In the gritty city of Philadelphia, where shadows stretch long and the streets echo with whispers, a figure known only as Brass “Monkey” Stefano had grown up. As a young man, the moniker fit him like a tailored suit; with his large frame and long arms that seemed to have a reach into every corner of the city. He soon found a place with the Giunta Family. Working under the trusted command of Godfather Chair Furio, Brass had made his way up the ranks; operating in and enforcing a world where loyalty was currency and betrayal led to a swift, merciless end.

The recent war and demise of many prominent figures had left several cities in disarray. Brass walked through the back vault room, surveying the accountants and money handlers. "Listen up," he says, his voice low and steady, "Make sure every penny is accounted for and I want a list of names of who didn’t make their weekly payments”. He put his hand firmly on one counter’s shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze, causing the young man to fumble the stacks he was counting. 

“Brass”, a voice from the outside of the door beckoned, “The boss wants to see you, pronto”.

Making his way to Furio’s office, he knocked on the door and waited for the invitation to enter. 
He found Furio standing behind his desk, looking out the window to the streets below. A neat whiskey in his right hand, he turned with a nod of his head, “Have a seat”. 

Brass did as instructed and waited for the break in Furio’s pause. “As you are aware, we need to rebuild Philadelphia. Cadhla has already set up in Bella Vista and I want you to take the reigns in South Philly”. 

Brass sat quietly, he was tired but he knew that this great honor was now being asked of him and he would do what was needed to get Philadelphia back to it’s glory. “Anything you need, you know I will do this for you. Thank you Godfather, thank you for your confidence in me”, Monkey stood and shook Furio’s hand, then leaned in for a tight bear hug. “I will not let you down”. 

Leaving quickly, he went to his office and picked up the phone. “Get the next flight out, I need you here. No no, nothing like that. I will see you when you get here. Ring me when you land, I’ll have my driver pick you up”.
Brass hung up the phone and lit a cigar. He was full in, and he’d go Full Metal Jacket on anyone who got in the way of rebuilding this City. The thought struck him and he belly laughed. “Yes, Full Metal Jackets it is,” he roared to his own amusement.