In a world full of crime, children still found ways to play. Two boys, aged 11 or so, were walking to a local park. On the way, one of them found a note. It read:

Mario -

Your time is running short. You have 24 hours to get the money to the disclosed location. 

Mano Nera

Underneath the signature was a picture of a smoking gun.

Johnny and Ricky looked at each other.

"What do you think it means, Ricky?" 

"I don't know, Johnny," quivered Ricky, "but we better get our butts outta here." 

"Wait," said Johnny, thoughtfully. "I know a Mario. Mario Castillucci. He works at the grocery store. I bet it's his. Do you think we should give it to him?"

"Are you kidding? Our parents told us not to go downtown! Are you on the same drugs as your dad?" Ricky always made that joke when Johnny came up with some crackhead idea.

Johnny punched him in the arm. "Don't joke about my dad. We can go into town super quick, give Mr. Castillucci the note, and leave before anyone sees us."

"Alright," Ricky agreed, with great hesitance, "but if anyone ends up hurt or dead or somethin', don't say I didn't tell you so."

The boys walked into town. On the way, they saw a lot going on, but pretended they saw nothing. These boys were no stranger to mobster business, but tried to stay out of it as much as possible. They knew the secret to being downtown was to blend in and pretend they didn't see a damn thing.

"Mr. Castillucci?" They said together, but didn't hear a reply.

"Sir," Johnny began, "We found something in the park, and wond--"

They gasped. There he was, drowned in a pool of his own blood.

"Oh shit" Johnny slipped. He knew he wasn't supposed to curse, but this situation kinda warrented such language. "I mean crud...I mean...Ricky, let's get the hell out of here."

"You mean, you want to leave? That ain't happenin'.

A mysterious voice came out of nowhere. Three men came from the back of the store, loaded. One was fat and tall, the other two, skinny as rails.

"Fathead, go block the front door. I've got these little hoodlums."

"Duhhh...ok boss, whatever you say."

The other boss spoke. He had a high pitched voice.

"You aint goin' nowhere, kids. You've seen too much."

The next thing they knew, the boys were tied to chairs, back to back. Scared to death, neither one could speak. Just then, Ricky's father walked into the store, not knowing what would happen next.

"What in the name of..." Just then, one of the bosses covered his mouth and turned him toward the boys.

"I don't know who you are, but you just became a pawn in our game. I'm going to give you some info, and you have 24 hours to do exactly as we say. If you don't, you ALL die."

Ricky's father just shook his head and said he understood. He didn't want more trouble than was needed.

"What do I have to do?"

Before the boss could say anything else, he noticed the note in Ricky's hand.

"What the hell is this?!" He asked in a tone.

He took the note from the boy and read it. Considering he's the one that wrote it, it all began to come together. He smiled in an evil kind of way, and chuckled.

"So, you boys knew the owner huh? How did you know the note belonged to this Mario and not another one? Why, there must be at least a thousand of them here..."

"We guessed" Johnny blurted.

"Shut up, Johnny. We're in enough trouble." Ricky shuttered.

"Well" began the boss, "you're a clever pair. Too bad you'll be dead in a day or so, along with your dad. I'm sorry you got caught up in this, being so innocent and all..."

Ricky's dad raised his eyebrows and mumbled "no...not the boys. Let them go. Take me instead. Like you said, they're innocent."

The other boss covered his mouth and held a knife to his throat. "Shut up and listen. Remember what I told you earlier about doing something for us to spare your lives? Well now you have 23 hours. Listen and do exactly as I say."

He then handed Ricky's dad a note. He opened it, and it read in the same chicken scratch as the first note:

There's a suitcase with $10,000,000 in it at the first bank of mobsters. It's in Mario Castillucci's safe deposit box. Here's the account info:

Acct #: 50008246

Box lock #: 6301

Your goal is to get that suitcase back to us. Simple, right? Wrong.

This room is protected by 6 guards. They all know what Mr. Castillucci looks like. You don't stand a chance.

Good luck anyway.

Mano Nera

Ricky's dad read the note and began to quake.

"How am I supposed to get it if I don't stand a chance anyway?" He asked, thoughtfully.

"That's the game. Good luck." The boss laughed harder as Ricky's dad and the boys all thought "We're screwed."

Knowing he had to save the children, Ricky's dad thought fast. There was a couple ways he could do this, so he mapped out each plan carefully in his head before acting and reacting. He walked into the Hall of Disguises, a magic shop down the street. Maybe they could help him.

"Hello, sir," The man behind the counter, friendly as ever, began, "How can I help you today?"

"I need a wig and a moustache like the man in this picture" He told the man, as calmly as possible. The cashier knew something was up, but said nothing. This is the first business he's seen in a while. "Quickly, please."

"Let me see what I can find." The man looked underneath his desk and around the store. He then remembered he had a wig, similar to what the customer described, in the back room. "I'll be right back."

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The three men walked around the store, seeing what other values they could retrieve. Fathead, as they called him, was always hungry, and stealing candy bars and chugging grape soda almost the whole time, while thinking. In between stuffing his face, he looked inside every suitcase and on every shelf.

"Don't you ever stop eating?!" Said the first boss, disgusted.

"Can't. It's a real problem." In between bites, he garbled with his mouth full.

"Anyway......" began the second boss, "What should we do with these hoodlums? Burn em, shoot em, drown em?"

The boys looked at each other, scared to death, but tried to act brave. While the bosses were talking to each other, Johnny was thinking of a way out. The ropes were pretty tight, but there had to be a way to loosen them. These guys didn't seem that bright, after all.

"Don't worry about that right now," Said the first boss, "Just keep looting. That rope is super tight, and those chairs are bolted. They're not going anywhere for a while."

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After Ricky's dad left the magic shop, he put on the disguise and walked to the bank. It seemed to be working, as the townsfolk thought he was Mr. Castillucci, having no idea what happened to him as of yet.

"This just might work" He thought. He walked into the bank, and spoke with the teller.

"I'm here to get into my safe deposit box. I need to make sure everything is still in tact. There have been a lot of burglaries in the area, and I just want to be safe."

"Of course, Mr. Castillucci." Said the teller. "Guards, please take Mr. Castillucci to his box."

Ricky's dad let out a sigh of relief as he continued his journey to get the suitcase. Trying to remain calm, he followed the guards. One of them spoke, as if he's known the guy for upwards of 20 years.

"How's the family, sir?"

Having to think fast, he pulled something general out of his ass. He knew nothing about this family, and prayed that they, too, weren't somehow on his tail.

"They're well, thank you. The wife has been shopping more lately. I was wondering why my credit cards were running a little short. Haha."

"Hahaha. Yeah, my wife shops a lot too. How are the boys?"

At this point, the man was sweating. He remembered why he was there, and that question didn't help him calm down any. In fact, it absolutely terrified him. 

"The boys? They're just fine. All good grades in school, and just playing away. Boys being boys, I tell ya."

"Ah yeah," said the guard "my girls are good too. Who knows? Maybe one day they'll meet up...never mind. Girls and boys...haha"

Another guard spoke up quickly, before the conversation could get any more personal...

"Mr. Castillucci, sir. Your safe deposit box."

"Thank you," he said quickly, "Now, a little privacy please, fellas. I can't open this with people watching me."

"Of course. Guards, let's leave this man alone for a minute."

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"We're running out of food," said Fathead, with his mouth stuffed with candy bars and cold hot dogs.

Ignoring him, the others walked around the boys, making them more and more nervous.

"So, do you boys come here often? Downtown, I mean." One of the bosses spoke to the boys, trying to make them forget about what's going on. He held a knife in his hand, making sure they didn't try anything stupid.

"Sure," said Johnny, "We get sent here to run errands for our folks at least once a week or so."

"Is that right? What about you, kid?" He turned to Ricky.

Ricky was too nervous to speak. The boss laughed at him and looked back at Johnny.

"Doesn't talk to strangers, huh? What a smart kid. You, though, you're the brave one. That's probably why you're friends, huh?"

"His dad will get the money. We'll be out of here soon. I'm sure of it." thought Johnny, "I hope..."

"I guess", said Johnny aloud.

"21 hours left, boys..." The boss seemed quite anxious. "Hopefully we don't have to waste anyone else today" He thought.

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Walking out of the bank after about an hour, Ricky's dad thought that seemed a little too easy. Just as he thought that, his nerves racked up higher than ever. He knew this was the Mano Nera, (also known as the Black Hand Society), and not the mafia boss himself, and that allowed him to cool down a bit. He knew they didn't want to kill those kids, but that they just wanted the money. The time frame was real though, and they all would be wasted if the request wasn't fulfilled in a timely fashion. Walking toward the door in confidence, a guard stopped him before he could make his exit.

"Sir, I'm sorry for this. The top dog wants to see you in his office. Nothing major, he just has some questions for you."

Nothing major? In this bank, everything was major. He knew he couldn't get away that easily. "Shit" he thought, "busted."

Walking up to the office of the big dog, he stepped over 5 dead guards. They were the same guards that escorted him up to the box. He was almost ankle deep in blood, and he wanted to walk out, but knew he'd probably get shot if he did. The best thing he could do at this point was play along.

"Come on in, Mr. Castillucci. Have a seat, and a cigar, if you'd like. We need to talk."

"Thank you, sir." The man spoke softly, but with a level of confidence.

"Don't worry about the guards. They didn't follow my protocol, so they're gone. My janitor will be along to clean this mess up shortly. I'm sure you know how it is, huh?" The big dog laughed and lit another cigar after putting out the other one on one of the guard's arms.

"So," The big dog began, "Can you remind me of your birthday, please? Was it September? Or maybe April?"

Luckily, the man knew Mr. Castillucci's birthday. He came in every year and brought him a cake that his wife would bake for him, and his son would bring him a small gift.

"July 14, sir." He said with confidence and a sigh of relief. They both laughed a little.

The big dog put another clip in his gun and looked at it with a slight turn of his head. Looking through the trigger, he spoke again.

"What year?"

Oh shit. He had to think fast. He couldn't remember the year, so he threw a guess and hoped he was right.

"1870, sir." He once again spoke with a confidence that just can't be taught.

"That's what I thought." He held the gun to Ricky's dad's head, "Cheating the bank is a big no-no, mac. Even mobsters have our limits. I knew something wasn't right when you walked through, and my guards let you walk through a little too easily. You see them on the floor there? That's why they're there, and there's only 5. I told the 6th one if he stopped you at the door, I'd spare his life this time. Don't sit there and play dumb with me. I know you're not Mr. Castillucci. So, where is he?"

Ricky's dad was sweating like a prostitute in church. He took off the wig and moustache, and came clean. "Alright, I'll level with you. He's dead, sir. The Mano Nera has my kid and his friend, and told me that if I didn't get this money, he'd kill me and them. I don't want my kid to die. Please, help me. I swear I won't tell a soul."

"How long do you have?" The big dog asked, putting the gun down.

"I'd say about 15 hours or so."

The boss looked at his clock, and started to laugh. He knew he wouldn't get that money in the next few hours.

"Any last words, kids? Sorry it had to end this way. I really am." The boss cocked his gun, but before he could shoot, he had a revolutionizing thought.

"Innocence," he thought. "Nobody would suspect a couple of kids. Get them involved in our operation, then we don't have to waste them...of course, I'd leave it up to them. Die now or be part of this thing of ours. Not much of a decision, but it's something..."

"I have a better idea." he untied the boys.

"What the hell are you doing?!" The second boss asked, with a panicked voice.

"What if..." The first boss explained his thought.

"No way," garbled Fathead, still eating. "No fucking way."

"Think about it, man. If these kids were part of us, they really couldn't tell anyone what's going on. Besides, nobody would suspect this kind of bait."

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"Alright," The big dog put his gun down and agreed to help save the kids. "But first, I have to do this."

BANG. He picked it up again and shot the man in front of him.

"The year was 1872." He roared with laughter, put out his cigar on the man's leg, then took the suitcase to Mr. Castillucci's shop.

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Knock, knock, knock.

"Fathead, answer the door. Don't let anyone in unless they have our dough."

"Who is it?" Yelled fathead.

"Mano Nera? I have your money." Yelled the man at the other side of the door.

The boss was pleased to hear this. "Let the man in."

"DAD?!" Screamed Ricky, "Where's my dad?!"

"I'm sorry, son" stated the big dog, in a fake sympathetic tone. "Your father was in an unfortunate accident. He's no longer with us."

The boss opened the suitcase and saw the money, all in unmarked bills. It was a beautiful sight.

"Thanks. You've always been loyal to us. It's always a pleasure to see your face."

"You're welcome. Now, what do we do with these 2?" Said the big dog. "How are we gonna waste them?"

"We have a better idea. They're just kids. We're going to make them part of our...uhh...team."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" The big dog seemed confused, and worried a bit.

"Sure, why not? We're not monsters. We just get what we want, and go on our way. Having a little innocence on our side couldn't hurt."

"Ok then," The man stumbled over his words just a bit. We've never had kids in our midst. Perhaps they're trying a different approach?  Big dog learned to never ask questions with this crowd. "Welcome to our operation. There are many rules you must follow. Let's discuss them."

After the boys learned the rules, the black hand went on it's way. The boys went back to the park to play, and continued their lives until they were needed, thus beginning a new era of the mafia.

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