After the gunfire ended only the echoes remained, hanging in the air as thick as the stench of the bodies scattered in the streets. The flames of the burning buildings flickered against the steel of a lone suitcase, its worn leather marked with the name "StripheCorelli" in faded ink. No one could possibly know where the gold had gone...for now, the war ended, but the cities knew better. Everyone kept their heads up and their eyes downrange, waiting for the next shot. 

Behind closed doors everyone whispered about the gold, even if they didn't truly believe. Most assumed it was a story, a way to cover up the mess of the wars. Others figured it a set-up, a lure to get anyone stupid enough to bite. No one took it to the streets, not even the local businesses, too many bodies piled up for something that might be nothing more than a fantasy. In a world like this, no one could resist the idea of it, the chance at untold wealth. 

StripheGotti recently set up in Las Vegas like it was the most natural thing in the world. Las Vegas thrived on risk, secrecy, and money—everything Gotti understood. I knew there was more to his move to Vegas even if I couldn't prove a thing. The bright lights, flashy shows, constant flow of tourists, Vegas was the perfect place to unload a massive amount of gold without anyone thinking twice. These were all things Gotti knew before his move to Vegas and I was on to him from the start. 

Vegas felt like a lifetime away—I'm merely a Wiseguy trying to find my place in the only world that matters, New York. Before anything else I need to prove I can handle weight here otherwise no one is going to take me seriously anywhere else. If I'm going to find this treasure I'll need all the connections I can make and I wont make them easily as a nobody. For now, I'll hold my ground in New York and make sure they see me for what I'm worth, then I find the gold.