The Gambino Pizza Parlour 


Carlo’s pizza parlour was more than just a place to grab a bite, it was the cornerstone of the community, a spot where families gathered, old friends reconnected, and newcomers were welcomed with open arms. Nestled in a cozy corner of the bustling Detroit city, the aroma of freshly baked dough and slow simered tomato sauce poured out onto the streets, luring in hungry patrons. Inside, red and white checkered tablecloths covered the tables, while vintage italian posters covered the walls, giving the place an inviting, old world charm.

Carlo prided himself on sticking to traditional hand tossed dough, rich tomato sauce made from scratch, and only the finest cheese and toppings imported straight from the old country. No shortcuts, no compromises. Whether it was a quick slice on the go or a full sit down meal with friends, Carlo made sure every customer left satisfied and ready to come back for more.
 

The Menu

Classic Cheese Pizza
 A traditional hand-tossed pizza with rich tomato sauce and a generous layer of mozzarella.
Small: $0.75 | Large: $1.50

Pepperoni Pizza
Classic cheese pizza topped with slices of spicy pepperoni, crisped to perfection.
Small: $0.90 | Large: $1.75

Margherita Pizza
Fresh mozzarella, basil, and tomatoes on a thin crust with a drizzle of olive oil.
Small: $0.85 | Large: $1.60

Meat Lover's Pizza
Pepperoni, sausage, and prosciutto layered over a cheesy, saucy base.
Small: $1.00 | Large: $1.85

Veggie Delight Pizza
Mushrooms, green peppers, onions, and olives for a garden-fresh bite.
Small: $0.80 | Large: $1.55

Sterling stepped into the warm embrace of Carlo’s place, the aroma of fresh dough and slow-simmered tomato sauce hitting him instantly. It reminded him of his time serving in Sicily, where every street seemed to carry that same rich, mouthwatering scent. The red and white checkered tablecloths and vintage Italian posters on the walls took him back to simpler times.

“Carlo,” he called with a smile, making his way to the counter. “This place of yours feels like a cornerstone of the community. The kind of spot where families gather, friends reconnect, and even someone like me feels right at home.”

Sliding into a seat, Sterling looked over the menu.

“I’ll have a large Margherita and a whiskey to wash it down. And pour yourself one too. A man who keeps the traditions alive deserves a proper toast.”

He raised his glass once it arrived.

“To Carlo, and to never cutting corners. This place is a reminder of how things should be done, old school and done right.”

Carlo wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and grinned as he walked over to sterling table. He grabbed his glass and raised it with a nod. "Sterling, my friend. You know, that's exactly what I wanted this place to be, more than just a spot to grab a bite, but a place where people feel at home" 

He took a slow sip of whiskey, letting the warmth settle before speaking again. "Old school is the only way I know how to do things. No cutting corners, no rushing, the way it should be." Carlo nodded towards the kitchen. "My friend, I have to go, it's getting busy your Margherita pizza will be out shortly," Carlo said as he patted Sterling on the shoulder. 

The streets of Detroit were always alive, but this part of town? This was home. The smell of freshly baked dough, garlic, and slow-simmered tomato sauce filled the air as Tony Soprano stepped out of his black Packard, tossing his cigar butt onto the curb.

Gambino’s Pizza Parlour wasn’t just another joint—it was Viterelli Crew territory, run by Carlo himself, one of the family’s best earners and a guy who knew how to keep things running smoothly.

Tony pushed through the heavy wooden doors, immediately hit by the warmth of the brick oven and the familiar murmur of good conversation. The place was packed—families enjoying dinner, old-timers playing cards in the back, and a few wiseguys from the Viterelli crew taking up a corner booth.

Behind the counter, tossing dough in the air like it was second nature, was Carlo.

He looked up, grinning. “Tony! Look who finally decided to stop by.”

Tony smirked, making his way over. “You know me, Carlo. I can’t come to Detroit without grabbing a real pie.” He leaned on the counter, eyeing the menu board. “Gimme a large Meat Lover’s—extra crispy, none of that half-baked garbage.”

Carlo chuckled, slapping the dough onto the counter. “What, you don’t trust me?”

Tony grinned. “I trust you to make a good pizza. The rest? That’s why we’re talking.” His tone shifted slightly—not threatening, just business.

Carlo wiped his hands on his apron, leaning in slightly. “Something on your mind, Tony?”

Tony took a slow breath, watching the cheese melt onto a fresh pie inside the oven. “You and I both know a place like this does more than sell slices. Guys come here to eat, sure. But they also talk, they meet, they deal.” He gestured around. “This ain’t just a restaurant—it’s a neighborhood institution.”

Carlo nodded. “That’s why I keep it running clean. No heat, no trouble.”

Tony tapped the counter. “That’s good. But Detroit’s getting hot. Things are changing, new faces coming in, some of 'em don’t respect the old ways. If someone’s got a problem with the Viterelli Crew? They might think about making a statement.” He flicked some ash from his cigar. “And I don’t want that statement to involve broken windows or a brick oven catching fire, capisce?”

Carlo sighed, rubbing his chin. “You think there’s trouble coming?”

Tony smirked. “Not if we stay ahead of it. You got my guys looking out for this place now, and if someone so much as thinks about causing a problem? They’re gonna have to answer to the Carrara Crew.” He pulled a small envelope from his coat, sliding it onto the counter.

Carlo glanced at it, nodding. “Alright, Tony. You make sure things stay quiet, and I keep this place running smooth.”

Tony patted the counter with a grin. “That’s what I like to hear. Now, how long on that pizza?”

Carlo laughed, shaking his head as he slid a piping hot pie onto a tray. “For you? It’s already done.”

Tony grabbed the box and made his way toward a corner booth, tipping his hat slightly to the wiseguys in the back. He took a seat, lighting another cigar, and took a bite of the best pizza in Detroit.

This was how business should be done.

what walks into The Gambino Pizza Parlour Looking around the room, kind of sitting down and ordering three topping pieces. I paid for the pizza right before they went back to make the pizza. Then I see three people with guns walk in and I realized that they were the FBI. They were asking me questions. I keep putting the fifth over and over. Then they got mad and walked out of the pizza parlor. I hurried up and ate the pizza and left and flew back to Chicago, headed to the headquarters and went to sleep.

No one had been at the pizza place for ages. The building was run down, boarded up, and the kitchen equipment had long since been stolen and sold to the cheapest bidder. SlimRagnarok, Godfather Chairman of Detroit. Voted sexiest Mobster alive, three years running, was concerned about Big Jason and his talking to himself. He had seen the man try to enter a longtime closed business, mumbling to himself about a job. Surely the man was on swan drugs. What a sad and unfortunate situation he thought. If this behavoir continued, Slim would have to put a call into his friends in Chicago.