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The Fall of Vito Vincenzo Started by: SonnyFranzese on Oct 24, '23 15:15

Don Gambino marched from one side of his mansion's office to the other deep in thought. The revelation that Vito Vincenzo had caused the chaos which saw his family in a bloody mob war with his rivals filled his heart with fury. The man who had killed his beloved son, the man who was meant to be fucking dead had arisen as a thorn in Don Gambino's side. All the misfortune that had befallen the ageing Don was this man's responsibility. Don Gambino thought about calling a sit down, about telling his rivals that it was not him who started this war but an ex-cop with a grudge.


Don Gambino shook the thought away. Doing that would admit weakness. It would leave him at fault, the fragile alliance he held with the other crews would be broke apart once they found out it was him who had started this bloody war. His only hope lay in them not finding out, for if they thought Don Falcone had caused this war they would continue to support him. Instead he turned his thoughts on how best to track down and kill Vito Vincenzo before he could cause more trouble.




Vito sat down heavily on the office chair and lit himself a smoke. As he held the cigarette up to his lips he noticed the blood which soaked his hands and sleeves. Holding his head in his hands he tried to the shake the images of his friend dying from his head. They'd done all they could to help him, but the bullets had pierced his lung and his stomach. The man had a miserable end pleading with Vito to promise that he'd see their mission through, to end Don Gambino and his bloody reign of terror. Vito took a long pull of his cigarette and decided he needed to wash the blood from his hands. They needed to bury their friend, with his whole family killed in a fire bombing from Don Gambino's crew, it would be up to Vito and his men to do the deed. Reaching for a nearby phone he called his friend Father Fabrini and asked if he could arrange the service. 




Godfather Lucassi's armored vehicle pulled into the empty car park at the pre-arranged spot. With the aid of his bodyguards he climbed out the car. His guards spread out, taking positions around the vehicle facing out in case of attack. Three vehicles sped up the road and into the car park, Don Falcone climbed out of the middle vehicle surrounded by African American and Hispanic gangsters. Godfather Lucassi's men looked nervous, they were outnumbered and apparently outgunned. 


"I'll cut right to the chase, this war needs to end now, its bad for business," Godfather Lucassi began.


"Tell that to Don Gambino, it was that bastard who started this," Don Falcone responded from behind his armed guards. 


"I don't give a fuck who started this, but it ends now. I'll call a sit down with Don Gambino, we'll iron this out. None of us can afford to lose more men," Godfather Lucassi continued his patience wearing thin.


"You fucking do that, tell that fat fuck I expect a full apology from him," Don Falcone shouted climbing back into his car. 


Godfather Lucassi shook his head, these kids now a days. They knew nothing of respect. If he had his way he'd have both these fuckers killed and reasoned people installed in their place, but after all he'd lost during this war he had neither the men or the resources to complete such an action. Instead he would oversee a sit down between the groups, if he could make the men see reason he could strength his crew and deal with their transgressions later. He hadn't spent this long alive in this life of theirs without learning a few tricks along the way.




Don Falcone's blood was up. Fuck Godfather Lucassi and that fat fuck Don Gambino. He'd see them both dead before this war was over. The sit down though, now that was an opportunity. With both men in the same place he could kill two birds with one stone. Calling to his trusted bodyguards he started to outlay a plan that would see his rivals killed and the city of New York under his control. 

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The wind sweeping down from the Hudson river brought with it sheeting rain which soaked Vito and his men as they gathered around the tombstone of their friend. Father Fabrini spoke of the man's service during WW2, storming the beaches of Normandy on D-Day, he spoke of the man's service to his family as a loving father and dutiful husband. Lastly he spoke of the man's service to God, which raised a smirk from Vito, having known the man he knew he was not a dutiful Christian.


Stood about the casket covered with an American flag as it was lowered into the grave were Vito's motley collection of soldiers. Dressed in rough clothes with rough beards and lengthening hair to match. Were it not for their tight upright postures they could be confused for a group of drifters. Vito nodded at the men who lined the graves edge, the men performed a perfect left turn in unison, raising hidden rifles to their shoulders they each fired off three shots disturbing the birds which nested in the trees surrounding the cemetery. Vito knew it was a risk firing rifles in the city, but suspected the police had long stopped rushing to reports of gunfire given the war which raged over the city. 


Vito waited as his men marched by, walking to their nearby cars ready to return to the base. Once they were out of earshot he thanked his friend Father Fabrini and left the cemetery. 




Father Fabrini watched his oldest friend climb into a nearby car and speed away into the streets of New York city. His heart was gladdened that Vito was no longer alone, he couldn't help but smile as he watched his friend go about his business. He seemed happier, still not the man he'd known before his families murder, but happier all the same. Father Fabrini turned from the cemetery and climbed into his car, driving the short distance back to his church he returned to his daily duties tending to his flock.


Walking down the aisles stopping to converse with the few people sat in the church Father Fabrini was disturbed by a knock at the door. Shuffling his way towards the heavy wooden doors he opened them and welcomed the visitor into the church. The visitor was well built, clearly not missing many meals, he was dressed in an expensive suit, with a fedora hat at his head. Father Fabrini noticed the scar which ran down the man's cheek, but was not concerned, many men were scarred from the war it was not uncommon to see those still marked by those dark days. 


The man chatted idly asking about the church and its history. Father Fabrini was glad to respond, hoping to have another member soon. He was left surprised as the man grabbed him by the throat and held him off his feet with a wicked smile on his face. He whistled and another group of men rushed into the church, telling everyone inside to get the fuck out they blocked the church entrance. Father Fabrini was thrown into a heap on the church floor, he was kicked and punched as the group went about their work, finding out how he knew the man called Vito Vincenzo. 




Vito received an urgent call back at his base. He'd only given a small number of people the number for this phone so was surprised to hear a voice he didn't recognize on the other side.


"If you wanna see your priest friend alive again, I suggest you get your ass to the church right fucking now," the rough heavily New York accented voice began.


"Touch a hair on his head and I'll kill you and everyone you hold dear," Vito returned, panic throwing any caution to the wind. 


"You're in no position to make threats, come to the church on your own and unarmed and he might see the light of day," the voice laughed in response.


The line clicked dead. Vito grabbed his coat and rushed into the warehouse below. Climbing into a nearby car he sped into the night not warning his men where he was headed. 




Godfather Lucassi sat down at the arranged location, his own bodyguards and men out in force to prevent any provocation from either of the Don's he had organized a sit down with. A sit down was a sacred thing to the members of his life, none would be stupid enough to break the temporary truce. Lighting himself a Cuban cigar he lent back in his leather chair and waited. Don Gambino was first to arrive with his men being locked in a separate wing of the house to prevent trouble. He paid the necessary respects to Godfather Lucassi and took a seat to the left of the ageing Godfather's position. Godfather Lucassi offered Don Gambino a Cuban cigar and a drink while they waited. 


Don Falcone barged his way into the room with his usual bravado. Nodding his head at Godfather Lucassi he sat opposite Don Gambino but refused to look him in the eye. Godfather Lucassi offered Don Falcone a drink and a Cuban cigar but he refused dismissively. Don Gambino was about to say something about the man's lack of respect but Godfather Lucassi stilled him with a shake of his head. 


"Gentlemen I have called a sit down to end this war of ours, its bad for business, we've all lost too many men and too much money for it to continue," Godfather Lucassi began in his gravely tones. 


"We will agree terms and set the tribute that must be paid by each of you as reparations and the war will end tonight, capiche?" asked Godfather Lucassi looking at each of the men in turn.


Don Falcone smiled in response, "That's fine by me, but you know my terms." 


Don Gambino turned to Godfather Lucassi and stated, "Understood." 


"Good, first off," Godfather Lucassi's words were interrupted by automatic gunfire which echoed from outside, "Whichever of you has broken the terms of truce is a dead man," he warned.


Don Falcone leapt to his feet, smashing the nearby bodyguard off his feet and grabbing his gun. He turned and shot the other guard in the face. He pointed the gun at Don Gambino's chest daring him to move as he walked to the door and locked it.


"Now we're gonna have a sit down, and you'll both hear my terms," he began but was interrupted as Godfather Lucassi reached for a gun he had stashed under the table.


Don Falcone didn't even blink, he turned the gun and put a bullet in Godfather Lucassi's ageing heart. Don Gambino jumped to his feet and charged Don Falcone with a shout on his lips. He smashed the gun out of Don Falcone's hands, smashing his head into the man's nose to emphasize his point. Outside Godfather Lucassi's men alerted to the gunshots were hammering the heavy door with their feet and shoulders desperate to gain entry. Don Falcone and Gambino fell to the floor trying to wrestle the gun from each of their grips. 

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Vito sped through the rainy streets of New York not giving a fuck if the police chose to pull him over. He would sooner spend the rest of life rotting in prison than let anyone hurt his friend. Swerving in and out of traffic, beeping manically at anyone too slow to get out the way he raced through the city. With screeching brakes he pulled up outside the church and tried to rush inside. The door was barred and shut, smashing his fist against the door he was met with the barrels of loaded guns as those inside inched the door open. 




Oscar awoke to the warehouse in bedlam as Vito jumped into the nearest car and sped out into New Jersey. Calling the men to arms he shouted at their quickest driver to follow him and ring when they had a location. He turned to the rest of the gathered men and told them to arm up, he wouldn't allow Vito to face this fight alone. He knew Vito could be hot headed, but also knew his friend wouldn't have taken such a course of action unless one of his friends were in danger. 




Don Gambino and Don Falcone rolled about on the floor exchanging blows as they fought to get the revolver out of the others grasp. Don Gambino's greater weight was matched against Don Falcone's younger frame and greater strength. Don Falcone finally wrestled the pistol out of Don Falcone's grasp, turning the gun to point at his head. Don Gambino who had wrestled himself on top of Don Falcone threw his body forward as the gun went off, taking the shot in his shoulder he was thrown back but managed to keep his position. As Don Falcone went to engage the hammer of the revolver Don Gambino raged grabbing him by the throat and squeezing. Don Falcone began to see stars at the corner of the eyes, his strength fading as his wind pipe was slowly caved in, as the strength loosened Don Falcone's grip on the weapon Don Gambino pulled a knife from his belt and stabbed it into the man's heart. Don Falcone's caved in windpipe left him unable to even scream out in pain. 


Don Gambino savored the moment. He'd long forgotten how it felt to drive a blade into your enemies heart and watch the hope and life fade from their eyes. He walked towards the door and pulled back the bolt letting Godfather Lucassi's men inside. They checked the ageing Godfather but found he had no pulse. Turning to Don Gambino with suspicion in their eyes they were quickly distracted as Don Falcone's men continued to fight their way into the compound. 


Searching the nearby guards pockets Don Gambino reloaded the revolver and followed the guards. A fierce fire fight continued down the halls as Don Falcone's men forced their way into the building. Turning to the nearest guard he demanded they release his men and arm them, the man was about to refuse the order before a group of armed Hispanics charged into the building felling two more of Godfather Lucassi's men. Don Gambino was given the key and directions to where his men were being held, he set off at a pace finding the room easily and releasing his bodyguards. Following the man's directions they entered an armory, grabbing shotguns, thompson submachine guns and revolvers from racks lining the room.


At the head of a host of armed gangsters Don Gambino flanked the charge from the Hispanic gangsters, caught between the two fields of fire the men were torn apart. Nodding at Godfather's Lucassi men they rushed outside quickly overwhelming Don Falcone's attacking gangsters, who fell back in a rout. Don Gambino shook his head. This was a fucking mess. The power vacuum left by the deaths of Don Falcone and Godfather Lucassi would lead to more bloodshed.


One of his bodyguards approached and pointed out that Don Gambino was bleeding, he'd barely noticed so hyped up on adrenaline. Taking off his expensive coat the shirt beneath was soaked in crimson, climbing into a nearby car he was given a bottle of whisky to help numb the pain. 




"We've been looking for you Mr Vincenzo," began the leader of the gang as he pointed a knife menacingly at Vito's gut.


Vito looked around for his friend Father Fabrini but could not see him. The gang's leader was as thin as a bean pole and as tall as one too. He had a scar running down his cheek, short cropped hair and a menacing sneer permanently etched across his cruel face. Vito knew the type, the kind of men the mafia could rely upon to torture and kill without question. 


"Looking for the priest? Don't worry we haven't broken anything that can't be fixed.... yet," added the leader to the laughter of the men who crowded around Vito holding him in place.


"You touch a fucking hair on his head and I'll gut you like a..." Vito was knocked to the floor as one of the hired muscle stood to his side smashed his fist into his stomach. 


"Doesn't look like you're in any position to be making demands, if I was you I'd keep my mouth shut and listen up," the leader continued. 


"I'll be frank, you ain't leavin' this church alive, but how you meet that demise is up to you, just know that I will happily make your end long and drawn out should you displease me," the leader smiled and Vito knew he meant it.


"My employers want some answers out of you before we send you back to them in pieces, so lets start off with the names and location of your little crew," the leader stated waving his bowie knife in Vito's face.

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Vito awoke covered in a film of clammy sweat, his dreams had been plagued by images of his friends demise ever since his visit from Doctor Johnson. Regret ate away at his stomach he should have known better, he should have known anyone he kept close would be swept up in the darkness which had consumed his life. He rubbed at the scar that Father Fabrini's killer had given him across his face and hoped his friend's faith had proven right, that he was now in heaven with his God. 


The rousing sounds of hundreds of men waking and pulling themselves from their beds ready for the morning meal disturbed Vito's dark thoughts. Climbing from his bed he woke Tommy with a gentle push. Today would be a big day. It was time to move on their next target. Wrapping themselves in heavy coats to negate the worst of the winter cold, Tommy passed Vito a shiv that he tucked into the hem of his coat. Walking out of the cell they were met by the usual hateful stares and threats of violence, but the prisoners had learned to give them a wide berth. 


Marching into the recreational room the pair took the front two seats eliciting hushed whispers from the surrounding prisoners. Tommy reached over and changed the rooms only television to a different channel. The whole prison knew the mafia owned this room and what was played on the TV. Whispers passed down the rooms edge as the men wondered if these two had a death wish. As expected the fat bastard who ran this end of the prison waddled up to them surrounded by his squad of goons. All heavyset men who'd spent long terms in prison, with all the gifts the corrupt guards could provide. 


"You two got a real death wish eh?" the leader, a man named Luca Dassi, asked in a broad Brooklyn accent. 


Vito gave the man his best thousand yard death stare in response. Luca Dassi, clearly too used to having the run of the prison made a fatal mistake. He pushed passed his guards to get into Vito's face. As he took that next fatal step Vito sprung into action, driving his shiv into the man's throat and stabbing him multiple times in the chest for good measure. Tommy dived at the nearest guard, using his weight to knock him off his feet. Turning to the guard behind he put his shiv into his stomach and dropped the nut on him. All was bedlam as the stunned prisoners rushed back into their cells.


Vito and Tommy threw their shivs onto the floor. Dropping their heavy coats and prison shirts at the scene they ran back to their cells. Left in the recreational room were dead and dying mafia members. Their attack had been so fierce the men barely had the chance to respond. The mafia's control of the prison so total that they did not expect to be attacked in their own back yards. Vito and Tommy washed their hands in the cells sink, scrubbing at the blood which covered their faces, hands and arms. 




Oscar scribbled the address down on a piece of paper and put the phone down. Grabbing his coat and gun he called to the men below to load up in the cars. The motorcade sped out of New Jersey and rushed towards the church located in Queens, New York. Vito had a solid hour lead on them, Oscar hoped against hope that they wouldn't arrive too late. 




The scarred gangster and his men tried their hardest to beat the answers out of Vito, but greater men with wickeder hearts had tried and failed such acts. There was nothing these men could do to tempt his tongue. In frustration the leader cut Vito's face, leaving a flap of loose skin hanging off his cheek, but he'd sooner die than give up his men. Vito lifted his head as the beatings stopped he began to rage against his captors as Father Fabrini was dragged into the room. The man's face had been beaten to a pulp.


"Seems you're quite resistant to a good beating eh?" joked the leader of the murdering gang. 


"Let's see how tight those lips are then," he continued reaching for his knife and stabbing it into Father Fabrini's side.


Father Fabrini's eyes open as he howled in pain. The wound was deep and must have punctured a lung for he was struggling to draw in breath. Vito raged against his captors. Every muscle fiber tensed he thrashed like a wild animal. All the hatred and anger that he held close to his heart overwhelmed him, drawing upon strength he never knew he had he pulled his arm from one of the guards heavy hands. Reaching into the guards belt he pulled out bowie knife and stabbed it into the other guards chest. Pulling the knife out with a sickening squelch he rammed it down to the hilt in the other guards heart.


The room awoke into chaos as the rest of the scarred gangsters men rushed to overwhelm Vito, but he would not be tamed. Using all the skills he'd gained from a life spent at war he kept his body in constant motion, evading punches and attempts to grapple him, using the sharp edge of the blade to punish any of those who tried. A man sent an overarm haymaker at his face which he dodge at the last second, running the knife along his wrist before turning to block the next punch. 


The mobsters who gathered about him were bloodied and worn out from their short fight. They were not men used to their victims fighting back. They were employed by the mob to kill the weak and the meek. Vito's fury blinded him to any risks. He attacked with vengeance on his heart, dispatching each of them with slices before burying the stolen blade into their hearts or throats. Vito stood breathing heavily upon a mound of mangled flesh.


Vito turned slowly towards the leader of the dead mobsters. He cowered behind Father Fabrini who's priests cowl was soaked in blood. He held the knife to the man's throat but Vito was blind to the threat. Reaching into the pocket of a fallen mobster he retrieved a revolver and cocked the hammer, pointing it at the man.


"No hasty movements, put the gun down otherwise I'll slit this fuckers......" the leaders words were interrupted as Vito put a bullet between his eyes. 


Dropping the revolver to the floor Vito charged to his fallen friend, putting pressure on the word he tried to reassure him that he would be alright.


"Vito I'm glad you're ok," his oldest friend coughed, "promise me you will bury me in my church," he continued as the light slowly faded from his eyes.


"Of course Thomas, may your God grant you peace," Vito whispered sobbing into his dead friends hair. 

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Don Gambino sat in his new chair, behind his new desk, in his new headquarters. He struck his most regal pose as Don Falcone's former underbosses and capos swore their fealty to him. He had thought for a long time on who to set up in Don Falcone's stead, and chosen a rather meek gentleman who he knew would be easily persuaded to Don Gambino's way of thinking. His new consigliere stood at his shoulder. A shrewd mafioso who had served Don Gambino well during the war, and earned his place as his right hand man. 


Don Gambino reached forward displaying the ring at his finger, the men each took a turn kneeling and kissing it, as was his right as the new Godfather of New York City. He had gained much from the passing of Don Falcone and Godfather Lucassi. While the war still waged outside these four walls, for the moment he felt satisfied. He'd received word that the squad of killers he'd sent after that bastard Vito Vincenzo had caught the man and his useless fucking priest. With any luck they'd be dead before he finished his dinner. 


Godfather Gambino began to plan his next moves. He needed to subjugate the African American and Hispanic gangs Don Falcone's actions had empowered. He'd need to butter them up, give them enough action to still their hands from turning on himself. Smiling to himself he knew all would be well in the end, his powerbase was strong and his enemies greatly weakened.




Oscar's car came to a sudden halt outside the church. He quickly gave out his orders, he wanted two men to approach the church from the back, three men to approach from the front with him, the rest he wanted to guard outside. His men, professionals all, rushed to follow out the orders. Nodding at the man who held the church's doors heavy handle he pulled out a shotgun and was first through the door.


As his eyes adjusted to the church's gloom he noticed the blood which coated the floor, nearly tripping on the stack of bodies lining the floor and pews. Pulling his gun up he stepped over the bodies and approached a prone figure who's back was turned to them, he cradled a man in his arms. Oscar tried to shout out but received no response. One man followed closely behind while the other two fanned out following the gaps between the pews and the wall. Oscar turned to the band behind him and nodded towards the door, asking him to cover their position.


"Vito its Oscar, we're here friend," Oscar spoke in hushed tones not wanting to wake his friend into violence. 


"He's dead Oscar, and its all my fault. I shouldn't have contacted, I should have never got him involved," Vito returned with tears in the corners of his eyes. 


"I've known him since we were kids, he was a saint. A man of honor in a city with a rotten heart," Vito continued as Oscar nodded his understanding. 


"Vito we need to leave, the police will be here soon," Oscar tried to warn his friend.


"No first I must fulfill my promise, he needs to be buried in his church's cemetery, you and the men go, I can do this," Vito returned with a dead eyed stare. 


"Not a chance Vito, we'll help," stated one of their men who had appeared from the church's yard. 

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"Real good job you're doing out their slick," stated the leader of the African American prison element, an ageing gangster called Lenny.


The man was tall and lean, corded with muscle from a life spent fighting in prison. He'd risen to the gangs leadership by being the toughest and meanest son of the bitch in the prison. His nose was still a little bent from Vito's knee, but he didn't seem to hold it against Vito. The pair were meeting in secret upon Vito's request. He'd killed half a score of the mafia's leaders in prison, and was becoming impatient. He wanted to know where the two men responsible for his families murder were. 


"Have you got that info I requested?" Vito asked taking a pull from his hand rolled prison cigarette. 


"I know where they are, they're locked down in solitary confinement, no way you're getting to them with the mob owning the keys to the yard," returned Lenny keeping an eye out for any guards. 


"Well you need to figure out how to get me to them, that was the deal," responded Vito with menace in his eyes, he couldn't help but feel like the man was trying to fuck him.


"Cool down slick, its all in hand, but first we'll need your help, once we wrestle power out of the mafias hands we can get you that access," Lenny laughed trying to appear unbothered by Vito's rising fury. 


"Look before the weeks over you'll have your men, there's a war coming, you wanna be on our side or with those sick fucks that murdered your family?" Lenny continued, trying to appeal to Vito's reasonable side. 


"I look forward to it, just make sure your men know not to attack me and Tommy," Vito returned, stubbing out his cigarette and making his exit.




Oscar did his best to help Vito over the following days. The man had entered a catatonic state. The loss of his friend biting so deep that it had brought back all the darkness from his families loss. He kept Vito away from the men as much as possible, taking over the day to day running of their operation in his stead. As far as he was considered they still had a job to do, and once Vito recovered he wanted to be ready to hit Gambino where it hurt. 


They had gathered information on the ageing Gambino's actions, he had smiled as they learned about Godfather Lucassi and Don Falcone's demise. Oscar knew enough about the mob to know more war would follow, in its long and storied past there had been never been a peaceful exchange of power. Already a war was breaking out across the streets, as Don Gambino, now Godfather Gambino reinforced his power base. The capos and soldiers among Don Falcone's former crew that Godfather Gambino had not selected as his favored men were not taking it well. Using contacts they had gained among the ethnics gang they were planning further attacks. Oscar and his warriors would take advantage of the coming chaos. 




Vito poured himself another cup of whisky and lifted it to his fallen friend. Oscar had shut him away in his room of the abandoned warehouse. His mind was working on autopilot. The moments since Father Fabrini's passing were a blur. Rage swelled at the bottom of his heart but his mind no longer had the conviction to see it fulfilled. The guilt he felt towards his friends death had left a pit in his stomach. Anyone unfortunate enough to speak to him felt his venomous retorts. Leave me the fuck alone he would declare before marching back to his dark room.


Vito threw the cup against the wall smashing it. Grabbing the bottle of whisky he poured it into his mouth until it escaped from the sides of his mouth. Falling to the floor in a pathetic heap he slipped into darkness as the worst effects of the alcohol caught up with him. Plagued by dark dreams he fell into a restless sleep.




Oscar knocked on Vito's door but got no answer. Rushing into the room he found the man passed out on the floor about to drown on his own vomit. Turning him onto his side Vito spewed the contents of his stomach onto the tiled floor. Oscar couldn't take much more of this, he was going to have to give the man a reality a check before he drunk himself to death. Turning to the man at his side he told him to get a cold bucket of water, this way no time for Mr Nice Guy.  

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Lucana Gioveni was furious, he'd served under Godfather Lucassi since before his ascension to that lofty position. How dare this upstart Don Gambino refuse his meeting. Who the fuck did he think he was? Lucana Gioveni had served as Godfather Lucassi's underboss, and now he wasn't even worthy of a sit down. He gathered with the discontents of his former glorious family. Men who's honor had been insulted by Godfather Gambino and his play for power. He spread rumors that Godfather Gambino had started this war, it was Godfather Gambino who had caused the death of their beloved Godfather Lucassi. The men shouted their assent. 


With an orators stroke of genius he turned their conversation towards future plans. He put out a call for arms, they would see this slight repaid in blood. The group of 50 or so mobsters gathered in the warehouse roared in response. He theatrically pulled off the sheet which covered the crates behind him and showed the crowd the armory of weapons at his feet. The men were ready for war. They would tear Godfather Gambino's operations to pieces and then feed Godfather Gambino's bloated corpse to the fishes. 




Chevez knew the men who gathered about him, he'd known most of them since growing up in the hoods of New York together. With the death of Don Falcone he'd expected a call from Godfather Gambino to bring him into the fold. Don Falcone had promised a great deal, which Chevez and his men expected fulfilled. They had fought and died in that war, and this new Godfather would pay in blood if it was required. For Don Falcone had made them rich beyond imagining, in both weapons and capital. They were no longer a lowly street gang fighting over the meager pickings of New York. Now they were a crime family, and they wanted their pound of flesh.


Shouting out to his gathered men he told them the plan. They would turn the city to chaos and force Godfather Gambino out of his hiding hole. Climbing into the waiting car he wished his men good luck and sped away into the night. He smiled to himself as he watched the other crews veer off into different parts of the city. If his plan worked they would turn Godfather Gaambino's remaining crew fronts into cinders. 




Sammy threw his cigarette to the floor as his men gathered around him. He and his men more used to racial abuse and treatment as second class citizens had been treated to a better life under Don Falcone, sure they'd been used as bullet shields for his operations, but the bastard had paid well and taught them much. Now he and his gang wanted their slice of New York, no longer satisfied to eek out meager living in the ghettos of New York city. His men would follow him to the death if necessary, and he would see them elevated to a new station, a station outside of poverty, a station where they would live as proud respected men of New York city.


Having spoken to Chevez the leader of the Hispanic gangs earlier in that day, they had agreed to hit Godfather Gambino where it hurt. Climbing into the waiting car he fed shells into the shotgun at his lap and sat back as the car sped into New York. Deep in his heart he knew he and his men were risking a lot tonight, but he refused to see his people returned to a life of virtual servitude by people who hated their very existence. 

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Vito and Tommy walked the yard cautiously. The usual loud boisterous conversations which filled the prison turned to hushed undertones. Something was in the air, as each of the groups eyed each other suspiciously. Communication between Lenny's group and the mafiosos who ran the prison had broken down. There would be trouble soon, so Vito and Tommy had decided the best place for them was out in the open where they could see an attack coming, if it were to come to a fight the last thing they wanted was to be cornered like rats. Each of the men carried a shiv in the lining of their heavy coat pockets. 


A gang of men led by Lenny spilled out onto the yard, walking menacingly towards the mafiosos who gathered around the tables and chairs of the yard. No words were exchanged, instead with a roar Lenny charged at the mafiosos who rushed to gather whatever weapons they had stashed around the yard. The two sides met in the middle of the prisons yard, bodies were thrown to the floor by the rush of men, people were stomped on the floor or stabbed repeatedly. Vito and Tommy, knowing their part rushed the mafioso from their flank, outside of their vision. Drawing their weapons as they picked up speed. 


Vito headed straight for one of the mafia's leader in the prison, an ageing brute named Sal who'd been running Rikers prison since the 30s. Coming at him from behind Vito buried his shiv in the man's bank. Grabbing him from behind he pulled the man's shiv out of his hand and stuck it in his throat for good measure. Tommy to his side took out the man's second in command. As their bodies dropped to the floor Vito and Tommy continued to attack from the back, slaughtering any unfortunate enough to be in there way. Loud bangs erupted over the prison yard as the guards fired their rifles into the mass. Men fell to the floor with their chests split open. The prisoners hit the ground, throwing their weapons away. Vito took stock of their situation, Lenny's men had slaughtered the mafia members on the yard.


Vito and Tommy were pulled onto their feet and marched back towards their cell. The guards were furious that the men who paid for their protection had been killed. There would be hell for them to pay in their personal lives. The people under their protection had friends in high places, who would come looking to those responsible. Once back in their cell Vito and Tommy exchanged amused glances. It had been a good day, a few less mafia bastards in the prison would do the place some good. 




Don Tiveto walked a little taller following his elevation to crew leader. He was no longer a caporegime of the Falcone crime family, but a leader of his own. He was either too stupid or ignorant to notice the whispers of a crew who felt he was unfit to lead them. He was too ignorant to notice the looks of the men who felt it was not Godfather Gambino's right to declare who would lead them. Instead Don Tiveto went about his business, visiting his usual brothels, drinking and whoring to celebrate his new placement. 


One of his bodyguards rushed into the room, interrupting his celebrations. Don Tiveto, an overweight ageing ex-boxer was just sampling the finest the brothel had to offer and was pissed that someone dare disturb him. His bodyguard apologized, stating that their businesses and crew front across the city had been hit. He'd lost men, money and most of all influence across the city as his fronts burned. Don Tiveto, too slow to notice anything suspicious pulled on his clothes and charged out the brothel roaring at his men to find who dared attack him.




Lucana Gioveni and his men waited outside in the rainy New York night. The streets were a dangerous place to be with the war raging across the city, so they kept their hands on their weapons, ready for a fight. Lucana had paid the brothels mistress a large sum of money for information on the man inside, the bodyguard who had rushed in to warn the Don Tiveto about the nights attack had taken no payment, just wanting to be rid of the useless fuck.


Lucana smiled as the ageing Don charged down the stairs, too stupid to notice his bodyguards not following, too ignorant to notice no vehicle pulled up outside. The Don was shouting out orders to men not close enough to listen. Lucana nodded to his men who stalked out the dark alleyway and whistled to get the Don's attention. The Don turned, surprise written over his podgy features, as half a dozen thompson sub-machine guns opened up at once, filling his fat ageing frame with enough bullets to fell an elephant. Lucana walked towards the dying man and put a final spray of bullets into his face, this was a declaration of war to Godfather Gambino, a personal vendetta against the man.




Underboss Luvinci hadn't grown to the ripe year of 56 while living in the mafia without being cautious. Openly he had accepted his new appointment as one of Godfather Gambino's underbosses, but secretly he had held his doubts, knowing the only other option was an untimely demise. He'd served enough men over the years to know who to follow and who to suffer. Livinci had noted the men Godfather Gambino had appointed, he knew most of them personally, and the only word he'd use to describe them is incompetent. Godfather Gambino had appointed him out of obligation rather than choice, knowing the sway he held over Godfather Lucassi's crew members. 


Luvinci had thrown his lot in with Lucana Gioveni, an old friend he'd grown up on the rough streets of New York with. If Godfather Gambino had bothered to do his research, he'd have known not to trust Luvinci while slighting his friends honor. The pair's scheme was working exactly as planned. Under Godfather Gambino's instruction he was to meet with the leaders of the African American and Hispanic gangs, arranging a seize fire. Instead Luvinci had paid the men large sums of Godfather Gambino's money to step up their attacks. 


Lucana had burst into laughter when Luvinci told him this part of the plan. They'd decided it would be best to keep Luvinci close to Godfather Gambino, ready for the right time to strike.

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Oscar read the daily reports from the men he'd sent out on intel missions. He couldn't help but smile. Members of Godfather Gambino's crew were being slaughtered and their fronts attacked as war raged across the city. The power base Godfather Gambino had tried to build in the face of Godfather Lucassi and Don Falcone's death was crumbling. Oscar noted the names of these new men who had appeared on his radar. Leaders of the African American and Hispanic gangs suspected of helping Don Falcone, now turned against Godfather Gambino and a man named Lucana Gioveni, who Oscar's men had reported killing a Don of Godfather Gambino's new crew structure.


Using the information the men gathered Oscar built a map of the new family structure of New York's mafia. Rushing into Vito's room he pulled the men out of bed and slapped him awake. Now was the time to strike, in unison with the war already raging across New York Godfather Gambino would be in a weakened position. He'd given Vito enough time to mourn, he'd beat the man into action if needed. 




Vito awoke being pulled out of bed. He hit the floor with force, not even having time to pull up his arms. His face was slapped repeatedly, falling like hammers on his fragile hung over head. His blurred vision cleared after the last slap and he pulled his arm up to block the next blow. Oscar was stood before him with disappointment written over his face. 


"Fuck I feel like shit," Vito moaned.


"If you're expecting sympathy you've come to the wrong place, its time you pulled yourself together," Oscar responded sternly. 


As Vito's fractured mind digested his friend's words guilt began to eat away at his stomach. He'd caused his friends death, before the thought could take hold Oscar slapped him hard across the face, turning his cheeks a deep crimson as his anger built.


"Do that again and I'll break your jaw," warned Vito his fury building.


"Good, that's the sort of energy we need right now, not a weeping moping motherfucker," Oscar laughed.


"We need you, fuck it I need you back leading the men, our mission is not over soldier," Oscar continued. 


Vito listened as Oscar explained what had befallen Don Gambino, fucking Godfather Gambino. With Godfather Lucassi and Don Falcone dead Vito suspected the war would come to an end. He smiled as Oscar explained that the war was raging once again, the city was turning on Godfather Gambino, and with a little push the man's powerbase would be weakened beyond repair. Vito thanked his friend and apologized for his behavior, shaking hands Oscar told him to forget about it.


Vito climbed into the communal shower and used the cold water to clean away his shame. He would lock the guilt away deep in his heart, locked in the same place that he kept all the others that had died due to his actions. He would see Godfather Gambino gutted like a pig before his end, for his desire for vengeance burned as bright as the sun.




Godfather Gambino listened to his second in command as he read out the daily reports. The newly appointed Don Tiveto had been assassinated outside a local brothel. Deep in his heart he knew it was a mafia killing, not a failed mugging or a hit by those African American or Hispanic fuckers. His rage simmered at the surface as his new empire began to crumble around him. His second in command continued to read out the list of crew fronts which were attacked the previous night. A survivor reported that gangs of African American and Hispanic men had stormed the buildings, killing all inside before putting them to the torch. 


The ageing Godfather reached for his drink and gulped it down swiftly. He lit himself a cigar to help hide his nerves. He could feel the hounds closing in on him. Turning to his second in command he declared that they needed to double the guard and find out which of the old crews were launching these attacks. The African American and Hispanics loyalty could be bought, but whichever mafioso's moving against him needed to be dealt with sharpish. 


His second in command had heard rumors of dissent from the members of Godfather Lucassi and Don Falcone's hierarchy that Godfather Gambino felt he couldn't trust. A man named Lucana Giovani was the most likely suspect. Godfather Gambino smiled, now that was a name he knew well, the man was a snake, a man who could only be trusted to serve his own self interest. The second in command was told to find this man at all costs, and bring his head back to Godfather Gambino in a sack. 


Left to his own devices, Godfather Gambino thought to the death of the hit squad he'd sent to deal with Vito Vincenzo. That man was a thorn that needed to be dealt with. Reaching for his phone he called through to an old friend of Vito Vincenzo, his old police chief, a fat corrupt bastard called Chief Simmonds. The man was the worst kind of cop, a dirty cop who only dreamt of political office. A man who'd use his position in the police force to work his way into political office. Godfather Gambino knew how to deal with such men. He had enough dirt on Chief Simmonds to see that the man spent the rest of his natural life in prison. Applying the screws he demanded the man find Vito Vincenzo and bring him to justice. 

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Vito rose from his bed and began his morning exercises, running through his usual routine of push ups, pull ups, burpees and weight lifting. He felt clarity returning to his tortured mind, a sense of purpose and a burning desire to see his vengeance fulfilled. He had spent too long wallowing in self pity. He owed it to his family to see their deaths avenged, he owed it to his friend to see his mission complete. Once Godfather Gambino and all those responsible were buried 6 feet under, he could consider drinking himself to death. 


Outside his room he found the men waiting for him, Vito noticed the anxious looks and disappointment written across their faces. He'd sold them a dream of vengeance, and allowed himself to fall below their expectations. 


"I'm not a man for speeches, leave that for the generals and politicians," Vito began the men laughing in response. 


"We've an opportunity to gut these bastards, you've all read the reports, you've seen the streets, Godfather Gambino is vulnerable, while this war rages we shall seize the day and smoke the bastard out of his hidey hole," Vito shouted to the roaring cheers of his assembled men. 


Oscar wheeled a blackboard displaying all the relevant information they had gathered over the past few days. Vito began to outline their plan, where they would focus their attacks and how they would undermine Godfather Gambino's operations. Vito fell back into his natural role of leader, splitting the men into teams based on their skills and merits. Lastly he turned to the two ex-members of the 1st Special Force and told them to tail Godfather Gambino. Vito wanted to know where he was and what he was doing at all times. If the men saw an opportunity they should take it, but only if it was a guaranteed kill. The pair of men knew their business, nodding before equipping themselves and stealing away into the cold New York day. 




Godfather Gambino opened a letter left on his desk, checking the return address he recognized it as the place he'd sent his wife and children to hideout. His heart began to beat faster as he read the contents of the letter. His wife was leaving him, she was taking her children and getting as far away from him as possible. She'd signed up to suffer a lot throughout the years, but she was at her wits end. Hidden away from society, her children's quality of life suffering was too much for her to handle. Godfather Gambino raged as he read the last words, how dare she try to take his children from him. 


Reaching for the nearby phone he called for his Consigliere. The man entered shortly after, waiting to take his orders. He was left surprised as Godfather Gambino demanded he send out men to find his wife and children, when he responded that he would ring ahead to the bodyguards he'd left with his family, Godfather Gambino shouted he wanted to send killers not people to protect them. He stated that he wanted his wife to have an unfortunate accident, and his children firmly back in his care, and if they wouldn't come willing to deal with them too. There was a madness in Godfather Gambino's eyes. 




Godfather Gambino's Consigliere left the room swiftly, disturbed by the man's desire for bloodshed against his own family. While the mafia would take a man's life for something as small as a look, they did not hurt women and children. The man had gone mad, and his Consigliere no longer felt he was a man to follow. Leaving the guarded mansion he climbed into his car and sped away from Long Island, back towards the city. 


Pulling up outside one of Godfather Gambino's crew fronts Consigliere Torrino lit himself a smoke. He hadn't climbed to be the Godfather's second in command by making rash decisions. He knew deep in his heart that this was the path of no return. Once a man betrayed his Godfather he was as good as dead, unless of course he could kill his Godfather first. Consigliere Torrino took another pull from his cigarette and breathed out into the cold winter night. Fuck it, he was many things, but a children and woman killer was not one of them. Godfather Gambino needed to go, and there was only one way a man left their life, in a body bag.


Consigliere Torrino climbed out of his car with relative ease, while his body was starting to age he'd never taken to a life of luxury, his days of growing up in the back alleys of New York City had taken an impact on his lifestyle. He preferred to live a modest life and kept to a rigorous routine of exercise, for a member of his life never knew when he'd have to fight. A nasty scar split the left side of his lip from a bar fight with an Irishman in his early teens. Johnny Torrino was a fighter, a man members of his life respected, he'd been Godfather Gambino's first choice after the death of Consigliere Luca Vincetti. 


Walking towards the strip club Crew Front Consigliere Torrino was welcomed with open arms, the men knew and respected him. Walking into the strip club he followed the winding corridors heading for the offices. Knocking on the door he was offered a chair and prepared to have a sit down with Underboss Luvinci.

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Through back channel communications a meeting had been set up between Vito and members of the mafia. This meeting did not sit well with Vito, Oscar had explained the rationale behind it, but the puritan in Vito felt dirty attending. Vito had set out to destroy the mob for what they'd done to his family, not entertain them with sit downs, but Oscar could be very persuasive when he needed to be. Vito had insisted that Oscar not attend in person, he'd rather the members of his organization remain anonymous. Unlike Vito who was a wanted criminal who's case had been plastered all over New York newspapers and reports.


Vito pulled his car into an empty parking lot in a rundown section of Queens, New York. The surrounding buildings were dark, Vito felt exposed, like there was a sniper's scope pointed right at him. He swallowed his fears, there was little he could do about any attempts at betrayal now, he'd crossed the line of no return. Climbing out of the car Vito lit himself a smoke and kept his hand on the gun tucked into his shoulder holster. 


As Vito dropped his cigarette to the snowy floor a vehicle with bright head lights entered the car park and drove towards him. Vito tightened his grip on the revolver at his shoulder, as the vehicle pulled up a short walk away and a well dressed mobster climbed out of the back. The man was of a similar height and build to Vito. Clearly of Italian stock, the man had short clipped hair and a long beak of a nose. His tanned face was lined with age, but instantly likeable. The man was quick to smile and held himself with an easy grace, that allowed Vito to let his guard down slightly.


"Vito fucking Vincenzo, as I live and breathe. Let me start off by offering my condolences for your family, that was some rotten business," Lucana Gioveni began in a heavy New York accent. 


Even with all of Vito's misgivings with the mafia he couldn't help but like this man, "lets talk business, I hear you've an offer for me," Vito returned lighting another smoke. 


"Straight to business, a man after my own heart. We've a common enemy, a common cause, we both want to see that fuckwit Godfather Gambino dead," Lucana continued pulling out a pair of Cuban cigars and offering Vito one. 


"I'm listening," Vito stated flatly while taking the offered light and sparking up the Cuban cigar, he savored the rich flavors as he took the first pull.


"We're hitting him across the city with help of the African American and Hispanic gangs and members of my organization, all I'm asking for is a little cooperation, we'll exchange information and agree on places to hit, should mean we stay out of each others hair and minimize the risk any crossfire," Lucana held Vito's steely gaze, weighing up the man, checking for how his words were being taken. 


"Sounds like an offer only a fool would refuse, I've only one ask, when the time comes it'll be me who finishes that fat fuck off, I'll send him screaming to the same hell as his rotten son," Vito held Lucana's gaze scrutinizing the man for any treachery. 




Consigliere Torrino left his meeting satisfied that the men were on the same page. The bloodshed had to end. War was bad for business, and a war which engulfed a whole city was even worse. The men shared a vision on how to end that bloodshed, Godfather Gambino had to go. Once he was out the way the city could be divided among the victors, and the commission would once again rule over New York City. Climbing into his car he drove away from the strip club crew front, he needed to visit the men in Godfather Gambino's family that he trusted. Men who shared his views on the necessary course of action. With their backing Godfather Gambino didn't stand a chance. 

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Chevez nodded over to Sammy as the pair climbed out of their respective cars. They'd lost men tonight, but such was the blood price for their vengeance. Clasping each others hand they spoke on the nights events, reporting on their success. Godfather Gambino's position in the city had been weakened by their actions. Their crews had torched many of the Godfather's crew fronts, killing all the mafia members inside. 


The pair exchanged swigs from a glass of expensive whisky as they sat waiting on the alley. Their idle words disturbed by the arrival of a new vehicle. Lucana Gioveni climbed out of the rear of the car welcoming both the men warmly, thanking them for their services. He laughed as they recounted the stories of attacking Godfather Gambino's crew fronts. Handing each of the men a sack of money he asked after their families, ever the people pleaser. Chevez regarded the man warily, the man had the smooth tongue of a snake.




Lucana spat onto the floor as Chevez and Sammy left in their vehicles. The more he dealt with these people the sicker he felt. As soon as this business with Godfather Gambino was over he'd kill the fucking lot of them. There was only one option at the end of this war, and that was himself as Godfather of New York City. There was no way he'd give either of those fuckers even a spit of land. He'd sooner see them expelled permanently from the city, but still, for now they served his purpose, and Lucana was nothing if not resourceful. 


Climbing into the waiting car he made light on the situation. His two bodyguards knew his true feelings and intentions, they knew that should his mission prove successful they would be promoted to Don's of his family. For Lucana always paid back the men he could trust, and always killed those he could not. 




The mood in the jail had changed significantly in the weeks since the riots. With the mafia's leaders dead guards had started to disappear. For they had paid the ultimate price for failing to protect these key men. They were paid massive amounts of money to perform this task, and it was on their heads blame was placed. Lenny and his men had the rule of the roost.


The remaining mafia members didn't have the numbers or the power base to hold onto control, hell they could barely leave their cells. Many had spent years torturing Lenny and his men, and now they were reaping what they sowed. Vito and Tommy watched the seismic shift of control, knowing they'd had a hand in the change of guard.


Tommy, long resigned to his fate spending the rest of his life in prison, went along with Vito's plans. As far as he was concerned his station had improved greatly since meeting the man, the daily beatings and threats on his life had diminished somewhat. Vito had a natural charisma, he was a man people would follow. Tommy doubted Vito realized this fact, but he would follow him to whatever end necessary. 


Vito was getting impatient. Lenny had made a deal, as far as he was concerned it was about time he paid his end. Storming out onto the yard he walked towards Lenny and his men, who lounged around the metal tables outside. A pair of heavyset men tried to impose themselves between Vito and their leader, Vito was having none of it he dropped the nearest man with a knee to the stomach and dropped the nut on the second man. The rest of Lenny's men rushed into action prepared to beat Vito into the floor, but with a whistle from Lenny they backed off. Vito felt their hostile stares boring into him.


"Afternoon Lenny, I believe we've some business to sort out," Vito spoke with barely contained fury.


"Vito my man I told you I was working on it, I don't appreciate the disrespect," Lenny returned falling into his role as leader of the jail.


"We had a deal, I want access to those men, don't make me wait Lenny, I am not a patient man," Vito barked not caring for who he offended. 


Lenny smiled holding up his hands in mock resignation, "Fine, fine Vito, consider it done. I'll have the guards take you to their cells soon."


Vito nodded and turned to walk away but found his path blocked, "But first you clearly need a lesson in respect," he heard Lenny say from behind him.


Vito sprung into action, attacking the nearest of Lenny's men. Using his fists as bludgeons he knocked the man to the floor before dodging out of the bear hug of a man who approached from behind. Vito dove through the gap caused by the falling man and jumped to his feet. There were too many men for him to handle on his own, so he backed away slowly headed towards his prison cell. Lenny's men jeered him from afar as he entered the cell block and rushed upstairs. 

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Vito and his warriors armed themselves for the nights attack. In coordination with Lucana's plans they were preparing for a big hit on one of Godfather Gambino's major crew fronts. A property in Queens New York, where he was rumored to store large sums of money and volumes of arms. Lucana had ensured Vito that the warehouse would be empty, but Vito was taking no chances. Leaving a couple of his men to guard their base of operations, he ordered the rest of the men to climb into the waiting cars, armed to the teeth more than ready for a night of bloodshed. 


From atop an apartment block opposite the warehouse Vito handed Oscar the pair of binoculars and began to make a plan for their attack. The property was lined by a wire fence topped with barb wire. The warehouses yard was lit up by bright flood lights. The guard rotation followed a simple pattern, but they were heavily armed mobsters clearly expecting some trouble. The city had been on a war footing for a long time, only the vigilant had any hope of surviving the bloody war which had run through the city for the past few months.


Vito etched the rough outline of the warehouse into the gravel of the roof, splitting the men into fire teams who would cover each others approach. Oscar nodded his agreement, suggesting that he and one other would provide overwatch from the opposite buildings roof using the high powered sniper rifles they had brought with them. Vito nodded his agreement and selected his fire time, trusting the leadership of the other team to a burly ex-marine drill instructor known as James. 


Rushing down the stairs Vito stopped at the door outside, waiting for the teams to form up behind him. Inching the door open he pushed forward using the cover of darkness to get outside safely he split the teams up. James took point with his team and crept into the night, he would approach from the front gates, storming them once Vito and his team were inside. James knew his business, he was acting as support. Prepared to attack if Vito and his team were spotted. Vito nodded to his point man, a grizzled veteran who had served in the Pacific theatre, the man took off stopping at regular intervals setting up firing positions in case they were spotted and needed to return fire. 


Vito's group made it to the fence line dropping to their chests as one man made his way to the fence line. The man retrieved a pair of bolt cutters and made short work of the wire fence. Vito jumped to his feet and squeezed through the gap. Once inside his men set up firing positions as Vito crept forwards with his knife held in a reverse grip, ready to slit the guards throats. Vito rushed from cover to cover, tracking the nearest guard, grabbing him from behind he sawed at the man's neck dropping him to the floor. The next guard turned at the sound, but was dropped neatly by a round put to his chest. At the sound of gunfire all hell broke loose, Vito's team opening up with their guns felling half a dozen guards while the rest ran to cover. 


The second group rushed forward at the sound of the first gunshot. Bolt cutters made easy work of the chain which held the gates together. The fire team pushed forwards with military precision, setting up overlapping fields of fire as they rushed from cover to cover. Their flanking attack caught the guards taking cover in the yard by surprise, within heartbeats they were all dead. 


Vito turned waving his thanks to Oscar's sniper team. That was a close call, without their support he would have been cut to pieces in the yard. 




Capo Piscoe hushed his men at the sound of the first bullet. Swearing to himself he told them to grab their weapons and prepare for the attack. He'd received prior warning of the nights raid and had tripled the guard. Whoever came through those warehouse doors would be met by a hail of gunfire and cut to pieces. His old friend Lucana Gioveni had instructed him to place the men he did not trust outside, for they would be the bait.


He'd known Lucana for decades, while they had drifted apart over the years he still knew to trust the man's instincts. While they sat at opposite ends of the table now, Piscoe being a trusted capo of Godfather Gambino, and Lucana losing his position of power following the fall of Godfather Lucassi, Piscoe did not suspect the man of betraying him. He knew how Lucana felt about the African American and Hispanic groups, and knew he would do anything to see them chased out of the city. 


His men knew their business. Taking cover in prepared fire positions which lined the dark warehouse. With shotguns and thompson sub machine guns aimed at the door they waited for their chance to fire. The men smiled at each other, this firefight proved to be a slaughter. They were left surprise as the warehouses high windows were broken, in the darkness they could not see what projectiles had been thrown into the building. Had the lights been on they would have got the fuck out of that confined space, instead they trusted to their leader and waited. 

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Vito waited at the side of the warehouse for their signal to attack. As explosions erupted inside, the demolitions expert at his side pulled the trigger and the blast charge exploded. The demolitions expert knew their business, the force of the explosion aimed into the room sent shards of concrete and brick into the poor bastards huddled behind cover. Between the grenades thrown through the windows and the warehouses wall blasting into the room, the men inside were cut to ribbons. Their pre-planned positions held little cover to high powered explosives. 


Charging into the room Vito filled dazed bodies with lead as they struggled to regain their wits. The mobsters were cut down in seconds. Vito left the clear up activity to the team who had blown a hole in the front shutter door, taking his squad up the stairs to clear the office space which overlooked the warehouse. Setting up either side of the door, Vito nodded to his point man who kicked the door in. The shotgunners went in first, opening fire on the dazed mobsters inside.


Climbing back into their waiting cars Vito and his men fled from the scene. They'd collected large stacks of money and arms, burning the warehouse to the ground afterwards for good measure. In the back of their car Vito and Oscar spoke in hushed tones regarding what they'd seen in that warehouse. That been a set up, a fucking ambush if they'd ever seen one. The men they found in the warehouse were expecting an attack, they'd stacked cars, boxes and barrels about the place for easy cover. They were armed to the teeth prepared for whoever was coming through that door, fortunately they were not prepared for well drilled and trained ex-servicemen. 


Vito's mind raced, that silver tongued bastard Lucana had tried to fuck them. If he made the mistake of trying to contact Vito again, he'd be met with a bullet to his head. 




Vito and his men raced back towards the abandoned New Jersey warehouse they were using as a base of operations. Their attack would not have gone unnoticed, and the last thing Vito needed was a shootout with the cops. Tearing through the streets of Queens, New York they were careful to obey the speed limit not wanting any unfortunate incidents. Vito and Oscar sat in the back of the middle vehicle, discussing the nights attack. Vito was sure they'd been set up, while Oscar was confident that it the ambush was in response to the nightly attacks. Oscar did not voice his thoughts on Vito's raising paranoia, but did his best to suppress the man's need for vengeance against Lucana, the last thing he wanted was open war with all the crews of New York. 


Pulling their cars into the warehouse Vito ordered his men to double the guard, something didn't sit right with him. He put it down to a soldiers instincts, the same instincts which had seen him fend off numerous attempts on his life while at war. The warriors at his side trusted him, and rushed to obey his orders. Posting guards about the warehouse in case of an attack.




Lucana's man who had communicated with Capo Piscoe swore to himself as he watched the warehouse get attacked. The men had been slaughtered and Lucana's plans were in ruins. Climbing back into his car he tailed Vito and his men, hoping to achieve his second objective and find out where they were laying low. From across the road he watched as their cars pulled into an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of New Jersey. Driving to a nearby pay phone and called back to one of Lucana's captains to report in. The captain told the man to hold the line while he got the boss.


"Good job tonight Tony, I trust you've found out where those rats are hiding out," Lucana asked.


"We got 'em boss, I saw them enter an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of New Jersey," Tony continued eager to please Lucana.


"Sit tight and keep an eye on them, there will be a reckoning coming their way soon," Lucana stated flatly and the phone clicked dead.


Tony wasn't the brightest of Lucana's men but he was fiercely loyal. The man climbed back into his car and lit himself a smoke. Reaching into the glove box he pulled out a bottle of whisky and took a swig to stem off the worst of the nights cold. Leaving the engine running he kept his eyes posted on Vito's base of operations, hoping he'd get a chance to take part in the action. Mobsters across New York knew about the exploits of Vito fucking Vincenzo, and were all eager to get a piece of him. Knowing whoever killed him and his vigilante were due a heavy sack of cash and a worthwhile promotion.

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Albert watched from his concealed position as a car tailed Vito and the soldiers back to their base of operations. The man had served in the First Special Forces regiment during the war and knew his business. Albert was of German descent but had opted to serve against his ancestors during the war. For he was not a fascist and despised the group fiercely.


Turning to his partner, another ex- First Special Forces regiment soldier by the name of Alfonse, he told him to report back to Vito immediately. Their location had been compromised, and he suspected an attack soon. Alfonse slid away from their rooftop position and climbed down the stairs to the headquarters. Finding Vito and Oscar he told them of the danger. The pair shared a look which spoke volumes, Vito expecting such an attack began to plan their next course of action. 




Vito awoke to the shouts of guards at his cell, demanding for him to get dressed and follow them. Pulling on his prison jeans, jacket and overcoat he followed the guards out of the main cell block. Vito checked for the stashed shiv he kept in the overcoats lining, prepared for the worst. Taken to a section of the prison he rarely visited Vito felt lost as they descended a final set of heavy iron stairs, the guards unlocked the door at the bottom and allowed Vito to enter first. 


Inside the dark corridor Vito was hit by the stench of unwashed bodies and the noise of mentally deranged men. Vito knew immediately where he was, having spent a short time here previously, these were the solitary confinement blocks, where the guards beat and tortured men until madness set in. 


Stopping at a nearby cell Vito felt rough hands at his back throw him into the cell. Three giant guards entered the room, all showing signs of recent beatings, sporting black eyes, split lips and bruised egos. 


"You must have a fucking death wish," began the largest of the guards.


"Putting those people in charge of this prison, you fucking disgust me," he spat at Vito who backed slowly towards the prisons far wall in a show of fear. 


"Now you're fucked, its either you or us, and I'll gladly gut you," the guard next to him continued.


Vito backed away while slowly reaching for the shiv tucked into the heavy coats lining. As the nearest guard rushed at him Vito pulled it out and stuck it in the man's neck. Grabbing the fallen guards truncheon he launched himself at the next guard, knocking out his teeth before breaking his nose with the rear of the wooden truncheon. The final guard landed a good blow across Vito's side drawing a wince of pain. He pushed his attack swinging his wooden truncheon like a medieval mace but Vito was able to deftly avoid or block all of the blows. The large man was beginning to tire so Vito went on the attack, smashing his truncheon into the man's ribs before breaking his left arm.


"I've got a few questions for you," Vito began while towering over the fallen guard who lay begging on the floor, the guard saw the madness and malice in Vito's eyes. 


Vito's attention was drawn to the downed guard behind him, trying his best to get to his feet. Vito smashed the truncheon into the man's head felling him like a sack of potatoes. 




Lucana climbed into the front of the waiting truck, looking behind him he was satisfied to see armed mobsters piling into the truck bed, armed to the teeth with menace in their eyes. Turning to the driver Lucana nodded and the driver honked the horn. Three car engines fired up in unison and the mobsters sped off into the dark night. Driving towards New Jersey prepared to destroy Vito Vincenzo and the men who followed him. 


The vehicles pulled up a short walk away and Lucana began to give out his orders. He wanted the mobsters to split into smaller groups, flanking the building from as many directions as possible. The last thing he needed was any survivors with a grudge prepared to further fuck over his operations. When Lucana took over New York city he wanted peace, and having a vigilante group at large was not conducive to peace. Lucana grabbed a loaded shotgun from the truck and checked the breach. It would do him some good to get his hands dirty, a man in his position couldn't spend his life hiding behind a desk like Godfather Gambino. 

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Oscar and Vito reacted instantly. They'd prepare for such an attack and were ready to see it executed. Calling the men to arms they gathered around prepared firing positions. The pair knew their best hope lay in stealth, if they could lure the mobsters into a false sense of security they would be cut down in seconds. Vito left Oscar to prepare the men while he climbed onto the roof with a couple of ex-soldiers to relieve Albert and Alfonse. The ex-soldiers carried light machine guns, prepared to rain hell down upon the abandoned warehouses yard and entrance. 


Turning to Albert and Alfonse Vito smiled, "I trust your blades are sharp." 


With a wicked grin Albert returned, "Always."


Only stopping at the armory to grab some explosives, Vito led Albert and Alfonse out into the dark winter night. They would harass and harry these intruders, and make them pay for their transgressions. Vito pulled a dark scarf over his face and crept around the back of the warehouse, noticing the first group of men approach from the darkness. Vito nodded at Albert and Alfonse who stole away into the night, while he waited hiding behind a nearby dumpster. 




Vito turned his attention to the guard who sobbed to his front. His pathetic cries made more nasally by his broken nose. The man swore at Vito saying he would never get away with this, the warden would tie him up by his guts. Vito was not interested in his cries for help or his threats. Smashing the truncheon against the man's leg he began his line of questioning. 


"Where the fuck are Sam Stones and Fredrick Pein?" he asked with a menacing grin. 


Recognition shone in the guards terrified eyes, "In solitary confinement in this block," he sobbed coughing blood onto the floor.


"Get the fuck up, you're taking me to them right now," Vito stated waving the truncheon near the man's face to emphasize his point.


Vito stayed close behind the guard, following him down the long corridor. The guard stopped at the first cell and retrieved a set of keys at his belt. Vito stopped him, asking where the next man's cell was. The guard pointed down the corridor towards a nearby cell. Vito prodded the guard in his back with the truncheon and nodded at the door. Unlocking the door the guard was surprised as Vito smashed the truncheon into his head knocking him into the cell. A disheveled looking man sat on his bed, surprised written over frail features. Shutting the door behind him Vito walked menacingly towards the man, he would make this bastard suffer. Breaking his leg with the truncheon he tore off a length of bed sheets and stuffed it in the man's mouth to shut him up. 


Retrieving the keys from the fallen guard Vito pulled Sam Stones out of his cell. Locking the door behind him he kicked Sam Stone until they reached the door indicated by the guard. Opening the door Vito smashed the truncheon against Sam's head knocking him to the floor. Walking towards Fredrick Pein he beat the man's legs and knocked him unconscious. Vito had dreamed of this moment for the longest of times, he would see these bastards suffered for what they had done to his family. 




Vito watched as Albert and Alfonse disappeared into the night carrying bundle of explosives each. He wanted them to loop around the approaching gangsters, rigging their vehicles with explosives and taking out the rear guard. Once their mission was complete they would approach the compound flanking the mobsters and cutting off their retreat. If Vito and Oscar's plan was a success no one would leave the run down warehouse knowing their location. 


Keeping perfectly still Vito let three mobsters run past him, the idiots choosing speed over caution. Vito trailed them from a distance, as they got closer to the abandoned warehouse they set up firing positions with their backs turned to him. With feline grace he crept towards the closest guard, sawing savagely with his blade he destroyed the man's windpipe dropping him to the ground as the next mobster turned to the hushed noise of the man's dying breaths. Vito drove his bowie knife into the man's back, aiming for his lungs. The escaping breath was enough to draw the attention of the last guard, throwing caution to the wind Vito leapt at him, knocking him to the floor before burying his knife hilt deep in his chest. He watched the light fade from his eyes as he held his hand over the man's mouth preventing a shout or cry for help. 


Wiping his bloody knife on the fallen mobsters expensive coat he dragged the bodies and stashed them behind a nearby dumpster. Vito crept back into the night, ready to take out the next group.

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Lucana so sure of his attack left the cover of the alleyway and walked brazenly towards the warehouse. He watched with satisfaction as small groups of mobsters converged on the building surrounding it entirely. The night was theirs, they would destroy Vito fucking Vincenzo and his army of vigilante soldiers. Lucana allowed himself a moment of pride, his devious plots always brought bouts of pleasure, this is why he would make the perfect Godfather for New York. 


His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of an explosion to his rear. He was left surprise as hidden positions atop the run down warehouse erupted with heavy fire, light machine gun emplacements filled the winter night with hot lead and flashes of tracer fire. Lucana was even more surprised as one of those rounds hit him in the shoulder throwing him onto his back.


Awaking on his back he tasted blood on his tongue from where he'd bit in during his heavy fall. All was chaos around him as he men were torn to pieces. Lucana pulled himself to his feet and ran back towards the car, his dazed mind not connecting the the explosions which had erupted behind earlier. 




Having finished their mission Albert and Alfonese met up at the arranged location. They'd each dispatched numerous guards posted around the warehouse acting as a rear guard in case of any support. The timed explosives went off in unison and the still night was disturbed by the sound of heavy gunfire, as the gunners posted atop the run down warehouse opened fire. 


Albert and Alfonse picked off fleeing targets with well aimed pistol fire. Albert nudged Alfonse as they noticed Lucana rushing back towards the car. Albert held his position as Alfonse stalked the man, he had a feeling Vito would want to have a chat with his old friend Lucana, so rushing behind him he used the back of his bowie knife to knock the man unconscious.




Lucana awoke in a cold room, his hands tied to the chair he sat on. His head throbbed and his memory was spotted, the last thing he could recall was their attack turning to shit, a bullet hitting his shoulder and now he awoke in this dark room. The memory of the bullet hitting his shoulder brought a sudden jolt of pain, as his senses returned he felt the sodden shirt he still wore, the wound seemed to have been bandaged but hurt like a motherfucker. Sure he'd been shot before, but never by a light machine gun, the round felt like it tore his shoulder out of the socket. 


As clarity descended upon Lucana's mind he began to look around the room, searching for a means of escape. The chair he sat on was metal, so he had no hope of breaking it, the rope which bound his hands were tied tight clearly be an expert. Well fuck, what a predicament eh? He mused to himself. As usual he would have to rely on his silver tongue to worm his way out of this problem. 




Vito thanked the men for their dutiful service once again. Their plan had been executed perfectly, and their former military commanders would be proud. They'd slaughtered Lucana's men, who as planned were caught in a brutal crossfire. Oscar reported that they Lucana locked in a backroom and his shoulder wound was clear, Vito commented that they should have poured salt on it and made the fucker suffer. Oscar knew better than to argue with Vito when one of his dark moods descended upon him. 


Vito followed Oscar down a dark corridor, and stopped as he opened a door at the corridors end. 


Walking inside Vito remarked, "I believe we've met before Lucana."


"Vito fucking Vincenzo," he spat with acidic venom.


"Nice to see you too, I trust my men haven't been too rough with you," Vito laughed in response. 


"First class service all round," Lucana spat back.


"Lets get down to business, I've got some questions for you, and trust me when I say its in your interest to give me the write answer," Vito returned as Oscar shut the door behind him.

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Vito was pissed. Lucana had answered all his questions but turned out to be an enemy of Godfather Gambino. He had no useful information the crew could use. Hell Vito couldn't understand why he'd even bothered to try and betray them. The man was clearly a snake, someone who reveled in their ability to manipulate others into doing their bidding. Vito and his men were just an obstacle to overcome. Oscar had argued with Vito not to kill the man, but Vito knew he couldn't let him go free. There was a time Vito would have balked at a cold blooded killing, but now it barely registered on his fundamentally damaged morale compass. 


Putting the business to the back of his mind he left Vito keeled over beaten to a pulp, but still breathing. He needed to clear his head and focus on their next movements. Both he and Oscar knew their best hope lay in taking advantage of the chaos which had taken over the New York streets. 




Lucana knew he was fucked. He'd seen the cold look in Vito's eyes, saw the man weighing up the decision to kill him. He was left surprised as he left him curled up on the floor still tied to the metal chair. Straining against his bonds he felt a loose bolt on the one side of his chair. Well fate was clearly smiling upon on this day. Using the last of his strength he pulled with all his might rocking back and fourth not caring about the scraping noise the chair was making on the stone floor. With a final effort he pulled his bonds free and fell heavily onto his other side. 




Vito walked out of the solitary confinement cell. The cries of the dead men he'd left in that room would haunt his nightmares, but his vengeance was done. He'd expected to feel a semblance of satisfaction, instead something inside him he'd locked away had died that night. Using the guards keys he climbed the stairs out of the basement solitary confinement area and stalked back to the main prison block. Careful not to alert the guards he walked back into the main cell block under the cover of night. The remaining prison guards, clearly under the ruling of the warden the other prison guards had turned a blind eye to the nights events. None were alarmed that the three guards had not return, expecting them to be taking their time with Vito.


Walking back into his prison cell covered in blood Tommy was shocked to see him alive. He had a hundred questions but saw the dead eyes stare from his friend. Instead he focused on getting Vito cleaned up, if all went well the guards would have nothing to even prove Vito was involved. Tearing the bloody clothing off his friend he helped wash the worst of blood away, giving Vito a spare set of clothes he threw the rags over tiers guard rail and used the stolen keys to lock the cells from within.

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Vito lay on his bunk in the cell he shared with Tommy and stared at the ceiling. He'd entered a catatonic state, the fragile walls he had built around his shattered mind beginning to crumble once more. For years he'd focused the darkness which ate away at him on his end goal of avenging his families murder. Now the deed was done he felt empty. It hadn't brought them back, it hadn't made their passing any easier. The things he'd seen, the things he'd done to achieve this were unspeakable. He'd given a piece of his soul to the devil and done it willingly, the darkest part of his mind even admitted that he'd enjoyed it. 


The guards, clearly noticing the mess Vito had left in the solitary confinement cells below began to tear the prison apart looking for a suspect. They couldn't believe that Vito had acted alone, this had to be a set up, so they took out the worst of their anger on Lenny and his men. Forcing their way into the men's cells and beating the most vulnerable. The prison block erupted into anger at the rough treatment by the guards. Sensing an opportunity Tommy tried to rouse Vito from his bed, with their stolen prison keys they could cause chaos. 


With a final shove Vito came around. He hadn't noticed the sounds which echoed about the prison, so lost in his sorrows. His friend Tommy wanted his attention, with monumental focus he listened and smiled in response. Well fuck if killing those responsible for his families murder didn't satisfy him, maybe killing some bastard guards might. Climbing out of his bunk he pulled a shiv he kept tucked behind his pillow into his hand. Nodding towards Tommy he waited for him to unlock the cell using the stole keys. Walking from cell to cell they began to unlock the prisoners cells, watching with satisfaction as the men armed themselves for the coming fight. 




Godfather Gambino sat in a private booth with his closest bosses and capos enjoying a meal of steak and sipping at good vintage wine. The men were dressed to the nines as such an occasion called for. Godfather Gambino had been given some good news, that bastard Lucana had been captured and presumably killed by Vito Vincenzo, he would have preferred for them both to be dead, but he was glad to see the end of Lucana. The man had been in a thorn in his side ever since he took over as the Godfather of New York. There was a reason he hadn't contacted the man, he knew Lucana's reputation, the man was a snake and couldn't be trusted to serve a new master. 


Turning to Underboss Luvinci he eyed the man with suspicion. He'd specifically requested he deal with the African American and Hispanic gangs, but his crew fronts were still under nightly attack. Godfather Gambino had offered large sums of money for them to stop their attacks but to no avail. He started to consider whether or not Underboss Luvinci was a man he could trust. He'd have some of his men keep an eye on him, and if what he suspected came true, he'd hang the bastard up by his balls. 


Godfather Gambino's dark thoughts were disturbed by the arrival of a member of his bodyguard team. The men patrolled the parameter and made sure that no one got too close. Godfather Gambino stood up from his chair and met the man in the middle of the empty restaurant, outside earshot of the others. In clipped whispers the man reported that their was trouble, a group had been seen converging on their position. Godfather Gambino swore and told the bodyguard to sort it out. The man suggested Godfather Gambino escape before the trouble began but he waved him away. He could not run from every fight, and it was about time he showed his men, who'd been on a warfront for so long, that they had nothing to fear from the other gangs. 


Sitting back on his seat he was surprised at the empty chairs which surrounded the table. He looked to his other trusted men for answers but they said that the others had just excused themselves and left via the back exit. Godfather Gambino erupted into a fury at the lack of respect until he noticed a package left on Underboss Luvinci's chair. Shouting in alarm he ran towards the back exit as an explosion tore through the building. He was knocked from his feet by the blast flying onto his face and falling unconscious. 




Luvinci and his other conspirators retrieved shotguns and thompson sub machine guns from where they'd been stashed in the back alley. Turning the guns to the rear of the building they waited for anyone who might have noticed their little surprise. Luvinci kept his eye on his pocket watch, warning the men to cover their ears as the building exploded. All the nearby windows shattered, and a great fireball tore through the back of the building. 


"Fuck me Luvinci how much explosives did you put in that thing, you nearly blew the roof off!" shouted Tony a capo of Godfather Gambino's family with his ears still ringing.


"Enough to get rid of the old bastard, we'd best get out of here before the feds turn up," responded Luvinci spitting towards the burning restaurant as a final fuck you to Godfather Gambino. 


The group of conspirators ran towards their nearby cars, throwing the guns inside they sped off into the cold winters night. 

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Vito's men who'd been tailing Godfather Gambino reported him at a Brooklyn restaurant. He organized a hit squad to pay the man a visit. Sitting in the lead car he checked the breach of his thompson sub machine gun for jams before loading a drum magazine. Speed was the key to their success, if they got into a firefight they'd be cut apart by Godfather Gambino's superior numbers. Vito trusted Godfather Gambino to believe he was safe, he was on home turf and who would have the gall to attack him so close to his power base. 


As Vito's motorcade rounded the corner to the restaurant the cold winters night erupted with a great explosion. The whole front section of the restaurant exploded outwards, showering the road in bricks and dust as a fireball engulfed the building. Vito's driver threw the car into reverse to avoid falling masonry. Vito swore aloud, well fuck someone might have done their job for them. He was about to suggest they search the wreckage as police vehicles and fire trucks sped past. Vito knew better than risk an incident with the law, god forbid if any innocent firefighters were caught in the crossfire. Turning to the driver he told him to get them back to base.




Godfather Gambino awoke with a cough. A section of wall had landed above him sheltering him from the heavy wooden rafters as the building collapsed. Panic began to set in as he pulled himself from the rubble. Clearing a path he squeezed his bulk through the small gap and sucked in deep breaths of fresh air. A nearby police officer, recognizing the ageing Godfather rushed over to assist. Taking his arm he helped him out of the alley and onto the streets of Brooklyn, a crowd of people gathered outside watching the fire fighters go about their job, dousing the burning building in water. 


Littered about the streets were the remnants of his bodyguard, many lying in crumpled bloody heaps, missing limbs with burns all over their bodies. Godfather Gambino suddenly felt very exposed. His own men had turned on him, trying to kill him in his own restaurant on his own turf. He would make these motherfuckers pay for their transgressions. How dare that upstart Luvinci make a move against him. He'd kill the bastard and his whole bloodline. 


A group of Godfather Gambino's crew poured out of their cars and rushed over to him. Helping carry his weight they dropped him in the back of the car and sped off into the night. Godfather Gambino succumbed to his concussion, passing out in the back of the car. His men drove with all haste to the crews doctor. Not wanting to run the risk of any local hospitals. 




Luvinci arrived back at their temporary headquarters to the roaring cheers of his men. News had reached them of Luvinci's success. Godfather Gambino had been in the restaurant at the time of the blast. There was no way he could have survived that. 


"Thankyou friends, may we mark tonight as the end of that bastard Godfather Gambino and welcome in a new era, may the bloody wars which have destroyed these streets come to an end," Luvinci announced before walking to his nearby office.


Sitting down heavily in his chair he poured himself a glass of whisky and drank it in one gulp. Pouring another cup he raised it to his friend Lucana and drank another for his dead friend.

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