Don Carlo makes his way out of his office and to the lobby where his family awaits for him to arrive. "You all may be seated" Said Don Carlo as he looks over to his RHM Josephbiondo and gives him a nod. Joseph then turns to the wall and mounts a poster to the wall. "Today will be the start of a friendly competition for the members of the Gambino Crime Family. This competition will be about writing a short story role play, for more details please read the poster. I wish you the best of luck." Don Carlo stated before having to leave quickly for a business meeting.

Attention!!! all Gambino Crime Family members its

COMPETITION TIME !!!!

 

This Competition will be running over the course of 3 Days

(Jul 22) to (Jul 25) In game time.

 

This competition will be about writing a short story role play. The topic would be about the first day of you joining the Gambino Crime Family. Explain your first day, the things you did, who reached out to you. How you were feeling becoming apart of the mafia.

Have fun, create a fun and enjoyable experience for the reader. Don’t worry about if your not a big role player or if you don’t know how too. If you at least make an effort to try you will still have a chance to win.

 

*1st Place  To be announced*

*2nd Place To be announced*

(Good things happen to those who are involved)

 

!!!To be qualified you must post you're short story in this thread!!!

 

Competition will be judged by Don Carlo, JosephBiondo, Eleonora_Luciano and RichardKuklinski

 

Any questions can be answered by Don Carlo or RichardKuklinski




Good Luck Everyone!!!

I was new to America and had to take care of some urgent family business in New York. What I did seem to of got the attention of others. Not too sure how that would go, might have pissed off some. It was family and I did not care how others felt. A few days later, Richard Kuklinski, of The Gambino Crime Family in Summerlin, LV, got a hold of me. Said he had heard a few stories about me from friends in NY, then he mentioned there might be a job for me with them. Said he wanted to meet with me, so I flew out to Los Vegas to meet with Richard. We talked for a while and he said I might be a good fit in the family, but that I needed to see Mr. Carlos Gambino first.

The meeting was to be at a local bar at 8 pm that night. I went to the room I was renting to freshen up. There way no hot water for the bath so I did a quick wash in the sink. I shaved the 5 o'clock shadow I was wearing, only nicking myself 3 times. I took out my best suit and laid it on the bed. I sat in the chair next to the small table and did what I could do for my shoes. I put talcum powder where needed, splashed on some cologne and got dressed. I checked my reflection in the mirror, was half assed pleased with the results and left to go to meet my future.

As I walked down the sidewalk, I was looking for something to bring as a gift. One of the main things my family taught me was you never meet a "Family" boss without a gift. I saw a gentleman selling knifes and looked at his selection. Mostly second rate copies, but one got my attention. It was a 1890 Offiziersmesser, a Paul Boéchat & Cie swiss army knife. "Perfect." I said and bought it. The man wrapped it in a plain box with fancy paper around it.

With gift in hand, I made my way to the bar.

I walked in and looked around. A couple of people here and there. I went to the bartender asking if Mr. Gambino has arrived yet. "No sir. I've been expecting him and Mr. Kuklinski. They should be here shortly." he said. I sat at the bar and ordered a water.

A short time later two gentlemen walked in looking like they owned the place. One sat a corner table, the other walked up to me and asked, "Are you Orlin Lang?" I studied him for a bit before replying, "Yes, I am."  "Mr. Gambino is waiting." was his reply. I nodded my thanks and walked over to the table.

"Hello sir, I'm Orlin Lang." I said and extended my hand. He took it in a strong grip and asked me to be seated. I took the chair opposite of Mr. Gambino. I removed the gift from my pocket and placed it in front of him, "A token of my appreciation for this meeting." I said. He opened the box and withdrew the knife. A slight smile reached his lips. "A very nice gift, thank you." he stated a placed the knife in his jacket pocket. He asked me several question about my life, my family and what brought me to America, then many more about my ambitions. I answered all of them honestly. I asked some questions back, he answered them honestly as well. He finally said, "I like you Mr. Lang and I offer to you a place in my family." I thought about for a second before replying, "Thank you sir. I will do my best not to disappoint you." My Nonno would be proud. We shook hands again. Mr. Kuklinski came up and shook my hand as well, "I knew this would work out." he said with a wink. They said their goodbys and left. I went back to the bar.

I ordered a shot of whiskey. I don't drink often, but in this case .... the bartender brought me my shot, I told him to grab one for himself as well. He poured, we clinked glasses, "Salute!" I replied. He choked a bit on his shot then asked, "Good news, I take it?" I put my glass down and looked at the bartender for a moment, "It is. I came to this country with one thing in mind. I finished that and had no plan afterwords, now I have a whole new purpose, a new famiglia to help, to protect. To be in the same footsteps as mt father is ..... Life is amazing that way." The bartender nodded in understanding. We shared a few more shots .......

It all started with the murder of my Father a few months ago, before his death he sent me away back to Barcellona Pozzo di Gotto, Italy to get away from this life of ours.

I was away for a while and all of a sudden I got a call from the Godfather asking me if I wanted to come back to be apart of something great, little did I know it would be as Right Hand Man to Don Carlo-Gambino.

For a little while I was assigned to Carmine_Ligambi but with his retirement came a great opportunity, it was a cold and stormy and I didn't think the weather would ever break but once it did I received a wire from Don Carlo asking if I would join his Family and because the honor and respect my Father had to be come his Right Hand Man.

I accepted and the rest is history.

Money isn’t the only thing that I took from my old man’s study when I left home. I took a small, golden lighter – I like the patterns carved and the feel of it – and a folding knife, with a really sharp blade. Made to skin deer, it has a pretty nice heft and a 6-inch blade. Also, I took a durable bright pocket flashlight out of the drawer. Plus, a Ray-ban Aviator to conceal my age. I thought about taking my old man’s favorite Sea-Dweller Rolex. It’s a fine-looking watch, but something flashy will only entice attention.

I opened another drawer and took out a photo of me and my older brother when we were little, the two of us on a beach somewhere with grins plastered across our faces. I was kind of looking to the side, so half of my face was in shadow and my huge smile was nearly cut in half. Like those tragedy opera masks, that’s half one idea and half the opposite. Light and dark. Black and white. Hope and despair. Laughter and sadness. Love and apathy.

I wondered who took it. How could I have looked so happy?

Being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer at the age of 10 and was told that I only have 4 years left to live, I never got a good grip of what childhood means. Everything is grey when it’s meant to be floral, cold when it’s meant to be warm, and bitter when it’s meant to be sweet – it’s how I felt growing, because it’s how my family let me feel. I was a burden to them -- they always made sure that I was aware of it. I am breathing, but it never felt like I was living. I was a dead man walking.

Surprisingly enough, two days from now will be my 20^th birthday and it’s the ideal time to run away from home and from clinical therapy. Any earlier and it’d be too soon. Any later and I would’ve missed my chance.

I switched off the lights and left the house. A house that feels so heavy, a house where I hear the whispers of people who don’t exist, the cries of the dead. A house where loneliness, sorrow, and apathy are its only source of light.

Summerlin, LV, I decided. That’s where I’ll go. With no particular reason I had the feeling that’s where I should go. I took the bus, only one third of the seats were taken, and most of the passengers were traveling alone just like me. The more that I got further from home, the more that I felt like I was home.

When the bus finally pulled off the highway and came to a stop, the front door of the bus opened with an airy hiss, lights blinked on both sides, and the driver made a brief announcement. “Good morning everybody. Hope you had a good rest. We have finally arrived at Summerlin Station.” The announcement woke us all passengers and we silently struggled to be on our feet. I was yawning as I stumbled out of the bus.

I got off, took a couple of deep long breaths, and did some basic stretching exercises in the fresh morning breeze. I walked over to the men’s room and splashed some cold water on my face. I looked in the mirror and told myself. “This is it. There’s no going back now. Welcome to the world of the living.”

I went outside and looked around. Nothing special, just the typical busy streets with bountiful commerce; people selling goods, dried fish, meat, liquor, flasks of some sorts. Maybe I’m just imagining things, but the shape of the hills and the color of the trees seem different from those back in Idaho.

From the station, I followed the map and walked north past rows of aged stores and houses made out of boards, white walls, granite, stone walls with hedges on top. At the corner of the street, I saw a drawn sign of booze and bed in an arrow pointing to the east.  I followed the road signs, so I won’t get lost.

Right in front of the small Pub and Inn’s front gate stand two neatly trimmed shrubs of red and brown. Inside the gate, a wooden path leading to the entrance. Finally, I got in front of the slightly opened front door. I was dumbfounded by the stench of cigars and alcohol and the loud incessant conversations piercing through the opening. I was hesitant to go through, but I was tired and my body decided.

Sometime in the middle of the night a hard rain started to fall. I woke up, part the beige curtain and gazed out the window. Raindrops beat against the glass blurring streetlights along the road. Then, I saw a man staring straight at me undaunted. But I didn’t mind, partly because I might just be imagining things, and partly because it was dark and raining heavily that I might have misjudged the situation. I sat right back on my bed and checked my watch and see it’s past midnight. My 20^th birthday made its appearance.

“Hey, happy birthday,” I said to myself.

“Thanks,” I replied.

I got out of my room, went down the wooden stairs, and went straight right to the counter and ordered a glass of rye. The environment changed, the pub was strangely quiet, the curtains were rolled down, lights were dim, only a couple of tables were occupied. I chugged my first glass, and unto the second, and unto to the third. And as I was sipping my fourth, a lady came over and plunked herself down on the bar seat next to me. In her right hand, she had a paper cup of hot coffee, the steam rising up from it, and in her left hand she was holding a wax-sealed envelope with initials R.K.

I was about to leave when she suddenly grabbed my right shoulder. Her hands were small, soft, but her touch was cold and shaky. I stared at her, she smiled a crooked one, handed me the letter, and left without uttering a single word.

I went straight to my room and opened the letter.

“Liam,
I see you’ve finally decided to live ya life, kid. All those years, you were living just for the day; always walking on the right side of the street. Living on the rules that brought you nothing but pain and injustice; that made you weak; that made you hungry for resistance but was never fed. You lived ya life always behind and getting only the leftovers if there was any. Step it up, kid! Let’s put another grin on that face, shall we?

-R.K.

P.S. Stone Bridge 6 o’clock”

I was still. The clock ticking in reverse. Trying to grasp who this man was. How did he know me? How come he knew my past?

“Another grin on that face”

“Another Grin”

There was an utterly long pause…

“The man who took the photo!” I said to myself.

I spent the night staring at the wooden ceiling counting its cracks wondering what this brand-new life has in store for me.

When the sun finally bathed the sky, I went directly on the stone bridge and waited. It felt like every second is an hour, every hour is a day. Sweat pouring down my face, my throat was dry like a parched land, my knees trembling along with every thump of my edgy heart , my hands colder than the winter breeze. Then after a few minutes that felt like a lifetime, I saw a black Royce Phantom pulling over. The driver in black suit got off the vehicle, opened the suicide doors of the limo, and directed me in. The great feeling of fear made me hesitate to follow, but the excitement of what lies ahead consumed me.

The limo plows down the highway at a set speed, the tires humming along, never getting any louder or softer. Same with the engine, its monotonous sound like a mortar smoothly grinding down time. I was being carried, efficiently and numbly, towards my destination.

It was  nearly noon when we reached our destination. A huge imposing front gate stood in front us. Inside is gravel path that winds past other beautifully manicured bushes and trees -- pines, kerria, and azaleas -- with not a fallen leaf in sight. A couple of stone lanterns peek out between the trees, as does a small pond. Finally, I got off the vehicle and was directed straight in front of the intricately designed entrance. I came to a halt in front of the open front door, uncertain about going inside. This place doesn't look like a house I've ever seen. but coming all this way, I might as well take the plunge. Just inside the entrance, a well-dressed man wearing a black suit and tie offered his hand to me.

"Richard Kuklinski"

"Welcome to the Gambino Crime Family, nephew."

I nod, but the words don't come. The revelation took me by surprise and made me extremely tensed. I can't believe that he is my uncle and that he is part of a mafia. This gave me total chills filled with horror yet great anticipation. Horror because of the thought that I am expected to join the family and if I am ready,  and excitement because this kind of adventure is what I've been looking for, and missing my entire life.

"We have a lot to talk about and catchin' up to do, kid. But first, I'd like you to meet the boss, Carlo Gambino."

My uncle guided me towards the room. In front of me was a very huge gold-plated door with ancient carvings, hard to distinguish, but obviously historical. On both sides are two large sculptures of a bull and a bear, which I think signifies balance between greed and fear and creating opportunities in-between.

I turned the knob slowly not wanting to cause any unnecessary sound, as I pushed further, a man on a navy blue suit on white sleeves with a glass of rye on the left hand, was clearly in sight. He glared intently at my face for a while trying to see within me, trying to see if there is a hungry wolf inside me waiting to be unleashed.

He then finally spoke.

"Aren't you scared to die, child?" he said.

"I have died a long time ago, I'm not afraid to live." I replied.