South Philly - The Policy

"What do we do? He's hold up in that fucking gym of his, his faction has the place guarded twenty-four-seven. It's like a goddamn bank, the motherfucker will flee before the first bullet is even fired. He knows we're the ones after him and with you not making your entrance to the world official, we might have had the upper hand."

Al Varietta was many things, he was a Boss, Associate, and Friend. In the time of Charlie Pavanno's absence, he took up the first position. A fine one, he was the Acting Boss of the rumored Outfit, acting as the Chief for the crew as Charlie was inside. Only now, he was back and ready to take over. The Irish were the first to go, knowing how they would not be ready for a full-scale war, so soon after another one, they needed to relax and see how this went. 

"Al, you gotta calm down, take a sip of the Iced-Tea. The Irish a sloppy, cocky, and foolish. They think with my time away that there will be a rift between us, possibly believing that I would take out Maria and Henrik, they will go to one of them and offer them a deal, whoever comes back here, with the deal, is the one that is the traitor and will die."

Al looked at his friend differently for the first time, wondering where he had gotten this information, but he knew that his time in prison had to have informed him of the dealings outside. It was now that Al realized that Charlie would have been told by his visitors or other people of interest that knew the crew dealings.

"Do you know what you're saying? The Latin gangs will want your head...literally. This is too risky, Maria would never betray you, the girl loves you for Christ's sake. Do not pretend that you did not notice, I can tell by the look in your eye, you knew."

He chuckled, before leaning forward and allowing his hand to reach into the drawer of his desk, before pulling out a .357 Magnum. He places it onto the table and slid it over to Al, knowing what he was doing, entrusting his friend and Right-Hand to handle this job with loyalty and honor. 

"You know what to do, a couple of them hang out over at the diner near that shitty Gym, deal with the fucks and draw him out, whoever is at the diner, dies! I don't give a fuck! We're sending a message, no one deals booze in Philly anymore. No one! Go."

Al took hold of the cold Magnum, his eyes closing before sighing and standing up, walking towards the door, but before he truly left, he turned his head, looking down at the floor with an emotionless gaze. 

"I know why you want me to do this, The Irish fucked you over and you gotta deal with that. Only Maria and Henrik, they're good people, they may have fucked us over, but they were loyal. They had the best intentions, even if they never informed me of it. Spare them, if they prove to be the rat. Spare them, just this one last time, should they do it again, I shall pull the trigger myself."

Al never waited for a response, or even a sound of acknowledgement, he just walked out, knowing that his own job needed doing and he was going to do it for the family. For Midas and his friend, Charles Pavanno.

The Lucky Tavern

Pulling up to the rundown bar was three Lincoln K Series Cars, Creme Colored and slightly tinted windows. Soon they all stepped out of their cars, leading the packs of dogs was Charlie's Right-Hand, Alphonse Varietta, who still carried his Sidearm. All the men were dressed in their classy suits and very few wore shirts, who were the goons hired for the jobs. 

"Gino and Vito, you're with me! Tony and Big Fish, you go to the back door and burst in once you hear the shots. Nico and Jerry, watch our backs! Let's go introduce ourselves, eh?"

Al walked in and immediately, the air became colder, people looked to them with disdain, it was clear that this was more a social club for the O'Connell Faction and it seemed that Charlie picked a good day, one of the Shotcallers for the crew now stood in front of him. Kol Lingard, one of the smarter and tougher bastards of the Irish Faction, being more loyal to the new generation than O'Bannion's Crew and their old ways. 

"Al, what are ya doing here? We ain't got nothing to do with the Pier Beatdown, alright!? Probably the O'Bannion Faction! So get back in ya fancy cars and tell your boss to drop the soap, eh?"

Al laughed sarcastically, before spitting in Kol's face and punching him in the gut, causing many of the Irish to stand up now with anger showing on their faces. Only his men had brought out their guns, aiming them at every Irish bastard in the establishment...

"Heh, The Pier? Well it seems you Irish are looking for a war, but fuck it! We'll find out what happened and whoever controls the O'Bannion Faction will die, as will you...right now. Thank you for the information, you've outlived your usefulness, although, you were never useful to us, to begin with..."

Al turned to his man, lighting a smoke, he muttered, "Give it to 'em"

All hell broke loose as Machine Gun Bullets rained throughout the bar, many of the Irish falling to the ground, blood oozing out of every orifice, this was a massacre and it had yet to be done.

Few had survived and unluckily, it was Kol Lingard himself, as he groaned and moaned from the bullets, but also blood that had left his body and knew that he was not going to make it to the hospital, hell, he was not going to make it anyway. He was done for, but he had enough to say a few words.

"Fuck you! Your Boss is going to lead you down a path of no turning back, you want a war!? Huh!? Well, kill me! And you'll get it, you bloody bastard!"

Al sighed, pulling out his own sidearm and lining it up with the forehead of Kol, making sure to look him in the eyes as he did so. He released a sigh, before chuckling softly...

"Charlie Pavanno sends his regards..."

The only sound one would hear was the BANG! The body dropping onto the bloodied floor of the establishment was not to be heard either, the wet SPLASH! That it fell into like it was a puddle...

This was the first strike in the war against The Irish and a winner had yet to be seen...