With thanks to EvilClown, Lincoln_Lawyer, Ray_Liotta and others who are supporting this content in various ways, I'm pleased to announce....

A NEW WRITING CONTEST!

Simply give a speech here (no minimum wordcount, max is 500) and your contribution will be assessed for a prize.

We have more than $5m in cash, and some exceptional perks (the types that cannot be purchased) up for grabs!

The last contest saw the winner receive $10m in creditstock.

This time, even more is available!

Simply give your speech by this time next week.  I'll give each person than enters six figures for doing so, and the same to their CL.

There are no good reasons NOT to answer and many reason TO answer.

THANK YOU!

This is my piece on one of the most famous wackings in the history of this thing of ours, which is just one story I was lucky to be a part of in my many years working alongside some very famous gangsters. I hope you enjoy.

-

Death of a Bootlegger, by EddieMame

I'm out on a hike with my friend Arnold Rothstein. In reality, he's more an ally of convenience than a friend but you have to do these kinds of things together to convince each other there is a bond there. Hikes, bowling, a hand on a knee, a furtive glance. This is what keeps the peace. Anyway, we find these eggs. We don't know what kind of eggs they are. The location is pretty non-descript. They aren't in a nest or being incubated by any kind of animal. They're just there. But we know these are some wild eggs. They're a little discoloured, with brown patches, and about three times as large as a chicken egg. The problem I'm having is Arnold Rothstein is dying to eat one, he's so hungry. He doesn't want to cook it; he won't even hear of poaching, or frying, or scrambling, he wants to crack that baby open and slurp it on up like a milkshake. I'm like, 'Arnold! That's groooosss!' but he's determined. There is desperation in his eyes. He's snickering to himself, rubbing his hands together, licking his lips, as he looms over this batch of eggs, looking like a man ready to ease one down his throat, like a man willing to swallow them whole like a snake. And then one cracks. The shell begins to fall apart. It crumbles, and crumbles, little pieces of egg shell breaking off, until a slimy, squeaking head pokes through. It's screeching now, goo sliding off its face, the face of...no...it can't be? Is that Dutch Schultz?! Arnold think it's a set up, he's beside himself, he flies into a rage and stomps on the little bastard until there's nothing but yoke left. And then he slurps him on up.

An excellent piece, EddieMame - but this one won't be in the contest proper, as it was your last entry that inspired me to create this one.

So well done for being the groundbreaker here, but this entry is for info only, as the suits are fond of saying. 

My boss, Gil_Gunderson has chucked in some excellent prizes.  Travel perks, Bodyguard perks, and other perks that will make you feel like a VIP.

EvilClown's done the same, including some prizes that aren't available for mere money!

@Close off any ideas of not entering, and jump to it!

Whether you're a Maverick or a Ray of Light writer, you're welcome here.  Be relentless in your ambition.  

The prize fund now stands at $6.2m, and about $20m in perks!!!

Thanks to Ray_Liotta for this recent donation!

It's Dangerous to Go Alone

It was a dark night and Cherry stood alone against a crumbling brick wall.  She wanted revenge and it had been a long time since she'd had any good leads on who had killed her brother. The wind howled and she pulled up the collar of her coat, trying to keep warm.  The only thing that truly brought her warmth was the vision of Al Cozzi lying in a pool of his own blood.  Trying to shake off the vision she slipped her hand into her coat and found comfort in the heaviness of her revolver.  Suddenly, light pooled on the street adjacent to her position and she palmed her gun into the sleeve of her coat. 

"And that's why you don't bet on the little guys!"  A loud guffaw echoed down the alley and Cherry peered past the cars parked in front of her.  There he was.  A handsome man in his fifties, his dark black hair streaked with silver.  He put on his hat and walked out with his bodyguards, Frank and Sam, past where Cherry stood.  She tried to step forward, tried to say something but her mouth was to dry and her hands trembled like leaves shivering in the wind.  She pulled back into the alleyway and cursed at herself, tears beginning to form in her jade green eyes. 

"No." she whispered to herself. "I will end this tonight!"  

She stepped out of the dark and into a pool of light shed by the streetlamp above her. 

"Al Co-" She had barely begun to speak his name when there was a blinding flash of light as the car Al had just been handed into exploded in a conflagration of fire and smoke.  Cherry felt her feet leave the ground as she was blown backwards. She never felt herself land. 

The ceiling was white, the light blazing from above and directly into Cherry's brain was white, the ruffles of fabric that fell from a track in the ceiling was white.  She groaned.  It wasn't very long before a furious face, eyebrows furrowed so deep they looked like a dark gash, loomed over her.  A dark visage to be sure.  Cherry winced and tried to speak.  Her best friend Charlie just shook her head.

 "You IDIOT!" She barked. "You absolute moron!" You went to kill Al Cozzi on your own?  You could, no, you should have been killed!  What you thought you could surprise him in an alleyway, shoot yourself through his two best bodyguards and then what? Have your revenge? Are you insane?"  She took a deep breath and began to cry. "How the hell was I supposed to go on without you? You big dummy!"  She sighed and placed Cherry's gun in her hands.  "You're lucky I was following you. Promise me that next time you get a hairbrained idea like this that you tell me?"

Cherry, feeling properly chastised nodded and handed Charlie her gun.  "I promise. It's you and me from here on out."

Ray_Liotta stepped out of the doorway and onto the cold, wet, muddy floor outside.  Half drunk but still alert and walking with a slight limp on the left side Ray headed towards the alley at the side of the building.  A homeless man was hudled up under a blanket so as Ray passed by he dropped a £20 by the man's feet.

The homeless man said in manicly insane sort of way,
'I'll tell you the truth, come closer'

Ray leant in very slightly to hear the man out.
'It's a game' The man said.
'It's a game?' Ray questioned.
'It's a game we live in, nothing is real, everything is a lie!' The man protested.

Ray had a short fuse, and had already heard enough, with in the blink of an eye Ray had his Beretta Model 1934 half an inch up one of the man's nostrels.
Ray said in a manacing voice, 'Say one more crazy word and i'll redecorate this alley red!'

But still the man opened his mouth to speak, 'Go ahead it won't work'

Ray's eyes squinted as his anger reached boiling point, CLICK....
CLICK, CLICK, CLICK.
Ray tried to shoot but the gun simply would not fire.

The homeless man chuckled to himself, 'I told you we live in a game, and someone already shot at me fifteen minutes ago and they missed so now I'm proed for a while, making me almost invincible.' The man rises out of his blanket, revealing that he is infact wearing a pinstriped suit.  By this point Ray is in a complete state of confusion and just stands still stunned.
'I'm not a homless bum I'm the man you pickpocketed before you went into that bar!'

Ray gets beaten to within an inch of his life as the gangster now stood before him strikes back and mugs Ray. Ray tries to shoot a few more times. CLICK, CLICK, CLICK... Nothing.

Ray stumbles to his feet and heads back towards the door from which he came.
'Damn I must be drunker than I thought' Ray says to himself as he steps back inside.
 

“Enter!” the boisterous voice echoed from the other side of the door. 

Dub turns the pristine, brass doorknob and steps through the threshold and into the dark lit office. A thick tobacco smoke hangs in the room. His throat tightens up. He’s never been much of a smoker, but he wasn’t about to cough in fro—

Dub coughs.

He looks down to avoid making eye contact after his brief show of weakness and notices scuff marks on the floor—probably leftover from the last poor bloke who found himself dragged from this smoky hellscape. He slowly looks up as he reaches the lone chair, a safe haven, and blinks towards the shadowy shape of a man backlit by the noon sun sneaking silently through the blinds. 

The figure motions for Dub to take his shoddy throne opposite of the kingpin. Dub pulls the chair from under the desk creating a high-pitched squeal of wood scraping wood, much to his dismay. 

“Sorr—” 

*DONG*

Dub was immediately cut off by the bellowing grandfather clock in the corner that announced it was noon. After twelve long chimes, Dub looks up to apologize again. In a rapid and presumably oft practiced motion, the crownless kingpin swings his hand forward toward Dub in a motion to stop talking. 

He stands from his place of power, rests his cigar on a dish, and moves off to the left. Dub, unsure of whether he should track the figure on his odyssey, side-eyes him as he makes his trek towards the mini-bar. 

To the hyper-aware Dub, the amount of liquid being poured into the glass may as well have been a deluge within a glass universe. The slow, methodical sound of the footsteps receding from the bar and returning back to their mahogany base of operations was haunting. 

To Dub’s surprise, the figure returned with two glasses of amber-hued liquid. Seemingly calculated, the figure places the second of the two glasses almost in a sort of no-man’s-land on the desk. Dub sits motionless, solid as stone but drenched in sweat.

The man leans forward onto his desk revealing some features through the warm, orange light of his desk lamp. A furrowed brow, pop-marked cheeks with a natural reddish coloring, jet black pencil mustache matched only by his pitch black, slicked-back hair. 

A beat passes. 

The door behind Dub bursts open with a loud bang. Almost rehearsed, Dub quickly drops to the floor, eyes level with the scuff marks as the men begin firing from the hip arbitrarily around the office. The bursts of fire from their guns only adds to the smoky room. 
 

The shots stop.

It’s silent. 

Dub takes a moment to breathe and compose himself, “They need to see confidence…” he thinks. 

He stands and looks across the desk to a body riddled with lead, barely holding together by sinew and muscle, grabs the leftover glass of alcohol and downs it in one motion.

He turns back towards the men and smirks.

“Let’s get to work.”

The Vilmont Treasure was uncovered in July in a sea cave somewhere on the west coast. A massive trove of precious metals, gems, ancient gold coins, and relics believed to have mystic properties. The Vilmont bloodline was plagued with tragedy, but before their tragic downfall they were a very prominent family known to live a lavish lifestyle. They eventually disappeared off the face of the planet and their immense wealth went as suddenly and mysteriously as they did.

July changed this when some kids went exploring a sea cave and stumbled upon it. The kids didn't know what to do, they called the police and reported. As these things go, the government got involved and ceased it all. This is how Mikazuki caught wind of it's existence. He wanted this magnificent trove for himself. He knew that such wealth would not only change his life, but it would change the lives of generations to come.

Mikazuki had the agents on his payroll keep their ears open for updates on the treasure and for months nothing changed. That was until today, it was said that on the evening of September 30th at 3pm the governor would be hosting a fundraising gala. There would be a surprise exhibit, the Vilmont Treasure in it's entirety. 

Mika took precautions as quickly as possible. The day of the gala Mika walked right into the event in a tuxedo. He had a call girl holding his arm dressed like a modern princess. Her job was simple enough, be his date and dance with him during the gala. As they danced surrounded by the states most powerful donors and politicians a massive explosion ripped through the air in the street in front of the gala. 

It sent screams of terror through the building as people began to evacuate. Mika's call girl dropped her large purse where she stood and fled the building with the rest of the crowd. In no time Mika was almost alone in a massive ballroom with the treasure. Three guards stayed near the treasure, but were distracted by the explosion. Mika calmly reached down into the purse his call girl dropped in fear. He retrieved two pistols and shot all three guards before they could even identify they were in any direct danger.

Mika had moments to act and he knew it now. He destroyed a window, as per his plan and looked down. Before the window, below on the street was a large military transport truck and two men looking up to Mika. He smiled down to them and anchored two thick cables before throwing the lose ends down. The men on the truck anchored them quickly to the truck. Mika then began attaching the treasure one crate at a time and lobbing it out of the window. It would rip down the line and onto the truck. It was not a delicate process, but in minutes the entire treasure was in Mika's truck and the two men pulled a tarp over it and sped off. Mika then cut the cables and threw them out of the window.

He holstered his pistols under his jacket and began to walk out of the front door. As he did he spotted that his car bomb had created the distraction he planned on, but he wondered why there was such an atmosphere of terror outside now, long after the explosion. Mika looked closer and could see that there was a school bus next to where his diversion was meant to detonate. The bus was devastated by the blast. Mika could see members of the gala struggling to get inside and pull the bodies of children from the wreckage. 

Mika looked away and walked block after block away from the scene he had created until his legs began to give out. He turned into an abandoned alley and collapsed to his knees. He then vomited onto the ground before him. His mind was in complete shock. He was now more wealthy than he could ever imagine, but at a cost he had no intension of paying. He had inadvertently made a deal with the devil. His vault was full of treasure, but his soul was now empty. A void cask. 

"I'm not very good at any of this, so instead I would implore for performance artists to be allowed entry here. It's a bit unorthodox, I know, but I believe more inclusivity in the underground writing competition circuit would benefit it greatly for those who aren't as well endowed in the art of storytelling, such as myself."

Sisyphus gave a dramatic stare. Not breaking to blink a single time while he waited for the man in charge of the games to respond to him; could he truly win by doing nothing at all? The movement in his body shut down completely and he stood there, stone-faced and stoic, with not a single twitch of his body interrupting the act.

There would be no more words of conversation from the man as he gelled into his work, not even waiting for Rocky to accept his plea and instead jumping straight into the performance. He would stand here, as a statue, for as long as the competition went on, only willing to stop and walk away once everyone else had already done so.

Amelia wasn't really one to talk about feelings, at least not while she was sober. But she was one who loved money, winning and also being the center of attention. Which was why she was stood listening to the stories people were sharing, and racking her brain to think of something that was more interesting, wittier and perhaps even worth the first place prize. 

"My brother, Sammy Gato, was one helluva guy." Amelia said to those gathered. "He was one of those people that you would spot across the room and know that he wouldn't take your shit, but he also didn't think he was above you." there was a slight shake of her head, "Unless you were his little sister," Amelia said with a sad smile. "Well, when he died we were all a bit lost. We Gato's breed like rabbits, which is amusing given our name means cat, so theres a lot of us, is what I'm saying." 

"After his funeral we were adrift, not sure where to go, what to do, or even if this country was worth staying in. Some drifted off to find answers in a bottle, some went home to where the Gato's originated from, Leister. And some, sought revenge." Amelia could tell she had their attention now, so she carried on with a twinkle in her eye. 

"Money is one of those things that can really change destiny." she said, "and that was when I met him, I didn't know his name or anything about him really. Only that he was a man from another city and he knew I was looking for someone to change the course of the world. We met, we chatted, we pretended we were on a date. But at the end of the night, instead of thanking him for a romantic evening, I gave him six million, a gun and a few bullets with very specific names carved into them." 

"In the end the investment was worthwhile, but I like so many Gatos before me, was still at a loss as to what to do with myself. And so I left. And while revenge gives a slight feeling of satisfaction, ultimately it didn't bring my brother back. Or my sister. or my cousin. Or my nephew. Or my counsin's nephew twice removed. Remember what I said about the Gato family? Fucking herd of us, honestly." She shook her head. "So thats my story, it might be all bullshit, it might be true. It's been six long years, so whos to say." 

Thank you, AmeliaGato.  I have hard of the Gato's.

Welcome.

This is shaping up to be one of the most exciting contests in living memory

This contest has been extended for a few days - be in it to win it!

The Job By  Miachell,

It was late on saturday a  horrible time to  get  the call  when Tom wanted to be home but he picked up  anyway. "Tommy my boy  the Boss wants Ne   I mean someone taken  care of  be at the   townn pool  at 1:00".  He gets in his car and pulls off.   When he  gets to thhe town pool  he iis suprised. He sees  the Boss himself.  He  never sees  the Boss now  he's  sweating. "Tom here's a gun now take care of ouuur troubled friend. " troubled friend now  he was really sweating bricks.   He     walks throuught the gate to find several  henchmen there.    They all carry  guns next   thing  he  know's  he loading the shoutgun iits double barrlled  to  real  easy too kkill somebody.  Tthhe  his  heart  ddrops iits   hisdad   Nero.   Nero looks up sadly  and  says"I told  yyou be  careful   of this  life and look at  us both selling drugs and booze   heh  I always said  dont get involed  with thhe mafia   and i  messed that  up."   Miachel with  tears iinn    his  eye's  looks into his daad   eyes   and say's "oure  right you  shouldve   never  messed   with  the  mafia" Blam    Nero falls down. Thhe Boss  says good job and gives  him a fat  envolpe.

have the winners already been announced?

or when does that happen Rocky