Following the stairway from the dockyard, Vito looks to his left, then his right. The bustling city rattles through his head, the crowd of people and hundreds of cars running through the streets of LA, this is something he isn't used to being from the old city Scily. Most heads he would see were family or close relatives - making their rounds through the neighbouring villiages, nodding and marking their daily duties. With a large brown leather trench-coat, Vito Genovese's attire is more according to the old way of dressing - a standard fedore accompanying his three piece suit with a large red tie, hidden away. 

Walking through into the town, he finds himself sitting at a diner, with his keen eye for women he spots a woman named Cherry - in the background, nice red leather seaties, with clean white tables are forward and behind him - people seemingly noshing away at their contempory meals, seemingly brown mush, Vito thinks 'So this is the American diet huh, mixed beef with shit' - looking back to the name-tag with a stunning blond standing beside him as he sits patiently, the woman gives a monotoned, "What'd you thinking of having today hun?" with little english Vito had, he points towards some items on the menu - with only $33.24 in his wallet, he tries to pick the cheapest one, "Why do i only get the weird ones.." Vito Smiles as Cherry walks away, marking his order down on the tiny notepad.

A few minutes later, the food is brough on a tray - the same waitress as before, placing the food down - preparing a cup, "Caffe?" Knowing that one word, Vito nods as a steaming pot of coffee on the tray is lifted, the heat ripping through the air as the mug holds the intense heat. Walking away again - Vito sits with his placed meal, moving what seems to be Potatoe mash, some mystery meat, and Gravy of some kind, maybe?  the question plagues his mind yet the boat ride causes his stomach to remind him how long it's been since he's eaten.

Couple of hours go by - a newspaper in his hands as he is flicking through - he finally gets to meet the man himself, shadowed by some associates that follow him - the figure walks towards him, taking a seat as his entourage stand beside him. Seeing the man, with an odd looking face - a sincerity closed on his face, his eyes not moving a muscle and fixated on Vito - any man would be nervous in this matter - being in a reputable man, conqouring many trials through his lifetime and aspiring to achieving the position to the top of the food chain. Accompanied with a three piece suit and not a single crease, even as he sat down - Luciano utters one word, "Loyalty," As he pauses - clicking his fingers as Cherry shakingly walks up with a slightly higher pitched tone than usualy;

"T-the usual Luciano?" The bodyguards stand aside, eyeing the watiress up with stone cold eyes,

"You know it doll," Giving a slight chuckle, the tension doesn't seem to disapate, as Cherry waddles, stumbling even, back to the kitchen, "As i was saying, Loyalty - this is what i've heard you have alot of," Vito, rolls up his newspaper, putting it to his side, as he shows his hand. A greenish, yellowish mark coats his hand - yet faded boils seemingly coat the outer-linings almost like it was cultarized the moment it was cut, 

"We all have rituals, Luciano - i'm sure you also embed yourself in them-" Vito speaks in soft Italian towards Luciano, as he lowers his hand, moving towards his inner pocket of his trench coat, "I got these for putting my life on the line for my old family, back in the old country- Taking about the Camerillo crew, all fourteen members, all gone from my bloodied hands, ripping their fuckin' spines from their neck - all because i was told to," Vito finishes putting his hand into his pocket as he grabs some papers, "This is for you, and you alone Luciano - you've gotten alot of notice from friends back home - and they've told me I should align myself with you - but i've done enough talking - what can I do for you, Godfather Luciano?"

"I appreciate this," Luciano speaks in an italian accent back to Vito, "We'll have to teach you this pigs language if you want to get anywhere though, first order of business..."

As the two talk for more than a few moments - the start of something more devious and malicious brews - concocting a larger plan that gods and saints alike foretold, intertwining the brutal nature of Vito with the leadership of Luciano.

His hand trapped inside of the weak-plastered wall, aswell as his gun on the floor - Vito grabs a vial next to him, and with as much leverage as he gets - throws it towards one of the armed men - the glass shatters as the gun is fired. Mid-flght joins 1000 shards of glass, all thick and doubled glazed as they puncture through into Recio's, Vito's and all those who're standing within the line of fire.

Vito looks down, a sudden shock of pain enters his left side - with a big enough leap with his right leg and trying to make his hand as small as possible - as he flies out of the armed shaped hole, landing on his back as he realises the sharp pain was more than a shard of glass - an .22 bullet is lodged firmly - as it radients pain through his body.

A few days later

"Remember, no american," Vito says, in his fixed italian accent towards two hitters, Recio - a brutish looking man, making his whole figure feel like they were in Japan - everydoor and the cieling becomming narrow and small, near the whole hallway with width and height, a gun laying low by his side, wearing a fedora under his a sweaty brow; and a man with no name - seemingly a mecenary hired for this specific job in a casual leather jacket - a rugged beard - being worked with alot of gangsters in the past - this allowed him to understand atleast some of what Vito talks - yet his trigger hungry finger is something to be reckoned with

"I think i hear something, looks like their down in the hallway - two rooms on the left," Recio glances down the hallway, before turning to Vito and whispering in italian, "I smell burning though Vito, we should take them out quick, i don't like what i'm smelling, all kinds of bad," Recio pauses as the noise gets slightly louder - taking his gun and raising his arm towards shoulder level - in a slightly crouched position,

"That's the plan kid, remember - no witnesses, no survivors," Vito talks with a dead eyed expression, as he taps the mercenary on the back - as they move foward towards the clueless individuals taking home in this dank office department.

Getting closer - the walls look rusty somewhat, as if the paint itself has been singed, or so old the lead inside has somehow formed it's own ecosystem - the cieling toppling and ripped, as if an earthquake has ran through yet this is the only parts of the building that was left kept stable - the smell of burning turns into chemicle - the smell burns through their nostrils as Vito grabs a hankerchief with his free hand and covers his mouth and nose, while holding the gun aimed forward. All three slightly crouched with their weapon facing forward, their vision is now misty, as if a haze or a morning fog completes through into the hallway. 

Under these conditions - the dead eye'd look of Vito Genovese, Recio and the mecernary climb and hang onto the wall where the smell is emitted - a putrid, acidic nature clouds their vision and senses - it feels as their very membrane is being sliced thinly yet they prepare to enter into the room. With only hand signals - the chatter between the individuals inside become more jolly, as they realise that the noise omitted is muffled, gas masks is Vito's conclusion - as he taps the Mecenary to move forward into the room.

"Just one more stitch," The figure says - taking some needles from his little office - as Vito looks around in a haze - he see's pictures of dogs and cats with certian tools that are used for pets of all kinds - nail removers to plastic pumps, an old way to force air into small animals. Being inside of this office for a while - and known associate, Recio's, personal doctor - the stitches finally become solid - though these strings are much smaller and not as thick as you would have in the normal hospitals - yet the pain is the same. The raw skin being folded and joined together is nearly finished as the seeming vetenerian wipes his brow, holding onto the stitch with nervous hands. 

Being on the lower part of Vito's body - seems the bullet lodged into his side, "You're lucky Mr Genovese, two more inch's - and i wouldn't have the right tools to fix you," The vetenarian responds, as Vito, blurry visioned from some painkillers, high as a kite starts to laugh - saying jibberish in Italian in return - as Recio tries to translate, "Erm.. Well- his saying, 'You rat fucks are in hell, and i'm comming knife in hand chasing you all, you pig fucks,'" Recio pauses, "I think.."

"Well, that's it - last stitch," The Vetenarian says, his hands more stable - blood seemingly everywhere as time was precious, not knowing if internal bleeding, or the actual damage of the bullet had any significance, "I'd tell him that he shouldn't do anything extreme for the next few days - those stitches are far weaker than we use for people," With his gloves off, and starting to grab some paper towels - Recio repeats it back to Vito - yet in his haze Vito starts saying the same thing over and over again. 

Recio Takes Vito's arm, lifting him up to his feet - taking him back to his car.

On the drive, Vito lies in the back seat, using the leather arm rests as a harsh pillow, with no suspension, every bump was basically being hit in the head. Wearing only his shirt and trousers - without normal attire looked uncomfrotable. The important lesson is even the most dangerous predators out there can bleed - which Vito was far to familiar with. Driving through downtown - seeing the dawns horizon, sun shafts making their way through the tall buildings that surround the prospering city, the faded red light hitting each building - gracing another day as they pass-by the Luciano HQ, Recio taking himself out the car - walking upt to the door, turning around as he looks towards the sun - covering his eyes before knocking on the door.

A few words are murmered towards one of the associates, as a firm handshake and a nod before the door closing, Recio takes himself back to the car, following through a small steps of stairs, his exhuasted body flopping with each step - his large figure bracing to get back into the car, as he lets out audiable sighs.

"It's done," Recio takes a cigarette as he see's Vito sitting up straight, with the same exhasuted look. Reaching into his pocket, Vito takes out a cigarette, passing one to Recio - he gladly accepts as they both start to light,

"Did you tell him the other guy didn't make it?" Vito says, in slurred italian,

"He's a nobody, don't worry about it boss," Recio winds open the window - as the suns glance over the city further and further, as the morning song of the birds enlapse through the morning silence.

A few days later

Sitting with a cup of joe in his hand, Genovese sits fully rested, giving off a small cough now and then as it seems the milder weather spits out a fever, seems to be going around. Trying to stand up from his chair - a great sigh of relief expels out of his mouth as he reaches to his feet. Looking down he feels the bullet wound - standing in his pants and no shirt, taking a sip, "Well, something to show off when i'm with the boys," Genovese's says his thoughts outloud - before finishing the whole cup of coffee as he stumbles towards the kitchen - one foot at a time.

Half an hour later, Genovese is fully stressed, shaven and washed - taking his time with every step, he takes his keys left in the front door - turns the key as he walks out of his small apartment. Reaching outside - he see's the sun high in the sky - the warm air filling his lungs as he takes a deep breath - taking out one of his cigarettes, pursing it to his lips as he lights it, taking a few puffs. The fresh air turns to his usual scent, Chesterfield's - smelling like a wet dog that's sat out in 35 degree heat for a week or so.

Finishing his cigarette - he flicks it out into the middle of the street as one of his associates parks up on the street - with it being quiet - the market buildings empty with most of the tarmaced street accompanying the same silence. Genovese walks stumbled up to the front passanger - as he makes a large sigh bending down into the car - before finally giving of a relieved sigh as he coughs during the end with his exaperated smoke filled lungs;

"You ready boss?" Recio says - his head crouched while in the driver seat,

"Yea' ofcourse i'm ready - where's Luciano got me going now?" Genovese says, still trying to catch his breath,

"There's a small matter we have to attend, we'll need to be packin'" Recio replies - as he turns the ignition, starting to take off, "-As always, i don't know why you trust that rat looking fuck," Genovese gives out a hefty laugh, 

"He may look like a spaztics, but he'll have your brain seperated from your donkey shit stained mouth in a second, with one word, so be careful what you're saying, aight'?" As they both laugh - Recio is already down the street.

Reaching their destination - it seems like a meet up - Bingo and luciano_lucky are leaning slanted against their cars, sitting across another pair of cars, some gentlemen seemingly expecting them. Recio parks as close as he can, as Genovese taps his waist two times before attempting to get ouf of the stopped vehicle. Getting to his feet - he slams the door as he begins to limp towards the two. As he gets closer, the other people seem to be friendly Colleagues of his - faces he's been watching for a time, Craven and NickytheNickname.

As he gets closer - Luciano gets closer, as one of his bodyguards follows with him, his expression seems to be a devilled smile - as he embraces Vito with a brotherly hug, putting his hands on his shoulders, "Good to see you made it Vito - you've already caught a bullet i see, interesting," Genovese with his dead expression listens to Luciano's welcome, yet senses some undertones as he keeps his hands near his waist, "-And your new friend, Recio - the giant, the wall of the city himself - glad you could of come in short notice," Luciano pauses as he embraces Recio with the same love.

Vito Genovese, stands cautious- with his shoulders strained as Recio gives him the same weird look, "So, whats all this - i was told there was a small matter," Vito talks in his monotonal italian accent, "So lets get this over with - my chair is calling for my ass," Vito in his sullied state still makes conversation,

"Well, as you asked - lets get on with the show!" Luciano says as he steps back, as a shot is fired instantianously by Craven, as the smoke still spills from his gun - the sound of a body drops to the floor, in his shook state - Vito cricks his neck as Recio's large figure hits the floor - his skin already turning pale, as blood starts to pool onto the dirt laced ground. Turning his head - Bingo stands infront of him with his gun fully loaded - a sweat lightly follows his brow, "Whoa! He hit the floor fast - guess it's is true what they say, the larger they are, the harder they fall huh - did you know that craven?" Luciano with a giant grin, Bingo's gun still as the water on Vito, 

"Huehuhue, I guess ya'll-neva know with me - i ain'fallin' eva'h," Craven says as he wipes his gun on his track bottoms, with the smoke fully disapiated, "So we killin' the othah'rat or we standin' with our dicks in'our'ands?" Craven says, as he cocks his pistol, leaning against the car still, staring towards Vito...

"You gotta do what you gotta do."

Dead-eyed, Vito Genovese turns his head back to the group as the head lights shine into his eyes, the dark figures highlighted in their siluotte, as Luciano starts to speak, "I got a call two days ago Vito - from my guy inside the pig factory," Luciano adjusts his suit as he pats himself down for a cigarette, "They named two people, TWO" Luciano stares dead into Vito's eyes as he clicks his free hand - two associates, walk slowly as they drag Recio's body, sliding with the mud, face first into a near by wagon, "The jobs you did for me Vito, put three top earners in jail," Luciano takes out a cigarette, lighting it as he inhales, "Nick, take his gun," Luciano takes a large exhale as he speaks - the cold weather, or the tension causing a deep cold aura throughout as they breath stained, elongates the sight of the breath, reaching the sky.

With the sun up high - the cold blue sky rises down on them all, the sun-shafts combing through the nearby tree's, with the road leading to an old barn, un-used and out of the way, grass fields and tree's surround the encompassing area. Vito stares upwards as NicktheNickname pats him down, taking his colt and a knife from his waist - as he walks back towards the group. Vito looks back down, in a calm demeanor - hearing some birds off in the distance as a smooth melody. The Pain in his left leg - almost gone as the adrenaline kicks into his system - yet his trembles are stable, his posture fixiated.

"You gotta' do what you gotta do, Luciano" Vito stands, staring with a monotone expression as he speaks in italian, "Bad intel costs business - but you got a keen eye for this type of detail don't you," Vito exclaims, around twenty feet from the group, Bingo looks towards Luciano, his gun not moving a single hair from Vito's head, "Hey, hey, don't look at him - you gotta look at me," Vito says, calmly, in italian.

"Some boys told me you wear a shade of blue, i trust this proprietors of information, what do you have to say," Luciano pauses as he looks towards Recio as he is loaded into the wagon, "We'll let your partner talk in a second, we're keeping him comfy," 

"I've been in this business longer than you have, Luciano," Vito says, as he walks forward a step,

"Move closer and you'll find you wont have a sentence to finish," Bingo exclaims as his neck cricks towards Vito's movements, as his pace stops - standing in place,

"I know that if i was really on your hitlist - i'd be in the mud like our dear friend Recio there," Vito says calmly, continueing, "I didn't know that boar pig-fuck was actually a rat or else i would of stuck my gun so far up his ass, he'd be spitting bullets," 

Luciano looks towards Vito, Craven and NicktheNickname start to chuckle, as Bingo feels pressure on his shoulder by Luciano, as he lowers his gun. 

*BANG*

As Bingo turns his head back to Vito - smoke appears from the barrel of NickytheNickname - as a large size hole appears through Bingo's skull. As the lifeless body seemingly tries to turn around, looking frazzled yet the light in Bingo's eyes dim, following with the collapse of his body onto the floor - the two associates walk out to carry Bingo's body, dragging in the mud and back into wagon,

"Rats," Luciano exclaims, as he goes into his breast-pocket, "Even their blood is a different colour," Luciano pauses as he uses a hankerchief, wiping his face. 

As the last faces Genovese saw walk into their cars - as he gets back into his, limping slowly and aching in pain as he sits down in his seat - Genovese puts his hands on the steering wheel as his grip becomes tighter and tighter, and his face becomes red. Vito violently shakes the steering wheel with inaudiable noise externally with the car engines too loud for anyone to hear him alone in his car.

His thoughts lingered, lying in bed with brown stained mattress, hair greasy and his body covered in his own dew. Vito Genovese stands up - his knee's not as good as they were and his eyes a darker shade than the nights previous. Following through into bathroom, Vito prepares himself for the day ahead.

Fresh physically, yet drained - Vito Genovese walks into his usual Pizzeria joint - sitting down to the nearest table, far away from the window - as he does so, two men follow, taking their seat,

"You come here today to be apart of something more than lackies," Vito says in smooth italian, "You come here today to be the heart of Pasadena," Vito reaches into his pocket and takes out a cigarette, as an employee rushes lightly towards him, holding a flame as Vito speaks while his lips are muffled, "Comming from the country, we have two rules - no hebes, and no disrespect - I want a full district protection service going around - and i want every last drip of these cock-sucking pigs alcohol to come from me!" Genovese says - as mid-sentance he raises his head with a lit cigarette, "Do we understand each-other?"

As the two men nod, Genovese stands up, "Good.." As he walks towards the back-room as a small open space with barrels of liqour fill every casket. Seeing his associates rumage and move from each corner of the room - he takes on a devilish grin, "Genovese Crime Family," Inhaling the full cigarette nearly, "I like the sound of that, Lets get to business."