Standing behind Pollution & WilliamPratt, togged to the bricks, Lucy remained silent.  She listened during Disorder 's announcement & the back and forth which followed it.  She was new to Las Vegas & to this way of life, so in a lot of ways the debate was about people just like her, but she had nothing to say on the matter.  After all, who was she to speak up on such things?  

Lucy fidgeted with a marble she'd picked up from the dashboard of her last trucking heist.  

A Made Man.  Will I ever be a Made-Man?  

Her father was given his Chicago Overcoat not long after becoming a Made Man.  There were guys back home who still laid flowers on his grave and raised glasses to him whenever his name was brought up.  Yet... where had his outrage at the injustice of it all gotten him?  Had anything changed when he went screaming into the night with his bean-shooter blazing?  Even if he had survived, and that other guy was six feet under, would it have changed a thing about how this world really worked? 

No. 

So far as Lucy could see, some things were the way they were, no matter what you did.  Same game.  Different players.  The sun rose, molls rolled over, and the guys on bottom of the pile would always feel the guy on top was a grease ball just gumming up the works for the rest of us.  In truth: some Joes, no matter how unfair it was, would always be the ones making the rules & others followed them... or they died.  Simple as that.  Even if they played by the rules and sent piles of tribute to their boss, good men still died.  No one from a petty thief all the way up to a Godfather himself thought there was really retirement in this line of work.  

Lucy supposed that maybe that's why men like her daddy did what they did... going off half-cocked, shooting at the big man in a fit of blind rage - even though it made no sense to calmer minds.  For those guys, it was like gambling your last dollar in a slot machine.  If you lose, well, you were broke anyway.  If you win... well, isn't that what everyone plays for? 

Yet, wasn’t throwing your life away as bad, if not worse than poor leadership?  You sure as hell weren’t going to lead or change anything from a graveyard.  Flappin’ your gums and airing your grievances here, that was just a fast way to letting folks know where to set their sights – wasn’t it?

Leaning in to William she whispered softly, "Mind if I snag a snipe?"

Whether Disorder was in charge or someone else, she didn’t think that anyone gave two sawbucks about a Goomba like her, unless she earned it.  It was easy to talk about the innocent, the little people, and low men on the totem pole but most nights, she knew that she was beneath notice.  And that was the truth.  

If Disorder wanted proof that people trusted her when and if her time came... If the man at the top of an organization which she gave her life over to wanted her support for Made Man filed in triplicate with every Don on the west coast - then that's what she would do.  It's what all good nobody goons like her did when someone higher up the line asked for it… at least until the day she had just one dollar left in her pocket and found herself facing the only one-armed bandit that she couldn't walk away from.  She didn’t like it, but it was the reality of this way of life. 

We sinners, we beseech you Lord, hear us – have mercy on those of us who are about to die.

It’s the life she & everyone else in this room chose. Do what your told, or take the crap shoot from hell.

And for God’s sake, if I ever do take it, please don’t let me cry when the dice crap out on me.  It just makes ya look bad before you down.

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☘ Lucky Lucy Fazzone ☘
== S M O G ==
Never Hate Your Enemies.  It Affects Your Judgement.
Profile & RP Bio | Seeking Historical Ties

Anyway, if the naysayers, drama queens and offspring of anonymous donation contest winners stopped eulogising their dead Grandfathers all across town for 30 seconds, they would realise this is actually a pretty basic requirement and it isn't about bloodlining in ANY FORM.

Of the two options given, this would be the lying. This shifts the burden of bloodlining to the crews so that the spineless cowards spend more time looking into their own ranks for "threats" than the paranoid fucks who lord over them. And considering this regime hasn't even slowed down in its bloodlining efforts, I'm pretty sure the facts stand opaquely to contradict your pile of bullshit. It's no surprise that you'd come out in support of this policy, as I believe it was your ancestor and their group of pals who first constructed it all those years ago.

It would be a travesty if we saw the same outcome as we did back then. Glitch or otherwise.

Bloodlining.

Makes me laugh, a member from Kharons crew was killed for something that happened two years ago, ha.

Oh, we don't bloodline says Disorder, if you're a good puppet then we have no reason to kill you says Disorder.

Keep your eyes open Disorder, the shots will be lining up soon enough.

Mobster #1 "I dislike you Mobster #2..."

Mobster #1 shoots Mobster #2

Very sad boohoo RIP Mobster #2

Many years later

Mobster #3 "Mobster #1?! Did you hear that Mobster #2's son has returned after a long absence and he has a fricking hand cannon.... What are you going to do?!"

Mobster #1 "Oh fuck all, I won't even pay it a second thought. I've got nothing to worry about as he has absolutely no reason to wish me ill will or do anything to avenge his fathers death. Even if he did do something I've got this magic rainbow colored armor that can protect me from nuclear weapons, his huge bloody gun is no threat to me."

Yeah, as if.

William flashed a smirk and snarled, a deep growling noise emitting from his throat. Walking up to the confused Pantella, William grunted,

"You'd be quite mistaken if you categorized those you deem 'strange' to not be worthy of the rank Made Man within this Thing of Ours. Historically speaking, some of the most prominent members ever around here weren't human. Bloody hell, I mean I even heard rumors of this monstrosity of a robot being given the nod to run all of Los Angeles a bit back! All in all, it's the quality of the being, not necessarily their race/species that matters, really."

"Oh, right. I'll be quite sure to take this advice to heart. Who would have thought, the near twenty million I've sent up so far would be counted as irrelevant simply due to me being a creature of the night!"

Slaps his knee and wipes a fake tear of amusement away from his face.

"I think if you go back and think this entire conversation over, you'd actually be hard pressed to find any instance of me 'arguing with a Godfather,' perhaps you should go get your head checked?"

Pantella this isn't the 1920's anymore! We are living in the 1930's. I thought most of us had become progressive enough to recognize that vampires were people too. At least before they were bitten. We can't keep living in the dark ages!!! 

Pollution fails to stifle his chuckle. Vivian's point had amused him - she had a good point.

"I think if being a Vampire was such an issue, vampires would find it difficult to seek an organisation which accepted them. Luckily, we're not all as short-sighted as you, Pantella. But being a Goomba, I suppose there is still time to learn what your Daddy never taught you."

"Given that I've been alive over a century, I would counter that your version of 'old school' and mine differ vastly."

William had remembered hearing stories aplenty in regards to successful...beings, around these shores, who weren't human.

"Again I beg of thee to open your mind to new concepts. Have you never heard the legendary tails/tales of lolcat? Have you never heard anyone recall the perfect game of bowling that Rubix the dog CrewLeader from Chicago rolled not too long ago? How about the extremely successful career of TsuDhoNimh, the rascally pup? The Robot Mafia that ran Los Angeles for a short while? There are plenty of other examples, I'm sure, but I think this list should suffice. Open up your mind to what is beyond, young one."

William nodded once, and left the scene.

Pollution stares at Pantella a moment. His eyebrow arching unknowingly as his confusion becomes obvious.

"Now.. My bloodline hasn't been around these shores for long in comparison to some of these names around here. However, I'm fairly confident the old school ways required at least a basic effort in how you act when walking the Streets. I'd place that effort they make far above how they were born into this world. Perhaps you should consider the same."

Pollution scratches his beard, swirling his coffee around his cup a little before sinking the last of it. He wanders off towards a nearby establishment to feed his waiting addiction for more caffeine.

Mr_Rasta lights a spliff and thinks about cats. Were there cats in the 1930's? What were they like?

Would we consider them what we refer to as "gangster" today? Surely they were worshipped for a reason in ancient egypt.

So many questions he thinks to himself.

"Seems like a lot of conversation being triggered over this way. I like that, it means it's something people care about. We need passion to prove to the naysayers there's still fight on these streets.

"As for the topic at hand... though the motivation to bring this approach into effect is unfortunate, I like it. It's a step in the right direction and gives those who feel too comfortable, or stale, a driver to do things differently.

"Different is scary, si. To me, it's a challenge and without a challenge, what's the point."