Maria was pacing in her office, walking backwards and forwards across the warm glow of the fire burning in the marble mantle. She ran her hands frantically through her hair every few seconds, her face creased with worry. Money was tight and Maria could almost feel the walls closing in. The 'security' union that her family sourced bodyguards through demanded payment, she had half a street of shop and bar owners who owed the family protection money, and FBN agents who were slowly starting to arrest members of her family again as they waited on their own payday. The books weren't balancing themselves at all, and Mano di Morte needed to do something to ensure they kept established as the top dogs of North Side, Chicago. But what? She needed inspiration, she was almost out of ideas. 

Making a snap decision, she walked through the door of the office, shutting the door so hard that papers fluttered from her desk to the floor. She made her way through the spacious HQ building that Mano di Morte occupied in North Side, resolving as she went to find a way through the mess. She knew that she could turn to her family at a time like this, and knew with certainty that they'd find a way through it together.

She left the building, and made her way into the small bar next door, tipping a nod to the bar tender and walking straight down the stairs into the basement, which was a small bar area, one she'd specifically had designed as a place where her family, and members of their sister family, Angeli Della Morte, could drink and unwind when business was done for the day. She owned the whole building outright herself, though she left the main bar to the management of a distant cousin and kept the downstairs for her district alone. She occasionally wondered about taking more of a direct role in the business, but it ticked over well enough that there was really no need.

"Guys, we need to do something. The coffers look bare, the businesses aren't paying for their protection and the feds are starting to sniff around saying we aren't giving them their proper paydays. It's time Mano di Morte and Angeli Della Morte make a damn statement."

Vladimir was sat at a comfy bar stool across the bar, thinking about paydays and sipping on his favourite whisky Maria had made sure was always stocked up well for when PaulHeyman, Dexter and Johnny_Marcone were all congregated. The bar keep knew as soon as these three bustly guys were at the bar it would be a heavy night of drinking and Mano di Morte fun. The bar was sat placed neatly in the Mano di Morte headquarters so that visiting Chicago members and the whole of the family could get together and enjoy a drink after a long, hard working day. Maria’s office was neatly placed near the bar, so if things did start to get out of hand, she was close enough to bring everything back into order… or just join in!

After finishing his drink, Vladimir was ready for another drink and called the bar keep over to pour him another glass of whisky and before Vladimir could take a sip, Maria had burst through the door to the bar.

Maria had definitely been sitting on this for a while and her rosy cheeks always came out when she was starting to get pressured by the feds, which was now becoming a monthly occurrence. Vladimir took a quick sip of his whisky and stood up.

‘These damn feds Maria, they’re always sniffing around here looking for paydays. These businesses are taking their protection for granted and it’s definitely time for Mano di Morte to make a statement’.

Lifting his glass of whisky, taking a sip and moving into the centre of the bar, Vladimir continued.

‘Mano di Morte, family, friends, this is our time to shine and put our foot down on these shop owners before it’s too late’.

Sat at a table near the bar, Paul listened intently to Maria and VladimirLenin. He'd been prepared for a relaxing night with his family discussing the day's events, but now was a time for action.

"You're right. I'm finding the feds to be a particular annoyance at the moment. They followed me the other day, arrested me and threw me in the slammer. All I was trying to do was organise a raid on a few truckers at the stop down the road! We know we're top dogs in North Side, but these fuckers are getting too big for their boots. We need to show them who's boss round here. We need a plan here. Something clever. "

Paul walked over to the bar, poured another whiskey and took a sip while he pondered.

"I've been getting a bit concerned about my contact at the FBN. He's told me his boss is starting to sniff around. Asking him why he's going off his normal route, why some of the narcotics they'd seized from the local dealers had been going missing, why he'd been talking the local prison guards into letting me go. I think he's getting cold feet, and he'll try and break off our little agreement in a few days and turn me in."

An idea suddenly clicked in Paul's mind.

"I think if a senior officer were to... go missing, so to speak... it might send a message to the powers that be at the Bureau not to interfere in our affairs. It's not a task I can necessarily complete on my own, though. I can lure him into our trap, but I'll need you all to help me dispose of him."

Paul downed the remnants of his whiskey. Looking around at Maria, Vladimir and Johnny_Marcone, he posed the question.

"So, who's with me?"

"You're coming with me, punk!" the FBN agent proclaimed as he moved towards Dexter.

Dexter had been completing an assignment for Maria during the day. After receiving a phone call from VladimirLenin, he agreed to meet them at their go to watering hole once he was finished. Shortly after disposing of the wrapped plastic from his last job, he ran into this hard charging FBN agent. Maria had warned him that the FBN was getting frisky, but he never expect to actually be confronted by an agent. Maybe this had something to do with pieces of Eddie Daniels being distributed to the FBN, and his ring returned to his wife..maybe that was the last straw? Either way..

"Are you fucking hard of hearing, asshole?" The FBN agent was just outside of arms reach now. Dexter had just kept walking, ignoring the young hotshot, but suddenly realized this was about to go very badly. "I don't think you want to try thi--" the agent interrupted him loudly, "You motherfuckers think you're special? We don't get paid, you don't get a goddamn thing." The agent threw his upper arm against Dexter's chest roughly, pushing him back into the alley wall. 

For a few seconds, time froze for Dexter. Thoughts raced. If he was arrested, it may not be a long shot to connect him with the plastic bags containing body parts that were currently hidden in a dumpster not far from here. Normally, he disposed those bags across the city but he had been in a hurry. Had made a mistake. Now, if the FBN realizes that they caught the man that had dissected a few agents, including the notorious Eddie Daniels, like a high school science project...

The harsh voice of the young motivated agent snapped Dexter back to real time, "You're going downtown, I've had enough of all of you fucks. Let's see how much you want to tell me about when you're stuck behi---" The deafening roar of Dexter's .45 cut the young officer off mid word. The officer had an arm on Dexter, and was fumbling around for his cuffs with the other. The opening for Dexter to draw and fire was too easy. With the barrel of his 1911 practically in the man's ballsack, Dexter had opened fire. As the young agent recoiled and began to slump, Dexter embraced him and quickly removed the agent's sidearm. "You'll survive. Maybe. Consider yourself lucky and tell your friends -- our family is off limits."

Dexter let the agent fall to the ground unceremoniously. Plenty of people would have heard the gunshot and would be coming to investigate. Dexter knew that this would only ignite the fued between the family and the FBN. 

Less than 20 minutes later, Dexter walked into the bar with Maria, Vladimir, Johnny and Paul. Dexter had an eery look about him, a devilish smirk accented with a light splattering of the blood that was on his face and suit. Dexter liked blood. Dexter ordered a whiskey as he sat down with the family. "We might have a small problem..."
 

Johnny had been sitting at the bar, staring into his single malt whiskey as PaulHeyman outlined his idea. It wasn't so long he'd had to ice his own informant, Det. Michael Duvorney, for grosse stupidity. Michael had mentioned that the FBN were tightening the noose on him at the time too.

Was there some sort of internal affairs operation breathing down the necks of Chicago's finest? That might explain why they'd been breaking the agreements lately. The Mayor had gotten into office largely off the back of the Chicago mob, so surely the order couldn't have been coming from him.

"We might have a problem"

Johnny looked up as Dexter spoke. He listen to the man as he told his story, smirking despite himself at the image of the FBN agent lying in the alley trying to scoop his balls off the pavement. 

"At least two agents dead, another not long for this world and a third forcibly castrated in broad daylight. No wonder they have it in for us!"he quipped.

"But seriously, I think there is more to this than meets the eye. For years we've had a good working relationship with the FBN and the local cops We own half of the local politicians, almost all of the reporters and even the Mayor. So why now, all of a sudden are they putting the squeeze on us so tightly? There's something to this. Either someone is paying them to put pressure on us, or someone from Washington is cracking down on them."

They all sat there in silence for a few moments, pondering the repercussions of both scenarios. If it was the former, then a few dead agents might convince them to back off and stick with the devil they knew. If it was the latter...well...being a mobster in Chicago might be about to get even more hazardous. 

Johnny began to worry. One of his associates had tipped him off about an exhibition being held at the Chicago Art Institute at the end of the week. Supposedly a collection of Monet's would be on display. Johnny wasn't a fan of the man's work, but as seemed to be the way of it, the artist had died the year before and suddenly his popularity had sky rocketed. His pieces were worth nearly 50 times what they had been a decade ago. The artworks were being shipped from Paris to New York where they would escorted to Chicago.

He'd already paid off several local cops and had his new FBN mole assigned to the escort team in preparation for the heist. He intended to ambush the convoy on the western side of the town of South Bend. It was a simple enough plan. Set up a road block, box the convoy in and approach from three sides. Steal the paintings and make their way to nearby Lake Michicigan and from there to Chicago by boat. Now though, he wasn't so sure it would be as simple. Ordinarily, he'd rely on his own associates for a job like this but under the circumstances he'd rather have people around him who could be counted on in a pinch.

"So....I have this little job I've been putting together...."

As the members of Mano di Morte had set to work pulling together thoughts, plans and ideas, Maria had helped herself to a whiskey, suddenly grateful for her foresight the previous week in buying several bottles of triple distilled Irish whiskey the week previous from a chap she'd met from Kilkenny in a pub. While she was no connoisseur, she certainly preferred the smoothness of Irish whiskey to the harshness of Scottish whiskey, and she tapped her finger lightly on the edge of the glass as her family plotted and schemed. 

Whilst the sight of Dexter walking into the room covered in blood was of no real shock to Maria - after all, she'd seen him in much worse states than this, even joined him in much worse states occasionally. His words, however, were almost enough to freeze her blood. Dexter didn't announce that there might be a problem lightly. Hell, it took more than Maria cared to admit to get him worried about pretty much anything. A million thoughts flew through her mind. A family member dead, a rogue appearing out of the HQ, a high profile arrest... what the fuck could have been going on? Maria's drink was very quickly thrown back and her glass refilled, all in the same movement. 

Listening to Dexter speak, and then to Johnny_Marcone, the speed of Maria's finger tapping increased somewhat. Taking a deep breath, she drained her glass once more, and finally chimed in. 

"My gut tells me this ain't a Washington move. If it were, this would be happening in all of the cities that our World counts as it's own, from New York right out west to Los Angeles, but it just ain't. Hell, I haven't even heard any whisper of this from The Loop. DoctorBoom and Pine haven't mentioned a thing when I've met with them, and I know they'd be tearing their hair out just like we are if it was happening over there too. Nah, word on the street is that there's a new commander on the North Side precinct. I don't have a fucking clue who the guy thinks he is. Apparently he's some wise ass from Boston. But let me tell you something about Boston. I went there once. But there isn't a dime to be turned over in that entire city, nor is there a person there with the smarts to do it. So he can come all the way from Boston and start cracking down to try to make an impression, but I'm pretty sure that a nice, warm Mano di Morte welcome might get him to crack up. The right moves here, and it shouldn't be long before we verse him in the first lesson of doing business with the mafiosi of Chicago; "Screw you, pay me."

Maria reached into her pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes, as well as an ornate silver cigarette lighter. She took a cigarette from the box and lit it, inhaling deeply as she threw the box onto the small table in front of her, so that those around her could help themselves, and pulled her empty glass towards her, ready to use it as a makeshift ashtray. She considered, as she did, the words her Left Hand Man, Johnny Marcone, had spoken. Johnny had a knack for pulling off the big jobs and Maria had no reason to consider why this occasion might be any different. And if Johnny had a plan, it might be part of the push Mano di Morte needed to get themselves back on top. 

"What have you got going on Johnny? Seems like it might be just what we need here, especially coupled with Dexter's one man FBN ball busting crime wave. Speaking of which, too - Dex, you're definitely the man for this, but do you think we should go back and finish the fuck you ran into off? Perhaps we could send his remaining testicle back to his mother, and commiserate her on the lack of future grandchildren... and if you haven't sent Daniels' ring finger back to his wife yet, I had the best idea for that too. I wanna seal it with a kiss, let her know just what she had on her hands there. Finding out that the late, great Eddie Daniels was having an affair might start to unsettle the rest of their personal lives too. All's fair in love and war, right?"

Maria flicked ash into her glass, sitting herself down in a cozy armchair as she prepared to plan. It was all coming together; a statement would soon be made that nobody would be able to afford to ignore.

Dexter was a sight that nobody seemed surprised by. As he listened to Johnny_Marcone and Maria, he cleaned the blood off of his face and suit with a handkerchief. As the two spoke, Dexter began to understand where this was going.

"First of all, I doubt there's a testicle remaining. I hit him with a .45 hollowpoint -- I probably made a hole in his back the size of a grapefruit. He may die anyway from...complications. You know, I hate guns, it's so wasteful and unsatisfying...I just didn't want them to put two and two together with the drugs, the knives, and us. I'm sure they're going to put it together anyway, but I definitely didn't want to help."

The chatter resumed as the group discussed the new guy from Boston and how best to handle him. Dexter had his own ideas, but he wasn't quite sure how extreme Don Maria wanted to be here -- this may turn out to be a situation where a delicate touch was best. 

"I do think it's best to unsettle their personal lives. I'll get Eddie Daniels' ring delivered so that we can proceed."

Dexter wanted nothing more than to make a dramatic statement to the FBN, as by this point he was growing tired of their meddlesome interference. Perhaps they could create a masterpiece of death that put an end to this new fella from Boston. 

Adjusting his handkerchief in his jacket. John descended into the bar with a soft creak on the steps. Dawning somewhat more modern clothing, yet still hung his rather unusual hat on a rack as he entered. Giving a slight nod and a wink to the barmaid, Doc sat down to asses the moment of the bar. It seemed more gloomy than a normal setting. Though he was very new to the outfit, he indeed had started to make gains and only sat in silence as he watched the group of Dexter, Johnny_Marcone and Maria. The three of them were in the middle of something that was well beyond something he likely knew. But with the number of people that failed to pay him alone, and shakedowns that just didn't fall through. He only twisted his mustache as he inclined his head to the group of made men (and woman). His sunkissed eyes squinted a bit as he adjusted to the rather dim setting of the bar as he ordered a drink.

As he joined in late on the conversation, Doc only seemed to snicker to himself at the hate of guns and use of the hollow-point mentioned by Dexter. "My dear sir." his accent rang out. "Say what you will about the hole, but lead is lead. Any man goes missing enough blood in such a place, -well.." he chimed in and then sipped his whiskey. "Let's just say he'll be walking like a rat crawled up his ass for the rest of his life, if he don't go out excatin' revenge." He then downed the drink in one go. "No, No, why I reckon he'll either rear out his ugly head and make it a fine peephole, or he'll go turned tail back to wherever he came from."

While uninformed of the full details, Doc could only picture one thing, the law, like always was out to do the right thing. Someone was off rearing their ugly head and it wasn't time for things to break and fall apart. He could tell by the tension in the room, that it was high time things got real around here. The only matter of question was, what was his choice of gun, and would his help be employed. His eyes stayed on a scan of every face. Waiting. Waiting. Always on his mind, just what was their game?

Maria bit her lip as she nodded in greeting to Doc-Holliday, her mind racing.

"I say we split. Johnny's got a good scheme going, by the sounds of it, and I say that half of us follow his lead and make sure that it gets pulled off. Lets go for maximum impact as well as maximum profit, guys. Whatever it is you're doing, I want people to hear about it, and I want them to goddamn fear us. I want them to go to sleep at night and I want them to have nightmares. I want them to wake up and thank God that they're goddamn alive when they open their eyes."

She took a long smoke from her cigarette, lazily exhaling it. 

"As for the rest of us. I think it's time to go to fucking town on these FBN rats. I'm goddamn fucking sick of their shit in this part of town. I want to hurt them so badly, they'll still be bleeding in 6 months time. But this absolutely cannot look like us. Washington don't seem to have their eye on the mob yet, but unless this looks like an accident, they sure as fuck will, and they'll crack down on the mob in all six cities."

She flicked the ash from her cigarette, and smoked from it once more before stubbing it out in the ash tray.

"I say we start with the slow burn. We start making officers disappear - Dexter, I'm sure you can give us some pointers on that. And we'll start sending them pieces back. And then for our final act - and please do let me know if this is overkill, because I do always love a bonfire - we'll set their fucking pigpen on fire. That precinct will be ashes. Gone."

Maria smiled at the very thought. 

"What do you think, guys? And which part of the plan would you prefer to do?"

Phaedrus stood back and observed the rest of the crew. Being new to the crew he didnt want to over step any boundries. He had a couple business conections and an Idea suddeny occured to him,   stepping out quietly, he set about doing something that might be appriciated.  

Returning to the rest of them, he cleared his throat and asked permission to speak.  "I know I am new here, but I just wanted to offer a token of my respect to Maria".   Taking out a small goft box with a bow, he handed the gift to his new Boss.   Inside was a 14 carrott gold lighter with a red saphire stone embeded in it.  "You said you liked bonfires and so I had red saphire stone embeded as a momento".   

I have a precious stones and precious metals connection, so I will spread the wealth amongst you as you are my new family.

Having only become an associate of Mano di Morte 3 days ago and new to Chicago I am trying to find where I fit in.  I walk into the family bar and wait for a few of the family members to come up to me.  They always do.  I order a shot of brandy in a snifter and pull a cigar from my coat jacket and dip it in the brandy for flavor.  I light my cigar and take a few drags...waiting

Johnny sat up in his seat, craning his neck to see inside the box. He could see from the look on Maria's face, as well as the slight gold glow reflected on it, that it was something nice. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer he gets up and leans over her shoulder, letting out a low whistle at the sight.

"Well.... way to make an entrance Phardrus. This is something else" he whispered appreciatively, patting the young associate on the back.

He straightens up, heading for the exit. His eyes drift to an unfamiliar face in the corner of the bar as the man pats frantically at his trouser leg as flaming hot brandy drips from the tip of his cigar to his thigh. 

"Ehh...."

Engrossed in the scene, he momentarily forgets what he was about. For a time the man appeared to be losing the battle, but just as the flames appear to take hold, Mack the barman chucks a wet bar towel onto the mans lap the crisis is averted. Desperately trying to hold himself together, Johnny calmly addresses the crowd.

"I still have some preparations to make. Anyone who wants in on this job, come see me in my office and I'll put you to work."

He turns to leave, stopping himself as he closes the door and peeks his head back into the bar, looking at the smoldering guy in the corner.

"Hey, RichieCalen isn't it? Come see me later. I'll have a job for you."

With that, he leaves the rest of them to it. He still had supplies to acquire and the finer points of the plan to finalise and they were running short of time.

Unable to see the box, Doc ignored the gift. Though indeed was one to incline his head. He spoke more to himself rather than the group but was just as audible. "The pucker comes in the form of flattery." Downing now his second drink. "Though the motion is indeed one of, understanding." The gunslinger turns his body to face the whole group with a freshly filled glass. "I think indeed it's safe to say that the Madam' here has been nothing but good to all of us." His accent hinted at a touch of sarcasm with what he said, trying to lighten what he could now tell was an obviously tense group. However it died as he spoke of the boss. "Fine woman she is, to health." he raised his glass before turning it over on the bar with something of a large slap sound.

As he reflected on the idea, with no real asking of premsion, he chimed in as no one seemed to give more  thought to Maria question. Hoping to catch everyone's ears, he slowly rocked back a bit as he took a freshly rolled cigarette. Drawing out a pocketbook of matches, Holliday sparked up the smoke. The ember glowed before he sat down the cigarette, hacking violently for a moment.  "Well, from the sounds of it Madam'. No matter what, their gona start breathing and crawling down our necks like the rats they are. However, the idea here is to cripple these FBN, is it not? For if it is, than no doubt they will seek out to stop us with this grandest of heist that Johnny_Marcone has planned. Perhaps, a series of....misadventures befalls the ones that stick out too far. If he's any type of man with half a brain he'll poke around their first once word is out. No doubt that he'll send some....lesser agents of the FBN. That, in turn, sends out the better of them, hopefully. But if he is a man of rage, or a man that can be controled. Enough of our-..exploits and messages reach him, he may act brash, make mistakes. Enough of them start falling off in a random mishap and the line of duty, no one sees much of anything, just a bad turn of luck. Cause I think while It can be avoided at the end of the day, they'll catch on sooner or later, but if we do so to the point where it remains 'just' under borderline. We'll torch that precinct with little to no resistance come game-day. The key in my mind is getting out there and getting our name to mean something. People start paying, more cops start showing up, we kill more birds with one stone."

The pausing being from the fact that he has a hack or two here from his case of T.B. While it has died down in a large way, he still can be a hacking fit of blood from time to time. The man use to the western frontier has long since thought of what it would mean to retire in peace, but fate would not have it that way. 

"With as many people as needed on this heist like you said, but I say the ones that aren't doing much, start cracking down on shops. We spread enough of the tale of what goes down with that job, and start making waves like we want to? I reckon the boots of justice will get fierce enough to get in our line of sight. But I raise the question, would it be right to consider this a...war on the FBN?"

While a man who was rarely spoken, yet sometimes the loudest voice in the room, John Henry had made the name for himself as a man to be feared across nations. Least that was the idea when the hopes and dreams of the once Wild West were still around. Now he was at face value a good Jack of Trades, but it was quickly and well know that his temper and choice of action tended to be harsh and very standoffish. He indeed though things through but once on the war path, there wasn't much to stop Doc. When he was indebted to someone, or with someone he called friend. There wasn't much room for question, it was do or die. With the chance that the Boss had took on him, he often backed whatever it was that she did. His restatement wasn't meant to come off as questioning, but rather an idea to help along the destruction path. He'd act where he was sent, but it was clear that with some quick thinking, he had made enough random shots in the dark on this matter to back Maria no matter how crazed she may have sounded before he had chance to hear her thoughts.

"I indeed reckon the heats on us, regardless of how we do. I simply think it's a matter of what, and how. They may be closing on us, but, I'd think more often than not, whatever the case may be. Now is the time to stand firm and put our side of town back on the map."

As I was enjoying my cigar I glance over to where Don Maria and Consig. VladimirLenin are holding a meeting.  I notice many bodyguards surrounding them.  Vladimir nods for me to come over and offers me a VIP pass to bare proudly accepting me into the family.  Donna Maria gives me the nod to kill as many of the Durden gang as I can as they are a plague on our society.  I kiss the Dons ring and vow loyalty. 

  As I walk back to my seat I look around casing the joint for who's watching me.  All eyes are on me so I better not fuck this up.  With another tug on my Cuban I sip my brandy and spot a fine bird who's looking at me.  We make eye contact and it breaks my concentration for a sec. so I decide to go and introduce myself.

  I tell her I am Richie Calen and ask her her name.  She looks me up and down real slow like I am a possible suitor.  I do the same and approve in my thoughts.  She doesn't tell me her name but leans in and plants one on me biting my lip as she retreats.  Right about now I am thinking "wholy shit!"  This ones a wild one.  She gives me the nod and we disappear into the darkness.

Well that was fun, we played strip poker and naturally I cheated.  I exit the back room and leave the door open turning the light to green...next...feeling invigorated I notice Consigliere  Johnny_Marcone wants me to have a sit down. 

Hey Johnny, I am ready for work.