NEW WRITING COMPETITION!  

As before, the story has to be between 300 and 600 words.  The subject is to be FAMOUS MURDERS THAT HAVE ACTUALLY HAPPENED IN THIS THING OF OURS!

Like our first competition, there will also be prizes for 2nd and 3rd place!!  And, well, I'm feeling generous, so all valid entrants will get a prize!!!

Post your entry here, by 21:00, 9th November!!

JUDGING!!!

All Crew Leaders are entitled to vote in this competition*  There will be a slight variable in the numbers of votes cast, so, for example a CL with 40 members' vote will be worth a little bit more than a CL with 3 members!!

*Callisto is barred from voting in this competition.  She simply can't be trusted.  This might seem unfair, but to that charge I simply say that you don't know your history.   I am happy to discuss.  Her vote will be awarded to someone with clout and sound judgement.

ANY QUESTIONS????

I know that you are incredibly busy @CommisarZverev, but I think some clarification may be in order, by Famous Murders in this thing of ours, do you mean Famous Murders on our streets, or famous murders out there beyond the vale, or both?

Esta had heard the news on the streets, he looked at VIPCreditsGrin with a blank face for a second...

"You want to take this one or should I?"

He sighed, leaning against the wall for a second, lighting a smoke as he did so.

"I wish you luck to whoever takes part in this though...."

They were going to need it...

Neil, famous murders from this thing of ours.

Vaelin, oh dear...  Wishing death upon a Made member of another family, huh?

Thank you PhillipMarleau, as the great poet of future times, who will be named after a gastronomic delicacy will come to say, 'You took the words right outta my mouth', I just hope it wasn't whilst you were kissing me...

Thank you Commissar.

Hundreds of mobsters took to the streets. Secret conversations in back alleys brought forth some of the most famous- and infamous- of Our Thing. Something was happening. Godfathers and Wise Guys alike were rising to see what would later become known as the May War.

It was an historic event. It decimated or destroyed the ranks of every city and later gave rise to one of the longest-serving regimes ever. Over the course of five days, more than 500 men and women would meet an early gave. But one murder in that sea of death could stand alone as truly remarkable. One shot. One kill.

As in many conflicts which besiege this place we call home, it kicked off with a “first wave.” Chicago and its allies began firing on rivals from New York and Philadelphia. But the dominance of this first wave- generally perceived to be absolute- had a flaw. A flaw that proved fatal for SammyGarcini, the head of the Chicago forces.

New York Godfather Phil_Steak, then perceived by many to be a reckless sycophant, had delivered the blow just seconds after Chicago’s war had begun. He was suspicious of the sudden arrival of Chicago’s biggest hitters in his home city and lifted his aim squarely on Garcini, as if to welcome their bloody conquest.

The shot, which buckled Chicago’s leadership, had made the city’s otherwise-insurmountable lead quite hollow. The intoxicating violence of the May War had begun exactly as it would end- which the deaths of titans on both sides.

Perhaps most remarkable of all was how the New York Godfather provoked the Chicago forces soon after his shot. With scarcely enough time for the barrel of his gun to cool, he strolled into a neutral coffee shop and declared:

“Sit your ass down, Prat.”

“Prat” was a shortened form of SammyGarcini’s coffee shop nickname, OriginalPratster. These were the first words uttered after the flurry of obituaries rolled in, and would haunt Chicago’s remaining forces for days until the war’s inevitable end.

The 24th of December 18.´

Most of the outsiders never realize that the daily life of the mobster is very different from being happy and celebrating Christmas or getting in a festive mood on their streets. Instead of partying mobsters continuously have to look out to not be dragged into dark alleys and get their throats slashed. They are watching their life fade away as the blood gushes out, only leaving the feeling of warm liquid streaming down as their last moments.

The 24th of December should, however, not be a typical day even for the underground world of the United States. Tension could be felt throughout the entire time, even many days before this cursed day. Most high ranked ones knew that it would only take some time until a bomb will drop; however, the manner and time in which it happened were ruthless.

The mobsters of Philadelphia were selling booze and at least trying to raise the mood and morale. Chairman Spaceman was with them, as he was known to be widely respected, as well as approachable man. He was beloved by the mobsters of his city with only very few enemies which was rare. As the Philadelphia mobsters were partying and celebrating Spaceman stepped away to take a little break from all the celebration and to go clear his head. A bit of booze is excellent. Still, a chairman should never be able to get so drunk, that his decisions and awareness slowly decline.

It was this moment, where the chairman decided to step away for a brief moment and take a breath in the alley. He had a moment to think about how to strengthen his city further while allowing his underlings to enjoy the special day. As he was getting ready to go back, the chairman felt the cold steel of a gun on the back of his head, immediately after a loud gunshot could be heard. The mobsters opened their eyes widely while Zoom, who was the right-hand man of the chairman of Philadelphia, immediately knew what was going on. While being tipsy, he quickly ran to the direction where the loud gunshot came from. Tripping once and landing with his arm in a shard of glass did not stop him from immediately getting up again, as the adrenaline raised to unnormal levels. 

It took only about 25 seconds despite the alcohol that the right-hand man needed to sprint to the dark alley. What he found was a blood-stained wall together with pieces of his chairman's brain splattered all over the floor and a limp body. He held his dead body for a moment.  He failed his chairman, no at this point even his brother, the man who he swore to protect and take a bullet for. Zoom could not hide his sadness, and a tear ran down his cheek, as he also felt a hellfire rage inside him. He knew that he had to decide on what to do next and to act quick. Even if he held his dead brother in his arm, there was simply no time to grief in this life, maybe in another one...

The assassin was, however, found by other local mobsters after killing another leader and then finally killed. Behind his mask hid the face of lollipops, who was one of the most respected Detroit leaders and went rogue. Despite the combined efforts of many other underworld cities to take possible henchmen of the assassin out, Zoom made the only decision one could do, when losing a chairman.
''Burn down all of Detroit and its allies.''

"I'll be taking part, Estarossa, don't you worry." Grinbini said to his good friend as they listened to the announcement by CommissarZverev. However, it soon became apparent that the instructions were quite difficult to follow. He had established it was a writing competition and all entries must be posted to "here". He mulled over this as a number of entrants came forward and began shouting at the Commissar, clearly misunderstanding what was required. Amateurs.

Grinbini returned to his desk in the basement of The Coconut Chronicle, narrowly avoiding a run-in with the alpha dog who had claimed the southwest corner of the basement as his den. He began to write down his story.

Intern Salvatore Grinbini

Lower Ground Floor

The Coconut Chronicle HQ

Dank Warehouse Boulevard, off

The Strip

Las Vegas

CommissarZverev

Here

8th November

Dear Commisar Zverev,

RE: Writing Competition

Please find below my story which is to be submitted as part of your latest writing competition. I trust you will not unfairly judge my entry on the basis of the active investigation I am currently embroiled in, which, as you are no doubt aware, you are heavily involved with. I further trust that you accept, as is laid down in case law and set as precedent, none of these words contribute to the word count.

It was a cold day in the middle of summer. The sun was shining and a young Grinbini wore an often patched coat to keep the rain from soaking him through. He wiped the sweat from his head and wondered if life would always be this hard. He hadn't yet established himself as an Intern of some renown at The Coconut Chronicle, he was just a young man, weighed down by a long arduous life as a civilian, standing on a street corner.

Moments later SHOTS WERE FIRED. Grinbini ducked for cover and hobbled towards the perceived shelter of a nearby alleyway. Having reached it, he peaked out to see what was occurring. He saw a man he recognised as Obi-Wan_Kenobi clutching a hand to once-white-now-vanilla-and-increasingly-strawberry robes. It wasn't strawberry at all. Blood. It had to be. 

"They got me!!!" He yelled to the now deserted street. Obi-Wan slumped against the wall of a coffeshop, where the owner was quickly yanking down his shutters, slowly covering the windows. Obi-Wan moaned again until another man stepped forward. Where he had been before, Grinbini could only guess, but now he stood just feet apart from Obi-Wan, all the way across the other side of the street. 

"This was a Detroit matter, Obi-Wan," the man yelled softly to the fallen former right hand. Obi-Wan moaned but seemed incapable of further speech. 

"You bastard!" Obi-Wan said. "Why did you do this? You shouldn't have in-" 

The gunman smiled and pulled the trigger 5 more times. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG, the gun went and Grinbini covered his ears from the terrible sound. He shut his eyes and looked up to see the shooter striding towards him. Grinbini buried himself further amongst the garbage in the alley, hoping he wasn't seen, as he got a clear look at the man's face. You could say he was the witness to the famous murder that actually happened in this thing of ours.

With my entry concluded and, I assume, gleefully accepted by your good self, I welcome you to raise any issues or complaints with me directly and not (which cannot be stressed enough) with CoconutRandy.

Yours sincerely,

Intern Sally Grinbini

With the story written, he folded it neatly and placed in it an envelope, which he had filled numerous request forms with Chronicle HR to obtain. He went to the post office, stepped over the mysterious puddle, and made sure it was sent to 'here' as instructed. 

Billy Mastrosimone was fucked. His city was fucked. He knew it even before the phone rang loudly in the penthouse of the Los Angeles hotel he was staying at. 

He let out a long exasperated sigh as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose with two rough fingers. The thought occurred to him to just let it ring and ring but that wasn’t going to do anyone any good now. The phone would keep ringing until he picked up or eventually the less than subtle knock on the door would come. 

Billy slowly lifted the receiver, as soon as the ringing cut out a heavy blanket of silence covered the room. He didn’t speak at first, only held the phone up to his ear, his breathing coming in slow, shallow beats. 

He already knew what was on the other end. 

“No. It is as simple as that...I’m not sure what you are missing here. The answer is no. I know my men. I know my city...New York will not bow to your paranoia. We are builders. That’s what we do. There is a reason we’ve stayed away from the death and destruction that the west has rained down on whomever they deem unfit...No, I will not kill my own men because of how power hungry this has all become...Yes, I understand...I’m sorry it had to come to this. You can find me in the lobby in LA. I’ll be waiting.”

Billy didn’t wait for a response as he placed the phone down lightly with a tiny chime. He knew the consequences that were coming and accepted them fully. The only thing that was nagging at the back of his brain was the thought of the rest of New York. It was a slippery slope, if he bent the knee now it would only delay the inevitable, only prolong the suffering by a bit. No, he thought, this had to be done and it had to be done this way. 

They were coming for him one way or the other but Billy wasn’t the type to back down. He had never done it before and he certainly wasn’t going to start now.

He went about freshening up a bit. He put on a clean ironed shirt and ran a comb through his black hair quickly as he stared into the mirror. He was ok with the person looking back at him. He had done the best he could with what he had. 

The last thing he did was slip his guns into their shoulder holsters, taking one more long deep breath as he swung the door open. 

The echoing BANG from the hallway was the last thing he heard.

The family's leaders had assembled at a safehouse-compound retreat over in Chicago's Chinatown. The meeting room resembled a traditional Japanese house, an open space with paper walls, built with a wood frame. The room gave a sense of tranquility, of peace, of shui and qi. A Pigeon could be heard cooing softly on the rooftop, basking in the cool evening air before flying to his nest for a long-deserved nap after an eventful day. But the reason for meeting was not as peaceful. The leader of the city's underworld, Godmother Katniss, was rumored to be making a move to remove the most peaceful, gracious and generous leader, Finnick.

Finnick's most trusted comrade, "Arrow" stood across from Finnick as the deliberations of what steps to take next. Arrow had acted Finnick's right-hand, Arrow was Finnick's most valuable and faithful servant, and stood by Finnick following DeadlySin's death and the chaos and instability that followed. Arrow was seen by many to be Finnick's natural successor, and would be his underboss after Finnick took the chair of Godfather for their district.

"Yes, um, Finnick?"

"What?"

"Katniss, she couldn't have ordered your removal for no reason... Finnick, if we're going to survive this, I need to know the truth!"

"Ah, Arrow... the truth.. did Severe know the truth when Phil_Steak sent him a bomb in the mail? Did Gaspipe know the truth of what truly happened on his fateful day? And the truth is, I did the right thing, the plan worked."

"But there will be peace right? We can convince them that we're on-side, and doing the right thing for bettering the world?"

"Ah." Finnick sighed, "My good Arrow, the thing is that peace isn't a thing that just happens over night. It takes time, and needs to be enforced."

Finnick takes a walk to the other side of the room, Arrow, in a nervous demeanor, walks forward to stretch her legs. With Arrow's step, Finnick graciously moves to the side of the room behind Arrow and out of Arrow's eyesight.

"Like you, Arrow, you're almost like a sheriff, you're the shield that protects the people, but you also carry a gun. Or like bread too, where both sides are just as equally capable of of being buttered..."

"I'm a gun, Finnick?"

"Exactly, because you're an asset to both sides. Mine and theirs." Finnick quietly picks up a Katana and adopts a ready position, while stalking towards Arrow like a cougar to its prey. "And morty , we can't let that gun fall into the wrong hands."

With one fell swoop, Arrow's head fell to the floor, and Arrow would be toasted no more.
 

After searching for a while, Blackboard uncovered a old journal from his great, great, great.. (you get it) father who went by the name of K_W. He remembered the last entry in the journal and the newspaper article the son of K_W had added to the journal finishing the events of that day.

September 11, 1936, Chicago

Today was planned to be a great day, after we all helped the good Godfather Doctorboom take down the evil Godfather Spikespiegel in the Motor city we had all planned out to expand our territory to that city too. Long discussions were held in back rooms with Godfather Doctorboom, Don Oakheart, Don Nefer, Don ChristianGato and Don K_W, in the end it was decided that Don Nefer would be taking the Godfather position in Detroit and finally after a long life of crime K_W was positioned to take the role as a family lead himself... ohh the ideas he had, the joy he felt he could find in running his own HQ and have youngsters follow in footsteps of experienced capo’s he had already contacted and agreed to support his new operations.

Yet a quick phone call came as he just finished suiting up, Godfather Boom was killed... and what’s worse it was by his 2nd in command Don Roboakheart. And to top on that as he rushed out a runner boy just came storming up to him, in between takign big breats, ... Don Nefer... dead... Don Christ ... ianGato.

K_W quickly realized all the plans were down the drain and immediate action was to be taken and he contacted the remaining leaders of Chicago and started to see how the attack and thus war waged by Don Rob and his associates who fled to New York could best be handled. But the loss of their Godfather and intended Godfather and some other unfortunate deaths in the hours after tipped their chances.

Sitting in a secret room with his remaining allies, seeing that the balance of power needed to be re-adjusted K_W decided that only 1 thing he could do himself to help his people win this war... A DUEL, knowing both gentlemen well since all were respectful in their ways even in adversary, K_W sent an errant boy to Godfather ChristianGato challenging him to a duel. In the meantime K_W had swiftly dealt with the old Godfather in Chicago who hastily regained control of Chicago after Godfather Boom died and dispatched the oldtimer.

Many ears had heard the news and when he faced ChristianGato, as was proclaimed in the newspapers, both men respectfully greeted on another knowing the stakes behind the duel and the effect it would have on the war raging outside the doors of this underground arena.

A nod of the head... a strong handshake and piercing eyes.. Yes this duel between Godfathers would be earth shattering...

From the eye of the observers the godfathers seemed calm, composed and certain of their decision, but one could only imagine the amount of storms raging in their head.

And then the moment of truth, the coin toss who would be shooting first. As the referee asked the gentlemen’s preferences and heard them he tossed it, it spun at least 10 times in what seemed an hour but eventually after balancing on it’s edge for a split second or two, it dropped to heads. This mean Godfather ChristianGato was to shoot first.

As both men faced another, the silence was pallable and a single shot pierced the silence, his gun smoking, Godfather ChristianGato just averted his eyes and sighed.