BREAKING: MAYHEM IN DETROIT

In a special report, The Hunter’s Digest has become aware of shots being fired in Detroit this morning. 

Whilst QuackersFeatherbeak was seen hamming it up with out of shape, free agent, EarlOfSandwich, I, SimonTheSwanHunter, have braved the front lines to report the news - as any true student of Mafia Journalism should be doing - rather than sitting around, pulling the head off it and telling everyone how rich they are. Here's a scoop for you: nobody cares.

So there I was, arranging the sale of some less than reputable items when BAM, running footsteps all around me and a coworker I had nodded at minutes before was lying dead on the ground. Fuck. I recognized him as working for the supposed head of The Morningwood Elite, Riina, who just happened to the boss of the crew protecting me! What are the chances?!

The deceased was on his payroll, part of his muscle. This was bad. I'm not too proud to admit I was scared, a little Gary Goomba out in the wild whilst shots were flying. I saw Spoon, a known Wise Guy of the operation, and he looked just as confused as I was. I was about to ask him what was happening, when….BAM-BAM-BAM and Spoon toppled forwards blood oozing from his chest. Had he been an innocent bystander or another victim like Riina’s protection?

Fighting a strong urge to flee, I knew I had to do my duty to the people as a newsman rather than a feathered braggart, and to the crew who had taken me in and find out. I headed to a known speakeasy affiliated with the organization a couple of blocks away. To my shock as I arrived, Riina was there surrounded by his remaining bodyguards.

“What’s going on, Sir?” I shouted. One of the bodyguards swirled around, put a hand on my throat and forced me into the wall, my feet barely scraping the floor.

“Wait!” Riina called. “I know this man. He runs the best newspaper in town. Let him down, he's no threat.”

The pressure on my throat loosened and I croaked out a thank you. “Wh-whats happened?” I spluttered between desperate breaths. 

“I'm under siege!” Riina yelled and if to emphasize the point…BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM…more shots fired on the speakeasy and the world was a mass of shattering glass, paid men diving to protect their employer, others firing back and car wheels screeching as the assailants peeled away. Men were on he ground, more gunned down. I held a hand to my head. Was I shot? No. Some ketchup from earlier still on my chin. Thank God. 

As I slowly climbed to my feet, I saw the bodyguards hastily shuffling Riina out of a back door into an alleyway at the rear. Spike appeared and stuck his tongue out between his teeth and then promptly left. How strange.

Before long I was alone with the corpses, the chaos suddenly calmed, eerie after the violence. I righted one of the chairs and fell into it. I began to scrawl this bulletin and now you're up to speed. I'm going to try and get a call out to my contacts and find out what happened. As I'm writing people begin to appear and peak through the now empty window frames of the front of the cafe. One of them looks kinda like RustCohle. Our eyes meet and I wonder if he's here to finish me off. Just then, Cadhla storms across the street, pistol drawn. Like Craven when a mail appears asking why he shot FatGrin, I hastily threw my head into the sand and dived under the one upright table, knocking my previously erect chair back to the floor with a clatter.

BAM.

I wait a couple of seconds. I hear footsteps walking away and after maybe 65 seconds, nearly a minute, I peak over the tabletop. RustCohle is hanging half in and half out of the speakeasy, misshapen head lolling through the gap in the door where the glazing used to be. 

Time to go. I will provide further updates as I have them.

Quackers picks the special report up for a read, curious to know what was behind the latest Wise Guy massacre. He begins to read, "Hunter's Digest...alright, only the 2nd or 3rd best paper in town but maybe they've got something interesting to say... BREAKING NEWS...so good so far...Bloodbath on April 11t..."

He squints.

"April 11t? April 11t??!"

He tosses the paper aside and sighs. Seems his supposed 'competition' were skimping out on the extra lettering for their headlines. These were tough times for The Hunter's Digest. We can't all be backed by lottery wins and raving fandom...

Simon, wounded and winded from his exertions earlier, returned to the Streets with an update to his earlier breaking news report - the only editor to provide such a report. As he was about to hand over the freshly printed copies of The Digest to his errand boy, he saw "rival", if you could call a man with fewer tips than fingers a rival, QuackersFeatherbeak admiring his handiwork. He had a look of awe on his face, marvelling at Simon's wonderful creation, which made Simon chuckle to himself. 

Quackers looked up, startled. Knowing he had been caught savouring The Hunter's Digest (and who could even blame him?) in front of all these people, he reddened and quickly began mumbling something about a missing 'h' to try save face. Unsuccessfully. Simon ignored him. The lion doesn't concern itself with the quacking of failed cyborg duck experiments after all, so he gave the update over to the boy to distribute. 

UPDATE: RIINA LIVES - WISE GUYS SUFFER

Despite significant gunfire earlier on the morning of April 11th, aimed at reputed Chicago supremo, Riina, the Morningwood Elite Don has escaped his assailants unharmed. Although that might be difficult to measure from the outside as he’s barely visited the Streets in nearly 4 months, I do have it on good authority that the reclusive kingpin is not only breathing unaided but has actually been seen publicly since the incidents.

Our man on the scene reported as follows:

“A little battle-scarred perhaps, but otherwise in good spirits, Don Riina made an appearance in the #Main speakeasy earlier this afternoon. He ordered himself a tall, soy milk, caramel, macchiato latte, with no foam and a plain unbaked croissant before settling himself at the nearest unoccupied table with the distasteful look of a man who just lost millions of dollars and had to watch Spike stick his tongue out all day and Spacepole apologise for it. The room was silent as the Don cast a Spike-sick eye around the room.

“I think we have stemmed the onslaught,” he said, raising a foot onto the nearest tabletop.

Sensing his moment, Jimmy quickly shuffled forward, whipped out his rag and polish from his pants and set to work. “Sir! Sir! Did we get them all, Sir?” He asked, doe-eyed and gleeful for being in the man’s reflected spotlight.

Riina eased himself back as Jimmy spat onto his cloth and began vigorously rubbing at some bodyguard brain that had been really smushed in near the laces. He gave Jimmy an indulgent head pat and nodded. “Going keep shooting until this terrorist aggression is stopped,” before adding with a hard stare, “I declare a war on terror."

Riina left shortly thereafter, shoes gleaming, and was said to be heading directly to the hospital to check on the condition of his wounded men.”

The following gunmen and potential gunmen were slain in the carnage:

MAF – StripheCorelli - Wise Guy

FruitTwist - Elimater5 - Wise Guy

Flora – EarlOfSandwich-esque - Wise Guy        

LiborioBellomo - Elimater5 - Wise Guy

LucaRossi - Elimater5   - Wise Guy

Mean – xander - Earner

Vercetti - Shifty - Wise Guy        

Dakota - Marie  - Earner               

TinyTot  - MiguelMorales - Wise Guy

Khazan – xander - Wise Guy

TonyFerrari – Spitshine Jimmy - Wise Guy          

DriftMaster – Marie - Gangster 

RustCohle - Elimater5  - Wise Guy         

TuloSan - Elimater5 - Wise Guy

RichKim - Jelly-Viterelli - Wise Guy

Farian2 - Jelly-Viterelli   - Consigliere     

Spoon   - Riina   - Wise Guy

DriftMaster was given the indignity of a violent disarming and repeated Thug demotion yo-yoing before finally being slain. The ultimate indignity.

Were all the shooters caught? Was there a plan other than to attack the entourage of the leader of The Loop? Was QuackersFeatherbeak to blame and should he be shot for it? These and similar questions remain to be answered. As our man on the scene reported, Riina was last seen heading to the hospital and I'm going to shoot over there myself and see if I can catch a word with the big man on the other side of this tumultuous morning. Hunter's Digest out. 

This was a very odd turn of events. For some reason, strange attacks seem to revolve around the city of Chicago. I listened to Riina's recounting of events and was left with more questions than answers. For this, I turn to mafia investigative journalists. Since Quackers is not around, and has more important things to do than investigate bodyguard slayings, this means I have to turn to the Unter's Digest (it is my understanding that your publication has banned the use of the letter "H").

What do you know about the rumours of multiple neck bitings during the attack?

Sitting on the steps of the hospital, still processing what happened, Route looked up from the ground to see all the reporters had finally dispersed. He reached into his coat pocket for a smoke when a paper blew into his feet from a sudden gust. Looking down indifferently at it as it rustled in the wind. The weather went quickly from a bright, warm spring day to dark and cold as a storm front approached; one of the pages flipped over, revealing the headline "Bloodbath on April 11th." He quickly lit his cigarette, snatched the paper from against his foot, and read through the recounting of his father's final moments.

"Chaos, confusion, destruction, death—is that all this world has to offer?" - he muttered, flicking his cigarette ashes into the wind.

He ripped out the page with a list of names on it, folding it up and placing it inside his coat pocket. A drizzle started to come in blurring the ink on the rest of the pages. Route threw the paper down between his feet, putting his cigarette out in its pages before standing up and dusting himself off. He looked up to the sky...

"I'm home, dad." He walked to the curb to hail a taxi; once inside, he directed it to the Loop. He knew what he would do once he got there.