.It's a Family Business.

/ By wildbunnii [+Watch]

Replies: 9 / 7 years 83 days 8 hours 30 minutes 38 seconds

Allowed Users

  1. [Allowed] simply_random
  2. [Allowed] nil
  3. [Allowed] MoronicUglyChick
  4. [Allowed] VolugDesirae
  5. [Allowed] boxghost

New York, year 2013; not much has changed in the City that never sleeps, or, at least, as far as the common eye can tell. Because behind closed doors and street corners, evil is afoot. The streets of modern day New York can be tough on people with no allegiance. When people work for long hours with little pay; that’s when most people get connect to a family.

Over time, the mafia have manage to lose evenly divide the territory equally.

The Italian Mafia: The Cosa Nostra, has been in the game the longest, and knows the various trades well. They have the most members. They have successfully managed to unite most of the crime in New York under their own personal banner. They have managed to bring everyone from the Irish thugs, to the Russian Mafia, to even the Japanese under the Cosa Nostra name. The Cosa Nostra owns both of Manhattan and Bronx. The Cosa Nostra controls most of the chains of drug department.

The Irish Mafia: The West End Mob, have the most brutal members, all of which are adept at hand to hand combat. These guys wear expensive clothes, drive fast cars, carry big guns and specialize in robbing banks.You don't want to get on their bad side. The Irish mob dominated New York's underworld for well over a century before facing competition from other, primarily recently arrived Italian and Jewish gangs. The West End Mob resides and does their business in Staten Island. The West End Mob managed to hold control of all of the guns trade businesses.

The Russian Mafia: Obshina Bratva, come from a harsh war-torn home, where everyday seems like a fight to survive. A great deal of them was ex-KGB and Spetznaz. The former Soviet Bloc's opening up to the world and the internationalization of its economy also gave the Russian mafia connections to other criminal organizations around the world such as the Chinese Triads or the Sicilian Cosa Nostra. Connections with Latin American drug cartels allowed the Russian mafia to import cocaine into the country. The Obshina Bratva lives and does business in Brooklyn. The Obshina Bratva control all prostitution rings throughout the city.

The Spanish Mafia:Los Bustamante, the new kids on the block, they are rising quickly with power. Already have business in most of South America, Central America, Dominican Republic, and Puerto Rico. Los Bustamante is a very tight knit family, group of men-of-honor, not only joined by Mafia bonds, but also by ties of blood. Los Bustamante has taken control all of Queens, with the help of the Obshina Bratva. Los Bustamante has maintained to build a chain of casinos throughout the five boroughs which managed to be hot spots of the underworld crimes.

To each family there is an heir(ress)/underboss , someone they have chosen to become the next Don (a) of the family. These young adults, each with different backgrounds and history, must prove to their family that they are the best. What happens when the Don (a)-to-be begin getting a little too greedy? In these streets, it's all about survival of the fittest. Do you think you have what it takes to survive?

Let the drama ensue, and as we begin to realize the true meaning of It's a Family Business.


Real Pics Only
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Back to the basics
Full Name
What I go by
Birth Date
I’m the

The Reflection in the Mirror
Eye Color
Hair Color
Identifying Marks

Weaponry & Skills
Standard Weapon

Things I waste my Time With

What I’m Really Like

All About My Past

Quote I live By:

Theme Song(s):

The Don(a)

The Heir(ess)/ The UnderBosses

The Italian Mafia:
The Russian Mafia: Vyacheslav Nicoleyeviche Petrov
The Irish Mafia:
The Spanish Mafia: Esmeralda Isabell Marisol Cardona


The Family:
The Don(a)
The Heir(ess)/The Underboss
The Consigliere
The Capos
The Hitman/Woman
The Associates
The Pimps
The Prostitutes
The Drug Dealers
The Strip Club Owners
The Strippers
The Bartenders
The Casino Manager
The Gang Leader
The Paid Cop
The Informant
Law Enfocement
Criminal Investigators



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sunny | cloudy | foggy | snowy | rainy | hail | chilly | thunder | lightning | windy | storm | cool | sprinkling |


sunrise | morning | afternoon | sunset | night |


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Roleplay Responses

Carson sat back on the plush red leather couch, it had just recently been purchased due to the fact that it still smelled like a furniture store and that the girl’s had yet to cram their dolls into the cushions in their odd way of playing hide and seek. In his lap an empty plate that had once held a slice of apple pie and three large chocolate chip cookies. Carol of course glared in his direction but said nothing as she carried the rest of the girls presents and placed them under the tree.

“Did you not leave anything for Santa to bring?” Carson asked as he eyed the many presents that remained neatly wrapped with brightly colored paper. George said nothing as he lifted Kimberly on his shoulder so the young girl could finish stringing popcorn around the fake limbs.

“Santa isn’t real Uncle Carson.” Kimberly stated simply, the comment earned a smile from her mother who then glared at Carson.

“Of course Santa is real. Along with werewolves, vampires and unicorns and zombies.” The detective added as a matter of factly while slowly sipped his coffee. Though as the drink touched his lips he frowned, not only was it bitter but it was cold.

“Don’t fill their mind with lies Carson. Honestly when are you going to grow up?” Carol snapped before walking to her husband’s side who in turn placed a hand on her waist to silence her, an action she did not take well. “No George. He is still the same child he was when you both started working together. I don’t want his games to get you killed or to give our daughters these silly images of reality.”

“You never wanted kids did you Carol?” Carson asked before shifting in his seat. He knew Carol never licked him, hell the bitch tried to keep him from even showing up to the wedding claiming he would sleep with the bridesmaids. Of course she was wrong…he only slept with one but that one happened to be her younger sister. Though the constant hate was starting to seep into the girls because who in reality tells eight year old twins that Santa doesn’t exsist?

“Come on girls. Mommy and Uncle are going to duke it out.”

“Mommy please don’t kill Jamie. We love him.” Rachel called back to her mother while taking her father’s hand and being taken most likely to their rooms.

“What the hell was that about Carson?”

“The comment about you not wanting to have kids or the slightly heightened level of snarkyness coming from you?”

Carol popped her jaw before continuing, “Why are you even here?”

“Last I checked I'm still George’s best friend so like it or not if he invites me I'm going to show up.” Now he was starting to get pissed, he was the one who introduced the pair. Even now his blue eyes narrowed and glared as Carol crossed her arms over her chest and shared his heated gaze.

“You know what Carol forget it. I’ll leave so you won’t have to worry about me corrupting your kids. Merry fucking Christmas. Hope they don’t end up like the bitch you are.”

Carol stared at her husband’s friend with her mouth wide open in shock but Carson didn’t care and slammed the apartment door closed for good measure to let the ginger know he didn’t care. The entire time he walked down the steps he muttered under his breath angry that George had not stuck up for him or at least didn’t smack his wife upside her crazy head. “Now what am I going to do?” He asked allowed once he was outside and the cold air nipped at his exposed skin. He could go to a café but they don’t sell beer. Or he could go to the club, but then he would have to deal with a crowd and that plus his current mood wouldn’t make a good outcome. Running a hand over his buzz cut the cob decided to make his way toward the club. He was underdressed, uninvited, but had money so could they really turn him away?

What Money will do for a person

“How is work going?” Jensen asked as he brought another shot glass for his boss. The young woman he addressed only gave a weak smile before her forehead wrinkled in frustration. “What is it?” Jensen decided to try again with his questioning only this time he was more successful with his pestering.

“Seems that one of our chef is getting too big for his kitchen.” Aria answered halfly while her eyes never left the screen.

“As in he need to relocate?

“As in the bastard wants more money.”

“Do you think you need to make a call to…”

“Don’t be drastic Jensen. We don’t need another chef found dead because we can’t keep them under control, besides let the man have a day to himself.” Aria gave a warm smile before rising from her seat while placing her phone against her ear. “Quanto ti chiedono per Marco?”
  Carson James Gallows / boxghost / 7y 29d 19h 22m 18s

One could call this a party for the higher echelons of the beautiful city. The people gathered here decided what happened. Yet, they couldn't exactly be defined as classy, mostly. Some could, though. Some, mostly the big bosses. The rest of them, Marius included, were just bestial, or at least partly. And to make it even better, corrupt officers were with them that night. Officers of the police who had forgotten the meaning of being clean. Booze, women and money had corrupted their whole being. And the worst thing was that they weren't really liked by the ones that had corrupted them. Being without loyalty is something not many people in this line of work appreciate. Loyalty was all the world was about. That much, Marius knew. Not money, not power, but loyalty to a single cause. A single cause, because together, one is immeasurably stronger than alone. Some things need to be done by a loner, but the famillia will always back that loner. The price of betrayal is a grave one indeed. Being forced away from your life, from what made you. This world could make you a legend or could break you till you are a beggar who is clinging to his last bit of dignity, starving to death, or dying by eating rat-poison. Just like the rat someone like that was.

Just before the party

"Seriously? Putting on a mask? What are you? Freaking Zorro?" A face filled with surprise as Marius took a mask to put it on. "It's just a precaution. Like it or not, but I am an Italian, wearing masks is part of my life." He put it on, making sure it was attached properly. No joking idiot could take it off now. Only someone with the determination to do so and for that kind of fools, he had the Cosa Nostra, more likely a malish woman, backing him. "The other part is being a terrible man? Or dressing yourself in that pink tutu?" A laugh resonated against the walls of the car. It had left the mouth of the one that was masked. "The other part is being damn good in my job. You better remember that." And they left the car, arguing about some things concerning a confused male, some swiss cheese, a rubber snake and a bucket filled with pigtails.

Back at the party

"No. Just no. No hair on my not-so-bald head even thinks about doing that." He had to think about behaving himself. Behaving himself didn't mean walking away with a whore just interested in the money when a lady stood beside him, talking to other people. "I could show you a new experience." The playfulness of those eyes hid the professionalism in them. This was a pro. Going after the man with the mask, because those mostly had a lot of money with them and where eccentric enough to spend it without further thought. Not Marius. He was tempted, however. "Don't think that will work." But when a bloodhound smells a prey, one couldn't escape. Not any longer. Her hands moved to the mask. "Why hide your lovely face from me, sweety?" The word sweety made shivers go down his spine. Not out of desire, but because he thought it sounded weird. Scary. Yet, he got the courage to make her hands go away. "You don't want to eat the apples from this tree. My fruit is forbidden. On top of that, bambina, you are wasting your time. My money is, sadly, not my own." And with that words, the attention from the girl for him faded and she was away, hunting another unfortunate male. "Never thought you would turn her down." Strangely enough, the Capo had found time to talk to him and waste his breath. "I didn't turn her down. She left. You get turned down most of the time, see the difference."

That last remark had made Celia, the Capo, slap him. Not that the hand against the mask would hurt that much, but it was the gesture that counted. And he took it well. No drunk brawl started. Nothing to really notice. Just a contest of guts between the two as they looked each other, like a pair of gorillas, straight in the eyes. Needless to say they both lost. Or both won. This was the moment for Marius to seek his luck somewhere else, not accompanying Celia, but living for himself. Just a little while. He really had the need to fuck shit up. Maybe not immediately, but he wanted to leave this place in disarray, he wanted to see chaos commence. A game of hearts, no, more likely blood. Not that blood would flow, but it surely was something to look forward to. A night filled with Alcohol, violent people and a certain air of arrogance. Just add a whiff of camel and the perfect party is happening.

He walked around, bumping into people, because it was pretty crowdy, and getting stares. It was time to talk to people, or like his Jewish friend once had said, making les Buzinezz gonnegtiones. He was french. "That was a nice time. Back under the shade of the olive trees." The past is always better, just like the grass is always greener at the other side, just like the books are always better in another language. He took a seat and looked around. First he had to choose a proper victim for his entertainment. After that, a drunk girl and some of his hard-earned money. It was his own. Lying is an art and the ones excelling in it live a life worth living. Or maybe he just needed a victim. One could not know till the moment was there, smiling. The same reason that made him like being a problem-solver made him like this kind of stuff. The execution of a plan. The perfect execution of a perfect plan, it had an erotic kind of tension he liked to experience.
  Alessandro Borgia / VolugDesirae / 7y 28d 2h 49m 2s
She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the sight of the charming Russian Prince. Like always the dear prince was never alone; a woman resting in each of his arm. One was the ex-girlfriend of one of her boys. Lucky whore manage to escape the grasp from the Spanish mafia with her head still intact to her shoulders. Of course, there was nothing the heiress could do than wait when the spanish woman was alone. Los Bustamante already had a treaty pact of peace with the Obshina Bratva. All Isa could do was wait.

" Another shot please of tequila, straight." Isa order the bartender, she leant against the bar, fiddling with a shot glass in her hand. She was preoccupied glancing around the room, perhaps looking for somebody else.

The young man waved to the bartender, catching his attention almost immediately, "We'll have two more, of whatever the lady having." Turning back towards her, he couldn't help but smile "Make it four, we're at a party after all." Now closer to the young heiress, he tried to eye her as best he could without giving it away too much that he was. Brown hair, with almost matching brown eyes.

Isa was slightly started when a male voice in her ear; though she didn't show it in her features. She had been trained for years that showing weak emotions like that could cost a girl her life. Isa placed a smile upon her face and glanced at the young man standing next to her before wrapping her arms around him. It was no other than Yadiel, the oldest of the group and her older 'brother'. " Are you trying to get me drunk?"

" Yes," He grinned.

Isa laughed out loud, and elbowed him in the stomach. " Bien entonces, vamos a beber."

Tonight, she was going to attempt to have a little fun. The bartender passed them two shots each and Isa grabbed the first one quickly. " Para la familia, saluds."

" To the family, cheers." He raise his shot to meet hers.

She downed it in one swift motion and the alcohol burn down her throat in the most pleasant sort of way. Isa had always a bit of a lightweight when it came to drinking so she could already feel her mind getting fuzzy, the buzz setting in. However, never stop her from drinking more than she could. Maybe for the fact, the family always had her back.

Isa downed the next shot just as quickly as she had the first. Suddenly, everything seemed so much more appealing; that was one positive to alcohol. The deep bass of the music thrummed through her body and she began to sway her hips.

Isa looked out at the growing crowd once again, forcing herself to look away from the man beside her. Though she was buzzed, she still had some wits about her. She notice one and only girl who was friend in her life. As the daughter of Mob Boss, true friends was priceless and rare.

Isa greeted the beautiful blonde with a wave before heading back to her drinking buddy.

* Alright then, let's drink.
When Tyler and Tiffany died, things changed for both Audrey and Andrew. Andrew tries to be too involved with the Spanish mafia. He tried to teach Audrey how to be good but that didn’t seem to work to well. Audrey did graduated and do what she had to put she ended up joining the Spanish mafia and running the club better then Andrew did on his own.

Audrey is good being bad. She is good with what she does which is being bad, running the club and being a good lover. Audrey is protective over a few of the girls that work for her. A few of them took advantage of her kindness for them and lost her trust. She would make sure they girls have a new outfit for when there is a new event. The good girls got the better looking outfits and they have a say towards it unlike the others. The strip club is going to have a big event coming up. Audrey is making sure the girls got new things and are learning new things from a professional pole dancer she hired for the girls to learn new things.

Audrey was already dressed up in a one sleeve purple dress that shows off her body. Since everything seems to be going well at the strip club she decides to go check out the new club she has been hearing about. The blonde met up with a few friends out of the club. They took a taxi over to the club. She has to say her friends are hilarious. They were going to wait on line to get in. Audrey doesn’t wait on lines. They should know who she is. If not she can always give the rude doormen about three hundred dollars to get in. sadly she had to give him just that to get inside. The club better be as good or else she wasted some money and a good outfit for new dam reason. As she entered the club she instantly noticed some important people are in the club and of course the boss of the Spanish mafia. Audrey just chuckles to herself as her and her friends went to the bar to get a drink. Audrey gave her boss a quick smile before looking around the club for someone who would probably be her lover for the night.
  Audrey 2 / Simply_Random / 7y 48d 18h 49m 54s
“Please tell me again why you waited until the last minute to find my god daughters Christmas presents? I mean Christmas is the same day every year how can it sneak up on you?” Carson asked while waving a hand to grab a taxi. Though the action was hindered by the multiple bags that hug from his arms, his partner well ex-partner George Henderson only chuckled as he started walking down the busy sidewalk. When Carson turned his head to see his friend already a block away, “Wait up Henderson.” He called as he chased after his partner. When he finally caught up the detective frowned, “You know a real New Yorker would never walk.”

“You’re from Texas and I'm from North Carolina so in truth none of us are real New Yorker’s. Besides I didn’t wait until the last minute Carol just wanted some extra supplies and the twins needed some more clothes they are going up so fast.” George laughed before rearranging his own large arsenal of bags. “So will you be joining us for Christmas or will you be on your own again?”

Carson glared at his friend but only gave a have smile to show he was not serious in his anger, “I always come over, my twins need someone to look up to after all.”

“Given their height they will look up to everyone.” George added with a smile before pulling out his cell, typing on the small screen and then putting the device away. “Carol told us to hurry up. The girls want to put the star on the tree.”

“I thought that was my job.” Carson said with a whine only to have his best friend shove him while they climbing the steps of George’s apartment complex. As the pair closed the door to the outside a small voice could be heard from the third floor. “Mommy, Daddy and uncle Jamie is here.”

“Rachel still calls me Jamie?” Carson asked with a confused look on his face while following his friend up the old stairs and past the over decorated threshold that led into the apartment the new couple now shared. At once the warm aroma of cookies and gingerbread filled Carson’s nose and the detective instantly felt the need to eat. Lowering the bags onto the flower he snuck into the small kitchen to see the cookies cooling on the counter. With one last look around he crossed the open space and reached for the round baked treat, only to have his hand smacked with a wooden spoon. His attacker was none other than Kimberly the youngest of George’s twins. Her curly black hair was caked in flour and her tiny hand clutched the wooden spoon like it was a sword and she was finding off a dragon. “Ow.” Carson added while he rubbed his hand. Rachel scrambled into the kitchen and jumped up to hold herself around his neck. “Hi uncle Jamie. Mommy said you wouldn’t come but I didn’t believe her. She doesn’t like you very much does she?”

“Not one bit.”

“He tried to take Santa’s cookies.” Kimberly added to ruin the happy moment and at that moment Carol came into the kitchen, her blonde hair in a bun while an apron was tied around her waist. “Santa works hard to earn those cookies Carson. Rude for you take them.”

“I'm sure Santa gets plenty of sweets.”

“Girls time to star the tree!”

Kimberly and Rachel raced toward the living room after their father, giggling as they ran. They were cute. The entire family was adorable and Carson could help but love them. Even if the wife forced his friend to quit for a desk job and hated his guts.

A tornado flew around my room before you came…

Another frustrated scream resonated through the loft followed by another cuss word in a different language. “You do know that if you’re late for the party it won’t matter what you wear?”

“Are you suggesting that I not show up at all?”

“Is it a possibility Ari.”

“That is sweet of you to offer but you know the likely hood of our boss or the kid showing up is slim if at all. Have you seen my red pumps?”

“Are you trying to look like a Christmas tree Ari? As much as I love your green mini dress I don’t think it is the right choice given the season.”

A young woman rounded the corner and glared at her already dressed guard, even though they were guest at a party he did not stray from his usual tailored black suit and tie. “Jackie Chan I am shocked at you.”

“That is racist Ari, have you picked a dress yet because we are late enough as it is.”

Aria smiled again before disappearing back around the corner causing the young man to swear in Chinese as he was forced to wait once again. “I never knew you were so high strung. You always seemed cold and uncaring what people think of you.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I could care less what people think of me but I still like to look good for personal reasons. My mother always said impress when you dress not dress to impress.”

The guard ran a hand down his face half amused and half annoyed by the young woman’s need to primp herself for such long hours, “Aria, can we please….”

He paused mid-sentence as Aria walked out into her living room. The short gold metallic cocktail dress fitted to her curves and complimented her earth toned skin. She completed the outfit with beige colored pumps and gold earring crafted to look like snowflakes while all her hair was pushed to cover her bare shoulder. “Yes we can leave. Do you have my coat?”

On que the male lifted a red peacoat for the young woman and Aria smiled, “See I have charmed you into following my orders.”

“No your paycheck charms me my dear. Lets go.”

Disappointed for a moment Aria tied the strings to her coat and left her apartment and quickly got into a cab.

As the pair arrived at the club Aria wasted no time hurrying inside the club, not because she was excited about any part of the evening but because it was freezing in the December air. “I will never understand women and why they choose fashion over comfort.”

“I don’t pay you to understand Jensen. I pay you to take a bullet for me.” Shrugging off her jacket Aria immedietly turned her attention to the screen of her Blackberry scrolling through old text, contacts and even emails because even during a party the woman always had work. “Do you want a drink?” Jensen asked over her shoulder, Aria turned to face him and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “Just a long island iced tea, I have some boys to put in time out.” Again she turned her attention back to her Blackberry and once again the screen was filled with unread emails. With an exhale she wondered if she should get a stronger drink based on her surroundings it was going to be a long night.
  Carson James Gallows / boxghost / 7y 49d 16h 53m 45s
Camille Metias moved with a smoothness about him that sent chills down the backs of those who he passed by. It seemed that this was in fact his party. His celebration of his own existence. That's the kind of man that he was. And not a soul in the club didn't know this. He made his way through the crowd, two guards at his sides, as always. His eyes held a certain confidence and experience behind him that might send even the most reserved and uninterested party ablaze with curiosity about just what he might be hiding behind them.
Beneath the folds of his neat, fitted black jacket he carried two glocks, which he'd had custom made so that they fit perfectly into the contours of his large, masculine hands. He roamed the crowds for a time, his eyes wavering over the unworthy females around him. He was a predator by nature. A man that knew what he wanted and went after it with a boundless conviction.
He was tall, with wide shoulders and a large chest, and, although he went nowhere without them, it didn't seem necessary for him to be shadowed by those two guards. He didn't dance. Just stood and watched the movement of the ocean of bodies around him, gyrating and convulsing to the sounds blasting from the speakers concealed in the corners of the club.He barely felt it when someone bumped into him on their way by or dancing around him. Finally, his eyes settled on his prey.
He had heard of her. Of course he had heard of her. Perhaps he even knew her. Esmeralda Isabell Marisol Cardona. The princess of the Spanish Mafia. Perhaps he was in the dark about this little tid-bit. Maybe all he saw was an attractive woman with the same essence that he carried. Maybe all e saw was another prey to take home and devour.
Whatever he saw, he liked it. Unfortunately for him, he liked it a little too late.
He'd felt a bit dizzy coming into the club, yes. But he'd shrugged it off, reasoning it off to the sudden change in atmosphere, the loud music. But now he felt worse. His steps were more difficult to make as sure and purposeful as they had been before. His eyes had difficulty focusing on any one thing.
Someone bumped into him again on the dance floor.
He felt a small prick against the inside of his wrist. Or at least, he thought he did. Maybe it had been in his imagination? Maybe he'd just had a little too much to drink. Had he even had any alcohol yet? He was confused. Disoriented.
He pushed past people in the crowd, mumbling obscenities under his breath. Headed to the bathroom. Barked orders at his men to stay outside. Not to let anyone in. Then he went into a stall and sat on the toilet, waiting for the dizziness to fade. And it did, thankfully. But then so did everything else. And there, head slumped against the side of a bathroom stall, staring blankly at his own expensive shoes, Camille Metias, one of the most revered and feared mobsters of this century, died.

Nil watched the events unfold from his seat at the bar, an untouched martini between his hands. Well,he didn't watch them unfold, to be truthful. He'd watched only long enough to get the poison into Metias' veins. It had taken two injections, which he'd administered on the dance-floor when he'd 'bumped' into him while dancing. But then, so had countless others. There was no way to pin the blame on him, even if Metias himself had noticed it happening.
Nil finally lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. He placed the glass back down onto the table in front of him with a leather-clad hand. Reached into his pocket, dialed a number into his phone, and placed it on the table, waiting ten seconds before watching the screen blink and become consumed with a fiery static, before becoming completely useless. Nothing but charred metal and plastic on the inside. But the confirmation had been sent. His job had been done.
He clapped the phone shut and, without turning in his seat, reached into the purse of a passing woman chatting away with her friend about how long it had been, and let the phone drop, unnoticed, into it.
He caught one of the guards rushing through the crowd towards the door, attempting not to raise an alarm or let it show that his boss was dead in a bathroom stall. Died mysteriously of heart failure.
Then he returned to his glass.
  Nil / Nil / 7y 49d 23h 27m 19s

And there he stood, amidst people who had never even one day worked for their money, in a legal way. Dancing, drinking, lust and pride. That was what was gathered here. A new club. Opening had to be celebrated. One thing he hated, nightclubs, or any other kind of establishment where one could lose himself in booze, drugs and sex. Why was Allesandro even here, if he hated it that much? That is a long story. A long story that needs to be explained with proper care. Just grab some punch, it can take a while.

A few hours in the past...

"No, just no. I won't do that, just as you won't dress yourself in a pink tutu. Capiche? Is it that hard to understand? I am Marius, for Christ's sake. I am paid to be an emotionally detached bastard who kills people. I am not meant for parties." The woman that sat at the other side of the desk traced an invisible path with her nails on the desk while keeping her eyes fixated on the man at the other side of the piece of wood. Yes. A wooden desk. "You are paid to listen and carry out orders. I should just fire you." The man threw a pencil at the wall. Maybe he should fire her, literally. "Let's, for the sake of the argument, say that I will go with you to be another accessory. What do you have to offer for me, to make it worth my while." And at the next words, the male was dumbstruck. Nothing. Nothing. Only the sun rises for nothing and even for the sun to rise there has to be paid a price. "Then you will just have to wear that pink tutu that we already spoke about, because I won't think about actually attending a party. It is not my natural habitat. The office is even nicer to be than such a stupid place of conception and fakes." He made sure he never even looked away. No other way than to be stubborn. No fecking way he would attend a party and if he would, it would not be with his capo. No. Only the dona would be fit for such a thing. "Just go with me. I need someone, or otherwise my colleagues will laugh at me." The feet of Marius were planted on the desk. His glass of wine went to his mouth. One little sip. "Then let's talk serious business. What do you have that is of interest of me?"

And fast forward into the present

Everything has its price. Even Marius's phobia for parties. What precisely was paid to him, is not important. The fact was, that he was at that party, accompanying a very frustrated woman. Really. If one had to ask her employer to be an escort, one would have sunk deep. Even deeper than the guy who sold his entire being to said woman. So yes, he was listening to bragging capos that were talking about their exploits to each other. He wasn't a capo and had nothing to brag off, but himself. And that, that was one thing he wasn't planning to do. Not in this kind of environment. Maybe towards one of his victims, just before the knife would plunge into that soft belly, but that is the only place he will ever brag. The rest of the time, it was his attitude that did the rest.

Yeah, he was incognito. Yeah, he wore a mask. Why? Imagine being a hitman. Imagine being in a room with the people that were potential victims. Imagine them seeing your faces. Imagine this all and you know how the great Marius felt, bought to escort one of the Capos of the Cosa Nostra. He was in a strange building of which he hadn't seen all the ways in and out. Surrounding him where people he would have to kill one day or another. Of course he was masked. This had given him some looks, but he was with the Cosa Nostra. The organisation that had its roots in Italia. The country of masks, women and wine. The capo wasn't entirely satisfied with it either, but she wasn't in as much danger as he was. His best weapon was obscurity. Having your face linked with a criminal organisation isn't the best way to be obscure. So yeah, here he stood, trying to shield himself from any curious people. He who isn't known, will win the game, because the enemy won't know where to shoot.

Remember tonight... for it is the beginning of always.

  Tea and cookies / VolugDesirae / 7y 56d 2h 27m 21s
Vyacheslav walked into the club with two women on either side of him. He felt awkward walking with women but hid it so well that hardly anyone could tell. He was a lady killer and often took advantage of that to get information. He was in line for the Russian Mafia, wasn't he? Right now he had an Italian braude on his right arm and a Spanish woman on the other. If anyone were to look at him they would think he was just some man-whore kid that attended clubs on a regular basis. But almost everyone knew he was more than that, he was a powerful young man that wasn't afraid to shoot someone even if it wasn't necessary.

Vya looked around the club until his eyes landed on the heiress of the Spanish Mafia. Chuckling, he wondered if she would be happy about him using one of her women as way of getting information. Of course, he wouldn't sleep with the woman, just seduce her enough so she would spill. He was gay and only slept with women if it was fully necessary. His eyes roamed the club again until they landed on the man he had just been with a few days ago. A shiver slowly ran down his spine and he knew it wasn't from the cold.

He shook his head and pulled the two women with him to his secluded booth. He would leave them there until he returned from getting drinks. He was wondering if some action would happen or if he would be able to make some deals with the other soon-to-be leaders of the other Mafias. He felt a hand on his shoulder that made him reflexidly grab the hand and twist it harshly. Once he saw who it was, Vya apologized to the man. It was his best friend from college, Haden, and he just hurt the guy. He quickly said, "Ah, you should know better, Haden. Um, sorry though. Let me buy you a drink, to show you that I'm sorry." So, he forgot about the women and had some bonding time with his old friend. They would keep in touch but never just drink like this.

"Yeah, I remember," Vyacheslave began, "when we were at that party and got so wasted we didn't know what had happened. Greatest day of out college live. He was filled with nostalgia as he sipped the last few drops of his drink. This was already an awesome night, so he couldn't wait until later.

[Honestly, I know this sucks. I had major writers block writing this...]
The night was indeed chilly, but then again it was Winter, and it was New York, so what did she even expect? Tugging on her light beige, a deep sweetheart neckline with mutli-color stud embellishments dress. The skirt was a full style with an empire tulle mesh overlay; a little to try and make it cover as much surface area of her torso as she could, Esmeralda Isabell Marisol Cardona was stood in the smoking area of the new "it" club downtown. It was just like any other club, she couldn't help thinking as she took another drag, it had the same repetitive music, the same pompous people there, and basically the same furnishings. Just one thing was different about this club, and it was the current inhabitants of said location. To an ordinary person, it was just a reasonably busy night, a bunch of fancily dressed people had attended this party to celebrate the opening of a new venue. But those people who happened to be well dressed, including herself, were gang members. Not just any gang members, but members of the four biggest gangs in New York, and it was only a matter of time until something went down in the club, the repetitive drone of the music may as well have been the tick to accompany the time bomb. Throwing the butt of the cigarette on the floor, and stamping it out with her suede stiletto heels, Isa considered simply walking back into the club, and leaving out of the front door. She hadn't seen anyone she knew yet, no members of the gang that are her family, her life. To hell with it, if she couldn't find any of the men that she knew to have a drink with, then she'd have to find a man friend. Indeed, that would make the night a lot more interesting for herself. Turning on her heels, she swaggered back into the club, simply radiating confidence, something she'd done for most of her life.

The inside of the club was by now most definitely a party, perhaps the music wasn't as loud as it was in some places, and the alcohol didn't seem to be as free flowing as in some, but she could deal with it, turn the place into a playgrounds of sorts. But first, she had to choose her companion, choose the appropriate 'friend' to enjoy the festivities of the evening with. That was the problem in itself though, she was simply too picky when it came to men, he was too skinny, he wasn't dressed particularly well, he was too tall. Isa knew she'd have to get herself a drink before she looked around the club again, because a little bit of intoxication could go a long way when it came to choosing a man, something Isa knew only too well. When it came to the subject of men, she regarded herself as something of an expert. Dodging around gaggles of people, she began to move her way over to the bar, pondering what drink it was that she choose for the evening, never one to mix her drinks. That decision came down to one particularly horrific morning after, where not only had she blacked out and woken up in the locker room back at high school, and she had a tattoo of the a pink paw print, most definitely something she did not support.

Isa leaned against the bar and fiddled with the shot glass, surveying all the dancing bodies and lavish decorations. " El infierno está vacío y todos los demonios están aquí." The Spanish Princess quoted from the famous; William Shakespeare. The room was filled of gangsters; murderers. Isa already knew she may not be like them in heart. However, she was alike them; another heartless killer.

In these streets it's kill or be killed...

*Hell is empty and all of the devils are here.
  WildBunnii / 7y 61d 18h 34m 29s

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