Genocide is sitting in his office, Thinking about his life before he moved to America. The adventures he and his friend went on, The laughs and the tears that came with his adolescent journey. He often liked to think back to his younger days. It got him wondering, What others story's lay untold in this country. How many fond memory's, Funny story's and tales of fortune could there be walking past him in the mind of each mobster he passes in the street each day. He decides it is about time to hear some of these story's. 

Genocide gathers his men and has them brings as many chairs as they can carry out into the street next to the HQ, He has them placed in a large circle, Taking a seat he asks his men to begin rounding people up and having them join him in the circle. Once many of the seats are filled, He clears his throat and addresses the puzzled looking crowed. 

"Good afternoon everybody, I have been thinking about my past a lot lately. Thinking about my adventures and mishaps. The line up of events and actions that brought me to where i am today. I would like you hear you're story's. I would like to hear about you're backgrounds. Your exciting adventures, your tales of fame and fortune!"

Genocide reaches into his pocket and pulls out three small pieces of paper, Each with a strange code written on them. He holds them up so they can be seen. 

"These are very special codes, They entitle you to credit at any time of your choosing for specific amounts of money only to be redeemed at the Cartel HQ. If your story particularly grips me, And is so detailed that i can actually imagine myself walking in your memory's. You will be rewarded with one of these three codes"

With that being said, Genocide leans back into his seat, Clicks his fingers, a member of his brings a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He then looks around the circle wondering who will begin.

OOC!

This is a story telling competition.

Tell a detailed story of your life before crime, and the course of actions that lead you to the mob life. 

The Cartel Upper structure will judge the story's on Saturday 6/9/14

Story's will be judged on detail, description and role play effort. 

Prizes!

1st. 25 Credit's!

2nd. 20 Credit's!

3rd. 15 Credit's!

Entry's after 16:00 MR time will not be accepted, judged or entered. 

Please post your story's in this thread, Back ally links will not be accepted.

Johnny paid attention to Genocide's words. He always thought that his background story had a nice feeling.

"Ok boss! Can I go first?"

Genocide nods in a positive way.

It was just after World War 1 that I decided to come to America for a better luck. My house in Greece had been bombed and both of my parents were dead. I was only twelve years old. I had some family in Chicago. A cousin of mine traveled from America to find me as soon as he heard the news about my parents. He and his wife couldn't have kids so the situation fitted both of us.
He could never replace my father, but he stood like one. On my first couple of years, I tried to aid them financially by doing small jobs.

Years passed and I was leading a "normal" life. I was eighteen years old when I witnessed a mugging of some poor guy. There was no police to be found nearby and the guy just hopelessly fought for his life. He didn't make it. I was shocked for a brief moment, but that was the time that I figured out that I wasn't made for a normal life. I could easily have been the one mugging that poor guy. Not without serious reason though.

Time kept passing by and when I turned nineteen, I celebrated my birthday at an underground bar named "El Diablo". My muscles must've been the trait that made SebasianSky buy me a shot and wish me happy birthday. Later that night he came over to my table.

"You look like a guy that could do some hard work. We offer something in return. If you want to make some bucks, get properly dressed and come over to our office", Seb said while giving me a card with an address on it.

I didn't know how to react, so I just nodded like a fool to Sebasian. The rest of the night I couldn't stop thinking about this job "opportunity". It was pretty obvious it wasn't any regular job, the one that I was offered.

The morning after, I thought I should ask my uncle's advice before doing anything. I hadn't seen for a long while. I approached his tailoring shop and before I even got in I heard a voice.

"Johnny!! Oh thee mu, megaloses." , roughly translated as -God, you've grown up-.
"I haven't seen you in ages. You don't come often since you turned seventeen. Come on in. Wait five minutes and I'll close the shop. We'll head home, Dimitra has made mousaka."
Before I get to say a word, I was made to sit in a small chair and wait till my uncle closed up everything.
He then grabbed me gently from the shoulder and took me off the shop. Minutes later, we were at his house. My aunt, Dimitra, was really pleased to see me as well.
"Kalimera Johnny, happy to see you around here. How's life treating you?", she said and turned to my uncle Yanni
"Why didn't you tell me we'd have a guest? I only made a baking sheet of mousaka."

She was clearly overracting, the amount she had cooked was enough for more than four people. I was used to it though because I've eaten more than a hundred times at their house when I was younger. I loved my aunt's cooking.

"So, what brings you here?", my uncle asked.
I gave him the card with the address and told him that I had a job offer. He rolled his eyes and asked my aunt to leave us alone immediately.
"Do you know where you going to get yourself into? Fotios, or Franky as how they used to call him, used to work for them. The mafia Johnny."
"The mafia?", I asked.
"Yes. My father used to work for them. As long as he lived, he had anything he wanted. Then one day his Godfather went mad and they had a district war. That's where we lost him.", he said in a serious tone.
"I won't do the same mistakes, thie" (ooc: thie=uncle in greek), I said in a serious tone as well.

The rest of the midday went way different than I had presumed. My uncle was really against it on working for the mafiosi. I, however, had made up my mind. The event that had happened the previous year, the mugging incident, dominated my thoughts once again. I greeted my worried uncle and aunt. But before I left, I asked my uncle to give me one of his best suits. He didn't refuse me, he said he had seen this eyes again. It seems that the mafioso blood runs in the family.

Later that day, on the afternoon, I got to the Cartel's office. Tizla was there. He seemed pretty young, just like me. I greeted him.
"Hello over there. Have you been here before?"
"Yes, I have. As my father and my father's father have. You seem new but I can assure you, you're on the right place.", Tizla said.

After thirty minutes, Genocide stepped outside of his inner office.
"You're the one that Seb told me about? He wasn't exaggerating about your buffs. Come on inside, sorry I had you waiting but there were many important things I had to deal with.", Genocide said in a calm manner.

And that's about it. It didn't take me long to decide and follow my destiny. I was gonna be a mafioso and a good one at that too.

It was a cold, winter morning in Northern Ohio. Winds blew off the plains and between the endless rows of corn that stretched for countless miles along roads that semi's devour, their tires like mini jackhammers pounding away at the road. I had just turned 15 and after a run in with the law for bootlegging and losing my job at the steel mill, I decided to become a boxer.

I was dubbed "Kid Crochet" and fought twelve fights as a welterweight. During my career, having received a broken nose, scarred lip and several broken knuckles. I remember each incident like it was yesterday. That fist, which broke my nose felt like Mjolnir, being swung by Thor himself. Lightning flash, stunned me to the point of collapse and my knees buckled. They call that "Wet Noodle Foundation".

Woke up to my corner men, sniff stick in my face, medic addressing my nose. The crowd was cheering, but it wasn't for me. I remember how that felt, I swore I'd never hear that again. So after weeks and weeks at the gym, letting my nose heal while training for my next fight, mentally preparing myself for no doubt of victory. The day of my next fight came quick, I can still imagine the pain I had felt weeks ago.

But it was too late, by the time I knew it my robe was off, and I was standing in the ring with my opponent. My eyes gleaming with victory in sight, I threw punches like a skeptic articulating his counter proposition. I catch the guy right on the chin, I hear a bone cracking snap and down he went.

It wasn't the end though, and what I thought was his jaw popping wasn't right either. As the stocky man gets back to his feet, a throbbing pain explodes through my right hand. I try to swing my left, as he comes towards me, but I miss completely. Which was the biggest mistake of the fight yet.

He swung a counter punch at me like a pitcher throwing a fast ball. It clocked me upside the head so hard, I no longer felt pain at all. Again, I woke up to my corner men crouching over me "You've gotta me careful with that Hook, Kid!" I remember Coach saying. I lost that fight, I couldn't believe it. How had I broke my knuckles but not knock this guy out!?

Of my twelve fights, I won all but eleven of them! (I tell this as a joke sometimes!) So needless to say that career choice didn't pay the bills. I then got into the gambling industry. I was a croupier at a blackjack table, which I later turned into becoming a blackjack dealer. You meet lots of interesting people in Casino's. That guy who looks just like a casual gambler, but has a nice pair of shoes on(If you could tell the difference), he isn't just a regular Joe Schmo. He could be one of the local mafia hitmen or even the Godfather himself. He could be a beggar or saint, you'd never know.

One day after dealing a luck game of Blackjack to one of the regulars at the Casino, the man approaches me as I'm going on break.

"Dino, my boy. That was quite a game you dealt there. The Casino isn't making money off that now are they? Which means, I made all that money. Say, do you like making money? What's this lousy job paying you?" I attempted to tell him the wages I made, but what came out was more of a stutter.

"Here take this." The gentlemen in a trench coat handed me his card. As he did, I saw the blunt end of his Thompson protrude from his jacket. "Come see me sometime, if you're interested in making some real money, kid." I told him I would.

At the time I was also singing in local bands under the name Dino Martini (After Nino Martini, a famous opera singer). I caught my first big break working with the Ernie McKay Orchestra. From their my style molded into a sort of Harry Mills of the Mills Brothers, style. After meeting and singing for Sammy Watkins I changed my name to Dean Martin and the fame ensued.

Yet behind closed doors, there was a side no one knew about Dean. The true, Dino Crocetti was still the young boy participating in illegal gambling behind a local grocery store. He was still a bootlegger, making and selling booze for his local mafia families. Yes, I sure was, I just wasn't actually doing these things.

However, I can recall the day when I decided to cross the line and never come back to the world of justice. It was a late summer's morning, the sun was just rising over the horizon. My young daughter was just learning to walk and her mother had just gotten back from work. My daughters eyes always lit up when Mommy was around. The wind blew through the house, making the bedroom door open and close, squeaking and squawking. 

I went to go close the bedroom window, that damn squeaking was driving me crazy. I heard a door shut as I closed the window, looking back quickly, the door to the bedroom had slammed shut as the last bit of back-draft left the room. "Damn door" I remember thinking. As I twist the handle open I hear a muffled moan. Confused I look around the threshold as I walk out of the bedroom and I'm shocked to see a man standing with a gun to my wife's head.

My daughter has no clue what's going on, but she's tugging at her shivering mothers blouse. The man pulls the hammer on the revolver back and said "Mr.Falcone sends his regards". The gun pops back in the mans hand as a loud crack echos through the house. I fell to the ground, and my daughter runs across the room screaming and crying. She was crying about the noise that scared her, she didn't look and see what had happened to her mother. She had no time too..

Before I could get to my feet another shot echoed across the house. And then I could hear the a door slam, I still had my eyes on the ground as I was trying to pull myself up. I felt to see if I was struck, when immediately silence overcame my fear.. Silence.. It could only mean one thing. I turned to look in the living room, where my daughter had ran.

My heart sunk to the lowest depths of hell, when I saw her limp body laying in a pool of blood.. My baby girl.. My wife.. My everything.. I cried so loud I must of sounded like a Greek King dying in battle. It sounded more like anger, hatred and instantly my heart was filled with rage. Such a rage which could only be settled by blood. A rage that no man could contain, not even if he was chloroformed.

I swore my revenge, I swore I'd find the killers of my wife and daughter. As the urge to seek revenge raced around in my mind, I remembered the man from the Casino. I remembered stories of the Mafia being like family, and basing their morals on respect, virtue, dignity and honor. Something I wanted to make the dirt bag responsible for killing my family feel, to feel the consequences when you don't live by such morals.

With blood on my mind, loss of family and wanting to belong somewhere, I came to the conclusion the only way to fulfill my needs was to take the mysterious man up on his offer. I went to the address on the card and at the front of the building it read "El Diablo Cartel HQ". I knocked on the door and an associate introduced himself to me as PurpleHaze. After a short introduction, I was apart of the family. I felt like I belonged somewhere again. And here is where I will stay until the end, as I seek my revenge.

Curtis listened to the guys tell their stories and smiled. 

"I like hearing stories like these. It reminds me of something that happened to me way back when I was just getting started."

Curtis employs one of Achilles patented techniques for establishing quiet space and setting a scene. Content that he has the group's full attention, he begins...

"I was a kid, in my teens maybe, I'd been doing some petty crime as we all do. I'd stolen what I could off the back of trucks down at the docks and tried sell what I could to store owners in the neighborhood. As time went on I also started to knock over a couple of stores. I had mixed results. Things were going ok for a while but I started to get cocky and tried to hit a local imports store down on broadway. I don't know what I was thinking, it was the middle of the day and I must have been all of sixteen. Anyway, I started to make my move and got gripped by a strong hand. before I knew what was happening I was up against a wall outside staring into the eyes of a mean looking guy in a sharp suit and camel hair coat.

'Look kid, I don't blame you for what you're doing but we don't steal from our own neighborhood, understand?'

I was scared shitless, my feet peddling the air as he held me up. He saw the look on my face and put me down.

'Things are hard enough around here as it is. In neighborhoods like ours, we gotta stick together. Now there are ways to make money but not like this. Take this store for instance... Mr Domellio here pays me a little bit each week and in return I make sure his store is safe and certain types of custom come his way. We scratch each other's back, you see? Everyone earns, the neighborhood stays safe and all the money stays in the local community. Everybody wins, you get me?'

"I understand."

'Ok then.'

He let me go, straitened my threadbare jacket and handed me my cap back. He looked me in the eye for a moment and reached into his pocket, handing me twenty dollars. My mind was blown, I'd never seen twenty dollars in all my life. I looked at him in shock.

'Close your mouth kid. Go and get yourself some new clothes and meet me down at the bar on the corner down there, around eight or so tonight.'

I was still in too much shock to say anything, I just nodded and he left. Needless to say I met him later and he took me on a small robbery in another neck of the woods across town. We opened up the back of a warehouse and emptied all kinds of boxes into a big panel truck. I couldn't tell what it was but the boxes sure were heavy. Anyway, I kept my mouth shut and did what I was told and later that night we got back to the bar on the corner. he took me into a smoke filed room in the back with a bunch of guys playing cards and shooting the shit. They were all wearing sharp clothes but clearly working men with heavy working hands. He took out a huge rolls of bills from his pocket and peeled off one hundred for me. I'm sixteen years old and this guy is giving me a hundred dollars for three hours work. I couldn't believe it.

'You did good kid. We can use you again. Come back again tomorrow around the same time, we have something a little different to do.'

"I never got your name, what do I call you?"

'People call me TheNewGuy.'

I was back the next night. And the next. Shit man, I was back every single night for months. In the end one night I rolled up to work and he met me outside. 

'Kid, you've been doing great, a solid little worker and you've been earning well. And even if you do have some learning to do about buying suits, tonight things are going to change for you. Get in the car.'

There was a real slick looking car parked out front, I got in the back with TheNewGuy and we headed off toward the docks. On the way he filled me in.

'I'm taking you to meet the boss. We gotta meet her at the end of pier six to oversee and exchange. Now you need to know a few things about her before you her. Firstly, she's a she. Yeah we work for a woman, called Whatsername.'

I looked confused.

'No, that's her name... Anyway don't be mistaken, she can be one ruthless son of a bitch so don't fuck around. Second thing is don't be a pussy. She hates people being shy and shit so you gotta be bold. Show her you ain't scared and if she gives you some shit, give her a little bit back, she'll respect you more if you show her you have a spine. You see where I'm coming from? Understand?'

"Yeah I get it."

'Ok then. Just keep your mouth shut unless you're spoken to and things should go alright for you. Play this right and you might get some full time work and move up in the world.'

He gave me a knowing wink. I smiled back like I understood. I didn't understand. I was in way over my head and doing everything I could not to show I was nervous. The car pulled onto the dark pier and I saw a small gathering in the gloom beside a really nice car. We all got out and walked over to the group.

There were three men stood over another who was on his knees, arms tied and bleeding. He looked like he'd been there a while, the smell of the sea air and the stench of the docks did nothing to cover up the fact he'd clearly soiled himself with fear. I tried not to look shocked and nervous. I was shocked and nervous. Very. We walked over and my eyes caught sight of the unexpectedly attractive woman. Was this her? Whatsername? TheNewGuy had said she was the boss so I'd imagined some industrial looking war-wagon. you know, the kind of hard faced broad who'd do well standing outside facing up a storm. But no, this lady was classy. Dressed in a suit and looking like a rose, she looked up at us arriving.

'Hello NewGuy, glad you could make it. See here we have a situation. Seamus here swears the shipment of scotch he brought down on the boat from Canada, was lost. He says the coastguard came at his boat and they had to dump the crates in the water. Claims it was just over there. I'm not sure we believe his little story, might just have to put a bullet in him even if it's true.'

She looked back in his direction. One of the men put his gun to the sailor's head, he shut his eyes tight and he began visibly shaking again. Looking back at us she noticed me and smiled while addressing TheNewGuy.

'Is this your little friend you told me about?'

'Yeah this is him.'

She took a step toward me. I was terrified. I didn't know what the hell was going to happen to that sailor but it sure as shit meant she was a serious woman. I tried to look cool. I wasn't cool. I was fucking panicking and sweating and anything but composed. I tried to remember what TheNewGuy had said about giving her a bit of shit back and showing I wasn't scared. I tried my best.

'Hello there little man.'

This was it, this was my time to shine. Gotta get this right.

"Go fuck your mother!"

It hadn't gone well. A chorus of surprised 'Ooo!'s and 'Ayee!'s rang out from the men and for a moment even the sailor opened his eyes wide in surprise. Whatsername just stood there stunned and then looked at TheNewGuy who was looking at me in disbelief. This wasn't my finest moment. I shrugged and thought I might piss my pants then I got a crack around the head from TheNewGuy. He kept slapping me in the head until I tipped balance and fell of the edge of the pier. He was already apologizing to the boss before my scrawny ass hit the water.

As I paddled around trying not to let my woolen suit drown me, my hands lurched out from something to stop me from sinking and they found a large bottle. As I pulled it toward me I clawed out and got another one, then one of my feet kicked something hard, felt like a packing crate. I tried to see through the dark as best I could and started to realize I was surrounded by hundreds of bottles and bobbing crates. This was it! The shipment they were gong to kill the sailor over. The tide must have washed it in. I called up and they threw a rope down. I tied up one of the crates and sent it up. Not long after they dropped down the rope and I went back up.

Standing on the docks soaked to the skin and freezing, I looked at the boss and TheNewGuy. he was shaking his head and she was laughing. She walked over and pinched my cheek. My face was still sore from TheNewGuy slapping it but I didn't mind.

'You're alright kid... You got a lot to learn about manners but you're alright.' 

She turned and nodded to the men who let the sailor go and started organizing a boat to collect the shipment from the water. Walking past them toward her car she looked back at TheNewGuy.

'We'll be back in the city tomorrow to take care of that other matter. You make sure you're there.'

Then she glanced at me and winked.

'And hey, bring young 'Bottles' here with you.'

And that was that. I'd escaped a catastrophic first meet with the boss by pure luck. I spent the next five years being called 'Bottles' while running jobs for her. I got a lot more lessons along the way. But I'll never forget that night, standing soaked to my skin on the pier in the middle of a New York winter night. Clutching a bottle of bootlegged whisky with a big grin on my face. Some things you just don't forget.

After hearing a rumor that Genocide and his Cartel had set a challenge for the world, Maria decided to make her way across to North Side, to where the Cartel had their Head Quarters, to find out a little more. When she arrived, she heard Genocide explaining the challenge, for each mobster to share their story, and heard several others share their own stories. As Curtis finished speaking, Maria took a deep breath. It was now or never, if she was to share her story, and Maria was ready. Stepping forward, she smiles at the assembled group, before beginning to speak. 

I was born on the 14th of January, 1912, in Sorrento, Italy. I had an older brother, Bernardo. My parents, they were good Catholics, of course, but poor... so poor. My mama, I'm told, often went to bed with an empty belly to make sure me and Bernardo could eat. My papa was a fisherman, like many of the men of Sorrento. We lived in a tiny little house right by the Marina Grande. By the time I was just a couple of months old, my mama was pregnant again.

And then it happened. We lived in the shadow of Mount Versuvius, a mountain not only firey, but downright grouchy. The ground, I'm told, rumbled, shook, moved, depending on the mood of the volcano. Usually, these tremors were no concern to anybody down the harbor, they rarely shook the ground there. But that day, a beautiful summers day, the ground shook. Bernardo and I were spending the afternoon with our grandparents, up the coast in Amalfi. If we weren't, I would not be here to tell you this tale, for the ground shook so hard in our tiny fishing village that the poorly built houses collapsed in on themselves, turned to dust. And my mama and papa... they were crushed in the rubble.

Maria bows her head and crosses herself. 

We stayed with our grandparents, Bernardo and I. I wasn't even a year old and he a boy of barely three. We stayed with our grandparents for maybe two years, before my papa's twin, Dario and his wife, Giovanna, came. Dario lived and worked in Naples for many years, with the Camorra family, becoming highly regarded in their setup. He came home, meaning to say his goodbyes to his parents and to the niece and nephew he barely knew. Some weeks before, he'd been involved in a hit gone wrong, and as crooked as the polizia were, they had no choice but to seek to arrest him for the crime. Purely coincidentally, I am sure, Uncle Dario was advised by his Boss, that it might well be time he made the trip over to the New World. America. New York City. Somewhere where the lives of mafiosi were flourishing in a way that even in the old country, they did not. So he and Giovanna came, to say their farewells.

Dario and Giovanna, however, had no children of their own. And Giovanna, she wanted children more than anything. When they came, she fell in love with Bernardo and I. She convinced my grandparents and Uncle Dario that they should take us along with them to America, to love us as our own parents would, and to offer us both a life beyond the inevitable poverty and fishing boats that Italy had to offer us. 

It was only a few days later that we left, in the dead of night. A friend of Dario's had a motor car, and drove us up to Naples, helped us smuggle our way onto a ship to New York. And as simple as that, in the space of two weeks, I went from my Grandparents home in a tiny village in Italy, to the craziest city in the world, New York City. 

I don't remember the old country, or the journey over here. I know all of this from the letters from my Grandparents as I grew up, from Giovanna's stories each night before I slept, from the memories Bernardo had from out childhood. I knew always of the ways of the old country, I knew the culture, I knew the lifestyle, I knew the language - it was all we spoke at home, when I was a child. But on some level, I never felt truly Italian. I never felt truly American though, either. I had no real sense of belonging anywhere for many years.

I'm not sure how old I was, when I realized that Uncle Dario had become involved with the mob in New York. I suppose, knowing what I do now, knowing why Dario moved to the States to begin with, that it shouldn't surprise me in the slightest that he had. As a kid, all I knew was that Uncle Dario worked hard - and to not question anything he brought home. New furniture for the house, a procession of new cars, and once, most memorably, a moonshine still that he set up in the basement. 

A sudden smirk crosses Maria's face. She wasn't originally intending to share the story with the moonshine still, but now that she'd mentioned the still - well, it'd be rude not to share, wouldn't it?

Ah, that moonshine still. I would've been what, maybe fourteen? And Bernardo, he would've been sixteen, it was right before he - well,I'll get to that bit, later on. I was fourteen, he was sixteen, and I'll say right here and now - it was his idea. We lived in Manhattan when I was younger - a few different houses, but Giovanna loved Manhattan, so after a year or two in Brooklyn when we first arrived in America, we came to Manhattan and settled here. The house at the time was this massive brownstone type - three floors, and then the basement. Giovanna had just had my little cousin, Rosa - she was so busy, she never really noticed what we were getting up to as long as we weren't getting under her feet. 

Bernardo and I got the idea to drink some of the moonshine, before we went out one night. I don't remember where we were going - maybe a dance or something like that. Whatever it was, we were so excited to have a drink before we went. Only, we'd never drank before, neither of us. So we sneaked down into the basement this evening, and found some of the moonshine bottled up. We both picked up a bottle, and started drinking - oh the faces we pulled, it was awful stuff - but we both got to the bottom before the drink could kick in properly. We didn't realize it was so damned strong. We didn't even make it out of the basement that night. Uncle Dario found us both passed out in opposite corners of the room. We were in such pitiful states that he couldn't even find it in his heart to yell at us. 

I think that was where it all started though. See, I didn't join the mob because I grew up wanting to. I didn't join the mob because I thought it was flashy or fancy or cool. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a lawyer. I think it was because we saw quite a lot of my Uncle's lawyer - only I didn't realize at the time he was his lawyer, I thought he was just a friend. He was a nice guy, almost like another uncle. And he was so smart too. Every time he came over to the house, he'd tell me a fact. Just something random every time, but I loved it. My favorite one, was that the thumb is the same size as the nose.

Maria holds up her thumb against her nose, demonstrating.

See? Pretty neat, no? 

Anyway. Uncle Dario saw something in Bernardo that day. I don't know, a bit of fire in him, a streak of determination, I guess? Anyhow, he started having him run odd jobs for the family he worked for. Nothing major, just, y'know, having him run about here and there doing this and that, making some friends, making some contacts, making a little money. Bernardo loved it. School wasn't for him, but this was a world where he got to rub shoulders with these powerful, rich men. 

He was only just turned seventeen when the Godfather of Manhattan at the time, DanTheMan, caught up with him, and made a place for him in his crew. That was when Bernardo stopped being known as Bernardo. He re-named himself, to BadNewsBarrett - said Bernardo wasn't unique enough for him, that what he wanted, was for people to remember his name.

He was so happy in his new incarnation, my brother was. But he changed too. He became a little too arrogant, a little too sure of himself, and a lot too mouthy for his own good. I still loved him plenty - I mean, he was my brother. But growing up as I grew up, with Uncle Dario around, I knew that he was heading the wrong way. And I know Uncle Dario did too, because he took Giovanna and Rosa and moved up to Canada, to make sure they didn't get caught up in the shitstorm that 'BadNewsBarrett', as he called himself, was creating. 

It ended in a bullet for my brother. I don't know who fired it, I don't know the ins and outs of why, but I know he had it coming. 

So the reason that I joined our way of life - it was my brother. Not to avenge him. Not to continue the legacy. Not for anything like that. But because our family name deserved better. Because the man who died on the streets of Manhattan, he was not my brother. BadNewsBarrett was not the boy I grew up with, the boy I traveled to this country with, not the boy who used to beat up any kid that even looked at me meanly. My brother was Bernardo, and this world made him something that he was not. I wanted to set the record straight, I wanted to show this world all that we could be. 

It was tough, after he died. We had to have a closed casket funeral. The bullet had gone right through his head, blown it to pieces. I didn't even see him before we buried him. I still don't think I'd be able to sleep at night if I had now. The funeral was where I made my decision, though. The Godfather of Bernardo's old family, DanTheMan had attended, and spoke to me to offer his condolences. I knew then that I follow through with my idea to follow my brother into this life. I knew there and then that I could do everything Bernardo could've and should've done. I asked DanTheMan some advice, that day. I asked him where to go, away from New York, away from the world I knew, where to make my bones. He told me Chicago, he told me The Loop, and the next day, I left on the first flight out of the day.

I've never felt as lost in my life as I did, walking out of the airport in Chicago. The wind was bitter, fierce, biting. That was the first lesson Chicago taught me: they don't call it the windy city for nothing. As I set on my way, following the directions that DanTheMan had given me to the Head Quarters of the Secret Society, run by Godfather Mako, I was approached by any number of small time crooks looking to impress their boss by bringing home fresh blood. I barely stopped to say no, though. I had my sights set and I was determined to do whatever the hell it was that it'd take to convince Godfather Mako to take a chance on me. 

As a memory surfaces, Maria chuckles to herself a little.

The first time I laid eyes on Godfather Mako, he was walking from the HQ building, to his car. That was it. Straight from the building to the car, and that was when I'd been intending on trying to speak to him, as he went about his business. But damn, when I saw him leaving the building, dressed so sharply, surrounded by bodyguards and deep in conversation with the ever beautiful Cassi, I just bowed my head and hurried along my way, I was so intimidated. 

Instead, I sat for most of the day just a little bit along the street and watched the comings and goings around the HQ. I watched, and I waited, wondering if I'd ever get the opportunity to speak to Mako. And in the end, I wrote him a note, and pushed it under the door. The note was nothing special, really. I told him of the recent passing of my brother, told him that I was hoping to save the name of the family on these shores, and told him that he had been highly recommended to me as one of the greatest leaders of this world at the time. And I asked him if he might be willing to speak with me. 

I'd barely had the note under the door for five minutes when the man himself appeared next to me on my bench. He still had a big group of bodyguards around him, but the fact that he was giving me a chance to speak with him one on one spoke volumes about the kind of man that Godfather Mako was. Put simply, over the course of that conversation, I liked him. I wanted to follow him. I knew that this was a man to whom I could give my loyalty, my honesty and a man that I would gladly follow into battle and lay down my life for. And I'm not sure what it was that I said to Mako, but something was there that made him want to give me a chance. Maybe it was the hunger in my eyes, the determination in my voice, or the potential he might've once seen in my brother. But, whatever it was, he invited me to join his crew that day, to spend a little time working for him and his family, to see whether I might fit into the district. 

Maria's face breaks into a warm smile. 

It was the best thing I ever did. I walked through that door, and I found the sense of home, the sense of belonging, that I hadn't found in New York, that I knew I would never find in Italy. I found my place in the world.

Having spoken for longer than she had expected, Maria blushed a little, before stepped back into the shadows, hoping to hear the stories of others being shared.

30 years ago...

 

My ears ring with the screams of my mother as she is slowly, systematically dismembered. Splatters of her blood land in my mouth, and I taste her metallic essence. Hot tears run freely down my spatter covered face. The confused, packed thoughts of a 4 year old race through my overwhelmed brain, scrambling in an attempt to make sense of what is happening. Why is mommy being hurt by that laughing man? Why is he here to hurt us? Where is daddy?

The pressure in my head increases from all my screaming, causing me to cry out even louder into the now cacophonous symphony in the room. Laughter. Screams. Cries for help and mercy. The man makes one final, deliberate, powerful swing and mom is silent. Blood gurgles from her throat. I watch with twisted awe as, almost as if in slow motion, her severed head slides off of her neck and lands in the pool of blood I am now all but submerged in.

Crawling forward, I reach out for mommy. Sweet mommy, that was trying to tuck me into bed when this man came in. Her head is lying sideways now, empty eyes staring at nothing. My head starts to swim. I am dizzy. I full on scramble now towards her, reaching out. Before I can get there, the man reaches to grab me. I bite his hand. I fight back. For mom. I have just enough time now, as I can see his fist drawing back. I steal one last glance at my loving mother and exclaim, "I love you!" just before the giant fist makes contact, instantly fading my vision to black.

5 years ago...

Emotions escape me. On some deep level I acknowledge that they exist, but I don't grant them any credence. For most, the brain has a critical defense mechanism that will black out traumatic memories. My defenses must have been down when my mother was brutally murdered, because I remember every vivid, bloody detail. Introspectively, the result today is the cold-hearted bastard of a man that I have become. I allow myself feel nothing. Well, almost..

Warm, runny blood feels good on my hands. The hotness, the stickiness, the powerful life force of the man whose existence just came to an end at the mercy of my blade. Releasing my grip, I let his limp body slide to the ground. This vile man, this rapist, becomes the 73rd person whose life I have stolen from them. I revel in this. This, this feels good. Many pleasures in life I inherently deny myself due to my shielded emotions, but this moment of reverence I truly enjoy. I have the power over this man. This man made the choice to rape, made the choice to get my attention, and here I am.

I will continue to travel. Continue to please myself, and rid the world of small evils one at a time. Washing the blood from my hands, I head across the street to the diner on the corner. No matter how bloody the day gets, there is always time for coffee. Picking up a newspaper, I decide both where to dump my latest friend, and where my next destination will be.

This, in its entirety, is my life. I have found no other purpose, no other satisfaction, so I kill.

Recently...

Cold. Efficient. Disciplined. Monster. I am all of these things, and more. Most of all, I am lonely. Except for right now, here. In this minute, I see the pure, raw panic in this womans eyes. I see her eyes darting all around, looking for some possible chance of escape. There is none. My grip tightens around her soft throat, and she begins to fade. In one last effort she lunges her small frame against my muscular body. It's useless, I think to myself. You're mine now. Slowly, the eyes begin to glaze as the lights go out. This evil woman was a member of a local crime syndicate, judging by the tattoo on her neck. That could prove interesting.

Years of being a predator have learned me some very important lessons. Attention to detail and surroundings, in this instance, is what probably saved my life. I spin around and reach for my weapon just in time to realize that I am staring down the barrel, literally. The woman behind the steel is beautiful, but I barely register that. I cannot truthfully tell you that I am afraid. I've waited for this moment for years, begged for it even. The room suddenly feels electric with tension, and it's almost as if we're both afraid to even breathe. I make eye contact with her, and wait for the inevitable. She lowers the weapon. "Lucky for you, I was sent here after her, not you. Who the hell are you?" she asks. That's how the conversation started. Nonchalantly, almost happily even, I told her my life story. All that had happened. All the people I had killed. She was intrigued.

That's all it took. I left that place with her, and travelled with her. Apparently, I had skills. Valuable skills. I didn't see it, I was just making the world a better place. Regardless, she had a friend who was looking for someone with these specific skills. I see this as mutually beneficial, so I agree.

The next chapter of my life is being written, my personal vendetta against the particularly evil is unfolding now. I wish I could say I am excited about the opportunities, but I can't. I still don't know how to let myself...feel. Through all of this, through my entire life, there's only one emotion that remains dominant.

I still love you, mommy.

Hi guys, my name is Zoey Hills. I would like to share with you my story of how i came into the mafia. It took me a little while but here it is. 

The rain fell violently on the streets of Los Angeles. The street lights glowed off the paved roads. Zoey Hills was her name. A dark brown haired woman who enjoyed wearing her white dress in public. It reminded her of the innocence that was lost. She had a very close knit group of friends because she cared so deeply she realized she couldn't befriend everyone. Every saturday night was game night with her friends, and tonight was no different. She got out of her apartment and began to lock it.

Get back in there!

A thundering voice came from behind. The man was a bearded man with his white tank top. He was her neighbor. His name was Wayne and he cared little for others. In fact he was a most belligerent man who would scream profanities on a regular basis at the baseball game on his radio. His words would echo through the drywall on a daily basis when his teams played. Wayne began to scream profanities at Zoey. Throwing her to the ground after he slammed the door behind him.

Wayne! What are you doing?!

A voice of panic rang throughout the apartment complex. Of course no one would care to help because others were only concerned with their own lives. He licked his lips in a disgusting way. He had a giant tear on the right side of his tank top probably due to his slovenliness. He motioned to her with his fingers and walked creepily toward her. Zoey began crawling backwards trying to remember what her apartment looked like so she could stand up and run. Her adrenaline was pumping so rapidly that she could even sit and focus for just a moment to gather her thoughts. 

Wayne Please! Wayne you are drunk you dont know what you are doing! Please for the love of God dont hurt me Wayne!

He grabbed Zoey by her hair and started to smile. Her tears left stains on her face. Her mascara left streaks on her cheeks. Her eyes glossy from the tears that filled her eyes. He ripped the shoulder straps of the dress. Zoey grabbed her dress to keep the dress from falling. He let her go to see what her clothes fall. She immediately started to run into her bedroom. Slamming the door behind her she screamed for help. Nothing but the voice of Wayne hollering back at her.

Shut up you stupid little bitch! Open this fucking door right now or you will be fucking sorry! I will break this damn door down if i have too!

Zoeys thoughts meant nothing. No one would hear them. No one would care to know what was going on. The kicks started to crack open the door. She ran to place her dresser in front of the door to blockade it. Zoey was tiny though, barely a hundred pound girl moving a dresser half her weight. The trembling she had in her arms made it that much more difficult for her to actually move the dresser. Sobbing hysterically she finally got the dresser in front of the door as he rammed it open. It wasn't enough for the beast to come through. His laughter was sickening. Was this actually the alcohol or was always this insane? Zoey picked up the phone to call the police but there was no dial tone. She slammed it down. Wayne pushing the door was getting closer and closer. Zoey open her window. She didnt know if she could get out through the escape hatch but she thought it was worth a shot. She hopped on out of her window and immediately began running out. There was no sight of Wayne behind her. She hopped down into the dark alley. Homeless were all there lighting their cold hands by the fire. Zoey running with her hand on her dress to keep it from falling was finally making it to the sidewalk and about to leave the alley.

The fuck you think you are going? I thought you wanted this! Dont you want this? Dont you want me! A real man!

He grabbed Zoey. Wayne slapped her in the mouth. Grabbing her face he stared deep into her eyes.

Oh you gotta pretty mouth Zoey! I have been waiting for this for a long time.

Zoey Clenched her fists and tried to hit him in the face. She never hit a soul before. Zoey was known by her friends to be the most delicate of all of them. The one who would spin in a garden of flowers. Zoey the one who loved was being abused and hurt. The homeless just stared. They didnt try to help at all. Would her friends who were waiting for her wonder where she was? The three hundred pound picked up Zoey with one arm and carried her off into the apartment complex. Zoeys screams reverberated throughout 5th street. This little midwest girl, her hopes and dreams of becoming an actress were on the brink of destruction. Her voice now empty when she screamed. Just sobs. 

Please Wayne...Just let me go! Please i dont know what you are doing but please let me go...

Sirens. Just in time. The police were coming. The lights were glowing in the distance. In moments they would be right before their eyes. Wayne started charging towards the front of the apartment complex. He would never be quick enough. They were gaining on him. He threw Zoey down to the floor and began running alone to the complex. Zoey laid on the floor was hurt and stumbled to her feet. The cops were right infront of the apartments but just kept driving. Zoey looked as they sped right past her. Her arms in the air waving at them. Screaming!

Help!

Zoey turned around and saw wayne through the giant glass window. He was more than out of breath. There was no way that slob was going to catch her now. Pointing at her he grabbed his crotch and started to laugh. Zoey started running. When she got to the end of the street she was able to get into a taxi and arrived at her friends house. Michelle, Zoeys best friend opened the door smiling in her red dress. Martini in hand and blonde hair looked perfect as always. Her smile ended and her martini dropped when she saw Zoey hurt.

Oh fuck! What Happened Zoey?!

The door was shut and locked. They sat her down. Everyone their Zoey knew except for one. They were all models and all aiming to be actresses one day. Tonight was their weekly game night wear they dress up and play games. Sometimes they chose to go out in the town but they were all pretty big home bodies. The girls tried to clean up Zoey as she was trying to explain what happened to her. 

I dont know what he was thinking. This was the most terrified i have ever been. I felt so helpless. I felt so scared. I didnt know what to do or where to go. I cant go back home. He will find me and try to do something terrible to me! Michelle i cant go back! 

Michelle put her arms around Zoey and began to hug her. The other girls cried from the experience that Zoey just had didnt have many words to say. Zoey was just glad that she finally felt safe. A feeling so horrible was felt at the pit of her soul and had shaken her so deeply that she knew no matter what happened afterwards she would never be the same. 

***

Zoey moved out of her apartment and found a nice place across the city. She decided that having a roommate would be an effective idea. Zoey moved in with a few of her girlfriends. Michelle was one and Tara was another. Tara was a short fiery Italian journalist who just said what she felt. Oh could she talk forever. She was oblivious to how her words would exceed the receptors care. She was sweet in her own way. Tara was the perfect person you would want with you on a night in the town. There were many times were guys would hit on Zoey and Michelle and Tara was almost like a little body guard. Most the guys were always jerks. Michelle would always be nice to anyone. Her beauty was only matched by her genuine love for people. She loved volunteering. She found much joy in giving of herself and her time to those less fortunate. So anytime the three of them were together it was always a fun night. Tonight was finally a night where they would go out in town after a month of them all not being together due to business. They were at a local club in Los Angeles that was known for having many celebrities for showing up before a young man approached her.

Excuse me miss, would you like to drive across the country and kill people with me? 

This was perhaps the strangest thing Zoey has ever heard. The man was wearing a very flashy outfit. His immediate smile after he vocalized this put her at ease. He put his hand out. No wedding rink. Fancy watch. Cuff links. A very well groomed man with his black hair combed to the side. Zoey took his hand and shook it. She was always awkward with guys. She was convinced that if she was not attractive she would never get married because she was so awkward. The man was eloquent as can be. The sweeping of the feet then began.

So my name is Gionni. Im from New York. I really like your black dress, its very edgy tonight. Are you here with anyone miss...Im sorry i didnt actually catch your name, what was it?

Yeah he was good. Zoey informed Gionni of her name. They sat in a booth in the back of the club for hours just talking. Tara and Michelle would occasionally walk by winking and making awkward faces. It was funny until Gionnis gaze finally broke and noticed. It was the definition of embarrassment. 

So what do you do Gionni? Like what is your profession?

Gionni told Zoey how he was a movie producer. He explained what all that actually meant and what his day to day looked like. He could tell Zoey didnt believe him. His eyes looked up and caught a glance of another man. Motioning for him to come to the booth Zoey soon realized it was Ted Astaire. A famous actor who loved to tap dance in all of his movies. Ted was so delightful. Shaking Zoeys hand as if she was the celebrity. 

Say Zoey, have you ever wanted to be in a movie? If you wanted i could get you in a few. I mean no pressure though.

Zoeys face lit up! This was her break. Gionni took Zoey outside and explained to her that his only condition for her to start acting was that she had to go on a date with him. His smile was so comforting. Michelle and Tara got a ride home that night in a Taxi while Zoey and Gionni took their time walking to Zoey's apartment. When Zoey finally got home she thanked Gionni and he walked away. She spent the rest of the night talking to Michelle and Tara about the Movie Producer, Gionni. She couldnt tell if she was actually more excited a dream of hers was finally coming true or that she met this guy who she was strongly attracted to. 

***

Zoey was on the front cover of newspapers with Gionni. They were the couple of the century. The actress and the producer. They even made a movie about their romance which the two of them starred and of course it was a hit. Ted Astaire played a huge part in it due to his closeness to Gionni. Michelle got her big break as well just because Zoey persisted telling Gionni about it. Gionni finally caved and allowed Michelle to star in a new movie where she was a damsel in distress. She would quickly become the heart throb of the nation. They would go out in town and people would ask them to sign everything. From paper to skin autographs were asked. It was an extremely special time for Zoey and it was about to get better. 

On a friday night Gionni took Zoey all the way to New York City. He paid for her to get a new dress and new jewelry. He paid for her limo to the airport and her private jet. He paid for Michelle and Tara to get there too. On the Jet was their own masseuse. This was the best day of their life. Zoey knew what was about to happen. How could she not?

Do you think he is going to ask me to Marry him?

​Zoey already knew the answer but she was to giddy to withhold it. They spent the rest of the time laughing and enjoying the jet ride. They finally got to the New York and it was enormous. Not a skyline like she has ever seen. She walked into the hotel in that cold december night. Going up to her room with the girls. They walked in and on the bed was two tickets to see the latest concert by Frank Lantra. A beautiful vocalist and fellow actor. They wasted no time and went to the venue within the hour. Sitting VIP with a young lady and what looked to be her boyfriend or at least significant other the lady spoke to Zoey.

Hello, are you the Zoey Hills? My name is Deces. Im an old friend of Gionnis. He has told me about you and i just have to say i am really excited to meet you. I have seen all of your movies and you are simply phenomenal. I especially like the movie where you play the young girl who avenges her lover. I couldnt imagine someone like that happening in your life. Are you currently working on any other movies or are you on vacation?

Deces she wasnt an actress but she seemed quite important. After all she was in the Very Important Person area. They talked for a while and quickly became friends. Her red dress asserted this type of dominance that was just quite confusing to Zoey. After a while of conversation the show began. Lantra appeared before the crowed and everyone went crazy. Tara leaned over to Zoey.

Do you know who that is? Thats Deces! Shes like a head of some kind of organized mafia syndicate. Zoey be careful talking to her, they kill people.

Zoeys eyes widened. Chills on her arms became present and she pulled in her coat. She noticed the man next to Deces had his eyes on her. Fear pulsated through her veins. She was always told that the mafia was heavily involved with the theater and those who produced but she never actually met one. Deces friend leaned over to Zoey and whispered in her ear.

I think its time you take center stage.

Zoey got really nervous not understanding what this bodyguard was actually referring to. The lights got dim real quick. Lantra spoke into the microphone and asked everyone to welcome his old friend Gionni Vitti up to the stage. The audience applauded and allowed him to speak. The orchestra for Lantra immediately began playing a soft melody in the background of his speech. A door opened and Zoey was ushered down to the stage. A light was shinning on her as she walked down the stair case. This was the moment.  

One thing I know Zoey Hills is that you make me a better man. I could not have dreamed up a more perfect person than you. You make me come alive. I dont want to spend another second of my life without you. These past two years have just confirmed that I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me? 

Zoey covered her face in excitement. She was getting married. This was a day she remembered thinking about as a little kid. After she said yes everyone from Frank Lantra and Michelle to Deces and Zoey went out to go eat. The priest at Our Lady of the Queen of Angels was notified. He was also a good friend to Gionni. Zoey Vitti it had a ring to it, and so did she. They flew back to LA the next day and the wedding preparations began. 

***

Its raining Gionni. Do you think it will be raining tomorrow on our wedding day?

The rain was violent. More than violent. Thunder crashed and lightening struck every two seconds. The forecast had nothing like this in mind when it was issued. At least tomorrow would have a beautiful rainy smell. They'll be inside a church anyhow and her bridesmaids took extra preparations to make sure everything was ready. 

If it does Zoey, then ill kiss you in the rain. 

His words everytime were always comforting to her. The doorbell rang. Gionni was going to go out for his bachelor party and his friends Michael and Tim had finally arrived to take him out. Michelle and Tara were excited to finally hang out with Zoey before she was a married woman. Gionni gave Zoey a kiss on the forehead.

Ill see you tomorrow babe. I love you. 

He opened the door to see his friends waiting for him in the car. He grabbed his coat and walked toward his car. He opened the car door and then ran up to the door to kiss Zoey once more. Running back to his car he shouted to her.

I cant wait to see your beautiful face...

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG. Five gun shots rang out. Gionnis body hit the floor. Zoey Screamed his name. Everything else was a blur. Supposedly it was a fight over a casting that didnt happen. Supposedly it was an ex lover of Zoey that got angry about the wedding. Supposedly it was Gionnis way of going out with a bang. Newspapers read all sorts of things. No one knew the truth.

***

Zoey had been dealing with Gionnis death really hard for a month. Michelle and Tara didnt know how to comfort her. She was finally visited by Deces who had gathered enough information as to what had happened. 

Zoey. I know who killed Gionni. I wrote his address on this piece of paper for you. Ill let you take care of the rest. 

Looking at the paper she realized that was her old apartment complex. Was it Wayne? It had to be that was his room number. She sat with the paper in her hand for a really long time. Staring at the paper she could only remember how wayne viciously attacked her. Deces was closing the door when she said the last part.

If you need anything ever, im here for you. 

Zoey wasted no time. She got in her car and drove down to the apartment. She wore the white dress that she would have wore on her wedding day. She knocked on the door of Waynes apartment. The door opened. It was Tara. The room started spinning. Why was Tara in the room. Why was Tara here? 

Zoey what are you doing here?

It all made sense now. Tara got in close with Zoey so she could write stories on stories about her celebrity life. Thats why the headline of the ex lover was there. It was all coming together. Zoey was so confused. She was hurt. Tara had betrayed her. Zoey pulled out her gun. Fired off a round and pierced Tara in the chest. Wayne emerged from the kitchen. Of course that fat slob was back there. Zoey ran in and fired.

BANG BANG BANG BANG...BANG. Now he lie lifeless. Zoey stood above the dying man. The first four were for Gionni. The last one was for me. Tara was screaming for help. Zoey walked over and kicked her in the face. Blood poured out from her chest to quickly. There was no recovery for either one. Zoey closed the door and locked it. She moved a couch infront of it so no one would come help. She planted the gun on Tara so it looked like a homicide and a suicide. Zoey went out the escape hatch. Drove home and cried. She killed one of her best friends and the man who tried taking everything from her and took everything from her. She finally had revenge but still felt helpless. She couldnt go back to her empty home. She pulled in front of a pay phone. 

Deces...Do you have a place i could lay low for a while?

After losing a day or more to the mysteries of absinthe Curtis had regained some sense and remembered the competition he'd entered. He'd enjoyed hearing the other mobster's stories and wanted to see if any more had been left that he could enjoy. As he arrived at the scene he saw a notice on the wall saying the competition had ended and judgement would be made on Saturday the 6th. It was signed by Genocide so it must have been legitimate. Had he lost that many days to the delirium of that psychotropic drink? He counted off days on his fingers as memories fell into place.

"Let's see... I'm pretty sure that day was spent organizing the import permit for Jono's wild new Burmese monkeys. Then what happened the next day... I think that day must have just been drinking and miscellaneous debauchery... Then there was the unfortunate mix-up with locations on the nun's mystery tour, between the orphanage and the peep-show buildings... Aaand yesterday I'm pretty sure I was mostly being peeled off the floor at Spike's new building... So yeah, it has to be Sunday and that means the competition is over. Genocide must have decided already."

Convinced he must have missed all the awards he went off to find the man and see who won the prizes.