It had been a brutal stretch for the Ligambi Crime Family. The war in Los Angeles had left the streets soaked in blood, and the once-thriving rackets were in shambles. The crew leaders who had built their names in the city were gone, victims of a storm no one saw coming. Now, with the dust settling, it was time to get off the mattresses and back to business. There were hospital bills to pay, lost envelopes to recover, and an empire to rebuild.

Uncle Joe sat at the head of the table, shoulders heavy, his usually sharp eyes dulled by exhaustion. He hadn’t slept more than a few hours in days, none of them had. Monella stood before him, just as drained, the adrenaline that had kept him moving now burning out. The war had been sudden, bloody, and relentless. The collar of his shirt still had a stain of dried blood on it, not his own, but at this point, it didn’t much matter.

Uncle Joe poured himself a drink and gestured for Monella to do the same. He let the silence hang between them for a moment before finally speaking. "Monella, you've been through it. We all have. But the war is over. Now, it’s time to put things back in order."

He took a slow sip, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "Hollywood is ours, but right now, it's a mess. The studios think they can ignore their obligations, and the unions? They’re getting ideas above their station. Without us keeping them in line, the film extras start thinking they got rights, and suddenly, the studios have a problem they can’t solve."

He leaned forward, voice steady despite the fatigue. "Our loan sharks haven’t been collecting, and that means people are getting ideas, ideas that maybe they don’t gotta pay us back. That ends today. If these deadbeats think they can disappear, we’ll remind them what a broken kneecap feels like. The bookmakers are another story. We got fighters in every gym from East Hollywood to Burbank, and we set the odds. If they’re taking bets, they’re paying us our cut. If they ain’t, they’re out of business. No exceptions."

Monella exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. His grandfather and great-grandfather had built their names in this world, but that was a long time ago. Now, it was his turn. He thought of Carlo, of Joe Clemente, of Soren, of all the men who had been there just weeks ago but were now ghosts in the city. He would honor them by making sure their work wasn’t for nothing. With a respectful nod, he accepted. "It’d be a privilege, Uncle Joe. I won’t let you down."

Uncle Joe grinned tiredly. "I know you won’t. Now go remind Hollywood who really runs the show."

And just like that, The Monella Crew was born.

Business as usual for the Ligambi Crime Family.