Ricardo “Rico” Lansky was born to a poor immigrant family. Rico always had a knack for numbers and an almost obsessive love for making money. While the other neighborhood kids hustled with dice and stickball, Rico was calculating odds, learning chess, and discovering how to hide money so his immigrant parents wouldn’t become suspicious.

In his teens, he was running books for local gambling dens. He kept the ledgers so clean that the owners never lost a cent and the cops never had a clue what really went on. This was around the time he started to realize that life was a lot like a chess game. Some men were pawns, some knights, but Rico, well he wanted to be the man behind the scenes, moving all the pieces.

In his early 20s, Rico saw opportunity in Los Angeles. The city was starting to boom with movie money, oil, and gambling. He’d heard of a crew made up of pyromaniacs run by a guy named Dean Winchester and he figured what better way to put his money laundering skills to work than help this crew keep things looking legit.

Rico had saved up plenty of money from his work for the gambling dens, so he was able to fly in luxury from New York to Los Angeles. It was a bit nerve wracking though, as this was his first time flying and how in the world did those massive metal tubes stay in the sky like that? At least he was leaving the snow and cold weather behind in New York. It was the beginning of Fall, and the air was starting to cool and the leaves were starting to turn color. A beautiful time in New York, no doubt, but the weather in LA was much more temperate year-round.

Through his connections with the gambling dens, he was able to get himself a few odd jobs for Dean’s crew. Things like delivering packages, getting coffee, picking up dry cleaning, all the bullshit stuff nobody wants to do but it’s the only way in. Once he’d shown he could do that work he finally got an invitation to the crew. It wasn’t as a Made Man of course, more of a trial run, still had to prove himself.

Over the next couple of weeks, Rico did everything he could to prove himself. He stole purses, conned schlubs on the street corner, extorted dozens of shop owners, and even robbed a bunch of post offices! He was starting to get into the good stuff, like running prostitution rings, robbing banks, and doing truck heists, but he still wasn’t doing what he wanted. One fall afternoon, he was walking along Venice Beach, and he felt like he was starting to lose it.

This is getting tiring, Rico whispered to himself as he walked the beach. I mean, I love being in LA, hell you can’t walk the beach in New York this time of year, but I’ve done so much work, and I am still not Made. I’m not even using my money laundering skills! I started up that coffee shop, Pyro’s Perk, in the business district to help launder some money and keep the crew pumped with caffeine, but that was just small-time stuff. I’ve even robbed a whole bunch of graves! Like seventy-five of them! Ugh it’s so creepy this close to Halloween too, I can feel the spirits haunting me. When am I going to get the chance to prove what I can REALLY do!

And just as if Rico had somehow willed it into existence, he saw Geralt walking towards him on the beach.

“Hey Rico, how’s it going? Enjoying being here in LA?”

“Hey Geralt! It’s been great so far, what brings you to the beach?”

“Well, we have a bit of a situation down at the HQ and Dean requested your help, let’s get moving.”

Geralt and Rico headed down to the HQ and on the way, Geralt was grilling Rico on his time laundering money in New York. Asking about the different strategies he had for hiding money. It struck Rico as odd since Geralt has never been this curious about money laundering before. They arrived at the HQ and went right to Dean’s office.

“Hey Boss! Geralt says there’s something going on and you need my help. Judging by his third degree on the way over, I’m guessing you need some money laundered?”

Dean motioned Geralt to close the door and pointed to a couple chairs for them to take a seat.

“Great observation. A couple of our drug fronts were just raided by the FBN and now we are in a bind. I know you used to launder money back in New York, so I need your expertise. What do you have for me?”

Rico thought for a minute. He had been working on a new idea, something that hadn’t been done before, but Dean’s probably going to think he’s nuts. Ah screw it, maybe this will be what gets me Made, Rico thought to himself.

“Alright I have an idea, it’s a little crazy, but hear me out. You know how there’s a few vacant stores down in the business district?” Dean and Geralt nodded. “Well, it’s fall now, and Halloween is quickly approaching. I’ve got a hunch that these homemakers are getting tired of sewing new outfits for their kids each year, so what we do is take over a few of those vacant stores. One is going to be a shop dedicated to selling Halloween costumes and fall decorations.”

Dean started to shake his head “What are you talking about? Halloween costumes? This better be going somewhere, I don’t like my time wasted.”

“Wait wait wait, hear me out! So, we’ve got the costumes and decorations down. Then we open a candy shop, because people are going to need to buy candy for trick or treating and they’d surely prefer to get their costumes, decorations, and candy all within the same block.”

Dean interrupted “Rico do you have any idea what we do here? I mean, kids costumes, fall decorations, candy? This must be a joke! Right? You’re kidding? This was all a prank? Geralt, you’re trying to mess with me, right?” Geralt just shook his head in disappointment

“I get it, it sounds crazy, I told you it would. But here’s the best part. You go to the mayor and tell him you’re going to sponsor a massive trick or treat event in the business district for the kids. After all, it’s not exactly safe to go door to door asking strangers for candy, right? So instead, kids will go from store to store in the business district getting candy from local business owners. It’s a win many times over! The store owners are going to need decorations, some of them may even want to relive their childhood years and dress in a costume, and they’re ALL going to need candy, lots and lots of candy, because you don’t want to be the ONE store that refused to hand out candy to children!”

Dean sat back in his chair and seemed to be considering it. It did seem like a win-win situation. The trick or treat event drives the demand for the costume store and candy store, and he gets to look like the local hero for creating a safe event for the kids.

Rico continued “I’ll make sure my coffee shop is heavily decorated, and I’ll give out the full sized candy bars to help drive some competition between stores. I’m sure Geralt will get Rivia Import & Export involved too, right?”

“If it helps us launder this money, sure” Geralt responded

Dean was starting to come around to the idea, but he had one more reservation.

“This sounds great, but what do we do after Halloween? Won’t the stores just be vacant again and we’ll have yet another laundering problem?”

Rico perked up, “Not at all! Think about it. What comes after Halloween? The winter holidays like Christmas, Hanukkah, and New Years! Then what? Easter, Memorial Day, Independence Day, it goes on and on! We just restock the costume and decoration store to fit the holidays of the current season and the candy store, well who doesn’t like candy? That will keep itself busy year-round.”

Dean took another moment to ponder this idea. It really was a crazy idea, but maybe crazy enough it could work and who would suspect the mafia would have their hands in a costume and candy store?

“Alright, you sold me, let’s do it.”

Rico clapped his hands in excitement but then Dean grabbed him by the neck and pulled him closer.

“But understand that this shit better work, or else I am going to show you why we’re called the Pyromaniacs. Now walk me through the details of how we set this up”

Rico went into details about how to set it all up, like separate corporations for each business to protect the assets in the event the FBN got suspicious, how to market the events to drive the most traffic through the stores, how the businesses had to be cash only as it was easier to cook the books that way. As he explained all the details he couldn’t help but have a little bit of doubt. This is going to work right? He thought to himself. It has to work…or else…well I don’t want to think about that.

Ricardo “Rico” Lansky had built his name under the burning banner of the Pyromaniacs in Los Angeles. From gambling dens in New York to laundering schemes on the West Coast, he had always been the numbers man, the strategist behind the curtain. He was the one who turned empty storefronts into fronts for money, and seasonal festivities into clever schemes that washed dirty money into clean bills.

But connections in this world rarely stayed confined to one city.

On the other side of the country, Chicago’s own Corktown Couch Club had its own legacy—an old, stubborn family with roots deep in the immigrant streets, a family that understood patience, loyalty, and above all, survival. Among them was a man named Riccardo, quieter than most, sharper than many. While others cracked skulls and shook down debts, Riccardo found himself drawn to a different sort of enterprise.

He ran laundries. Not glamorous, not bloody, but steady. The washing machines spun day and night in Chicago, and when the family saw his operation, they didn’t just see clean clothes—they saw clean money. And also, Riccardo expanded his services to Las Vegas, that city of neon lights and endless sin, where tourists dropped fortunes without blinking. Every stained shirt, every pressed suit that came through his doors was another opportunity to cycle the Club’s revenue, folding stacks of cash into the rhythm of his laundromats.

Knowing the Pyromaniacs were feeling the heat in Los Angeles, Riccardo extended an invitation. He asked Rico to come to Chicago, to walk through his laundries, to see for himself the system that kept both clothes and money spotless. Maybe, just maybe, Rico would be interested in investing—and together they could open a joint venture in Los Angeles.

It didn’t matter that one came from Los Angeles fire and the other from Chicago steel. In business, distance and bloodlines meant little. What mattered was discretion, trust, and profit.

Two different families. Two different cities. One shared understanding: Dirty money always needs to be cleaned.