in his pocket, and started a brisk walk towards Somerset St., where he hopped into his car.

He headed towards Princeton on Somerset St., but turned right on Delevan and pulled up in front of a well-kept, but nondescript house.

As he came up the front walk, he could feel eyes on him. He knew it was just some of the boys, here for a meeting with the Don's capo, Charlie Luisa.

He could smell the frying garlic as he went through the front door, and two or three guys were sitting at a big table drinking chianti. One of them, Geno Toscani, saw him and cracked a smile.

" Eh, cumpare. Come va?"

Rocky grabbed his hand and shook it. " Grazie, va beni cosi. I'm doin' good, how you guys doin'?"

Geno handed Rocky a glass of chianti. " Times is hard, Rocky. We got some problems over in Newark. Some punks think they can muscle us."

" Newark, huh? The docks were always a problem, always someone around trying to take from us. What're we gonna do about it?"

" Charlie will be here in a minute. He'll give us the low-down. Probly have a few of da boys go over dere an set those assholes straight."

Rocky smiled. " Yeah, nothin' subtle about Charlie, eh?"

They all clinked glasses and laughed.

Alex Boukouvalas sat in the Bistro twirling his pasta when the two men entered. Their dress and talk with the bistro owner made him quite sure: they were Mafia. He listened.
"..Tell us where these hooligans are and we'll take care of them" One of the men said, the one called "Pots".
The word passed through his mind: hooligans... He had seen though hooligans trashing the man's wine and goods. He'd thought about stopping it, but walked on figuring "Not gonna start something if I ain't being paid.
He rethought his position after hearing Pots. His fingers slipped around his hardware in his holster, then down to a few bills that he laid out on the table to cover his food. Once on his feet, he brushed himself off,"Time to watch some heads split" he thought, and then walked out after the two men.

EDIT: OOC: I think we should title each of our posts with something that summarizes the actions taken, and in what city/district. Refer to mine to see what I mean. Sound like a good idea?

"A quiet meeting"
The Bronx: Micheal Modini's nightclub-Modini's Place

The lights of Modini's light up the dark street in the south Bronx. The club was classy and looked as if it didn't belong in the bronx but it had turned out to be a good investment when it was made partener with the Nitti family, Micheal Modini had a booming buisness and it was protected and used often by Nitti family members of all ranks.

Inside Santino Bratsi ,Tommy Cuneo ,Mack Foucherelli and Alexander Rio were in a back room, Santino a Capo in the Nitti family sat behind a large oak desk in a room fit for a king,

"I got a job for you guys..."

The men wore trenchcoats with fedoras on, rain dripped off their coats on the floor. Santino stood up and placed a hand on the desk looking in their faces,

"We got these ruski's commin in..immigrants..i hear there is a certian group we would wanna assosiate with in the mix of people..take that irish mick friend of ours..he speaks russian..i want them mercenarys.."

Cuneo spoke up,

"Uh..who passed this information over boss?"

Santino nodded and replyed to the man,

"Our boys in the dockyards..who else?"

Cuneo and the others nodded,

"Well we'll get it done boss.."

Santino replyed,

"I know, you always do.."

The three turned and left the room, Santino stood up and walked over to the window where he watched them exit the club and get in a silver 4 door. He walked to the front of the desk took a cigar and light it, with his right hand he pulled the bottom of his suit jacket and went out into the club.

OOC: Nitti's men are going to the docks in Newark

Pots and Sergio went to another store and got a baseball bat. They walked down the street several blocks and turned a corner to a back alley. Sergio picked up a lead pipe. Down the alley a ways there sat four of the hooligans that trashed the bistro. They were young, in high school. They laughed and one of them had a bottle.
"Well, what do we have here?" Pots said, holding the bat. The hooligans shuffled off to one side, they knew who he was. "Now, we have a problem, Fredo's place was busted up with him too! Now, he's under the protection of the Massena Family. he expects our protection. Now, what you did was not only a disresepectful, but it was also a slap in the face to Don Massena too. You see? Fredo doesn't want to do business with us anymore, and that's bad, and that's bad for you" he said.
"We're sorry Po-" the leader tried to say, just before the bat connected with his gut.
"Go to work kid!" Pots said. And Sergio came in and wacked one of them across the face, and elbowed another. He dropped the lead pipe and fought with his fists. Pots broke the leg of one, the whole thing was over quickly. Sergio slammed one of them into a wall. The hooligans, broken and bleeding hobbled off.
"You fight pretty good, kid" Pots said.
'Thanks, that wasn't too bad" he replied
"The youth today, no respect" Pots replied.

"The Immigrants":Newark

The car moved down the street and pulled over in front of a apartment building. Within afew minutes a lone man came out the door and got in the car, it took off again headed to Newark to cheak out this immigrant situation Santino was talking about. The man who got in the car was an irishmen, the one who Santino had also mentioned, the one who spoke russian,

"Aright patrick..hows your russian?"

The irishmen replyed in a language that deffinatly sounded like russian,"Is this good enough?"

Alex sighed,

"I don't even know if that was right you stupid mick"

Patrick shot him a dirty look and the car continued on it's way to Newark.

Rocky got out of the Plymouth, followed by two other of Charlie's boys. It was Sunday morning, so nothing much was going on down at the docks. Sea gulls were hovering overhead, looking for scraps. The ocean was relatively calm. It looked like it was going to be a nice day.

Charlie had gotten word from the Don that some of Nitti's men were in town, on the trail of some Russians who were sticking their nose where it wasn't wanted.

The Santorelli's and the Nittis had always gotten along....sort of. Charlie told Rocky to keep it that way. He didn't want any trouble with anybody. Deal with the Russians, shake hands, say goodbye. That's it and that's all.

Rocky hoped that's the way it would go. From what he heard about Russians, they were a tough bunch.

Camden, New Jersey

Philly and Camden was booming. The war was over, everyone came home, a happy ending right?

Of course now that the war had ended, the Feds didn't have to go looking for Nazis. They could bring their full attention on the mobs, the gangs, and the like. Not good for business.

Michael Aston had been in power twenty years. He presided over the docks of Philly and Camden, the teamster's unions, the brothels and whorehouses, gambling rings, and gun smugglers and had even made a large sum of cash importing European art from the shambles of Europe. It'd be years before anybody noticed; by then it'd be sold on the black market to some Hollywood producer in Cali.

He was an American through and through. He didn't like the greasy Italians, or any other ethnic group for that matter, but that didn't stop him from his business. A man in business always presents a sterile front. He could always be thinking something else, but he never shared his feelings with anybody. Ever. Michael Aston knew that.

He strolled down to a warehouse on the dockside in Camden. Two oliy and greasy men, undoubtably from machinery, opened the corrigated tin door. The warehouse was covered with saw dust, dust from boxes, and dust in general and the warehouse was dimly lit. He did see however, in the far side of the warehouse several cronies wedging open a couple of crates with crowbars. Michael walked over to take a look. Some of the crates contained MP40s, Grease guns, M1 Gerands, even a couple of grenades. One create contained items of interest. Several gold bars, a few paintings, some jewelry, officers uniforms (soviet,SS, and American) as well as enlisted, and a few statuettes.

"It's amazing what those Europeans will do for a ship of food and clothing," one of the workers blurted.

Michael Aston stood silent for a couple of minutes. "Yeah. Food prices are high over there. This'll definately come in handy. New York definately doesn't know what its missing down here."

He walked over toward the exit. "Make sure these crates get unloaded to the proper places. I don't want none of these goods goin' to the cops. And I don't want to find any of these goods down your pants, a'right?"

The dock workers grunted but there was little they could do. Nobody messed with Mike Aston. Nobody.

Alexander Boukouvalas followed the two men from a distance. When he saw the "Pots" man exit a store with a bat, he almost chuckled: "This'll be entertaining" he thought, and continued to follow.
The two men turned a corner into an alley, and Alex stepped up, but didn't turn the corner. He listened as Pots told the kids the deal. The name Massena rolled through his mind, as words often did. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard wood meet flesh. He almost winced at the sound of it, then reprimanded himself mentally for wincing. "Christ man, I'm a fucking cold-hard killer, and I wince"
He peeked into the alley and watched as the other man slammed a kid in the face with a heavy pipe. "Ouch. That had to hurt" he thought, then turned away. The name rolled into his mind again. He strolled out of the alley and walked onto the street, mentally noting it.

Newark:"The rendevous"

The car flew down past the buildings and parked on the street beside a wharehouse,

"Alright Tommy, Alex this is Santorelli's territory..we wanna stay at peace with these guys you hear, no funny shit.."

The other two were not as experianced as Carlo so they listened to him when ever they did a job for the Don. Patrick O'neil hopped out of the car aswell and followed the 3 men around the gate down where all the cargo was taking a short cut to where the immigrants stream in,

"We need these ruski's or Santino is gonna be pissed..the ruski's are our parteners if they Santorelli's ask..when we get them take em right out of there.."

The boys agreed with a,

"Yep" or a "Yup..

Sergio ran his hand through his hair. 'I can't believe what I just did!' he thought. This was all new to him. he'd been with the family for just over two months. Running arrands, collecting money, shipment, but nothing like this. And he was working right alongside Pots! He was one of the heavy hitters with the family, a loyal soldier to the end.
"Alright kid, let's beat it before the coppers come around" Pots said.
"That's a good idea" he replied
"Of course it's a good idea, I thought of it. You proved yourself to be tough nut back there. You did exactly what you were told and didn't hesitate. people like it when you don't argue, especially in this line of work" Pots said as they calmly walked ou of the alley.

Philidelphia, Pennsylvania

Mike Aston got out of his black Cadillac. He stopped at an old friend of his: Mark Gruenberg, a Jew originally from Newark. He walked up the short sidewalk and to the entrance to ring the doorbell. However, Mark Gruenberg was already waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

"Come on in," he said with a warm smile. Mike Aston walked into the lovely living room. It was cozy and comfy and quite homely and modest for a man who made thousands on gambling, extortion, and real estate. Mike sat on the couch while Mark sat in the chair opposite.

"I'll get you a cup of tea Mike, hold on."

"Elisheva!" he yelled. "Get Mr. Aston a cup of tea!!!" He turned back to Mike. "So what bring you here?"

"Nothing," Mike replied. "Got a nice crate of good from Europe. Black market trade? Through the roof. Lotta money in this kind of shit. And a lot of novelty stuff, too." Mike peeled back a portion of his overcoat and reveled an important-looking medal. "Order of Stalin," he beemed sarcastically. "One it myself killing krauts."

"Oh yeah? How many?" Gruenberg asked.

"Too many to count! I stopped counting after I ran out of bullets. I musta killed at least 10-20,000 easily. The whole 6th Army Surrendering? It was 'cause of me!"

"You know those Germans had pretty big guns. Took like 6 years to kill them buggers."

"Oh c'mon Mark! My cock's bigger than half of their guns!"

Gruenberg chuckled. "You've never faced the krauts in combat. They're tough. I'll give'em that."

"You went to war? Whatya do?"

Gruenberg replied, his eyes glazing over as he stared into Mike, yet past him at the same time. "World War One. The Great One. I was a medic. Nasty bastards those Germans are. Saw guys messed up pretty bad. Saw pieces of guys anyway. You considered yourself lucky if you got a full body sometimes. The wounded were truly lucky. Sometimes. Sometimes they were better off dead."

Gruenberg shook himself out of his trance. "Your making me all misty, Mike. Why don't you tell me why you came?"

"We're doin' alright. But the New Jersey gangs are starting to hurt us. No room to grow. I need business. Elsewhere. Any ideas?"

Gruenberg took half a second to think. "Florida's gonna be big someday. Trust me. Invest in real estate now, your gonna be rich. I also heard Reno- no wait- sorry- Las Vegas, a city in Nevada is starting to grow. Gambling. Legal gambling. Gonna be big. Maybe, after all Cuba's going nowhere soon and it still has the market on gambling and nightclubs."

"Florida eh?" Mike took a sip from the tea he was just given. "People'll pay to sweat their asses off? I'll just put a gun to their head and we'll see whose sweating."

"Just a suggestion, Mike, that's all. I got property down their myself. I think you should too. I really do."

"I'll think about it. But for now, I got New Jersey to worry about. i don't know what they're doing or planning."

Joseph was rather bored, no calls had been comming in and there was nothing to do at home. He went to grab his trenchcoat and headed over to his door when the phone began to ring. He sighed as his hand was in midrift to the coat rack in which his hat sat on, and he turned around and walked over to the phone. He looked at it's steady shake as it rang, and he reached down and grabbed it.

Joseph - "Hello?"

Unknown - "Yea, Joey is that you?"

Joseph - "Perhaps, who's askin'?"

Unknown - "An old friend. Meet me at the cafe, down by the docks, okay Joey?"

Joseph - "...Eh...Sure."

His repliance was somewhat of a muted confusion. The unknown man hung up the phone, leaving Joseph with an unfilled answer. "Who's askin'?". The thought rumbled like a Midwest Thunderstorm, much like an Artillery barrage. He went to where he kept his pistol and checked it's chamber, snapping it back into place he rested it at his chest's holster. He walked over to get his Hat, and walked out of the door. He turned around to lock it, and continued walking down the apartment hallway until he reached the door, he took a brief moment to notice the conditions outside. It was raining, some lightning out over the ocean but it was just a slight drizzle. He continued to his right, and headed down towards the docks.

The Massena Family Compund

In the main house of the large compund with several acres of woods sat Don Massena, his consigliere nathan Falherst (an accomplished attorney), and Capo Frank Neri. They sat in the Don's office, discussing expansion possibilities.
"We should get involved with the pictures" said Mr.Falherst, adjusting his sleeve "Movies are going to be big now. It's practically untouched by the other families or other organizations."
"Hollywood's is just a virgin, waitin' to be popped" added neri, smoking a cigar "We could send Nat in to make a deal, sign a few people on, directors, actors and such. We could get some actors or actresses into the lime light"
"It's a pretty sound idea. It will help us go legitamate" Falherst said. The Don sat there, thinking. He was growing older and didn't much care to do this work for much longer.
'Okay, you have my blessing. Nat, I want you to set it up, okay?"
"Yes" Falherst replied.

NY Chinatown
Mao Xun nonchalantly walked down the street. A cigarette dangled from his mouth and a Tokarev TT33 hung in a holster from his hip. Nobody would do anything about it? Hell, nobody would do anything about it if he pulled it and shot somebody on the street. Chinatown was pretty much in the pocket of his gang, the Snakes. If somebody spilled drink on his suit, he didn't even have to bother shooting him, because one of his gang members would.
"Hey, you! Coolie!" he heard from behind him. Xun froze, not because he was scared, but because some cracker had just called him the C-word that wasn't "cracker."
"What did you just call me, you pale little bitch?" he said in Cantonese, slowly turning around. He saw a muscular white cop pointing a revolver at him.
"Speak English like everyone else, yellow boy!" the cop said, "Now what are you doing..."
Xun grabbed him by the neck, cutting him off.
"You fo'an devils shou' lea'n Chinee," he said in his accented English, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and grinding it in the cops eye. He screamed in pain.
"I hate your language," he said, switching back to Cantonese, "Your language is stupid, and foreign, and inferior, like your whole race. Your mutated pale skin, your hick accents...I hate it all."
He threw the cop to the ground. He was from the hard knocks of Guangzhou, and had become very muscular from that.
"Now, die," Xun said, pulling out his TT33 and shooting the cop eight times. He pissed on the cop's body before walking away. There, he saw two more cops. One white, one Chinese. Both of them quivered in fear.
"Clean that up," he said in Mandarin to the Chinese cop, "Tell your foreign devil friend to as well."
The two cops immediately did as they were told. Xun lit another cigarette and walked away. This was life.

OCC: That was coldhearted! sorry about the OCC, this makes me a hypocrate, but I had to say it.

The Docks: Brooklynn

OOC BTW I only made the post to do a quick check on something, didn't feel like making a new window.

IC

Joseph was at the street light, gazing off as the cars drove by. There, in bright red neon, he could see the words 'Dockside Cafe' just brightening up the rain drops. He had a tendancy to sigh when he saw these kinds of things, the light turned red for the cross traffic and green for his traffic. Without taking much precaution, he just automatically crossed. Got honked at by an angry Irish cab driver, but what did he care. He finished crossing the street, and walked towards the entrance of the Cafe. He reached out to the door handle and yanked it open, walked in and took off his wet hat slowly. A younger and cute waitress walked by and shot him a nice smile, he replied with a rather warm smile, and he walked over to a table.

This table had a rather large figure in a hat reading a news paper. He wore a pretty fancy suit and tie, must have cost him quite a lot. He sat at the table, and the man recited Joseph's name rather in a happier tone than on the phone. All this, without a glimpse over the top newspaper edge. Only then, however, did Joseph recognize the stranger's voice. Looking at him in bewilderment, he began to speak.

Joseph - "Tuh...Tommy?"

Unknown/Tommy - *Lowering the newspaper, with a large and wide smile.* "How' you doing Joey?"

Joseph - "Hah, Tommy it is you. Man...heh...man yea I'm doing great, how about yourself?"

Tommy - "Not so bad, not so bad. I've heard you've picked a rather interesting lifestyle, am I right?"

Joseph - "Hah...yea being a Detective isn't too interesting, but I would believe you are right."

Tommy - "Good...good, you fit the job well. You've got quite the personality."*Finishes with another Smile.*

Joseph - "Yea...so man, what have you been doing these days? I mean, seeing as you ain't in the Army anymore either."

Tommy - "Nothing much, my friend. Nothing much. Just doing a few jobs here and there, getting some cash. Just living the life, ya'know. Just living it."

Joseph - "Cool...cool...So yea, I mean, is there anything you wanted from me man?"

Tommy - "Well other than seeing your face, I've called you here because I have a business proposal for you. One of, well, rather high interest."*He finished as the same cute waitress from before came over with two cups of coffe. Tommy had ordered the second one for Joseph, still figuring he liked his black.*

Joseph - *To the waitress*"Oh, thank you."*Turning his attention to Tommy, while taking a sip.*"So...what sort of job do you have for me? Information, drugs, shoplifting, or whatever may interest yourself these days."

Tommy - "Oh, something rather greater than a regular old Shoplift. Something the Police have been working on for a few months now, I think you know what I'm talkin' about."

Joseph - *Taking another sip*"Hmm...the Heist down at Manhattan? The one that ended up with 6 killed? Yea I've heard of it. Thought the Police gave up on it months ago, just been waiting for a proposition to pop up like this one."

Tommy - "Yea, that'd be the one. I have some rather important 'investmants' in that Bank, some rather large ones that I need back in my pockets as soon as you can get this whole mess solved. Do it, and do it right and I'll make sure you get quite'uh margin of it. Oh...say 25%?"

Joseph - "Hmm...25%? What was it that was stolen of yours then?"

Tommy - "Just some important change. Estimating about 750,000 Dollars. Been saving up for some rather large housing plans."

Joseph - "25...25...hmm...wouldn't that be about...oh say...187,500 Dollars or so?"

Tommy - "Yea, just about I believe."

Joseph - *thinking*"Yea sure...I'll see what I can do then my friend."

Tommy - *smiling*"Good...good to hear Joey. Hey, would you mind to stick around for some lunch with me? We gots' some catchin' up to do."

Joseph - "Yea, I wouldn't mind."

The two began speaking about War mumbo jumbo, about some kill stories and such. The two had quite a time, laughs and all. The cute Waitress turned out to be their Table Waitress, so Joseph tried everything he could to get her to make as many visits as possible. He had taken a rather large interest in her, always recieving those cute smiles. When the two gentlemen got up, Joseph layed down a rather fat tip. Tommy smiled, taking the gesture pretty clearly and the two headed out. Joseph reached out for a handshake but got a hug like they were brothers, he reached around to pat Tommy's back as well. The two men smiled, and the two turned their seperate ways.

Sergio and Pots walked down the street. Sergio's knuckles hurt from the fight and were red and ached. But it didn't really bother him. he grew up as a tough kid from the streets.
"Pots, how did you get your nickname?" Sergio asked. Pots took the toothpick out of his mouth and looked at him.
"There was a guy one time, named Luca. he disrespected him big time a whiles back. He insulted my wife, right in front of her! I rearranged his face with a pot, so that's why they call me Pots" he answered and stuck the toothpick nonchalanlty in his mouth. Sergio thought about what kind of nickname he would get.

OCC: I'm done for tonight. This thread is off to a great start!

The Docks: Newark

The four men strolled down into the dockyards their shoes clicking on the pavement,

"Right this way gentleman, we can expect some boys to question us soon enough..you know what to say"

Carlo said quietly and they came around a corner to see some guys standing around,

"These might be Santorelli's" Carlo light a cigerette..

Patrick pulled a half smoked cigerette out of his pocket and received Carlo's lighter

"Maybe i could get a pack when this goes down.." Patrick said to the others

Alex pulled out a little silver tin and pulled out a small cigerette size cigar lighting it,

"Heya boys, maybe could a fella get some directions? we would be greatful"

Carlo said to the men standing before them...

OOC: Yes i agree

Pots and Sergio continued down the street, getting some food from the street venders. The streets were alive with venders, children, people, and cars. Little Italy was prospering and the Massena Family controlled all of it. People greeted Pots as they moved on. He was a well liked and respected by the people. They recieved warm greetings from the store owners as they came by to collect payments. The proprietors didn't mind paying protection. Because that money was worth it. There were few crimes in Little Italy. The police did their share of protecting, but they were in Don Massena's pocket, so they basically did what he told them. And few people dared to go against the don. Out of fear and respect.

WHOOOOOOOOT - WHOOOOOOOT! The fog-horn of ES Saragoza, Sevilla - New York, wasn't really the most tender alarm clock in the world, but it did it's job. Pjotr Melehov jumped up, Walther 38 in his left, long (aslmost like a short sword)mjenhashka- combat knive in his left hand. Jevgeni Arimov, his old'n trusted Scharführer(sergeant) looked desperately for his MG and Igor Djutka stood ready already, prepared to feed ammo. It took almost two seconds for them to understand that this wasn't alarm but the sign of the start of their new life.
They laughed, distressed and relaxed. Similar sounds of loud, happy conversation from the next cabin, in which the four other cossacks were, told them that those guys had had a similar waking and reaction to it.

They all had slept half-clothed, so the dressing didn't take long. The men lined up in corridor, like they had always done. Except that now there were only six of them, of the original 150 that had been there when the morning inspection was first done by Melehov, their leader, in the winter 1939. After fighting more than six years in three different armies, Red Army, Heer and W-SS, one could assume that these guys were completely sick of this eachother, and all this military shit.

But it wasn't so. Most of them weren't more than 25, and they knew little about life that didn't include trenches, uniforms and orders. In fact they barely even remembered how it was before the war. Or wars, in their case. They felt insecure in this new, weird world, and sticking with some old habits like these morning "inspections" felt reassuring and made them feel more like... well, home.

Besides Scharführer Jevgeni and Unterscharführer (corporal) Igor there were also Sturmmans Stanislaw "Warsaw" Rajacz, Grigori Smirnov, and Rottenführers (private 1st class) Pantelei Shutka and Boris "Panzerschreck" Propatenov.

They had an interresting mixture of clothes on them. Fallschirmjäger boots, Russian boots, old civilian shoes bought from Spain... Melehov even had his ancient, black cavalry boots. Army greatcoats, grey civilian jackets, originally blue (now grey) German cavalry trousers (red stripes removed). And the headwear! Few had Spanish hats but mos still kept their traditional, completely and throughoutly weared Terek-style fur caps.

All of them also had medals; Iron Cross II class, Panzerdestroyer-medals, Assault medals mainly. Melehov wore both Star Of Hero Of Soviet Union that he had received for his actions in Winter War side by side with the Iron Cross 1st Class with Swords, deserved three years later in a different army.
They had all had weapons, sidearms only though (concealed naturally); Colt1911's, Nagans, Tokarevs and Walthers, plus a frightening collection of bladed weapons.

No baggages whatsoever.



"Allright camaraden!" He said, mixing English and German.

"This is it. We are in USA, the land of Amis, gangsters, Shermans, Jabos and endless supplies." It looked like he was going to continue, he already opened his mouth but then shut it again.

"..mmmmh. Well. Here we go. Try to behave." He turned and led his men up to the deck and towards the stairs that went down to the platform. To New York.

The Massena Family Compund

Don Massena got out of his chair, his back sore. he stretched and poured a glass of wine and drank it. It was a nice day. The door knocked.
"Come in" replied Don Massena. It was Matteo Segundes, one of his capos.
"Godfather, we've heard from sources that there are a boat load of Russians, ex-soldiers coming in and one of the families is there trying to employ them. What should we do? This could tip the balance" he said.
"We will do nothing. If we do anything drastic then it will cause a war. And I and all the families don't want that. But, we'll keep our eyes open and listen as well. Just so that we know what's going on, thank you for telling me." Don Massena patted him on the back.

Newark:"Welcome to America"

The men were not Santorelli's at all, infact they had given the boys directions to where the russians come in. Carlo lead the men to that spot where they seen a ship waiting to unload it's passengers or crew,

"Why does the boss need the ruski's..." Asked Alex..

Tommy smiled and replyed,

"Jeez..does the boss need a reason you can agree with all the time? like shit Alex...ever heard of a mercenary before?"

Alex thought then shook his head,

"Naww..what the hell is it?..sounds like some one who works for the church.."

The other men laughed at his comment then Carlo spoke up,

"Alright, alright..they are buttonmen..really good buttonmen..it'll reflect good on us when we show up with them.."

The four men stopped at the bottom of the platform where they continued to wait while smoking their cigerettes.

Reallydrunk']The Docks: Newark

The four men strolled down into the dockyards their shoes clicking on the pavement,

"Right this way gentleman, we can expect some boys to question us soon enough..you know what to say"

Carlo said quietly and they came around a corner to see some guys standing around,

"These might be Santorelli's" Carlo light a cigerette..

Patrick pulled a half smoked cigerette out of his pocket and received Carlo's lighter

"Maybe i could get a pack when this goes down.." Patrick said to the others

Alex pulled out a little silver tin and pulled out a small cigerette size cigar lighting it,

"Heya boys, maybe could a fella get some directions? we would be greatful"

Carlo said to the men standing before them...

OOC: Yes i agree



Rocky saw some goombas headed their way. " OK, boys, Nitti's guys are here. They want directions." One false move outta them and they'll get directions alright, he thought.

" Where ya wanna go, bub? Seems like ya found my docks ok. Maybe ya need directions back where ya came from."

Rocky didn't like it when another Family hit their turf. Santorelli and Massena were neighborhood pals from the old days, but these stroonz were unknowns. And then there were the Russians....commie bastards. What the fuck they had to do with the Don was beyond Rocky.

OCC: That was coldhearted! sorry about the OCC, this makes me a hypocrate, but I had to say it.

ooc: yeah, it was cold, but it's good writing.

Carlo turned around and smirked,

"Maybe you need to show a little respect to the boys carrying out a request from Don Nitti, smart mouth..."

Alex stepped foward with a grin crossing his face aswell,

"I think we're alright now 'bub'...we'll be headin' out soon..we don't want no trouble.."

Patrick the irishmen scanned the faces of the Santorelli boys. Patrick O'neil was a rugged irishmen that was useful on your side, he was born and raised in america ever sence he was just a small boy,

"Ey..it's just gonna be a quick transaction boy'ill...we be in an out before you knows it"

They waited for the reply....

OCC: The china man killing the cop would be a great start for the people playing law enforcement.

"Looks like they're waiting for us" Jevgeni said, lowering his voice. He spoke Russian this time, mixing some German words in it.

The line in the stairs moved quickly, and suddenly they stood in the American soil. Dreadfull men in suits and smoking fine American cigarettes in front of them seemed like gangsters, much like in the movie they had watched in Barcelona.

"So it seems.. well, what the hell are we waiting here? Let's go!" Melehov responded, and walked towards the two groups of mafiamen, apparently hostile to eachother, but not like they were going to talk to them, just moving pass the spot they were standing at.

Reallydrunk']Carlo turned around and smirked,

"Maybe you need to show a little respect to the boys carrying out a request from Don Nitti, smart mouth..."

Alex stepped foward with a grin crossing his face aswell,

"I think we're alright now 'bub'...we'll be headin' out soon..we don't want no trouble.."

Patrick the irishmen scanned the faces of the Santorelli boys. Patrick O'neil was a rugged irishmen that was useful on your side, he was born and raised in america ever sence he was just a small boy,

"Ey..it's just gonna be a quick transaction boy'ill...we be in an out before you knows it"

They waited for the reply....


Rocky's first reaction was to mix it up with the Massena's, but he decided to let it go. The Dons were at peace with each other and Rocky wasn't gonna be the one to break that peace.

He glanced at the Russkis walking single-file towards them. " So, here's your new muscle. Don't look like much, but that's your business. Get their asses and yours outta here in five minutes, tu capische?"

Patrick turned to the men as he seen them comming their way,

"Ahh! these are our parteners boy'ill! they will be leavin' wit uss"

Carlo didn't take his eyes away from the Santorelli's not even for a moment even though they did not have a violent history 'visiting' was not somthing that was done often unless announced.

Patrick said to the new arrivals in russian,

"Hey! to this side! we have a buisness propisition for you! that we can all benifit from my friend"

He watched and listened hoping they would respond, they were a rugged looking bunch that patrick had never seen the likes of,

"Uhh..commrade!" he yelled

Carlo, Tommy and Alex looked like they were getting impatient,

"What the fucks goin' on pat!" Carlo said quietly.....

Alex nodded and looked at Rocky,

"Alright...we are headin' out here.."

OCC: Your guys aren't standing off against mine.

OOC:Yeah they are mine...Nitti's

The phone in Don Massena's office rang. Segunde picked it up.
"Yeah?...They did?...Okay, thanks alot" he put the phone down. he turned to Don Massena and said "That was our contact down by the docks. Nitti's men are the ones pickin' up the Russians."
"Mmh, Nat, I would like you to set up a meeting between me and Don Santorelli, we must address this issue now that we know it's the Nitti's. This could be trouble down the road." Don Massena said.
"Yes, Godfather. I'll set it up right away." replied Falherst.

Nathan Falherst owed everything to Don Massena. During the depression, his law firm went belly up and he was out of work and had to sell his house. He and his wife and baby slept in a hooverville. It was there, that Don Massena heard of his expertise and brought him into the family. Falherst is loyal and a close friend of Don Massena. he'd been with them as their consigliere for about 10 years.

Trouble in Chinatown

NY Chinatown

Detective Michal Brown, Homicide, examined what laid before him,The victim was middle aged, male, caucasian, well built, face down and shot eight times in different locations.

Apparantly the poor bastard had made someone pretty mad, had this been anybody then it would have been routinely handled, the problem this poor bastard was a cop and the papers eat up this stuff for breakfast. An example had to be made.

There was a suprised look on the victim's face indicating an unexpected assault, witnesses also described that a chinaman was urinating on the corpse shortly after the gunshots were heard. Oddly enough the witnesses were the two police officers who were first on the scene who that the murderer fled as he saw them approaching. They also gave the detective description of his face, hair, build and attire. Finally a fresh cigerette butt was found on the scene.

The only thing left was to find this guy and put him awy, which was easier said than done, as Chinamen tended to cover each other, but this guy was apparently psychotic, deranged and caused the stench of fear in anyone who met him, The detective decided to ask around maybe the scent is still fresh.

The house was not palatial by any means. Don Vito Santorelli was not an overtly flashy guy. He looked at himself as a businessman...however illegal his businesses were.

He was sitting on his veranda, sipping his morning coffee when the phone rang. No one else was around, so he answered it himself.

" Yeah?"


ooc: Massena consigliere is calling...

Falherst gripped the phone "Don Santorelli, this is Nathan Falherst, thank you for giving me the time to talk to you. Down at your docks, the Nitti men were waiting for a boat load of Russians. Don Massena would like to meet with you and discuss more on this. I'd prefer not to get to specific over the phone. Is a meeting acceptable to you?" he asked.

OOC: Heh, they'll answer when you talk to them, my idea just was that they'd wait for your gangsters approach instead of just running to them and start talking.

IC:

"Ah, privet!" Melehov answered, turning to the gangsters.

"I have hear here Italians that have job for a soldier. And sorry our ears, not very good..." he added, smiling. "Too much shooting too many years."

OOC: o0o ok, whoops

Patrick smiled and looked back at the mobsters for a breif moment,

"Ahh it's alright friend, these streets can be a battlefeild for the average boyle! Mr. Don Nitti has a buisness propisition for you and yer by's"

Carlo and the others stood between pat and Don Santorelli's men waiting for the deal to close and the ex soldiers to come with them back to the Bronx.

"We have much to discuss" Pat said nodding his head...

Falherst gripped the phone "Don Santorelli, this is Nathan Falherst, thank you for giving me the time to talk to you. Down at your docks, the Nitti men were waiting for a boat load of Russians. Don Massena would like to meet with you and discuss more on this. I'd prefer not to get to specific over the phone. Is a meeting acceptable to you?" he asked.


" Russians, huh? What in hell is the world coming to. Anyway, let's set up this meeting. There's a good restaurant in Hoboken, Fratelli's. The best veal parmagian on the east coast. We'll be safe there. Tomorrow night okay?"

"Yes, that will be just fine.Thank you Don Santorelli. Don Massena would be happy to see you again. I and several bodygurads will be accompaning him, is that okay?" Falherst replied.

Reallydrunk']OOC: o0o ok, whoops

Patrick smiled and looked back at the mobsters for a breif moment,

"Ahh it's alright friend, these streets can be a battlefeild for the average boyle! Mr. Don Nitti has a buisness propisition for you and yer by's"

Carlo and the others stood between pat and Don Santorelli's men waiting for the deal to close and the ex soldiers to come with them back to the Bronx.

Rocky was amused. " You guys got a deal for us? No, we got a deal for you. Get your commie dogs outta here pronto. And don't come back unnanounced again."

"Yes, a second wait, please." he said, turning to his men.

"Like expected, these are Italian gangsters. Want to hire us. If there's anyone willing to leave now, to go his own way, this is the moment for saying it." He waited for a second, as his men looked him straight in the eyes. They all stood silent. Melehov nodded, smiling.

Turning again, he answered to the Italian. "Sure we come. Just show the way."

"Yes, that will be just fine.Thank you Don Santorelli. Don Massena would be happy to see you again. I and several bodygurads will be accompaning him, is that okay?" Falherst replied.

" Of course. See you then."

Rocky was amused. " You guys got a deal for us? No, we got a deal for you. Get your commie dogs outta here pronto. And don't come back unnanounced again."

The cossacks didn't smile no more. They all turned to the gangster that had said the word "commie". It was a word they all knew, even those who barely remembered "yes" and "no". Melehov stepped towards the man, staring at him face completely emotionless.

"What did you say us? A dog, no problem. But the other word?"

Behind him, his men were dispersing to form a line and to have a clear sight to Rocky and his fellows.

"Thank you very mush for your time Don Santorelli. We will be there" falherst replied and hung up. He turned to Don Massena and said
"Fratelli's Restaurant in Hoboken, tommorow night." he said.
"Good, it will give me a chance to speak with an old friend. And we'll be able to deal with this Russian problem." he said "Nat, I'm sure you're coming. And I'd like Pots and his new friend Sergio to come along. The boy can use some experience."
"I'll contact them, Godfather" Falherst replied.

Carlo looked shocked,

"Patrick...tell no! tell em no!"

Patrick looked at the Cossacks and replyed,

"No...not now...please commrade.."

Carlo smirked at rocky then moved his hand towards the gate where they had entered, They stood there looknig down the barrels of the revolvers...

"Alright boys!, we'll be seein' yah's around ...lets go fella's"

Patrick replyed to the russian,

"We are ready to go, a cars gonna meet us at the gate..lets roll"

The group moved towards the gate where they had entered, Alex and Tommy watched their backs as they headed away from Don Santorelli's men. Carlo turned when they reached the gate and yelled to them,

"Ey! don't get cute with me again you hear?"

As they exited the gate Carlo was pissed,

"bunch a fuckin monkeys..."

A truck sped up the road and slammed on it's brakes on the other side of the street, there it waited with his engine still on, patrick turned to the russians,

"Thats your ride..if some day you decide to work for the Don..you will be no longer ridin in the back of a truck my friend'"

He pointed to the shiney silver 4 door Alex, Tommy and Carlo strolled towards...

The cossacks didn't smile no more. They all turned to the gangster that had said the word "commie". It was a word they all knew, even those who barely remembered "yes" and "no". Melehov stepped towards the man, staring at him face completely emotionless.

"What did you say us? A dog, no problem. But the other word?"

Behind him, his men were dispersing to form a line and to have a clear sight to Rocky and his fellows.


Rocky and his boys pulled their revolvers. " Take it easy, Ivan. Just get in the car with your new pals and get outta here. And you," pointing to Nitti's men, " stay out of this. Just get them the hell off our turf.......NOW!"

Nitti Compound:

Don, Francesco Nitti stood in a dark room with a single lamp looking out his back window into the garden, the room was very nicey furnished and lots of fine items were decortating it, there was a knock at the door,

"Yeah..enter.." The Don replyed...

In came Consigliarie, Ralph Correlli who stopped in front of the large mohogany desk near the rear of the room. Corelli and the don went back a long time, the two were good friends aswell as buisness parteners,

"Frank, one of the dock yard dogs called..the boys have made contact.."

The Don turned around and smiled, he was in his early 40's and was very well respected by other familys and his own,

"Good Ralph, the other familys might see this as an act of defyance..i want that cleared up and send another car to jersey to get the russians.."

Corelli lowered his head to the Don and replyed,

"No problem Frank..it'll be done.."

The Don was on a first name basis with ralph because they had known eachother ever sence the beginning,

"I know ralph, you always do the best job a sicilian Consigliarie is capible of.."

Ralph grinned and picked up the phone and called Santorelli's compound, Don Nitti took a seat in a large comfy looking chair and took a cigar from the box on his desk.....

OOC:I posted this before but accidently but it in a edit lol...so here it is...

Tom Jenkins, consigliere for the Santorelli family, was going over some numbers with the Don when the phone rang. " Jenkins here." A surprised look grew on his face. " Well hello there, Ralph. Long time no see." He glanced over at the Don, who waved at him to go ahead. " Yeah, we heard about the Russians. Ralph, what the hell are you guys doing with Russians? Aren't there enough good Sicilians around to work for you?"

Ralph replyed to Jenkins,

"Well tom, alot more russians are comming in these days which means if they are not controlled there will be alot less good siclians...this isn't really the time to get into detail but if we could set up a meeting that would be great..the men we have managed to contact arn't the kind that need to be loose in the streets.."

He paused..

"It's in everyones best interest Tom.."

Don Nitti sat in the chair listening to Ralph while smoking his large cigar, he blew some 'O's'...

Ralph awaited a reply....

EDIT: Nevermind that OOC. I read it incorrectly.


IC:

Without even noticing it, Melehov had dragged his Walther and his knive. Good for the gangsters, he had been leading people for so long now that he remembered his responsibility over their lives. As their soon-to-be employees talked to him, trying to withdraw, he took the opportunity to avoid firefight. The distance was too short and they weren't properly armed.

Slowly he started to walk backwards, staring the man who had just thrown the worst possible insult in the world at him and his men.

"I remember you. And your mother, the cheapest whore in America. Ya budu udivaju tebja..." he said, with an ice cold tone, and got into the truck with the other mobsters.

Tommy, Carlo, Alex and Patrick all laughed at the comment the russian had made,

"That was good..that was really good ahaha..right off the boat and already on the bad side of those goons..."

Carlo exclaimed as the car sped off lead by the truck,

"I thought them ruski's were gonna lose it..they look like a bunch i wouldn't mess with .."

Alex replyed making a turn onto a side street, Tommy spoke up,

"They were nazi's wern't they?"

Patrick replyed,

"No, not exactly..they didn't agree with the communist movment in russia so they joined the krauts..."

Carlo added,

"They are no longer nazi's...they work for the don..."

Tommy continued..

"But russians...common Carlo! there are lots of young ambitious Sicilian fella's out there who need the work"

Carlo raised his voice,

"Tell me somthin' i don't know!..jesus...just shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride...these russians are a good investment..."

Reallydrunk']Ralph replyed to Jenkins,

"Well tom, alot more russians are comming in these days which means if they are not controlled there will be alot less good siclians...this isn't really the time to get into detail but if we could set up a meeting that would be great..the men we have managed to contact arn't the kind that need to be loose in the streets.."

He paused..

"It's in everyones best interest Tom.."

Don Nitti sat in the chair listening to Ralph while smoking his large cigar, he blew some 'O's'...

Ralph awaited a reply....


" Sounds like a plan, Ralph. Where and when?"

Nitti's consigliere didn't know about the meeting between Don Vito and Massena who were to discuss the Russians. Tom wanted to keep it that way.

Ralph was a quick thinker and came up with a location rather quickly,

"Al Sapenzia's resteraunt, south bronx..3:30 tomorrow afternoon...you know the deal tom, it's a good location..the cops won't stick their nose around..

He awaited a reply...

Don Nitti nodded and took another puff of his cigar letting out a cloud of smoke....

Parenzi's Bar

Pots and Sergio walked into the bar. It was the main hangout for the Massena soldiers. The bar tender, Michael "Tubs" Parenzi, in his late thirties and a bit chunky. "Hey Pots, you got a phone call"
"Thanks Tubs." pots replied and they went behind the bar into the back rooms. The phone was off the reciever.
"Hello?" he said.
"Pots, this is Nat. The Don is going to meet with Don Santorelli tomorrow kight at Rratelli's in Hoboken. You and Sergio are going to guard him. There shouldn't be any trouble." replied Flaherst.
"Sure, you can count on us" Pots said and hung up. he went to desk and opened a drawer. Inside was a snub nose .38 special. He tossed it to Sergio
"Ever use one of these?" he asked
"Sure, no problem. This end points towards the other guy." he joked
"We're guarding the Don tomorrow night, be ready" he said. The two of them sat with some others and threw back a few beers and good stories.

"Pjotr, those Italians called us commies. Italians... of all people, ITALIANS are the ones to come insult us, and get out it alive..." Jevgeni mumbled, about as much to himself than to his brother and leader sitting next to him.

They weren't uncomfortable at all, since it sure wasn't their first ride on a truck. And atleast this road wasn't bombed to be just a long line of craters, like some roads in Europe had been.

Slowly, smoking passionately to calm his nerves, Melehov responded;

"I know... I know what you mean, and I feel the same way. But it wasn't the right place, not the right time. Besides, you heard what I said to him... Ya budu ubivaju tebja (I will kill you). If an opportunity appears, I will use it."

"These men who hired us. They're also Italian." The speaker was Panzerschreck-Boris, a big gorilla-looking man who rarely talked, and it silenced the truck for a second.

"Yes, true. But remember, these Italians aren't the same Italians we saw in Yugoslavia. These may have guts... and these may eevn know how to fire their weapons." Melehov said, smiling again as he thought about the pathetic Italian conscripts they had fought side by side in against Tito's partisans.

"In any case" he continued, "we will not let them fuck with us. I don't think they will, since they knew our value, but still. We don't have to take shit from anybody... we're COSSACKS, GODDAMIT!"

The truck pulled down a back alley behind modini's where Santino,Christopher Soprano,Fredrico Leone and Rocco Gatto stood waiting. The car pulled in behind them and turned off, the tarp was lifted and the russians hopped out,

"Ahh heya fella's! welcome to america.." Santino put on a big smile and extended his hand

He had never shook hands with a russian before but times were changing quickly.

Carlo and the others got out of the car,

"Ey boss, everything went good..just acouple of goons guarding the dockyards but they didn't put up too much trouble..pissed off the russians a bit though..dropped the C word..

he reported quietly...The capo grinned..

Santino nodded and turned his attention back to the russians,

"We will get you some new clothes, a nice warm bath and some grub at the hotel across the street"

"If you need..just ask..later on we will discuss buisness.."

Reallydrunk']Ralph was a quick thinker and came up with a location rather quickly,

"Al Sapenzia's resteraunt, south bronx..3:30 tomorrow afternoon...you know the deal tom, it's a good location..the cops won't stick their nose around..

He awaited a reply...

Don Nitti nodded and took another puff of his cigar letting out a cloud of smoke....


" Sapenzia's it is. Good talking to you, Ralph. See you there."

ooc: there is actually a Sapienza's Trattoria in the Bronx. By Yankee Stadium.

Nitti Compound:

Another knock on the Don's door was heard, Ralph covered the receiver and replyed,

"yes?"

The door opened a crack to reveal a large sicilian by the name of Luigi Bellomo, a soldier in the Nitti family,

"I apoligize for the interruption Don Nitti..the russians have been met.."

Ralph put his finger to his lips quickly to shut up Luigi who quickly shut his mouth...

Don Nitti mouthed ok then motioned towards the door, luigi left closing the door behind him. He walked out into the main foyer to be met by the Don's wife,

"Lugi! i have some left over pasta for you in the kitchen!"

Lugi rubbed his stomach and grinned replying in italian,

"Mrs Nitti, it looks as if i have had enough.."

She laughed and replyed,

"When you are hungry come and i will give you some"

Luigi lowered his head, smiled then strolled out the door into the yard where there were four cars parked in the large driveway and a bunch of men standing around just chatting.

In the Don's office ralph replyed to tom,

"Ok tom, give our respects to Don Santorelli and have a great afternoon"

When the conversation was complete ralph looked at the don,

"Ok, it's done..ooo frank..that large bedroom set for the young miss Angela will be arriving soon in time for her party.."

Don Nitti smiled,

"Yes she's all grown up ralph..17...i can't believe it.."

Ralph smiled and stood up,

"I will sort out the details Frank...relax..."

The don sat back in his chair and sighed,

"Where would i be without you ralph.." the two smiled and ralph left the don..

"Many thanks sir, this very good. There is one thing we like to have if you happen to have, some good big american cigarettes. Germans, Russians, Spain people, their tobacco is shit." Melehov responded with a smile, trying his very best with the language.

Santino grinned and took out a package of marlboro's from his trouser pockets passing them to the russian,

"I'll have some more sent up to your room along with some wine and cigars..it is a privillage working for Don Nitti..you will find that out soon"

Santino continued...

"There are many rewards to those who serve as you men probably know already..the cars..the money..the clothes..and the RESPECT"

The others around nodded and patrick translated so the russians got the whole statement...

Back at the compound Ralph got on the phone calling everyone of importance in the books to attend the Don's daughter Angela's birthday party that would be held on the Nitti compound, the word was put out that the party would be on friday..the day after tomorrow. Angela was very beautiful, everything that a true sicilian young women should be..dark haired..dark mysterious eyes a nice complection and slim figure.

OOC: Don Nitti's party for his youngest girl, shes turning 17...so he will invite members of other familys out of respect.

ooc: just to let everyone know, I work at night, 4 pm-4am. So I won't be online from about 3pm on.

Massena Family Compound

Don Massena sat there. He heard about the birthday of Angela Nitti's birthday party at their compund. He wanted to attend, out of respect. He respected Don Nitti. He hoped that this business with the Russians would not prevent him from attending. If he attended it would be him, Falherst, Matteo Segunde, Gino Bombardo, Pots, and Sergio.

OCC: Bump, I want this to stay on or near the first page for others to see, and marvel :)

OOC: wow, 5 pages so far

Chinatown, NY

Paul Wolfenburg and 4 agents were question people about the murder. This was proof that crime was way out of control. Wolfenburg enters a local dinner and orders a plate of chow mein(sp). He eats with one hand on his Smith & Wesson Model 27 magnum.

14th Avenue, Brooklynn

Joseph slowly walked up the small fleet up stairs to the Apartment door. He opened it, and walked in and brushed off some rain on his left sleeve. He sighed, and crept to his door. He reached down to it with his key, but noticed something. The door was partially cracked open, this concerned him deeply. He put the key back in his pocket, and reached for his pistol. He cocked the hammer back, and with his left hand he slowly pushed the door open...gun in the right hand and at the ready. He waited a few seconds, then through it open and pointed his gun forwards.

Nothing. Nothing but silence, and destruction. He crept around the tipped over files and such, littered trash cans and torn up couch. He murmered 'God Dammit' and continued searching. When he made himself clear that there was no one or nothing in the apartment, he went to the nearest light switch. It was horrible, a damned site. He didn't bother to clean it up, instead sat down on a stool next to his counter and pulled out his pack of cigerettes and a lighter. His pistol sat at his side.

Joseph - "C'mon Joey...I know it is bad for my health...but one will do you in for a good reliefe..."

He took a nice silent drag on the cigerette, suddenly thinking back to Sicily. He was on a small craft amongst many other, heading towards the Island-state. The bullets from the Italian defenses were whizzing past, although nothing impressive was reported, it would be enough to put a small damper on the men. They reached the beaches, and were flushed off the crafts. He ran up, clenching his Thompson as two others behind him held their Garands. He could hear one recieve a bullet, as it made it's soft plummeting sound and then the body's fall into the sand. He reached a stone and he and the other man crouched behind it.

Uknown Private - "The hell are we going to do here man?"

Sergeant Librato ( Joseph ) - "Were going to have to hold out here and wait for some reliefe."

U. Private - "How the hell are we going to do that? The Italians have German armor on their way...or that was what HQ said before we left...how the fuck is this stone going to protect us from a fucking Panzer tank? Hope that a Sicilian Pixie Mermaid will just cast her spell?"

The Sergeant sempt somewhat annoyed by this young man's mouth, but took his words quite seriously. The Italian MG nests would make short work of the Americans and British on their advance, he knew he would have to do something to help take some of the pressure off of the landing zones.

Librato - "Private, whats your name?"

U. Private - "Harrison, sir."

Librato - "Harrison, how much of a load out did the Armory toss you before shipping out?"

Harrison - "Er...just this M1 and a few clips and of course the Colt, why you ask sir?"

Librato - "Because I've got a plan."

Librato quickly explained the plan, or as quick as he could. The Private got the jist of it, and he reached to his belt of Grenades. He unpinned it, and tossed it over the stone as did Joseph. They heard it's crisp explosions and some screams, and heard a few bullets start flying at the stone. Joseph turned and winked at Harrison, he crept up and scanned the horizon. Just a few MGs at this portion of the beach. He turned to Harrison and threw some hand signals, telling him how many there were. He shook his head, and Joseph threw another signal. The signal to shoot. The two men crept up and slung out their guns, and began firing.

Joseph, with the advantage of an Automatic, let out bursts at the nests as Harrison fired his Garand at the men. He went into a reload before Joseph did, reaching to his ammo satchle a bullet flew straigh into Harrison's neck. Joseph let out the rest of his clip, and ducked down. He looked at Harrison, who was squirming around clamping his neck. Joseph had nothing he could use to help Harrison, feeling little shame he pulled out his Colt. He scanned the beach, the troops were slowly advancing...but he didn't feel it was right at all to just let him squirm on the beach and die slowly. The Medics were down the beach, working on some pretty fucked up boys. He sighed, and pulled the trigger. Gulping, he reached down and ripped off his dog tags and his Colt ammo. He holstered his Colt and put the Colt clip into his satchel and grabbed a clip for his Thomspon. He loaded it, and proceded for his second round of bursts.

Joseph - "HEY YOU, YA YOU YA SCHMUCK!"

Joseph yelled, firing rounds at the nearest nest. The MG nest was focusing on the beach below, exposing their flank to the small smg's fire. He killed the nest, with only one nest to go. It began firing on him, and he could tell the soldiers below were making a heavy advance.....

Reality

He finished dragging his cigerette, re-living the old memory. It was strange, sucking on the old cigerette. It made him think about Harrison sucking onto his last bits of breath. It was sad in a way, but he remained from feeling remorse. He grabbed his pistol and holstered it, and began picking up some things.

A few hours later...

His Apartment was, for the most part, put back together. He wasn't entirely sure about what it was about, but had a hint it could have been his meeting with Tommy. It did last a few hours, giving someone enough time with mutual knowledge to just screw the hole place up. His back was somewhat sore, so he went to his couch and lay down. His radio was on, playing an old Japanese song he had grown acustomed too while in Okinawa. He had only occupied it for so many months, but the song was one of few happy memories to leave that hell hole. He looked up into the ceiling as his vision slowly blurred out and he was asleep, snorring.

Nightmares...

Joseph was in his old Pacific Front Uniform, missing some key components such as the helmet, boots and socks. He was sitting on a chair under a light, hearing a few murmurs. A Japanese man came running at him with a sword and stopped with it just at his throat in a stabbing style. Joseph gulped, feeling the sword slice a little into his Adam's apple as it moved up and then down. The man started to speak in hurried Japanese but soon he began to understand it. Not much, just dirty American pig. But then the dream got weird, and there was Harrison. He could tell it was him, he was in the Green-Olive Uniform used for the invaders that day. ( Think of the Uniforms the American Privates - Corporals used on D-Day ).

He walked towards him slowly, the light slowly unveiling his figure. He noticed something grotesque, and then realized it was the innitial bullet wound at the side of his neck, than the second one on his chest. It was harder for him to see as it blended in with the darker colors of the uniform, but he could see where his Colt had made a nice pretty ending of Harrison's story. Harrison looked at him in dis-beliefe, and began yelling at him about shooting him. Saying he could have lived, he could have lived to see his family. It was enough, however, to send Joseph into a cold sweat of waking up.

Reality...

Joseph jumped, clenching his heart. The sun was down, and he could hear the usual silence from outside. Being in New York, one would think it would always be loud, but this part of the City wasn't too bad. He got up and went into his kitchen, and grabbed a glass and filled it with water, slowly drinking it all away. He sighed, and thought aloud.

Joseph - "Perhaps I should start on Tommy's case..."

He finished with a yawn, then thought to himself silently.

Joseph - "Or try to catch some fucking sleep..."

He smirked, and walked to his room. He didn't much care about changing out of his clothes and into something more sleep-casual. The old Japanese song was still playing, he didn't bother to turn it off. He lay down face forward on the mattres and let sleep take him off onto another journey.

OOC - Just trying to establish some stuff. Will start getting involved with others in a bit.

OOC:Good post...

Don Nitti had just got off the phone with Paul Newton a senator in NY, he a family friend would attend Angela's birthday. Another non mafia assosiate attending would be judge Henrich Cross, Nitti and these gentleman went back afew years and all respected eachother.

The invatation was sent to the head of all top familys in the city. It was known to everyone the Don's daughter was his princess and most favorite thing over his empire he worked his whole life to build from nothing.

Don Nitti sat in his office quietly untill one of his Capo's entered the room, it was Carlo D'angleo a real hard ass cold killer, He was dressed in an all white double breasted suit with a matching fedora. D'angelo was one of the more flashy men in Nitti's organization but he always got the job done,

"Boss, Santino called whens he pickin up Anne Marie at her husbands?"

Nitti sat up in his chair and replyed,

"1:30...Alex gotta be picked up from his highschool too..send Bellomo.."

The Capo nodded and left the room.

Parenzi's Bar

Sergio, Pots and three other soldiers sat around a table. Cards, poker chips, and glasses lay everywhere. Sergio rolled up his sleeves.
"Hit or stay?" asked one of them. Sergio thouht.
"I'll stay" he replied, as did the others. They laid their cards down. Sergio had two aces.
"No way! This is bullshit!" shouted Pots.
"Sorry, I'm just that good" Sergio replied and he scooped up the small pile of money. Sergio enjoyed being with the family, they took care of him. He was just another street punk, running with other punks when he got tangled in a street brawl. His best friend was stabbed to death. Pots saw what happened and stopped him from fighting. Telling him that his dfay for revenge would come. And that's what he's been working towards.
"I'm gonna take my winnings and fold, gents" Sergio said.
"Wise decision, I was just about to knock you on the kisser" replied Pots.

OOC: wow, 5 pages so far

Chinatown, NY

Paul Wolfenburg and 4 agents were question people about the murder. This was proof that crime was way out of control. Wolfenburg enters a local dinner and orders a plate of chow mein(sp). He eats with one hand on his Smith & Wesson Model 27 magnum.

Xun walked into his favorite restaurant, followed by ten other members of the Snake Gang. All of them were carrying guns.
"Brother Xun!" the owner of the place said in Mandarin, running over to the group, "I have your table ready!"
"Good man," Xun replied. The group walked over to the table. Xun took his seat at the head, as he always did. His woman, Ju, sat down next to him. Xun ordered a plate of orange beef and lit a fat Cuban cigar.
"So, Ju," Xun said, "Don't you love Chinatown? There used to be twelve triads here, and now, there's only one. And it's us."
"It's great, Xun," Ju said.
"Of course it..." Xun stopped as he saw the back of a white person's head.
"Hey, Da!" Xun shouted to the owner, "Since when do you let foreign devils in here?"
"It's good for business!" Da shouted back.
"Well, the 'good' is canceled out by the 'foreign devil.'" Xun's right-hand man Ru said.
"That still includes 'Business' then!" Da said. Apparently, he heard Ru, who usually spoke Mandarin.
"Chinese to the core, ah?" Xun said in Cantonese. He turned back to the white person.
"Let's go boot his ass back to the white hoods," he said to his left-hand man Tu. Tu nodded and walked into a closet. He came back out with a Mosin-Nagant.
"Hey, fo'an devo!" Xun said in English, standing up and taking out his TT33, "Wha' da heo ah you doing in Chinatown! Go back to yo' nay'bo'hood!"

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (Continued from page 1)

Gruenberg paused, as he didn't know what to say to Aston's demands. Then he spoke. "I need a favor, Mike. It'll benefit you too. I gotta friend in Newark, a Jew named Alfred Rosen. He's good with the low-down on gambling. He knows which horse to bet on at the horse races, he knows which numbers to pick in the lotteries in Jersey City, and I want to see him. He owes me money, although I might be abe to forgive him if he lets me in on his new deals."

"Sure, why not?" Mike patted Gruenberg on the back. "I'll get him."

"Thanks." Gruenberg got up. "I gotta help my wife clean up in the kitchen. I'll talk to ya."

"See ya." Mike left to go to his car.

1 hour later, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

"Newark and New York are getting crowded. Newark has too many small mobs, not enough room to grow. New York's full too, and even worse now that the Chinese are starting up too. There's gonna be a lot of fighting soon. We'll just wade it out." Mike said as he strapped on a Browning 9mm underneath his coat.

His bodyguard, a hitman known as Ralph, didn't reply, but carefully checked the chamber of his Colt 1911, before holstering it in a side pocket.

"We'll pick up this Rosen guy. Two more bodyguards, in the Chrysler, will follow us until we get to Rosen's place, and then circle around the block to keep an eye on things. We get'em, we go. Simple. We should have no problems. The other mobs don't know we're coming we shouldn't be a target. Not that they have anything against us anyway."

Luca Brazo leaned back into the chair. The whore he was with was still asleep. She was tired from a long night. Luca took a swig of whiskey and looked up to the ceiling. He was a big guy, good fighter with a messed up nose, like a boxers'. He carried a huge chip on his shoulders from when Pots broke his nose, he swore revenge for insulting him in front of all those people. His life was consumed with getting rid of Pots. Luca was a down right scoundrel. He had no loyalties and only cared for himself.
"Luca, baby, about my money..." said the prostitute.
"I don't owe you anything, bitch!" Luca yelled as he slapped her around. "I'm Luca Brazo, fucking Luca Brazo!" He threw her clothes at her and shoved her out the door. He threw the bottle against the wall.

Rise and shine sleepy head...

It was sunrise, the radio sempt to have killed it self sometime during the night, and he was feeling crabbier than ever. He was in a pool of drool, atleast it meant he was out cold for the most part. He rubbed at his eyes, looking around then out the curtained window in his room. He smiled, for some reason he just felt like smiling. He got out of the bed, and headed to the shower. He looked into the mirror before undressing, and re-noticed a pretty painful memory. As he took off his shirt, and could see the slit type scar run across his left breast. He had recieved it from a piece of shrapnel in Okinawa, nothing too serious...more or less, just a flesh wound. He shrugged the thought off his mind, turned too his bath with only his pants on and turned on the water.

He proceded to undress.

Some 15...16 minutes later

Joseph was out of the tub/shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He let out a sharp yawn, and headed out of the bathroom. He went into his bedroom and pulled out another pair of clothing and a pair of socks and etc. He removed the towel and dressed himself, and sighed. Same booring look, same booring day, when was he going to get some real excitement? He had nearly forgotten about the break-in while he was gone, so he decided to do a little trick. He knew best not to report it to the Cops, he knew that they would do just about nothing. They had mobs to deal with, and didn't give a shit about a few possible teens just breaking an entry.

He looked around his room, and found what he was looking for. It was a chess box, he slid the lid on the top to it's side and pulled out a brown pawn. He closed the box, and proceded to get his coat and hat. It was moderately cool outside, from what he could tell with a cracked opened window. He closed it as he walked past it, putting the wooden stick back in place as a lock. He put on the coat and hat, and looked for his pistol. He had left it on the counter, out in the open. He didn't care, if he were to die last night then...well...he were to die. He put it on safety and holstered it, and walked out of the door. He didn't bother to lock it, but he placed the Pawn infront of the door conveniently. He shrugged, and then turned to walk down the hall.

He had something to do today, for once in a month, a new case. Tommy's case, and he was going to spend quite a day or so on it. A few bucks gone missing, but the reward was pretty just. He left the complex, and turned to his left. It was going to be a long walk to Manhattan, especially to the central bank there. So he would try his luck, flag down a cab. But these damn Irish drivers were just damn uncaring about their job, then again who would like driving complete strangers around daily? What a shitty job, Joseph thought. He managed to flag one down, and got into the back. He had a few dollars to spare, well more like 33 dollars. But it should be good enough.

Cab Driver - "Where too?"

Joseph - "Manhattan, down by the Central Bank."

Cab Driver - "Sure...hey didn't that place get a job pulled like...a month ago?"

Joseph was a bit intrigued by his question.

Joseph - "Yea, actually, I think it is."

Cab Driver - "Ick...I say becareful, hell I'll drive you about a block or so away...I'll give you a discount too...try not to get your ass smoked, ya' hear me?"

Joseph - "Yea...yea I hear."

The Cab lunged forward, getting onto one of the mainstreets, heading for the bridge to Manhattan. Joseph was pretty bored with himself, gladly contempt to find that there was a newspaper in the back. He grabbed it, it was last month's edition. He began reading it, hell perhaps he could get some names about the Heist...

The New York Times

Joseph scanned through the articles, murder, murder, rape, murder...eh, who ever said New York was a happy place to live in? But towards the bottom right he believed to have found what he was looking for.

6 Killed in Heist, Downtown Manhattan

Debra Winkleson, New York Times, New York City, New York ---

Today 8 masked robbers stormed into the Central Bank in downtown Manhattan, demanding everyone to get on the ground. One of the shooters then proceded to yell at one of the Clerks, demanding 8,000,000 Dollars in all 100 Dollar bills. With out replying, she was shot by the shooter, it has been believed the wound was instantly fatal. The shooter than proceded to yell at another Clerk, the Clerk did as he was told and rounded up a few other Employees. Under the supervision of 3 of the Gunmen, they went into the vault and proceded to begin filling the bags. But then, a brave New Yorker from Brooklynn stood up and attempted to charge at one of the armed men. Sadly, he was shot down. A survivor has been quoted the following -

"It was horrible. The men began shooting at him as he ran at the tallest, and they kept firing after he was on the ground. The tall one was just...just furious, demanding someone to get up, and so my friend Brenda got up, in tears, only to be shot down like the man before. It was horrible..."

But these 3 poor souls were not the only ones to die. Shortly after the 8,000,000 had been packed into bags, gunfire could be herad with-in the vault and 3 of the 4 Employees were shot to death. One managed to fake his death, but is in the hospital suffering grave wounds. The massacre and robbery has been sought out by the Police to be a Mob hit, but are unsure which family is behind it. As some are pointing fingers, the Police are left in a frenzy of little evidence. And now, below, the New York Times shall state the names of those Victims of the Robbery.

Victoria McGowen, the first to be shot dead.
Ex-Army Staff Sergeant George Rimmels, who braved his life to help end the situation only to be shot dead despite his efforts. SSGT Rimmels was the second to die, a Veteran of D-Day he shall be sorely missed.
Brenda Scott, the third to be shot dead.
Michael Jimmerson, one of the three to be slaughtered with-in the Vault.
Sarah Colmes, another of the three to die with-in the Vault.
Ex-Army Sergeant James Harrison, the third of the 3 to have been shot dead.

And Scott Havener, who is in Manhattan General Hospital being treated for wounds in the gut. Our prayers are with you, Scott.

Joseph was shocked, not by the deaths but by one of the names. 'Harrison'...James...Harrison. Was he related to the young Harrison back at Sicily? 'Nah', Joseph thought. Slim chance in hell, but again his title was Sergeant...perhaps they were brothers, seperated by the Army. Joseph pondered only for a little bit, but that was a mystery he could solve later. He had a fat sum of 187,500 Dollars waiting for him. And, besides, of what Tommy did for Joseph back in Okinawa, it would only be right to help him recover some cash.

Cab Driver - "Well...here we are. This is as far as I take you my friend. Here, 8.39."

Joseph - "Yea, thanks. Hey, mind if I take this paper?"

Cab Driver - "Hell...sure...be doing me a favor, been meaning to toss it out and pick up this month's edition."

Joseph smiled, and handed the man his money. He waved and the Cab Driver proceded to find a way to head back to Brooklynn. Joseph rolled up the news paper, and kept it in his left hand. He felt his holster, making sure, and walked towards Central Bank.

Sergio gathered up his money and ran off to the other side of the bar, his friends heckling him.
"get outta here, you bum!" they joked.
"Hey, don't hate me because I'm lucky"
"What are you? One of the micks?" asked Pots. They all laughed and had a good time. Things were good, business was good, the families weren't fighting. The Golden age of the Massena Family has been lasting for many years, and hopefully for much more time. Sergio belted back a beer. His snub nose .38 special was in the shoulder holster. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

Alexander went back to the Bistro the following day. He ordered the pasta again, this time with a white sauce. He slurped up the noodles and thought things out. Won't take long he assured himself.

He carefully checked his Colt under the table, then slipped it back under his coat. Alex wasn't expecting to have to use it, but it was assuring to know a backup full of bullets was at his fingertips should he need it.

Looking around, he slipped a few bills to cover the meal, then watched for Fredo, the restaurant owner. Alex wanted information, and he was sure Fredo would have it. He watched as Fredo walked into the back room, then carefully he got up and slipped in after him.

"Fredo? We need to have a talk." Alex slipped his coat up, revealing his gun, then dropped it again. "I need information. I need work. I want to know everything you know about this Massena family. Lets start with where I can find them."

OOC: By the way, I'll probably only get in a one post in tonight, maybe a few each night. I was wicked surprised to see 5 pages when I logged on.

Fredo was scared. This man came into the back room, flashing a gun, and demanding information. Fredo wasn't one to fight, but he was loyal to the Massenas.
"I shouldn't tell you anything. But seeing how persuasive you are, I guess I'll talk. The Massena Family controls all of Little Italy. They're a powerful family, with deep roots in this community. They got many politicians, cops, etc. in their pocket. They ain't ones to take lightly. Don massena is a good man who runs his family well. Most people like him. If you're lookin' for work, you've come to the right family. Contact Ernesto Vincenzi, he's one of the top enforcers, he's a tough man who's loyal to the don. Talk to him if you're looking for work. Now, could you leave?" Fredo said, hoping the man would leave.

Salvatore " Slats " DiMucci was painting his house, and doing a fairly decent job of it considering the fact that he hadn't done a lick of real work for years. His recent marriage to Maria Lucia Baccegalluppi changed all that. He had been running numbers for a couple of 'free-lancers' for years who Vito Santorelli had turned a blind-eye towards. Slats was a distant relative, his boss was a nice old guy, so, bah fongool, let it be.

So when a late model Plymouth pulled up in front of Slat's house, it wasn't really that unusual. Except this time it wasn't one of those 'nice old guys'.

Michael Pugliese, called by his pals 'Pukey', stepped out of the car. He looked around, lit a Lucky Strike, and walked up the front walk. He was peering into the windows when Slats came around the corner and saw him. " Eh, whatr'e you doin' dere? Get away or......."

Pukey turned to him and said, " Or what?" Slats didn't like this guys looks. Big city Mafiosi, probably New York. " What can I do for you?"

Pukey allowed himself a small grin. " Actually, its what I can do for you thats important. Lets have a beer and talk a while, eh?"


ooc: hey, the meetings with Massena and Nitti are going to have to wait until Sat. afternoon. Crazy busy right now.

OOC: Ok thats cool, im going to post soon here ..

First morning in the New World. Melehov didn't hurry in his morning routines, there was no rush now. He took a shower, smoked one in the balkony with Jevgeni and then proceeded in dressing up. They walked back in to the room, and Jevgeni barked a short command, with a deep, lowered voice
"Up! Weapons! Here!" in Russian.

Pjotr smirked to Jevgeni, pointing his watch. "See this? Guys are getting soft and slow..."

It took almost thirty seconds for them to stand in line in front of him, fully dressed and ready. Jevgeni laughed, but the old Obersturmführer in Melehov didn't really like this. However, it wasn't the warzone anymore, and he wasn't idiot enough to start bitching for something like ten seconds delay in getting up and ready in the morning. Especially when, he suddenly remembered, I'm not even their commander anymore... They just follow me because they want to. He sat down, sipping the wine and thinking about this obvious but still so hardly noticeable change in situation.

After some ten minutes the Cossacks walked the stairs down, to see if any of the Italians would be up already. The clock was 7:15 in the morning.

Fredo slumped back into a chair after the man left. He wiped the sweat off his forhead with a hankerchief. Then he thought of what to do. 'What have I done? What if this guy's got a vendetta? He could just be looking for work or not.' he thought to himself. He ran to the phone to call Ernesto Vincenzi.

Vincenzi was asleep in a chair at his home. He was in his late thirties but still a bruiser. The phone disrupted his sleep.
"Hello?" he asked, still groggy.
"Vincenzi, this is Fredo. I gotta tell you somethin'."
''What is it?"
"Some guy came in here, flashing a gun and demanding information"
"What kind of info?" he asked attentively
"He wanted to know who to contact for work. I guess he's lookin' for work. I gave him your name. What else could I do? He flashed a gun at me. I'm just givin' you a heads up if he comes around." Fredo said nervously.
"Alright, I'll take care of it. It's good that you called me. If you didn't and he came here, giving your name. Well, I'd rather not say what I'd do". Vincenzi hung up on Fredo.

Vincenzi thought about what to do. 'I'll let him come to me' he thought 'And we'll see what he really wants'.

Little Italy

A 1930 Cadillac V-16 pulls up infornt of Fredo's Bistro. Wolfenburg gets out and walks inside, he orders a plate of pasta and eats. Two men enter, he finishes and walks with the two men outside. They stand next to Wolfenburg's car.

"Any info on that murder, boss" ask Robert Muller, a rookie agent.
"The person, who did is big trouble. I want APB on everyone in the area, when it happened."

Muller gets in his Chevy and drives to te field office. Wolfenburg turns to the second man, Freddie Captille, Italian-American and Wolfenburg's second in command.

"Freddie, you and me are going to back to the office to work on the Massena case. First, lets visit the Place Hotel and talk to Malone to see if he and the guys have anything on him."

The men get into the V-16 and drive to hotel to talk to Malone, one of the agents handling the Messena case.

OCC: What's the Massena case? Sorry if it seems to be a stupid question.

OOC: The FBI investigates organized crime, so it's the case aganist the Massena Famliy.

Fredo looked out into the main dining area. There, he saw the man who just left 'I've seen that guy before' he thought 'FBI! This just isn't my day!' He went back into the back room and picked up the phone...again. he dialed Falherst.

Falherst was reviewing some files when the phone in his office rang, he picked it up.
''This is Mr.Falherst" he said.
"Mr.Falherst, this is Fredo. There was a G-man in the bistro today" Fredo said. he got that hankerchef out and wiped his forehead. Falherst quieted his voice.
''Did he ask for anything? Talk to anybody?" he asked.
"No, he just came in, ate, paid and left. But I thought I'd call and tell you"
"You did the right thing. If he comes around, say nothing. Tell the others there as well." Falherst said and hung up.

Fredo slumped back into the chair 'I should just go home' he thought. It was ceratinly an exciting day.

NY Chinatown

A very busy week for Detective Brown as he went from resteraunt to laundromat trying to get a lead on his murderer, accompanied of course by his faithful guide, officer Charlie Wang, who was one of NYPD's best contact in Chinatown, which meant he had alot of relatives there.

Despite this and a whole day's field trip throughout chinatown, a little more than diddly was obtained from questioning the locals. heck, Wang's uncle Benny's dog Brewster gave more leads than these people.

Luckily at the end of the day, a lead finally showed itself, the Lab Boys figured out that the bullet shells from the scene of the murder came from a Tokarev TT33, this meant another field trip soon to the local arms dealers. Maybe shop around for some good bargains while at it.

Macnamera down at the station said some feds were looking the case up and were having dinner at a nearby resteraunt, since it was nearly dinnertime anyway, a pow-wow over some Kung Pow may be in order, after all what's an evening in chinatown without a chat between friends over some Chinese Food? Wang came along.

They entered the resteraunt...

Ernesto Vincenzi. Alexander thought it over. An enforcer for the Don Massena. So he was right, those two were mafiosi. He'd need to get in touch with this Vincenzi fellow, and no doubt the bistro owner had phoned him and warned him. Anyone loyal would.

He felt somewhat guilty for having to scare Fredo, but he was glad he didn't have to pop such a hardworking egg. That Fredo was loyal, Alexander could tell, and he felt sure lucky that he didn't need to really put the screws on the guy. And since he was loyal, he'd have warned Vincenzi. He'd have to tread carefully.

Alexander walked down the street, noticing a phonebooth. He slid himself in and picked up the phonebook. He scrolled through pages, Vincenzi.. Vincenzi. He found the number and dialed.

"Ernesto Vincenzi?"


OOC: Sorry I didn't get back to board to post sooner. Its difficult to get online when I'm at school, or even sleeping. I'm on the EST zone, just to let you'all know

OCC: I'm on EST too.

IC:

Vincenzi took a swig of wine and ate some more sandwich. The phone rang. His wife picked it up and answered it.
"Ernesto! It's for you" she called out. He took off his bib and walked over to the phone and picked it up.
"Who wants to know?" he asked.

Fredrico Leone a soldier in the Nitti family sat downstairs in the hotel playing cards with himself drinking a coffie,

"Heya fellas, rise and shine.."

The front door opened and Patrick the irishmen walked through the door, nodded to Leone then looked at the russians giving them a 'hello' in russian,

"Early risers like you Fredrico..ey?"

Leone grinned, shuffled the cards then got up from the chair heading into the kitchen. Patrick motioned around the room,

"It's ok sit down, relax boy'il's, take a load off..any of yah's drink coffie?"

There was conversation in one of the back rooms of the hotel then Luca Nitti the underboss of the family came out,

"Heey, how yah doin'...welcome to the bronx gent's, names Luca Nitti my fathers the head of this organization...id like to give you my personal greeting"

He extended his hand to the russians. The underboss wore a tan suit with a long tan coat with fur around the top....


##
Nitti compound:

Ralph Correlli, Consigliarie, called Don Massena's compound regarding a rumor of tention between the familys because of the meeting in the dockyards the other day. Rumors always circulated around the city and the truth of the matter had to be brought foward...the Nitti's had always gotten along with the massena's in the past but some one along the line heard somthing somwhere and it got back to the Nitti men in the streets...

The phone rang...

Falherst leered at the phone 'It's a busy day' he thought and regretfully picked up the phone. He didn't enjoy being bothered, especially when he has a large work load. It's not easy being a consigliere.
"This is Nathan Falherst" he said. Hoping that it was a wrong number.

Sal sat and took a drag on his cigarette. The other gang members, Carmine, Carlo, George, Paul, Mike, and of course, his brother Joey, sat around the table.
"I advertised our new business." he declared to all of them. He pured himself some red wine, and raised his glass.
"To the associates, may we grow and prosper, and one day rise in power as a true gang. To my piesanos!" He toasted, and the others followed suit, saying,
"Piesanos!"

Marco spread the word that the Associates were willing to do hits, "scare" people up, do retaliatory attacks, executions, and do "interrogations". They would look at other jobs on a case by case basis.

OCC: I'm on EST too.

IC:

Vincenzi took a swig of wine and ate some more sandwich. The phone rang. His wife picked it up and answered it.
"Ernesto! It's for you" she called out. He took off his bib and walked over to the phone and picked it up.
"Who wants to know?" he asked.


"The names Boukouvalas, Alexander. I'm looking for work, and I was told by a bistro owner that you'd be the man to contact. Yes?"

Ralph replyed to Falhurst,

"Hello, Nathan how are you it's Ralph Corelli here and uhh i was wondering if Don Massena was attending Angela's birthday party tomorrow afternoon? if so there is somthing well..that must be discussed between our familys, would that be at all possible..?"

Ralph waited for a reply on the other end of the line. Meantime preperations for Angela's party were well underweigh, the back yard stretched out green with a wall going all the way around. The backyard was made up of a garden, a large in ground swimming pool, a gesebo and lots of lawn chairs. The don and his family stood outside watching the things get set up.

Vincenzi wasn't suprised by who called, he expected it sooner or later. He thought for a moment.
"Why should I give you any work? You burst into that bistro, flash your gun, demanding info. Yeah, real tough buddy" he said, slightly irritated.

Falherst was pleased by who it was and that the message wasn't an unhappy one. "Yes, the Don, myself, Matteo Segunde, Gino Bombardo, and two others will be attending. We are happy that we are invited. Hopefully what we need to discuss will be dealt with quietly." he replied.

Vincenzi wasn't suprised by who called, he expected it sooner or later. He thought for a moment.
"Why should I give you any work? You burst into that bistro, flash your gun, demanding info. Yeah, real tough buddy" he said, slightly irritated.

Alexander took a moment to think. Tough cookie. He'll need some cracking "Perhaps you should give me work because I left Fredo living and able to warn you of this call, instead of plugging a few shells into various body parts." Alexander thought a moment more, "Mostly though, I'm in need of work, and I heard the Massenas was a respectable family. And I happen to be looking for a family."

He paused for a response.

Ralph replyed to Falherst with a cheerful tone,

"Well thats great Nathan, Don Nitti will be pleased you will be attending his daughters party.."

*pause*

"It is not bad news just a little somthing to sort out, it will be cleared up quietly..really isn't much haha, well uhh nathan give our respects to Don massena and wish him good health..have a great day"

He awaited the final responce....

''Yeah, we're respectful family. Loose canons just give us a bad name. Killing Fredo would've been a BIG mistake on your part. You'd be hunted down and I'd gut you slow. I don't like your attitude. We'll see if their's work for you. perhaps we could put your expertise to work. But work on that attitude. Treating someone with respect goes alot further than a bullet." Vincenzi replied.

"I'm glad to hear that. Can't wait to be there. We can catch up on old times" Falherst responded.

Ralph grinned,

"Yes..after afew drinks hey! ahaha yes..the old days..well nathan i must be going, lots of calls to make...this party has to have no flaws, some singer from Chicago is comming up i guess..i forget his name now..but..off topic, have a good day nathan"

Alexander resisted the urge to tell Vincenzi to fuck off. He figured his mouth might get him shot one day. He sighed, "Hey yeah, attitude. I'll work on it." Alexander calmed down, the man was right, loose canons made business dangerous. He felt sudden stupidity for even showing Fredo his gun. That was a mistake on its own... it was very unprofessional.

He looked through the glass. It was starting to rain. Fuck. he thought. He'd forgot his hat. Alexander was having an off day. Off days weren't professional.

"Hey. You still there Vincenzi? So we gonna meet? Where and when?"

"I'm not doin' anything now. let's meet at Fredo's Bistro. Fredo's been having a bad day, he was roughed up by punks and you flash your gun. He's taking the rest of the day off, so we won't have to deal with him. See you there" Vincenzi said and hung up. He redialed the phone to the Immigrants Bar

''Pots, this is Vincenzi...Yeah, I'm fine...You and Sergio get down to Fredo's I'm meeting someone and I want him to get a warm reception...Okay, see you there" He hung up. He walked to the closet and put on his coat and hat and walked out to the Bistro.

Pots and Sergio made the trek in the rain and waited in the back room. Pots slipped on some brass knuckles and shoved his hands in his pockets. Sergio leaned up against the wall and waited.

Irish beatcop Micheal Beaton strolled down the street and seen the two men hanging out on the corner,

"ey boyil' what ye waitn' for?"

The big cop towered over the man leaning on the wall. Beaton was called the ox on the force, he was 6'4 and weighed about 240lbs. Micheal Beaton was young man who had a family and making a beat cops pay they barely got by accept when he had dealings with familys around the city...more than any the Nitti family.

He was a crooked cop and would turn his head to bribes of an acceptable price range, if beaton wasn't happy everone knew.

He tapped his billyclub on his left hand softly making a little tap noise on his leather gloves...

Alexander hung up the phone. He looked out the booth at the rain, only to be reminded of his stupidity. He was having a bad day, and he knew it. The fact that the bruno wanted to meet right now, back at the bistro, disturbed him. Also the fact that Vincenzi had associated him with the same punks he watched get beat to pulp worried him. He tapped his coat, feeling his insurance again.

He pulled open the booth door open, feeling the rain splash on his face. The bistro wasn't far away, but he figured he'd be soaked when he got there. Damn. Wet like a rat. Thats not good for presentation. He hurried to the bistro.

OOC: I have to leave off there for the night.

NY Chinatown

A very busy week for Detective Brown as he went from resteraunt to laundromat trying to get a lead on his murderer, accompanied of course by his faithful guide, officer Charlie Wang, who was one of NYPD's best contact in Chinatown, which meant he had alot of relatives there.

Despite this and a whole day's field trip throughout chinatown, a little more than diddly was obtained from questioning the locals. heck, Wang's uncle Benny's dog Brewster gave more leads than these people.

Luckily at the end of the day, a lead finally showed itself, the Lab Boys figured out that the bullet shells from the scene of the murder came from a Tokarev TT33, this meant another field trip soon to the local arms dealers. Maybe shop around for some good bargains while at it.

Macnamera down at the station said some feds were looking the case up and were having dinner at a nearby resteraunt, since it was nearly dinnertime anyway, a pow-wow over some Kung Pow may be in order, after all what's an evening in chinatown without a chat between friends over some Chinese Food? Wang came along.

They entered the resteraunt...

Ru heard the door open and looked over.
"Brother Xun," he said in Cantonese, pulling out his Walther PP, "More foreign devils."
Xun growled, "FUCK! WHY THE HELL ARE THESE FUCKING MUTANTS ALL COMING TO CHINATOWN!"
The other Snake Gang members all pulled out their guns. Most of them were the older Tokarev TT30s, but there were a few oddballs, like M1911s.
"I DON'T WANT TO SEE THESE FUCKING FOREIGN DEVILS ALIVE EVER AGAIN!" Xun shouted in Mandarin to his men, "KILL THEM!"
All the men nodded and began shooting at the police on both sides of them.

Salvatore " Slats " DiMucci was painting his house, and doing a fairly decent job of it considering the fact that he hadn't done a lick of real work for years. His recent marriage to Maria Lucia Baccegalluppi changed all that. He had been running numbers for a couple of 'free-lancers' for years who Vito Santorelli had turned a blind-eye towards. Slats was a distant relative, his boss was a nice old guy, so, bah fongool, let it be.

So when a late model Plymouth pulled up in front of Slat's house, it wasn't really that unusual. Except this time it wasn't one of those 'nice old guys'.

Michael Pugliese, called by his pals 'Pukey', stepped out of the car. He looked around, lit a Lucky Strike, and walked up the front walk. He was peering into the windows when Slats came around the corner and saw him. " Eh, whatr'e you doin' dere? Get away or......."

Pukey turned to him and said, " Or what?" Slats didn't like this guys looks. Big city Mafiosi, probably New York. " What can I do for you?"

Pukey allowed himself a small grin. " Actually, its what I can do for you thats important. Lets have a beer and talk a while, eh?"


ooc: hey, the meetings with Massena and Nitti are going to have to wait until Sat. afternoon. Crazy busy right now.



Pugliese downed the beer, smacked his lips, and asked, " Your'e related to Santorelli, aintcha?"

Slats narrowed his eyes. 'So thats it', he thought. " Yeah, he's my mother's second cousin's uncle. So what?"

" How often do ya see him?"

" Christmas and Easter."

" Well, Christmas is six months away and Easter's already passed. Your'e gonna have to see him again....soon."

Slats slammed his hand on the table. " I don't gotta do nothin'! Who the fuck are you to tell me what I gotta do?"

Pugliese's face got hard, all joviality gone. " I'll tell you who I am. I'm your worst fuckin' nightmare. Your'e gonna do what I say or your wife and kids are gonna die. Got it?"

Slats was furious. But....he had his family to consider. " What do you want?"

Pugliese grinned. " See, that wasn't so hard. All I want you to do is let him know that his business is soon gonna be my business. I been dickin' around for too many years....now I'm gonna make my move."

" Your'e crazy," said Slats. " If your'e gonna muscle your way into the rackets, you should pick on someone smaller, work your way up. The Don will have you bumped off in no time you fuck wit him."

Pukey grinned again. " Yeah, we'll see who bumps off who. You just get the message to him." He tossed a C-note on the table. " There's more where that came from. Ciao."

As Slats watched the Plymouth drive away, he had a bad feeling.....

Manhattan Central Bank

He walked in, able to see a slightly shaded red mark on the ground. He brushed it off for now, but could only guess what it was. He looked around, some of the Clerks seeming nervous. He felt somewhat sad for them, having to go through all that. But he thought back to the war and just grinned. He walked up to the front counter, and started to ask his questions.

Clerk - "How may I help you sir?"

Joseph - "Uh, yea, I'm here to investigate the robbery that happened here around...a month ago I think it was. Just need to ask you and some of your Co-Workers a few questions, won't take much of your time. I promise."

Clerk - "Why do you even want to know anything about that horrible incident? You damn Police did nothing about it, nothing at all. You walked around, sat, ate a few donuts, and left. So what? You think comming back and doing your job some weeks after just leaving us will make it all better?"

Joseph - "Yea, there's a problem there. I'm not a Cop, I'm a Detective. Please, vent your anger out a bit if you have too, but lets try and keep away from some Cop joke, okay?"

Clerk - "........f...Fine. I guess I can try to help, but my Therapist has told me to keep out of those memories. What is it you wanna know?"

Joseph - "Well for one, did you or any of the others here catch a visual of how the men looked like?"

Clerk - "Hell if I know, they were all wearing Harry Truman masks. But one wasn't a man, per say, one sempt too slim. Infact, this one's chest sort of 'protruded' if you know what I mean. Pretty nice ones too..."

Joseph just sighed, he was talking to an idiot.

Clerk - "...But yea...umm...no nothing really, nothing at all. They were just all big...but the ones who were yelling had a thick Irish accent. They were all pretty big too, like they lifted weights. And they all carried Tommy Guns of the sort, different from what I heard the Military issued one is. Kind of a...large circular clip, or whatever it is these Military guys call 'em."

Joseph looked at the man, well atleast the Irish part helped a little.

Joseph - "Well...is there any thing else you can tell me? Anything at all?"

Clerk - "Umm...you can go find Barb, she saw something over by the vault. Poor babe, I'm surprised she even bothers working here anymore."

Joseph - "Thanks, where can I find her?"

Clerk - "Here...hold on."

The Clerk turned around and walked into some sort of office, headed out and went to the back area. Soon he emerged with a short brunette.

Clerk - "This is Barb, umm, yea I already told her who you are. So yea, I gotta get back to work, you guys can go in the back if you want. Gets pretty loud up front at this time of day. Well, see ya...eh...what was your name?"

Joseph - "Joey."

Clerk - "Yea, uh see ya Joey."

Joseph and Barb walked into the back, it was dimly lit but he could still make out most of the damage. There was a few bullet holes, even a casing he almost stepped on. Barb looked at him all weird, and began speaking.

Barb - "I see that you brought a gun."

Joseph, surprised, looked at her and said.

Joseph - "Oh...yea, protection. Sorry if it is bothering you, but I don't know what else I can do. Don't think I can pull it out in the middle of a bank."

Barb - "Yea...so...what is it you wanted to ask?"

Joseph - "Well, I just need any information you can give me from the robbery last month. Your friend over there said you saw something, infact I think he mentioned you were by the Vault when it happened."

Barb, taking a moment with a few tears comming out of her eyes, began her reply.

Barb - "Y..yea. I saw something."

She turned away a little, so the dim light could hide her tears. But it was too late, Joseph had noticed them.

Barb - "I saw...the whole thing actually. One of the bigger men was attacked by one of the Clerks in the vault, with a money bag. It knocked his mask off, and that is when the shooting began. He and the others were killed, and then the robers began filling the rest of their bags with money and stormed out. The man had already put his mask back on, holding it on with one hand as his left one held onto a large sack of money."

Joseph, trying his best not to upset the little damsel, continued on with his questioning.

Joseph - "Did you happen to catch a good look at his face?"

Barb - "Yea...it is trange though...*sniffle*...he didn't look very Irish. He was sort of...he looked kind of like a bigger version of you, with a sort of scar on his right cheak. I'm not too sure about anything else, the second I saw him pull out his gun, I ran and hid. Didn't come out until an hour after the cops arrived I think. I just...couldn't do much but cry."

Joseph - "Thanks. I'm sorry to have bothered you, umm...I gotta go now. Thanks very much for your cooperation."

He shook her hand, his eyes gleaming with confusion. Tommy was the only thought that could cross his mind. He smiled and turned away, but she had noticed the look in his eye. She pondered for only a moment, and went back to work. He left the bank, and decided to read the Newspaper again to see which Hospital the one man was staying at. Manhattan General Hospital. He turned to the streets to hail a cab, he got one. But soon it was a mistake.

Joseph - "Thanks. Hey, I need to get to Manhattan General Hospital as fast as you can."

Cab Driver - "Oh not today sonny. We're going on a different kind of trip, you're going to come with me and you are going to have a nice talk with the boss."

The Cab Driver laughed, Joseph could hear a click on the pistol. Joseph couldn't reach his gun without being shot at first, he would just have to go along with the man.

OOC - VERY IMPORTANT.

Anyone want to be the Mob who put the kidnap hit on me?

"Vendetta part I"

The cab driver took Joseph for a little ride. About a few miles away the cab stopped at an apartment building. The cabbie took out a gun and escorted Joseph to one of the apartments. He knocked on the door and Joseph went in first. By the window stood Luca Brazo, gazing outside. He turned, showing the scar on his face. He smiled and took the cigar out of his mouth.
"Well, we meet at last" He said "I've heard about you, seen your face in the newspaper. You're investigating the bank robbery. You're getting a bit too nosy, don't you think? You're in deep now, mac."

OCC: How's that?

Ru heard the door open and looked over.
"Brother Xun," he said in Cantonese, pulling out his Walther PP, "More foreign devils."
Xun growled, "FUCK! WHY THE HELL ARE THESE FUCKING MUTANTS ALL COMING TO CHINATOWN!"
The other Snake Gang members all pulled out their guns. Most of them were the older Tokarev TT30s, but there were a few oddballs, like M1911s.
"I DON'T WANT TO SEE THESE FUCKING FOREIGN DEVILS ALIVE EVER AGAIN!" Xun shouted in Mandarin to his men, "KILL THEM!"
All the men nodded and began shooting at the police on both sides of them.

NY Chinatown

It happend in a couple o' seconds,

As detective Brown followed Wang over to the Feds table were sitting, Wang suddenly stopped as the unmistakeable sound of some Chinaman yappering loudly in front. Couldn't make out the face, Wang was on the way.

Suddely Wang turned around and shoved the detective and himself over the counter, in that split second the detective made out the outline of theface which perfectly fitted the murderer's description, was he his man?

The Gunshots that followed answered this stupid question, For the first time since the war Michal Brown was pinned down again in another shootout, the detective mused himself as he grabbed the now empty-bowl of hot soup which he landed on and chucked it over the counter while pulling out his standerd issue revolver.

"Is service usually this bad, Wang?", he fired a few shots, "I wonder how the feds are holding up back there"

It happend in a couple o' seconds,

As detective Brown followed Wang over to the Feds table were sitting, Wang suddenly stopped as the unmistakeable sound of some Chinaman yappering loudly in front. Couldn't make out the face, Wang was on the way.

Suddely Wang turned around and shoved the detective and himself over the counter, in that split second the detective made out the outline of theface which perfectly fitted the murderer's description, was he his man?

The Gunshots that followed answered this stupid question, For the first time since the war Michal Brown was pinned down again in another shootout, the detective mused himself as he grabbed the now empty-bowl of hot soup which he landed on and chucked it over the counter while pulling out his standerd issue revolver.

"Is service usually this bad, Wang?", he fired a few shots, "I wonder how the feds are holding up back there"

"Brother Xun!" Da complained, "Bad for business..."
Xun didn't even respond. He was so mad he couldn't think straight. Bullets flew at his men, cutting one down.
"YOU GOD DAMN FOREIGN DEVILS!" he shouted, "YOU PIECES OF TRASH KILLED A SNAKE! I WILL WALLPAPER MY HOUSE WITH YOUR UGLY WHITE SKIN!"
Tu had his Mosin-Nagant, the one he carried when he fought with Mao Zedong back in China, so he wouldn't be needing his TT33. Xun grabbed it from Tu's sport coat pocket and began firing at the cops who had just come in, not even bothering to aim very well.
Meanwhile, most of the other Snakes ducked behind tables and fired at the police.
"Jin!" Ru said to a nearby Snake, handing him a firework the triads used to call help, "Go shoot this off so we can bring in the big guns."
Jin nodded and slowly began crawling towards the back exit.

The seven members of the Associates walked outside. There was an old "friend" of George Rosario's, a cop who had always taken meat without paying up. He would pay now. George and Michael found him, strolling his beat. Mike walked up behind him. He tapped him on the shoulder, and punched him in the face. George grabbed him, and the pulled him behind a building. Mike held him down, and George took his weapons.
"Where's my money, [i]Officer[i]?" He asked mockingly. He punched him in the gut, and Mike let him curl up on the ground. "Do you wish you payed up?" Mike and George turned to talk, and the cop got up, and ran. Five men appeared on the other end of the alley way. They each held an M1 Garand. The cop paused, and turned back around. He was met by George's fist. he fell down, and crawled backwards, only to be kicked by five men. Mike and George picked him up, and pulled him out, and put him in a car. All 7 men jumped in. The cop kept begging,
"Let me go, please, I'll pay you back!" He was told to keep his mouth shut. They pulled up in a small baskteball court, where he liked to pick on the kids. Duct tape was placed over his mouth, and he was thrown out of the car. A rope was tied around his neck, and another end thrown around the hoop without a net. His hands were tied, as well as his feet. He was hoisted so his toes touched the ground. He gagged. George gave him one final punched across the face. George then pulled out a pistol, and whacked him the balls.
George attached a silencer, and shoved it in between his ribs, and pulled the trigger. The cop groned, and blood soaked through his clothes. Blood came out of his nose, so George taped that up too. Carmine said,
"George, thats kind of cruel." George responded, "He deserved it."
The blood,unable to get through the tape, trickled into his lungs. He would drown on his own blood. They then hoisted him up, and he was left hanging. They pulled away, and he drowned on his own blood.

After Luca gave his little chat he told the cabbie to watch Joe for a minute while he makes a call. 'Now to get some help' he thought and grabbed the phone with his big butcher's hands and began dialing. He heard about these people called The Associates and what they do. They were perfect for his plan.

The phone in the second floor office rang. Salvatore answered it, saying,
"Associated Food Company, Salvatore speaking." He always answered this way, just incase they were cops. However, this number was the one known only by the underworld. "What can I do for ya?"

''This is Luca Brazo. I have a job for you, one that pays well. being the person you are I'm sure you have heard of Renzo "Pots" Patalia? I want you and your associates to find him. Make him hurt but don't kill him. Once you have him, and tell me where you are. I want to kill that pig myself." Luca replied, taking a drag of his cigar. The cabbie still had a gun pointed towards Joe who sat on the couch. "Is this acceptable?" Luca asked.

Alexander turned into the bistro. The rain had dretched his light gray overcoat, and seeped onto his dark green pinstriped suit. He was still pissed he'd forgot his hat, and now was worried that he made a mistake by not taking his grease-gun too.

It was getting late, and the bistro was mostly empty. Glancing around, he didn't see anyone who looked like he matched the name "Vincenzi", so he found a seat near the back, sitting himself against the wall, able to view the door, and the rest of the restaurant.

He didn't bother taking off his overcoat; hopefully this would be a fast meeting. Calm was setting in, taking control over the saddening unprofessionalism of the past few hours. He made sure his gun was within good reach of his hand. He normally kept it loaded with dum-dums (hollow points), and today wasn't an exception. A hollowpoint tended to make a bigger mess, but a more lethal wound. Something his job called for.

Alexander looked towards the door and waited.

Pots looked out into the dining room 'Shit, he's here' he thought.
"Okay kid, our friend is in the front, we're just gonna wait here, okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, that's fine" Sergio replied.

A few minutes later Vincenzi walked in, the door hit the bell and he took off his hat. He saw the man he was looking for.
"Nice day, eh?" he said "let's go into the back room, more private. There's still people in here." he said and hung his hat and coat on a rack.

"Hey yeah, the backroom thats so private that I got all that juicy info from Fredo? No thanks pal. I'm young, but I ain't that naive. Sit." Alexander felt like he did something right. The backroom was certainly not a good idea. It had been so easy to sneak up on Fredo. No way he was gonna let that happen to himself.

Pots rubbed his forehead "I guess we don't get to wack him on the kisser for messing with Fredo. Sergio, keep that gun in your pocket but keep it on our friend, just in case. We'll just be there to let him know not to do anything" Pots said.
''Alright" Sergio said and put the gun in his pocket, they walked out to let their presence be known.

"Don't worry about them. Their just associates." Vincenzi said 'So, you're looking for work?".

Sergio stood there, his eyes on the man, ready for anything.

OCC: They weren't going to kill him. Just hit him once to teach him a lesson

OOC: Yeah, I know. That'd be against "no killing important people without important reasons" part. To clarify, Alexander is kinda new to contract killer world, but he's smart, and he tries to maintain professionalism. He wouldn't get duped into going into the same private room that he just used a few hours ago for similar purposes. Edit: Don't worry, you'll get your chance to wack him soon enough, since he's bound to screw up somewhere.

IC:

"Associates, eh?" Alexander was tempted to hand Vincenzi a bunch of flippant things that associate could imply, but he thought better of it. "Well. Yes. Looking for work. I'm looking for a family." And I'm looking for money he thought, .. But money will come soon, I'm sure.
"I'm looking to get under the bountiful udders of New York's great tits."

"You've come to the right family. We may seem harsh and cold to you now, but that's because you're an outsider. Once you become part of the family, it's muc nicer. the benefits for working for us are pretty nice, just ask Sergio. Right Sergio?" Vincenzi asked. Sergio just nodded. "The family's lookin' to expand. We've pretty powerful here, but our influence isn't that as vast outside the city. We need more people, professionals. You've proven not to be as half-assed as I thought previously. You've come armed, you wouldn't go in the back room. But instead we're here, in the open with other people. My respect for you has increased a bit. Sergio, bring us some wine" he said.

Sergio got a bottle of wine and two glasses and put them on the table. Vincenzi poured the wine and took a gulp.

Alexander felt his pride go up at the slight complements he recieved. He allowed a small smile to grow on his face, although he wasn't quite ready to let his guard down. This Vincenzi guy was dangerous; he had a good eye to see that gun in his coat, but even still, he was happy to have the matter in the open.

Once Vincenzi took a gulp, Alexander felt safe enough to take a sip in turn. "Professionalism is something I strive for. Maybe I'm just who you need." He eyed the wine before taking another sip. "Perhaps there's a way I can show you just how professional I can be."

Vincenzi thought for a moment "Yes, we could use your help. being with us pays good and you gain so many connections. It's a very good career move for someone in your field." he said and took another drink "At the moment there's nothing going on that requires your expertise, but soon enough there will be. I think storm clouds are on the horizon and you'll be called upon soon. Consider yourself an associate of the Massena Family." he said and raised his glass in a toast.

Alexander raised his glass. "To the Massena Family then". He tried not to let his relief show on his face. "So what from here," he found himself saying after he sipped the wine.

"There's going to be a move into either Philly or Hollywood. I doubt the move into Hollywood would be much trouble. But the move to Philly will meet much resistance. There are pig-bastard American ganga there. And their tough. So we'll need you on that one. Until we know for certain, just hang low and don't do anything that would draw attention to the family. The FBI's already investigatin' us" Vincenzi said.

"Hang low, do-able, for sure." Alexander didn't want to poke into the FBI investigation; it wasn't quite his business yet, and nosy people tended to get shot in this business. "So whats in Philly? Just turf, or is there something special we're after?"

"Well, the shippings always good there. And drugs are starting to hit the scene and it's a nearly untouched market. There's good business there. And in Hollywood's got the pictures. That's goin' to get even bigger now as well." replied Vincenzi

"..Pictures, eh." Pictures are gonna be big for sure. Alexander would have to remember to put aside special interest in big-screen pictures. It was much more legal than drugs, and bound to make profit. He brought his mind back to the task at hand: Philly.
"So what type of resistance are we expecting in Philly? How big? How armed?"

"I don't really know all the details. The don, capos, and the consigliere know more about it than I do." Vincenzi replied.

Sergio relaxed a bit, taking his hand off the gun and took his hands out of the pockets. Pots leaned up against the wall.

"Vendetta part I"

The cab driver took Joseph for a little ride. About a few miles away the cab stopped at an apartment building. The cabbie took out a gun and escorted Joseph to one of the apartments. He knocked on the door and Joseph went in first. By the window stood Luca Brazo, gazing outside. He turned, showing the scar on his face. He smiled and took the cigar out of his mouth.
"Well, we meet at last" He said "I've heard about you, seen your face in the newspaper. You're investigating the bank robbery. You're getting a bit too nosy, don't you think? You're in deep now, mac."

OCC: How's that?

Joseph looked at the man at the window, showing no emotion. The Cabbie stood behind him, and the man at the window went to the phone after saying a few words. Joseph began speaking while he was dialing.

Joseph - "Nosy, eh? I've only been on the case for a few days...just picking up where the Cops left off, guess you can say. So, what is the importance of this whole...robbery to you?"

Joseph had the thought of the 180 grand just...go poof. He had a high suspicion that Tommy was a part of the robbery, and now felt he would soon be resting in an unsightly grave as the result of his friend's actions. Joseph could, theoritically, take out the Cabbie and hold the man at the phone by gun point. But he could, theoritically, try and see what the men wanted before he attempted any 'self saving heroics', or die trying to save himself. He awaited the man's response.

"I see. Perhaps we'll meet with the don and the capos later then." Alexander looked at his wristwatch. "Its getting late. Maybe we meet again tomorrow? You pick the place."

OOC: Gotta go in like 5-10 minutes.

OCC: Luca's on the phone in the other room, the cabbie ain't exactly a professional...

The cabbie was getting nervous. He was friends with Luca, due in part by fear oh him. Luca was a loose-cannon maniac.

"Tomorrow's no good chief, I'll call you" Vincenzi replied. And stood up to see Slexander off.

Sergio stood there 'Thank God it's over' he thought.

OOC - I see, didn't know if it was in one room.

Although, theoritically, Joseph may still attempt this. I was just confused, you've held a conversation with your self mostly and I havn't the time to skim through it since I'm going to sleep soon.

Mind if you can make a summed up post I can ready by morning and make another painstakingly long post ( although it takes me like a minute to type all that...no lies lol ) and such to make up for...well...missing out on a page? :-P.

OCC: What do you mean by a summary? I don't know what else to say about it.

"Alright. I'll be expecting it." Alexander pulled his overcoat close and stepped out from the bistro, into the night. The rain had lessened to a drizzle, but the night's creeping edge made it cold and breezy. He walked away rowards his apartment at a steady speed, not looking back.

OOC: Okay, done for the night. G'night all.

Vincenzi saw him walked out and then turned to Pots and Sergio. He was most pleased with sergio.
"Good job kid, you kept your cool the entire time. Cool heads always prevail, it's bad to crack under pressure. You're going to go places in the family kid. Who knows, you could be a made man someday, like me" Vincenzi said.

OCC: Okay, c'ya

The Associates had "commandeered" two cars. Sleek, black, sedans. There were 4 men in the lead car, Salvatore, George, Mike and Carlo, and in the second car was Carmine and Joe. They made there way to New York, where this "Pots" character was reported to hang out. Sal had explained the job, and they had decided that Carmine and Carlo would make the approach. They were new immigrants, so would seem to be looknig for work. They cruised around his known hangouts, and they then saw him, talking with someother thug, and someone who was probably already made. They pulled passed, and around the corner. They needed a change of plans now.
Mike, dressed in his old Captain's dress uniform, with holstered pistol, stepped out, along with Carlo and Carmine. The drivers of the car drove, but everyone else had their weapons trained on the three men, just incase. Captain Marino approached the guy who seemed to be a made man.
"Excuse me sir, I have these two men here looking for work. They fought in the resistance against the Fascists, and are extremly skilled. They do speak English, they learned when I helped them get here. I was wondering if maybe this guy here," he said, motioning to Pots, "Can show them the ropes. What do you think?"

Pots saw them, he wasn't familiar with the captain. But, there are alot of people in the city. He thought for a moment and then turned to Sergio
"I'll catch you later kid" he said and walked off. Pots was too much of a trusting person.
"Who told you about me?" Pots asked as they walked off.

"Who doesn't know about you? Your a rising star." said the Captain. "This is Carmine and Carlo. They're new immigrants from the mother country, fought in the resistance." They turned the block, to where the car was sitting. They had switched cars. In the one car was Sal, Joe, Paul, and George. It was parked a little bit ahead up the street. The car they entered had been emptied, when they switched cars. Carmine and Carlo sat in the back. Mike walked Pots around to the front, and opened the door for him. before he could climb in though, Mike pulled his gun
"If you move, I'll kill you."
The other car from up the street sped up, and skidded to a stop. Joe jumped out, with a club, and whacked him in the stomach. They picked him up, and threw him against the car. Paul and George got out, and tied his wrists with robe, and put duct tape over his mouth. He was thrown into the trunk of the second car, and the sped off.
When the found an abandoned building, they took him out, and tied him to a pole in the basement. Sal called the man who had given them the job, and told him their location.
They beat the crap out of him, and he puked. Carlo, Carmine, Mike, and joe all got Garands and trained their guns at the door, on guard. At Sals order, they would shoot. Sal and George monitored the captive, and they waited. George produced a Pot and said,
"Like your nickname?" He whacked him across the face with it, and in the balls. He pulled a meat clever, and slashed his legs.
They then waited.

"Vendetta Part II"

Luce picked up the phone and was suprised how quickly they did it. Joe was resting on the couch with the cabbie's gun still trained on him. Though, he began to fall asleep. "Take Joe out back and plug him" Luca said. They cabbie rousted Joe and took him into the alley alone...

Luca drove the distance to the warehouse and told the men who he was and they let him through. It delighted him to see his old friend all banged up. Pots looked up and it all began to make sense.
"Well, it's nice to see you Pots" Luca said. His tone cold and he smacked Pots across the face.
"W-why are you doin' this?" Pots asked.
"You're the one who ratted me out. I was goin' to to go places in the family."
"You were a loose cannon, the don told you the bank heist was a bad idea, and forbid you from doin' it"
"They just didn't understand. The score was huge, but they wouldn't have any of it. The plan was perfect, there weren't any flaws!"
"The family doesn't go around robbing banks, and killing innocent people! That's not how we work"
"I did what I had to do, to send a message that this city belongs to us!"
"You're a madman Luca. They'll find you and your friends here, and make you all hurt bad before they kill you!" Pots shouted and spit in Luca's face.
"I'm done catching up on old times. I'm going to kill you, then I'm goin' to teach the Massena's a lesson that they won't forget. I'm gonna be don of New York City!" Luca shouted and pulled out his gun. he pulled the trigger and the shots roared throught the warehouse. He put six bullets into Pots, the blood flew everywhere and Pots fell over backwards, a pool of blood surrounding him.

OCC: This is when they first took him, I forgot to post this, sorry

Sergio began to walk away when he heard the comotion. He drew his gun and ran around the corner where he saw Pots being thrown into the car and he raised his gun to fire. Bu there were people on the streets. "Pots!" he shouted and ran after the car for a distance, but the cars were too fast. He ran back to the Bistro, Vincenzi had already left and there he was, not knowing what to do. Sergio picked up the phone...

OOC: Who's Sergio calling?

OCC: Sergio doesn't know what to do or who to call, sorry if I forgot to put that part in.

Sal asked Lucas,
"Wheres our payment?"

" Russians, huh? What in hell is the world coming to. Anyway, let's set up this meeting. There's a good restaurant in Hoboken, Fratelli's. The best veal parmagian on the east coast. We'll be safe there. Tomorrow night okay?"


ooc: OK, if everyone's ready, let's have Santorelli and Massena meet first, then Santorelli and Nitti. Sorry about the delay.

Luigi Fratelli met the Don and his bodyguards at the door. " Welcome, Godfather, to Trattoria Fratelli. I am honored for you to be here." The Don looked at Luigi for a second. " I remember, my friend, my father bringing me here in the old days. Your father served up the best veal parmagiana in Jersey. What's on special tonight?"

"Anything you want, Godfather. I make it 'specially for you."

Vito glanced at his guys, and with a nod of his head, he said, "Bring them a couple of sausage and pepper sandwiches. No wine for them, though. They gotta pay attention. I'll wait for Don Massena before I order."

Fratelli went white. " Don Massena? He's coming too? Madonna, he's a sly one. Will he be bringing his boys, too?"

Santorelli let the comment slide. He wasn't used to unsolicited comments about his business. The Fratelli's were from the old neighborhood, and there was much business between the two families over the years. A favor here, a favor there. Vito threw an arm over Luigi's shoulder. " My friend, you an' me been around a long time together, eh? When we're in your kitchen shootin' the shit, it's Luigi and Vito. When it's business........well, you know, eh?" Fratelli knew all too well. " Si, Don Vito. Mi capische. Would you like a glass of wine while waiting for Don Massena?"

" Yes, my friend, that would be good."

Vito strolled to his table at the back of the restaurant, motioning for his guards, Charlie and Geno, to sit closer to the front. He hadn't met with Massena for a while now. He was curious as to his take on Nitti's use of mercenary Russians. Vito didn't like it one bit. But, as a man who was slow to speak, he would wait for Massena and Nitti to make their case.

Don Massena, Falherst and Vincenzi walked out of the compound and to the cars. The night was a bit cold due to the rain and they wore their coats. Vincenzi earlier discussed with them about the new assoaciate that he met at the bistro.
"We should be cautious Ernesto, there's enough trouble going on now since the FBI began sniffing around" Don Massena said. As they walked to the car another one approached the gate, the guards were ready for anything, shotguns ready as the car sped closer. It stopped and out came Sergio.
"Pots was kidnapped!" he yelled "Some guys, one of them in a captains uniform took him!"
"Where did they take him, kid?" Vincenzi asked.
''I don't know. It happened not long after you met with that guy"
"Do you think he had anything to do with it?"
"No, no I don't. I've never seen these guys before, I tried to follow but I was on foot." Sergio said, sitting on the curb, he was tired and scared.

The don ran his hand through his peppered hair "This is all we need, Pots kidnapped, just when I'm going to meet Don Santorelli and this whole Russian business! We have to still go to the meeting. Perhaps Don Santorelli has contacts for us." he replied. Falherst stood there is disbelief. It was terrible. Pots was well liked and well respected.

Luca was pleased by how well the Associates did their work. And he was gratified to have finally killed Pots. But that was only part of the plan. He turned to the others.
"You did your jobs well. Let's just leave the body here for them to find it" he said and took out a small sack with money which was quite a bit. "I have more work for you if you're interested." he asked.

OCC: No problem, glad you're still interested.

OOC: I found two websites that have pretty extensive lists of gangster slang and vocab, if you don't know much.

http://www.bugsysclub.com/club/community/info_glossary.htm

http://www.miskatonic.org/slang.html

"The massena families probably after us now. I have to get rid of this uniform." said Mike. He went into the bathroom, took it off, got changed, and left the unfirom next to the body. As a final touch, he removed the pin with his name on it. Instead, he placed a pin that said,
"Captain Williams." He stuffed some paper into the pokets about dark Irish identity.

Sal tok the money, looked it over, and handed it to Paulie, to hold on too.
He then said to Lucas, what does this job entail?"

Luca smiled "It entails bringing down the Massena Family. They casted me away, humiliated me, hunted me and now they're goin' to pay" replied Luca.

"If the pay is good we are in. You should contact all their enemies too."

Luca turned to them "No, not yet. But soon" he replied. Luca had big plans for the city.

Sal nodded his head,
"Very well. You know how to contact us." As they walked out, Sal turned and said,
"Remember, you don't know who did this. Nice working with you." They waited around until Luca's left. When they were certan he was not going back, he payed a bum, who called the cops and called in the body, to make sure no one pulled any funny stuff. George then took the bum to a far away ally, and slit his throat. His body was dumped into the nearest body of water, and the Associates drove off.

OCC: Bump

"Brother Xun!" Da complained, "Bad for business..."
Xun didn't even respond. He was so mad he couldn't think straight. Bullets flew at his men, cutting one down.
"YOU GOD DAMN FOREIGN DEVILS!" he shouted, "YOU PIECES OF TRASH KILLED A SNAKE! I WILL WALLPAPER MY HOUSE WITH YOUR UGLY WHITE SKIN!"
Tu had his Mosin-Nagant, the one he carried when he fought with Mao Zedong back in China, so he wouldn't be needing his TT33. Xun grabbed it from Tu's sport coat pocket and began firing at the cops who had just come in, not even bothering to aim very well.
Meanwhile, most of the other Snakes ducked behind tables and fired at the police.
"Jin!" Ru said to a nearby Snake, handing him a firework the triads used to call help, "Go shoot this off so we can bring in the big guns."
Jin nodded and slowly began crawling towards the back exit.

Things were grim, It seemed like being back in Belgium again; every now and then a close call, men dying or wounded all around, bullets scraping the head every now and then, squad members looking at each other with both hope and despair and some crazy nut shooting at you while shouting in god knows what language.

A couple o' beat cops charged in at some time, crazy rookies, one got pumped full o' holes while the othe got one in the arm, Great, some dead weight. Officer O' Hara though did tell that back up was on the way.

Heck, that what they always told them at the Ardennes, but still there is still some hope for the 7th Cavalry with the Chief on the head to come bustling through with all the commotion these nuts caused. You'd almost think there was a revolution or something, good thing they're so damn inaccurate, good thing he was in the army...

The Detective fired a couple more shots, running low bullets though, Wondering how those Feds are doing? probably got themselves all killed...

Reallydrunk']Fredrico Leone a soldier in the Nitti family sat downstairs in the hotel playing cards with himself drinking a coffie,

"Heya fellas, rise and shine.."

The front door opened and Patrick the irishmen walked through the door, nodded to Leone then looked at the russians giving them a 'hello' in russian,

"Early risers like you Fredrico..ey?"

Leone grinned, shuffled the cards then got up from the chair heading into the kitchen. Patrick motioned around the room,

"It's ok sit down, relax boy'il's, take a load off..any of yah's drink coffie?"

There was conversation in one of the back rooms of the hotel then Luca Nitti the underboss of the family came out,

"Heey, how yah doin'...welcome to the bronx gent's, names Luca Nitti my fathers the head of this organization...id like to give you my personal greeting"

He extended his hand to the russians. The underboss wore a tan suit with a long tan coat with fur around the top....

OOC: I guess I'll jump over this convo, since Luca is already killing people in warehouses and everything... :p
This happened, like, a day ago from the present moment right?


IC:

New York was one hell of a city. These Cossacks had travelled a lot, that must be said, but most of the cities they had seen had been torn down, bombed and destroyed pretty badly. Kiev, Warsaw, Belgrad, Berlin...
All of these were just groups of cottages when compared to the Big Apple. The buildings were high, the streets were long and the people were numerous.
The most important difference was indeed the attitude and behaviour of the people of this city. They looked up when walking the streets, not down like in Europe. They weren't afraid of catching the attention of SS, NKVD, SD, Gestapo... they weren't looking for the nearest shelter for bombing. They were laughing and talking in the streets, catching cabs and moving, moving, moving.
The city was like a beating heart, pulling and pushing people in and out of the centre, never stopping for a rest.

The Cossacks, Melehov being the only one with even somewhat adequate English felt pretty weird in Manhattan. Little Odessa was therefore a really refreshing experience for them. They spoke Russian with every possible person, ate in a restaurant for hours chatting with the owner and spent the evening in a bar, before taking cabs to get back to the hotel.

They entered the lobby, laughing and joking like little kids.


OOC vol_2: Abbassia, not my business or anything, but how did your guys get backup coming? Did the police cars have radios/telephones of some sort in 1946 already?

OOC: In theory, three beat cops hear the gunshots, two run in, one heads to the small red box on the telephone pole marked as "police" and calls for back up, let me know if I am wrong

A few more Snakes got cut down as the fight went on.
'This is looking bad,' Tu thought, even as he expertly fired shot after shot from his Mosin-Nagant at the cops.
The rifle eventually refused to shoot.
'Out of ammo,' Tu thought, rummaging in his pocket for another stripper clip. Nothing: he had already shot them off, and Xun had his TT33.
Tu watched as another beat cop ran in. He bashed the cop over the head with the butt of the rifle. Tu was a big, strong, guy, and he doubted the guy would wake up for a while. Placing the Mosin-Nagant on the table, he picked up the cop's revolver and kept shooting.
Meanwhile, Xun was getting angrier by the second. Angry enough to actually aim. While Xun was not a good shot, it was more effective than what he had been doing.
He put fresh clips into the TT33s and kept shooting.
Finally, Jin got to the back door. He just had to shoot the firework off, and the Snake Gang could have more than twice the amount of cops there, and most of them would have Tommy Guns or shotguns or the like.
Jin slowly, carefully, stood up and opened the back door...