Sonny sat back in his headquarters office and listened to the daily reports from his consigliere. There had been no further reports of attacks on his businesses, but he still had his men out on the street searching for the identity and associates of the man said to have employed the hoodlums who'd hit businesses under his protection. The crews oil business continued to fly under the radar of federal law enforcement and made up the lions share of their profits. Sonny continued to funnel this money into their legitimate business enterprises. Investing in new casinos on the Las Vegas Strip, and hotels across the country. 

The consgliere moved on to the business of the mystery name they'd been given by their captive. He was known in certain circles across the city, the man was a big gambler and was said to have associations with some of the crews back out east. This did not bode well with Sonny, crews outside of Las Vegas getting involved in the cities business. He thanked his consigliere and waited for him to leave the room before pouring himself a whisky. He knew there was a certain level of animosity between the two sides of the country, the older eastern crews felt the newer western crews owed them fealty, for it was their money which had built the cities and allowed the mafia families to grow and flourish. The western crews felt they'd earned their position in both earnings and blood. 

Lighting a smoke Sonny considered his options, he didn't feel it was necessary to raise any alarms yet, this may have been an isolated incident. He'd order some of his men to keep tabs on this mysterious man named Tony Ballino, and should an opportunity present itself, he'd have words with the man. As far as Sonny was concerned he was not a made man, and could not move with the same impunity which the made members of the mafia did. He was associated with crews, not an official member. 

Walking out onto the casino floor Sonny went about his daily business. Meeting with the regulars who frequented the seats of his casino and exchanging pleasantries with his staff members. He made sure to stop off and check in with the head of the casinos security to ensure there had been no incidents which required special attention. Satisfied that the day to day running of the casino was going well he organized a dinner with some associates, it would do him some good to get out and see some old friends. 

****

Don Vineto looked every of his 60 years. Life had not been kind on the ageing gangster. Having spent a lifetime climbing the ranks of the mob, he'd had his fair share of fist fights, gun fights and even knife fights. His face was scarred from one too many bouts in the ring, and one too many drunken brawls. He still cut a lean figure, even if his once bulky muscles had started to soften with age. He wasn't against giving someone a good hiding should the opportunity presented itself, and he'd watched too many of his superiors turn fat and soft with age, he wasn't stupid enough to think it paid to be soft in this life of theirs.

Sitting back in his headquarters he received the daily reports from his consigliere. Business was booming, with his prostitutes authorized to work in the strip he was seeing a definitive profit hike, but it still irked him that he was forced to pay tribute. He listened as his consigliere explained that their mysterious guest, a man from out east had employed some local thugs to hit Sonny's businesses. Well fuck that was unwise, while he kept close links with the families back east, having become a made member during the 1930s back in Chicago, he didn't enjoy the news of this interference. 

He swore to himself, he'd taken the man in as a favor for an old friend. For the person in question had got into some sticky business back east, and needed to lay low. The reports of his actions did not suggest he was keeping his head down, and why would he personally attack a rival don in a city he had no business in. When first meeting the man he'd wondered why he'd never become a made member of the mafia, and this was clearly why. He was a hot head with connections up high, while no one could officially move on him due to these connections, he was a problem maker. Using his association with Chicago families to stop himself getting murdered, but this would only last so long. At the end of the day the mafia had other ways to kill members which would not lead back to them and their associates. This thing of theirs was dangerous, and there were many ways a man could meet his end. Turning to his consigliere he demanded a sit down with their new associate, he needed to put this to bed before things turned ugly. 

Tony Ballino liked to think he was the shining example of a Chicago mobster. He dressed the part, wearing expensive suits and a fedora hat regardless of the dry heat of the desert, he kept his hair short and permanently slicked back. In his mid 40s he was tall, his body was lean and corded with muscle following a long stint in the federal prison system. His tanned face had a characteristically Italian beaked nose and simple features. The man had a quick temper and his features were frequently turned into a snarl. He was the cousin of a well established mobster back in Chicago, and used this association to his advantage. If not for this association he'd have been sleeping with the fishes long ago. 

He sat at a high stake poker table counting cards as he usually did. He'd used his uncles connections to get credit in the city but never planned to pay it back should he lose, and looking at the schmucks at this table there was no way he was going to lose. Unlike his life where he took great risks and even greater liberties, he was a cool hand at poker. He looked nervously about the table careful to clock eyes with each of the players as it become his turn to bet. He made a show of it, looking like he was going to fold before calling the bet. He enjoyed these amateur dramatics, it made taking people's hard earned cash all the sweeter. 

Leaving the poker table with his pockets filled with chips he cashed them out at the cashier. Winking at the lady working behind the till he slipped her a piece of paper with his hotel and room number, ensuring to tuck a $100 bill in with the note. For the only thing Tony loved more than taking suckers money in poker was womanizing. Walking to his hotel room he stashed the cash in the safe and walked back out onto the strip. Calling for a cab he asked them to take him to a nearby strip club, he had a meeting to attend.

Walking into the strip club Tony eyed up the women working at the poles making a mental note who he would come and visit later. A bouncer blocked the door to the strip clubs office area. Tony gave the man a look, suggesting he should move the fuck out the way, the bouncer took it as a challenge and tried to act tough. Tony , having spent a long time in the federal prison system smashed the bouncer to the ground. His fellow bouncers rushed over to help their friend but were stilled with a shout from the businesses owner, an old friend of Tony, who gave the floored bouncer a good kicking to emphasize that he should never insult his friends. 

Once upstairs Tony was offered a seat and a glass of whisky. Reaching into his pocket he lit a smoke and waited for news from his friend. The man had made his money back in Chicago, growing up with Tony, but due to his ethnicity he was not allowed to officially join the mafia. He'd made the fuckers millions but was treated like a second citizen. Tony could empathize with the man, feeling like a social pariah himself, good enough to do their dirty work but never officially welcomed into the crime families. 

Tony's old friend Vladimir was the only other person who knew his true reason for being in Las Vegas. Sure Tony had been chased out of Chicago having slept with a made man's wife and ran up massive debts with all the local bookies, he'd also been meaning to come out west for a while. He owed his old friend Sonny Franzese a lifetime of misery. During a booze run turned bad he'd left the man for dead, and Tony never forgot a score.

His uncle had tried to temper his fury, stating that it was not Sonny's fault and there was nothing he could have done, given it was Tony's fault that he'd ended up in the predicament in the first place, trying to rip the gang they were buying the booze from in the first place, but Tony was not well known for his listening abilities. Tony had already made moves against his old friend, employing local thugs to steal from his businesses. 

Vladimir started with the bad news, Sonny had found and killed the men he'd employed to rob from the businesses under his protection. He continued with the worse news, that one of them had been captured and presumably tortured into giving up his name. Tony broke out into a fit of laughter as Vladimir smiled. Like he'd given up his real name, Tony Ballino was just another made up name in a long list of made up names. Sonny would be chasing ghosts completely unaware that his old friend Frank Gallo was out to get him. 

****

Don Vineto shook his head as he was repeatedly disrespected by this upstart Tony Ballino. The guy had balls he had to give him that, refusing an order from a Don who's protection he was living under while in the city. Don Vineto's patience was being tested. The man denied all involvement just stating that he'd heard Sonny was a dirty rat bastard. If it weren't for his friends back east Don Vineto would bury this fucker in the desert and be done with it. With a final warning he told the man to stop any actions against Don Franzese, if he disobeyed this order Don Vineto warned he would leave him out for the wolves, he'd sooner have an enemy at his back hundreds of miles away, rather than at his front.

He watched the cocky bastard swagger out of his office, clearly not taking a word on board. Don Vineto was sweating with barely contained rage. He'd had to shake his head multiple times at the other members of his family who sat about the table. Noticing each of them reaching for their guns at different moments and offering to shoot the bastard in the back of the head, but Don Vineto respected the man who'd asked him to take Tony in for a while, and he owed the man a favor from way back, so would do his best to protect this foolish idiot. 

Turning to his consigliere he instructed him to keep an eye on Tony, and should he try make any further moves against Sonny he wanted to know immediately. If push came to shove he'd set the man up and let Sonny deal with him. It would absolve him from the lions share of the blame. Pouring himself a whisky he downed it in one to help contain his rage.

Sonny took a seat at the head of a table in a room he utilized for his crews weekly meeting. The table ran length ways down the room and had comfortable leather seats placed at regular intervals. The table was made from dark hardwood and dominated the room, it had cost Sonny a fortune but he had the extra income to spend. Looking at the gold plated Rolex watch at his rest he checked the time. He'd arrived early as was his habit, now he waited for the other ranking members of his crew to appear. 

As expected Sonny's crews accountant was the first to appear, and as this was primarily a business meeting it made sense to have the man who looked after their income be present. If this were a sit down, or some other formal mafia function the man would not have been invited. Gary Freidman was a shrewd and trustworthy accountant, capable of hiding vast sums of money right under the nose of the IRS and other federal agencies which might come knocking. The man was paid for his discretion as much as his considerable capabilities.

At the allotted time the other members of his crew arrived and took up allocated seats along the table. To his left sat Jammin and to his right sat BigEasy, next to Jammin was his consigliere Stevie, and further down the table were his underbosses and capos. A collection of well dressed mobsters of Italian and Sicilian descent filled the seats. Sonny would give each of them a turn to speak and comment, but for now he had control of the room. 

"Welcome friends help yourselves to drinks and cigars, we've a dinner that will be delivered later, but for now lets get onto business. Gary lets begin with the accounts," Sonny began letting Gary take over as he sat back and lit up a Cuban cigar. 

"Thank you Sonny," Gary continued in a thick New York accent, "as you well know the oil business is booming, profits are soaring and being hidden in a number of shell companies which invest back into the casino and banks of the city. The profits are so large we have begun investing in businesses outside the state." 

Sonny noticed the smiles of the men around the table, they all shared in the profits of this business. Sonny was many things but a greedy man was not one. He understood how to keep his friends on his side, and anyways, what would he do with all that wealth? He had more money than a man could hope to spend in one life time, so why not spread the profits out. Each of the men sat around the table owned stakes in the local casinos and hotels, and saw a portion of the legitimate profits. He left how the men chose to spend their profits was up to them.

Gary paused a second to consult the papers to his front, "collections are a little short this week, down 15% from last month."

Sonny did not take this news well. Sure they didn't really need the money from the business protection rackets anymore, but this was a core part of their family. If a crew leader could not be relied on to protect the businesses upon his patch he would appear weak to the other crews, and weakness was not a trait shared amongst the leaders of the American mafia. The weak found themselves buried in shallow graves out in the desert. 

Turning to his hands and capos, "anyone care to explain why these fuckers are refusing to pay what is owed to us?"

"There've been further attacks, the business profits have been hit hard we can't collect what they don't have," responded Stevie trying to cool Sonny's rising temperature.

"Why wasn't I informed, I fucking told you to let me know if any further attacks occurred," shouted Sonny quickly losing his temper. 

"Because they hadn't happened until last night, all our businesses in the city were attacked, I'm talking fucking everything. The only businesses not hit were the oil ones, but they're not exactly widely known," BigEasy chirped in knowing Sonny was a straight shooter at heart. 

"Well fuck me, we'll discuss this after our meeting and bet your bacon I'm going to want answers about this shit," responded Sonny taking a pull from his cigar and sip from his whisky to cool his temper. 

****

Tony sat in an abandoned motel on the edge of town and counted the money they'd collected from the evenings action. Like taking fucking candy from a baby he thought to himself. He'd already paid the local hoodlums their cut, the rest was his, he smiled as he imagined all the ways he'd spend Sonny's money out on the strip right underneath his nose. He'd found a treasure trove of malcontents willing to put their lives on the line for a pretty penny amongst the local gangs of Las Vegas. Disenfranchised youths and men who'd been put aside by the local mafia families, skilled in their own way, but untrustworthy to a man. Thankfully Tony knew how to deal with such characters, extending the carrot in the form of money, while mercilessly beating any who took a step out of line with a long stick. 

Even for a man of Tony's ambition their night had been successful. He'd organized multiple groups to hit multiple businesses over that dark night. Hitting the supply lines of Sonny's business and stealing their profits from right under his nose. If what he remembered of his old friend held true, this would drive Sonny into a frenzy. He was an old school mafia member, respect meant a lot to him, so Tony, having spent a life disrespecting everyone he'd met knew how to get the man to dance to his tune. 

Driving his car back to his hotel suite he stashed most the cash in the rooms safe. Grabbing a pile he went to leave when he noticed the girl from the reception waiting for him outside. With a smile he welcomed her into his room, the casinos and brothels could wait he'd have his fun with her first. 

Lorenzo was a made man in the Las Vegas Outfit. The young mobster had only recently been made and wore his new status with pride. Dressed in a dark shirt and trousers he'd placed his expensive fedora on the backseat of his Cadillac. Lorenzo had followed Sonny out to Las Vegas while still an associate of his soon to be family. He'd followed one of the gangs that had attacked Sonny's business as instructed. Tracking the rat bastards back to their warren had been easy, and had led him to their presumed leaders hideout. Sonny wanted info on the man arranging the attacks on his business.

Lorenzo watched from the abandoned motels carpark as the would be gangsters returned to a mysterious gentleman, handing over bags of cash and being paid in return. The supposed leader came into view, he looked like every other wannabe gangster who frequented the sleazy parts of Las Vegas. Lorenzo ducked out of view as the leader left the motel, climbing into his car and speeding off into the night. Lorenzo followed from a distance and laughed aloud as the moron pulled up outside one of the many hotels on the Las Vegas strip. 

****

Sonny waited for his accountant to leave the room thanking the man for his diligent work. Turning to the assembled men he laughed thanking them for going along with his plan.

"I apologize for the subterfuge, but until we find who is responsible for these attacks we can't risk word getting out that we're on to them," Sonny warned taking another pull from his cigar. 

"I trust the guards were successful in observing the morons who've attacked our businesses?" Sonny asked the room.

"Yeah boss we've got the location of all them," responded his left hand man.

"Good, I trust this little problem of ours will be dealt with, make an example of them. Let them know what happens to people who mess with our business," continued Sonny knowing well what fate waited those who'd wronged them. 

The meeting was disturbed by a knock at the door, one of his made men waited outside, "come in Lorenzo, I trust you've good news?" Sonny asked the man, having instructed him to find the leader of this merry gang of idiots attacking his interests. 

"Thanks Sonny," Lorenzo responded taking the offered glass of whisky and cigar, "I tailed him back to his hotel even followed the moron up to his room." 

"Good news finally, keep tabs on them, I want to know where he goes and who he meets, when the time comes we'll send him back to his employer in pieces," Sonny added to the nods of the men in the room. 

"For now we need to protect ourselves against further attacks, I want men watching our businesses for further attack, next attempt we leave them for the crows," instructed Sonny coolly. 

****

Santino was an imposing figure, standing at over 6 feet tall and built like a mountain. His expensive suit left tight fitting by bulging muscles kept toned by his time spent at a local gym. His beaked nose and dark eyes were hidden by the fedora hat he wore atop his massive head. He climbed out of the dark Cadillac parked in a shit hole of a motels car park. The place was a tip, covered in rubbish, debris and the usual drugged out degenerates who frequented this side of Las Vegas. Walking towards the hotel number he'd made a mental note of after a brief discussion with his capo back at the Outfit Headquarters he loosened his muscles expecting a fight. 

Knocking twice at the door he heard the people on the other side shouting at one another to be quiet. He smiled at the idiot who inched back the curtains to take a look at who was disturbing their party. From behind the door a voice shouted at him to fuck off. Shaking his head Santino kicked the door off the hinges and grinned menacingly at the stunned figures behind. 

"I believe you have something which belongs to my employer," Santino stated coolly with the casual grace of a man out for a stroll in the park. 

"Get fucked before I put a bullet in your skull," one of the junkies responded clearly the leader, standing a head taller and still holding an ounce of fat or muscle on his body.

"If you make me ask again, I might not ask too nice," responded Santino tensing his body for action.

The man tried to make another smart remark but found his jaw was out of action as Santino leapt into action. Smashing his ham sized fists into the junkie's jaw he left it broken in two places. The others around the room were slow to respond, clearly under the influence of whatever narcotic took their choice. Hands which reached for guns were broken as Santino bullied his way into the room. Grabbing the leader by the neck he snapped it like a twig to emphasize his point. 

Turning to a pathetic mewling junkie crying out on the floor he continued his questioning, "who do you work for?"

"I don't know his name trust me mister I wouldn't," he never finished his sentence as Santino broke his nose. 

"A name!" Santino yelled into the room. 

"He was called Tony," one of the junkies shouted out in response, cowering from Santino's burning rage. 

"Good, good, now was it that hard," Santino laughed.

Santino walked outside and lit himself a smoke and shut the door behind him. He'd left one of them alive as a message to anyone else stupid enough to try and rob from the Las Vegas Outfit. The man he'd left alive inside wouldn't be walking for a while, Santino had broken both his knees to emphasize his boss's point.

Climbing back into the waiting car his driver gave him a questioning look, having heard the cries for help from outside. Santino shrugged his shoulders in response, his capo had been quite clear in his orders, and hell Santino had a reputation amongst the made men of the crew for being a cold blooded ruthless motherfucker. They knew well his methods and wouldn't have asked him to attend if they wanted this to be a peaceful negotiation. 

Sonny sat back in the comfortable leather chair in his office as reports filed in from his capos. The nights operation had been a success, all those involved in the previous nights attacks had been dealt with. Their broken bodies left as a message to anyone else who thought about joining this Tony Ballino. Taking a sip of his whisky he considered his next moves. The intel he'd received on the figure was sketchy at best, an unknown connected mobster from Chicago said to be under the protection of a local crew trying to ferment open warfare. Something didn't add up, and Sonny knew when to trust his gut instincts. 

He needed more solid info before he made his move or let his hand become known. Time was not on his side however, any more attacks would raise suspicion among the other crews of Las Vegas and Sonny could not afford to appear weak. Taking a pull of his cigar he considered his options. 

****

Tony was just mopping up a high stake poker game when rough hands grabbed him from behind pulling him out of his seat. He fought against the men but was pulled away like a child about to face his mother's wraith. He'd make whoever dared lay a finger on him pay, he promised himself he'd see these two fucks hung up by their guts. Tony was barreled into the back of a waiting car, as he went to voice his thoughts a gun was pointed into the side of his head stopping him instantly. Well these fuckers meant business, he held up his hands and sat back in his chair like a good boy. He'd wait for his opportunity before striking. 

He was brought into a dark warehouse somewhere on the outskirts of town. A table and chairs had been set up in the middle room. He was dumped onto the chair and warned not to move a fucking bone. Reaching into his coat pocket he lit himself a smoke, he knew his uncles protection extended far past the city limits of Chicago. Anyone stupid enough to lay a finger on him would learn real quick what happened to those who displeased a man of his uncles rank. 

His thoughts were disturbed as he watched a furious Don Vineto marching into the warehouse from the other side. The ageing Don wasted no time and punched Tony in the nose. His vision swam from the force of the blow as he was knocked out of his seat. Lay on his back his eyes began to tear as blood ran freely from his nose. 

"Get him the fuck up," commanded Don Vineto as the two mobsters who had escorted Tony into the warehouse pulled him back into his seat.

"My uncle..." Tony didn't manage to finish his sentence as one of the guards punched him square in the gut.

"Your uncle isn't here you stupid fuck. I warned you what would happen if you made any more moves against Don Franzese, if it weren't for your uncle you'd be sleeping in a shallow grave out in the desert, capiche?" Don Vineto continued barely contained rage simmering at the surface of his face. 

"You ain't got the balls to move against my uncle, lay another finger on me and I'll see your whole crew burned to the ground," warned Tony sounding like a petulant child. 

"This fucking guy Don Vineto, let me take care of him for you," the mobster to Tony's side asked.

"This is your last warning Tony, one more fuck up and you're done. I don't give a fuck who you're connected to back in Chicago. I'm doing this as a favor for an old friend, now get out of my sight you fucking worm," Don Vineto finished nodding at the men to Tony's side.

Tony was carried through the cold corridors of the dark warehouse and thrown outside. He asked how he was going to get back to the city and the men shrugged, laughing that he should try walking. Marching off down the street Tony promised to himself he'd make these fuckers pay. No one disrespected him in such a way and lived to see the day. Fuck Sonny Franzese, fuck Don Vineto and fuck this whole city. He'd sooner see the whole place burn to the ground that accept someone publicly disrespecting him and his family name. 

Don Vineto was deep in thought sat in his headquarters worrying over his next move. If word got back to Sonny or any of the other crews about his association with someone trying to disturb the peace in Las Vegas he'd be fucked. A bullet to the back of his head was a likely option, or all out war. If he approached Sonny and told him it was a man under his protection who'd been disturbing the peace in Las Vegas then he'd also be fucked. There were no good options. Had it been up to him he'd bury the bastard in the desert and be done with it. 

He swore to himself once again for ever agreeing to protect this upstart Tony. While Don Vineto knew of Tony's uncle he'd never met the man. He was doing a favor for an old friend in Chicago, who'd personally asked him to provide protection to the man in the city. While Don Vineto was sure Tony's uncle, a boss of the Chicago Outfit would be pissed should harm come to Tony, he was more concerned with saving his own neck. Had Don Vineto had more sense he'd have made further enquiries regarding the man's identity, but sadly he had not and now he was becoming a problem. 

For a fleeting moment he considered calling Sonny and arranging a sit down. If he handed over Tony it might help smooth things over with the man, but he shook the notion away. Knowing who Tony's uncle was he couldn't imagine he would go as far as ignoring a direct order from a leader of a crew. He couldn't imagine that he'd be stupid enough to disrespect a man such as himself. How very wrong he would prove to be. 

****

Tony had worked himself into a fury, his anger building at each passing moment. How dare anyone speak to him in such a way? Did they not know who he was? Did they not know who is uncle was? He'd make these fuckers paying for disrespecting him. Walking into his friends Vladimir's strip club he dared any of the bouncers to challenge him as he marched up into the office. Sitting down heavily on the seat opposite Vladimir he lit himself a smoke.

"The fuck's wrong with you?" Vladimir asked more than used to Tony's mood swings.

"That motherfucker Don Vineto dare put his hands on me, I'll kill him and the rest of his fucking crew," shouted Tony furiously. 

"You don't have the weight or the power in this city to make a move like that, have a drink and calm the fuck down. What did you expect the old bastard to do?" asked Vladimir trying his best to placate Tony's fury. 

Tony would not listen he raged against such insolence, "Don't fuck with me Vladimir, I've got more weigh than you know about, one call back to Chicago and I'll see Sonny fucking Franzese and that old bastard Don Vineto six feet under." 

"Grow up Tony, we ain't kids no more, bout time you started acting like a man," Vladimir responded making the mistake of turning his back on Tony. 

Tony raged boiled over he grabbed a nearby lamp and smashed it over Vladimir's head. As Vladimir tried to get up from the floor Tony smashed it into his head again, hitting him repeatedly until his body stopped jerking around. Tony came to his senses as his closest friends blood was pooling around his feet, dropping the improvised weapon he turned heels and rushed out of the office. He'd always had a temper and been a hot head, Vladimir should have known better than pushing his buttons. 

Well that hadn't gone to plan he mused to himself. He'd gone to the man out of habit more than need. This changed things, he needed to move quickly before the law caught up with him. He'd made enough of a scene during his first visit to the strip club to be recognized by someone, and being the last person to pay Vladimir a visit he would be a priority suspect. Tony could not risk being caught up with the law, all the shit he'd done back in Chicago would see him serving another lengthy prison service, and if he was being honest with himself he'd rather be dead. Climbing back into his car he sped back to the strip, it was time to call in some favors. 

****

Sonny dropped the phone onto the receiver and poured himself another whisky. Taking a long pull from his cigar he digested the conversation he'd just finished with an old friend back in Chicago. The news hadn't put his worries to bed. Tony Ballino was not a name known to his old associate, and the man knew all the mobsters who operated out of Chicago. Sonny had pushed for information regarding someone with connected uncles, but again his old associate reminded him that most the leadership of Chicago had sired many children, both with their wives and their mistresses. 

Thinking back to his time in the city he tried to recall names of men who might hold a grudge with him. Only one name stood out, but the last Sonny knew the man was serving a considerable bid in the federal prison system. Frank Gallo had been an associate back in his bootlegging days in the 1930s. The kid had been young and ambitious, with an uncle that Sonny owed a favor. Their business had gone badly, very badly in fact, Sonny barely escaping with his life thanks to Frank's inability to act in a manner fitting the nephew of a famed mobster. 

Dialing another old friend in Chicago he asked after Frank's uncle, the man had gone far in this thing of theirs, now a boss of the Chicago Outfit. Sonny was careful to keep their conversation hidden from any prying ears. His old friend revealed that Frank had run into some problems in the city of Chicago and had to leave on business. Sonny thanked him for the update stating they would have to meet up soon for old times sake.

Putting down the phone Sonny swore to himself. Frank Gallo, out of prison and stirring up troubles in the city. This didn't surprise him, Frank was a leech who used his uncles name to bully his way in and out of trouble. With a picture of the man who plagued him, Sonny knew the situation was bound to get worse rather than better. Frank was a loose cannon, never allowed into this thing of theirs due to the fact that he was a liablity. 

Stood in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Las Vegas Tony waited for the last couple of men to arrive. He swept his gaze over the motley collection of armed gangsters he'd gathered to his side. They were the worst of the worst; ex-cons, murderers and scam artists to a man, but Tony knew their reputations, killers who'd take on any contract should the price be right. It had cost Tony a vast fortune to gather them, having to run up a tab with every loan shark in the city.

Holding up his hands for silence Tony began, "10k bounty on associates, 15k on made men, 20k on capos, 30k on bosses and 100k on Sonny Franzese's head," he knew most of the gathered men wouldn't be making it back alive to claim these bounties, but felt a little incentive was needed.

"So what Frank, you just want us to shoot up the strip?" asked Steve a scarred ex-con Tony had met in prison.

Tony glared at Steve having already discussed not using his real name, "You'll do what your paid for and that ain't your fucking questions, if you've a problem with that you know where the door is," he responded quick to stomp out any dissent.

"Fine Tony we're good no problems my end," Steve responded holding up his hands keen to deflect the anger that he saw burning in Tony's eyes.

"Well if we've no more questions get to it," Tony continued as the gathered men left the warehouse climbing into their cars and driving out to the strip to cause chaos.

Once alone Tony rubbed his hands together greedily at the thought of such chaos. The city would run with blood this night, and if luck were on his side, he'd catch that bastard Sonny Franzese and finish his miserable life. Reaching for his trusty shotgun he walked out of the abandoned warehouse and climbed into his car, first off he'd pay one of the brothels a visit.

****

Lorenzo had hidden himself at the back of the abandoned warehouse as Tony made his speech. Swearing to himself he rushed back to his car parked outside but was forced to duck below the dashboard as a group of cars left the abandoned warehouse. He needed to get a warning back to the Outfit Headquarters ASAP, trouble was coming their way.

Following Tony's car Lorenzo was amazed as the man pulled up at a nearby brothel. Climbing out of his car he walked to a nearby payphone and called in his warning to the Outfit Headquarters. Satisfied that the message had been passed on he waited near the payphone for further instructions.

Might I suggest relating to us all the story of how you force fed Omar_little approximately 8 glasses of eggnog, and then convinced him to attempt a backflip off a tall sofa, which had fatal results?

I think that might be an interesting tale.

I eagerly await its publication.

Sonny had heard of this Omar character. The man had sent him personal correspondence asking for his opinion and feedback regarding him endlessly talking about himself. Sadly Sonny was a bit of a narcissist. He wanted dearly to respond and engage but wasn't able to make it past the mirror at the front of his apartment. Each day he walked past in an attempt to make it to the streets, but each day he was met by his own image displayed in the mirror. Sonny would begin to groom his luscious hair remarking to himself what a fine figure he cut.

It was with a sad heart that Sonny heard of Omar's passing. Stories of eggnog related incidents filled him with sorrow. Attending Omar's funeral Sonny shed a single tear, well he would have, had he made it out of his apartment. Instead on the day of Omar's funeral he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror once again. What a fine specimen of a man looked back at him. Dressed all in black with his hair slicked back. How could anyone realistically leave without taking at least a little gander? Once more Sonny spent the day thinking about how much he loved himself.

Returning to his story which involved himself, and was about him and he was the person who was the subject of the story Sonny felt his head growing. What was I saying again, oh yes Omar the Little. Poor little Omar. I would have loved to have spoken to him but wait a second, who is that handsom looking man in the mirror. Oh its Sonny. God damn I'm looking good today.

Stevie jogged down the winding corridors of the Outfit HQ, having just spoken to Lorenzo he passed orders to the men he passed. He wanted their men armed and ready for a fight, trouble was a brewing. Sonny looked up from the paper he was studying as his consigliere Stevie entered his office.

"I've just got word from Lorenzo, that bastards put a bounty on our crew members. I've put out the order to protect the HQ," Stevie began refusing the offered drink knowing he would need to keep his focus.

Sonny looked furious the audacity of his old friend was insulting, "This has gone on long enough, get the word out I want a talk with this Frank."

Stevie could tell by the look in Sonny's eyes what kind of conversation this would be, "I'll get the word out to Lorenzo and send him some backup," he responded.

"The time for secrecy is over, I'll reach out to the other crews, whoever is protecting Frank is gonna have to explain themselves," Sonny continued pausing to take a pull from his cigar, "Lock the casino down we can't risk any civilians getting caught in the crossfire," Sonny instructed reaching for his coat.

"Consider it done, I'll get your bodyguards to help protect the building," Stevie added standing from his chair and getting ready to leave.

"I'll need my bodyguards with me," Sonny stated while putting on his fedora.

"You'll be safest in here Sonny, there's a big hit on your head," Stevie stated knowing his suggestion was unlikely to be taken on board.

"Yeah I know, but if I stay here they'll focus all their attacks on our headquarters, better we spread them thin. Don't worry about me just call as soon as you've got the bastard," Sonny finished by jotting a telephone number on a scrap of paper and handing it to Stevie.

****

Don Vineto waited in his headquarters and office considering the reason for Sonny's visit. It was not unheard of for rival families to have sit downs and organize meetings, but the urgency of Sonny's call set him on edge. Pouring himself another glass of wine he worried whether Sonny knew about his association with Tony. Reports had filtered back to his headquarters regarding Tony's actions and Don Vineto had already organized a squad to bring the bastard in.

His thoughts were disturbed by a knock at his office door. Calling out for the person to enter Don Vineto stood up from his chair to shake Sonny's hand. Sonny turned to his bodyguards and told them to wait outside.

"Don Vineto with the upmost of respect we've some business to settle, I believe you know a man called Tony Ballino," Sonny began noticing the suppressed look of recognition on Don Vineto's face.

Don Vineto considered his next words carefully, "I may know the name."

Sonny swallowed down his anger knowing it still paid to be respectful to a fellow crew leader he'd prefer to avoid an all out war, "I take it you do not know his true identity?" Sonny stated with a smile.

"Look Sonny the bastard is no one to me, I was just doing a favor for a friend back in Chicago, as soon as word reached me of his actions I settled it," Don Vineto responded, "All I know is his name, my association ends there."

Sonny considered his next words very carefully, he needed to know if Don Vineto was aware of the hit placed on his crew and whether this was an attempt by Don Vineto to take out his crew, "His real name is Frank Gallo," Sonny stated keeping his eyes focused on Don Vineto for any sign of deceit, should Don Vineto be involved it would be easier to deal with the man now while he was vulnerable.

Don Vineto could barely hide the shock from his face, Frank fucking Gallo..... he knew the man's name and knew the man's reputation. Had he known who he was offering to protect he'd have refused outright, no favor was worth dealing with such a man, "I'm going to have serious words with my friends back east, I don't appreciate getting involved with liabilities like him."

Sonny felt relieved by Don Vineto's response, the man was known to be a straight shooter and Sonny had hoped he wasn't involved in this idiotic plot, "Frank has overstepped even his uncles reputation, the man has put a hit out on myself and members of my family."

Shouts from outside interrupted their conversation. Sonny had gambled a lot coming directly to Don Vineto, and traveled in such a way that anyone watching him would have noticed. Gambling on the fact that the men Frank employed were stupid enough to try and whack a crew leader without realizing he was currently in the only person protecting Frank's headquarters.

Don Vineto waited in his headquarters and office considering the reason for Sonny's visit. It was not unheard of for rival families to have sit downs and organize meetings, but the urgency of Sonny's call set him on edge. Pouring himself another glass of wine he worried whether Sonny knew about his association with Tony. Reports had filtered back to his headquarters regarding Tony's actions and Don Vineto had already organized a squad to bring the bastard in.

His thoughts were disturbed by a knock at his office door. Calling out for the person to enter Don Vineto stood up from his chair to shake Sonny's hand. Sonny turned to his bodyguards and told them to wait outside.

"Don Vineto with the upmost of respect we've some business to settle, I believe you know a man called Tony Ballino," Sonny began noticing the suppressed look of recognition on Don Vineto's face.

Don Vineto considered his next words carefully, "I may know the name."

Sonny swallowed down his anger knowing it still paid to be respectful to a fellow crew leader he'd prefer to avoid an all out war, "I take it you do not know his true identity?" Sonny stated with a smile.

"Look Sonny the bastard is no one to me, I was just doing a favor for a friend back in Chicago, as soon as word reached me of his actions I settled it," Don Vineto responded, "All I know is his name, my association ends there."

Sonny considered his next words very carefully, he needed to know if Don Vineto was aware of the hit placed on his crew and whether this was an attempt by Don Vineto to take out his crew, "His real name is Frank Gallo," Sonny stated keeping his eyes focused on Don Vineto for any sign of deceit, should Don Vineto be involved it would be easier to deal with the man now while he was vulnerable.

Don Vineto could barely hide the shock from his face, Frank fucking Gallo..... he knew the man's name and knew the man's reputation. Had he known who he was offering to protect he'd have refused outright, no favor was worth dealing with such a man, "I'm going to have serious words with my friends back east, I don't appreciate getting involved with liabilities like him."

Sonny felt relieved by Don Vineto's response, the man was known to be a straight shooter and Sonny had hoped he wasn't involved in this idiotic plot, "Frank has overstepped even his uncles reputation, the man has put a hit out on myself and members of my family."

Shouts from outside interrupted their conversation. Sonny had gambled a lot coming directly to Don Vineto, and traveled in such a way that anyone watching him would have noticed. Gambling on the fact that the men Frank employed were stupid enough to try and whack a crew leader without realizing he was currently in the only person protecting Frank's headquarters.

****

Rhys had spent his relatively short life in other people's shadows. He'd dreamed of following his father's footsteps and joining one of the great American mafia families but was refused entry every time he tried. Good enough to do their dirty work and earn its ageing members serious cash, but viewed as a loose cannon and a liability. Well fuck them he thought as he drove his car a short distance behind Sonny Franzese's motorcade as it sped out of the Outfit Casino. He was done living in lesser men's shadows, it was time for him to get a serious pay day and become a man of his own.

He watched as Sonny and his bodyguards climbed out of their cars and marched into a large industrial complex on the outskirts of Paradise Las vegas. Turning to the wanabee gangsters who sat in his car he outlined his plan. They'd storm the building using their usual tactics of overwhelming violence to kill Sonny Franzese while he was vulnerable outside of his crews headquarters. Climbing out of the car he grabbed his shotgun and nodded at the men to begin the attack

God damn I must have been tired when I posted yesterday #doublepost....

Consigliere Stevie ordered all the men back to the headquarters, the crew were the target for the nights attacks not their businesses. Having phoned ahead to the local police the streets were emptied of the usual hustle and bustle of the Las Vegas Strip. The headquarters armories had been emptied arming all the men who were now posted protecting all the entrances to the casino. Stevie had the crews swiftest runners acting as lookouts, the crew couldn't afford to be caught with their pants down.

A couple of the runners alerted Stevie and the surrounding mobsters to vehicles approaching. The cars were speeding down the empty strip headed to their location. Stevie didn't have to warn the men, all were armed and ready. The entrances to the Outfit Casino's carpark were blocked with heavy trucks preventing entry, they'd be forced to plough over the curb and climb a small bank to gain entry. Stevie checked his Thompson sub machine gun was loaded for the final time and rested the weapon against the car he was using as cover.

Four vehicles sped round the corner mounting the curb with a crash as the approaching men attempted to ambush the head quarters. The vehicles bounced over the small bank landing in the car park with a bang. Stevie and the mobsters surrounding them opened fire filling the cars with bullets as the drivers swerved out of the way. Gangsters piled out of the cars returning fire at the vehicles parked in a wide circle outside the casino's entrance.

Ducking below the hood of the car infront Stevie swore to himself. More gangsters were approaching on foot, utilizing the surprise attack to try and flank the Outfit Casino. Stevie watched as another of his men were caught in the crossfire knowing he had to give the order to fall back. Shouting out orders the men broke into pre-organized squad laying down covering fire while others pushed back to the entrance. Windows were smashed as his men inside continued to put down a screen of covering fire for the mobsters still outside.

Running into a reception room filled with chaotic gunfire Stevie turned and opened up with his Thompson sub machine, satisfied to see a couple of approaching gangsters drop to the floor in response. He watched as a molotov cocktail soared through the nights sky smashing into the entrance of the casino. A fierce fire caught inside the reception area, pulling a scarf up over his face to fight off the worst of the heavy smoke Stevie knew they could not hold the position for long. More gangsters were rushing into the car park, drawn to the action in hope of the bounty on their heads.

****

Don Vineto's next words were muffled by a massive explosion which echoed through the halls of his crews headquarters. He reached for a gun and pointed it straight at Sonny's head expecting an attempt on his life. Sonny held up his hands but did not state a word as Don Vineto shouted for his guards to find out what that was. One of his guards ran back into the room and reported that their headquarters was under attack. Sonny felt the accusation in Don Vineto's eyes but did not try to defend himself, he knew it would become clear very quickly that it was not his crew attacking.

Telling Sonny to stay put Don Vineto climbed out of his seat and walked briskly out of the room. Sonny's bodyguards entered the room shortly after passing him his weapons. Don Vineto stormed in shortly after having seen for himself the ramshackle group of gangsters who attacked his headquarters. The perimeter wall had been breached by a massive explosion and his crew were barely holding the approaching gangsters at bay. Don Vineto acted surprised asking who'd have the balls to do such a thing, both men knew the answer but neither voiced it.

Gunfire echoed down the corridors as Sonny followed Don Vineto and his guards to aid in the defence. Sonny followed Don Vineto's lead and began firing his weapon into the headquarters courtyard felling the gangsers who tried to overrun the complex. To Sonny their tactics seemed to be failing miserably, they were throwing numbers at fortified positions and dying in the dozens, the initial shock of the attack was turning to a slaughter.

Rhys watched as the first wave fell to heavy gunfire as the people inside the compound put up a defence. Doubt entered his heart as his plan fell to shit. The men around him who'd followed his plan looked at him with suspicion. He knew he had to do something quick before they turned their guns on him instead. Well fuck it he thought what did he have for lose. A situation like this called for concisive action, grabbing his gun he led the second wave into the death trap.

Rushing throug the hole in the wall he felt terror creep into his heart. Had he any sense he might have checked what building they were attacking. This place was prepared for an assault. Their initial victory when taking down the perimeter wall was short lived. The place was built like a fortress.

Well armed mobsters fired into the courtyard from fortified positions. The whole first wave was in dissaray, those left alive forced into cover barely able to return fire. A bullet hit Rhys in the shoulder knocking him to the floor. He hit the concrete hard blacking out for a second. The men who followed him watched their leader fall and broke, their morale shaken.

Rhys awoke as rough hands pulled him up from the floor a swift fist was thrown into his stomach to soften him up. The man was dragged back into the headquarters building. He kicked out trying meekly to fight against his captors until another fist was thrown into the side of his head knocking him out cold.

****

Sonny was taken back into Don Vineto's office and told to wait with his bodyguards. He poured them each a drink and lit up a smoke as shouts echoed out from the corridor. After a short time Don Vineto marched back into the office.

Wiping the sweat from his brow Don Vineto asked, "What a mess, did you know anything about this?"

"I was about to ask you the same," Sonny responded coolly.

"We'll have all the answers we need once my men are done with the survivors of the attack, I suggest we sit tight until then," Don Vineto continued.

Sonny was unable to argue with that logic accepting the offered drink he waited while Don Vineto's men beat confessions out of the surviving attackers. He worried about the status of his headquarters but trusted his consigliere and crew members to defend their patch.

Rhys awoke in a dark room with his hands tied to a post behind his back, he struggled fruitlessly against his bonds but was interrupted as the lights were thrown on. The lights blinded him but he heard heavy footfalls echoing in the large room. Two slab faced mobsters swaggered into his eye line with gleeful smiles on their faces.

"Make it easy for yourself and answer our questions," the first man began emphasizing his point by punching Rhys in the stomach.

"Or dont I could do with some sport," the second man spoke while pulling Rhys up by his hair.

"Who sent you?" the first man asked.

"Get...." Rhys began mustering what was left of his resolve but was quickly silenced as fists rained into his body and face.

A cold bucket of water was thrown over Rhys's face as rough hands grabbed his head. The first man raised a sharp knife menacingly to his throat, "I'll cut you if you keep up this charade, who sent you?"

"I ain't no stinking rat," Rhys responded as the knife was brought across his chest leave a shallow wound which bled freely.

"My friend is impatient, but if I'm being honest I quite enjoy breaking a man. If you don't answer our question I'll take something you won't be getting back. Who sent you?" the second man asked as he retrieved a knife from his belt.

"Saint Michael himself," Rhys joked but screamed out in pain as the second man sawed off his ear.

"A man named Tony Gallo he's put a bounty on Sonny Franzese and his crew," Rhys cried as his resolve finally faded.

"That wasn't too difficult now was it," the first man spoke before turning on his heels and marching out of the warehouse, leaving Rhys to suffer out the rest of his miserable knife under his brutal friends care.

****

Sonny watched as Don Vineto shared a whispered conversation with one of his men who had entered the room shortly before. Don Vineto kept his face neutral trying not to show any surprise from the delivered news.

"Did you know about this bounty on you and your crews head?" Don Vineto asked.

"Some real balls posting hits on me, any idea who'd dare?" Sonny responded careful to avoid the question of his prior knowlege.

"I think you already know who Sonny, this situation is out of control I suggest we deal with this problem before it can go any further," Don Vineto continued.

"I'll put out the word to have Frank found, I trust I'll have your support when Chicago come knocking?" Sonny asked expertly involving Don Vineto in the planned hit, Don Vineto nodded in response so Sonny shook his hands and left the Don's headquarters.

Sonny went out of this world the way he came in, locked in a prison cell without a dime to his name.