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In a Carnelli hideout....
Rettaroli: "Job went messy, but its done. People around here will start coming to us for protection with all the gang wars brewing up."
Fabiano Carnelli, head of the family, took a sip from a bottle of beer smuggled in a few months back. "It won't be enough. We gotta expand our operation. Make sure those smucks in downtown know to stay clear." He looked at the bottle he was drinking from. "Get more men on that smuggling operation. And start getting more hideouts around 'ere... We'll need opportunities for more men."
Rettaroli: "I'll get the boys on it right away."
William and several other high ranking members left to expand Carnelli influence.
Later in the day, a detective came by. "Mr Carnelli?"
Fabiano looked up. He had already hidden the beer from earlier in a floor safe. His face made it clear that he knew why the detective was there. "What'chu want...?"
Detective: "There was a murder last night, few blocks down from here. I think you might've had something to do with it."
Carnelli straightened his tie. "I heard the coffee shop down the street needed someone to proof read their new advertisements. Now unless you got something worth wasting my time for, i'd suggest you get lost."
The detective was very frustrated, but knew Carnelli wouldn't crack. "Have a nice day sir..." The detective then left.
You talking to me?
EXPANDING OPERATIONS
MANHATTAN | NEW YORK CITY | MAR 8TH 1920Angelo Lucatelli sees a lot of potential with prohibition, believing that illegal smuggling and bootlegging could become very profitable. Seeing this, he has opened a bar in downtown Manhattan, legally owned by his right-hand man Guido Ammedori. The bar is actually a cover for an alcohol brewery which runs in the closed-off back of the bar. The bar is also meant to be as a sort of headquarters for the Lucatelli crime family.
ok what are you going to do
Idk. Just expand my influence in unclaimed parts of Manhattan.
Except downtown is mine.
Oh so a gang rp?
I guess lol
FRANCIS MITCHELLS | PART I | THE JOB
DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN | NEW YORK CITY | MAR 20TH 1920"Hey, Francis! Nice to see you again!" Said my friend Stephen. I hadn't seen him in quite a while, not since I quit my job at the docks back at Brooklyn.
"Steve? What are you doing here? It's very far away. I thought you were still in Brooklyn." I said back, still very confused as to what he was doing.
"It ain't a huge city, Francis, doesn't take too long to get from Brooklyn to Manhattan. Also, I don't live in Brooklyn anymore. I live here now." He replied.
"You do? Since when?" I asked.
"A week ago. I quit the docks a month ago, got a new job. What about you, how you've been?" He replied. It was strange seeing that he had quit, knowing that he loved that job with his heart and soul. Don't know how he could love a job so much, let alone a basic one at the docks.
"Haven't been able to stick to one place in Manhattan for too long but I'm doing fine, I guess you could say," I muttered, hoping he'd believe the lies that just came out of my mouth.
"Oh don't give me that bullcrap, I can see right through you. Now tell me, how are you really doing."
well, damn I thought to myself.
"Ok, ok you caught me. I ain't doing too well. Haven't been able to find a good job. Been struggling a little lately." I mumbled.
"That's sad to hear my friend, how about I let you stay at my place. Maybe I can help you out." He said.
"You're too kind to your friends Steve. No, but thanks." I replied.
"I'm afraid I must insist, Francis." He said.
there wasn't saying no to him once he insisted
"Well, if you insist. How far away is it?" I questioned.
"3 minutes walk." He responded.
"Alright then let's go." I said, grabbing my jacket and my hat.
----------------------------------------
The first thing I noticed was the building. It was clean, in fact, the entire neighbourhood was clean. When you touched the doorknob it wasn't sticky or dirty. The door looked like it had just been polished yesterday. The windows were also polished, they shined like mirrors. When you walked up the stairs, you didn't have to avoid touching the handles because they were full of mould. They were clean. And when we finally got to his apartment and he unlocked the door, I was shocked. It was huge, at least for my standards. 2 bedrooms, the living room around 5 pool tables big, and a kitchen that wasn't just the size of a table. And the bathroom, my god the bathroom. It was marble. Marble! It was a sight to behold.
"How'd you get the money to rent this place?" I asked, still in awe.
"Rent? I'm not renting this place, I bought it." He responded
"Don't kid me, Steve, just tell me how much you're renting it for." I scoffed.
"I'm not renting it, I bought it. I'm serious Francis. No kidding." He said, looking me dead in the eyes.
"Ok so let me get this straight. The last time I saw you were around half a year ago. You were still working in the docks, didn't have a nickel to spare. 6 months later and suddenly you have this beautiful marble apartment with...what kind of wood is this?" I exclaimed.
"Amazon Rosewood." He chuckled.
"Amazon Rosewood, what the f***. Just explain to me how you got from eating off stolen fish from the market to this." I said.
"Got a nice job." He responded, a smirk widening on his face.
"A nice job? What kind? I'm pretty sure you don't even know how to read or write." I said.
"It ain't got nothing to do with reading or writing. I just make deliveries, that's all." He said, his smile growing ever larger.
"Deliveries?" I asked.
"Yeah, deliveries. Easy work, easy money." He responded.
"Let me guess. You make deliveries for a couple of high-class Italians? Maybe Irishmen?" I laughed.
"I suppose you could call it that." He replied.
"Do anything else other than deliveries?" I questioned.
"Not really now, still at the bottom. Now listen. I know you never thought highly of those kinds of guys. But hey, you just said you were having a hard time, how about I do you a favour and get you a job. It's easy, it's good money and there ain't no violence involved." He said.
"How much?" I asked.
"30 per delivery." He said.
"30? Jesus Christ." I said, thinking.
"Yeah, ok, I'll do it. I need it."
hey, guess who's back
hey
Hmm. That bar was run by one of my agents. We preformed an undercover deal right after prohibition began, because the last guy was too scared of the law. I expect full compensation.
"Full compensation? Whats that supposed to mean?"
*Vespasiano stares intently at him*
"I suggest you figure it out if you value your own establishments."
"Hey now, let's not start making any threats here. I just want to know what full compensation means? I don't know you so when you say it might mean that you want my men who did the job dead but to me, it means you just want money which I'm willing to give. Now tell me which one it is."
FRANCIS MITCHELLS | PART II | FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES
DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN | NEW YORK CITY | MAY 12TH 1920Around 2 months had passed since Steve had given me that job delivering who-knows-what to who-knows-who. I'd made a lot of money, enough to move out of that crap apartment into something nicer. Still not the same as Steve's new place but it'll do. God knows it'll do. Steve was right. There was almost no risk. I was never stopped, never harassed, by anyone. To them, I was just a deliveryman, nothing else. The guy that gave me the packages that I needed to deliver was someone named Paulie. Jet black hair, somewhere in his 30s, didn't know much else about him.
The day was just about over. I'd finished my delivery of the day. Steve had invited me to some drinks at a bar just a few blocks down his house. Apparently it's their 'location', whatever that means. I said yes because I was tired and wasn't thinking much. By the time I realised what I was doing it was already too late but I didn't regret it too much. I entered the bar.
"Hey, there he is. Gentlemen, I'd like you to my friend Francis, he was the guy I was talking about. Paulie, you already know him." Shouted Steve, cigarette in one hand. The men he was with came up to me. I shook their hands. Most of them were in their 20s or 30s, I failed to see anyone any older than 40. I suppose this was the gang of young men.
"Nice to meet you, Francis. The name's Marco Rizzi. Come, let's sit down at the booth." Said one of them, pointing to a small booth at the back of the bar. We all sat down there as I ordered water.
"So, Francis names Sonny Tomelli by the way, I'd like to know a little more about you. Where you from." Said one.
"I was born here," I responded.
"And your parents?" He asked.
"Born here too. Grandfather was from Ireland though." I replied.
"So you're a bit Irish, ok. You from New York?" He questioned.
"Brooklyn. Born on the docks." I said.
"Okay, okay. Normally, Italians like us wouldn't hire other non-Italians like you and Steve, but you don't have to worry with all that. Angelo is real inclusive." He said.
"Yeah he'll kill just about anyone, doesn't discriminate." Said another. I gave out a slight chuckle, not finding it too funny, while they all burst out laughing.
"Yeah yeah. So, Francis, I got a question for you..." He stopped, looking around the whole booth.
"Cigarette?" He asked, handing out one. I supposed he noticed I was the only one that didn't smoke.
"Yeah, no thanks I don't smoke." I replied. There was an awkward silence in the booth for a few seconds as they, barring Steve, all looked at me in confusion.
"You don't..." Said, Paulie.
"I don't smoke." I repeated.
"Have you ever smoked?" Asked Marco.
"Used to, quit a few years back." I said.
"And since then you've never..." Said another.
"No." I said. They all looked at each other until one spoke out.
"And judging by the fact that you ordered water, I assume you don't drink either." Said Sonny.
"I drink. Just didn't figure any of you had alcohol considering prohibition." I said. They all looked at each other again and laughed.
"Prohibition? What prohibition?" Said one.
"Hey, Danny get me a beer will you?' Shouted Marco at the bartender. To my surprise, the bartender pulled out a bottle of whiskey, poured it into a cup and gave it to Marco.
"That's not a thing here, Francis." Said Sonny.
"That's quite a brag. How are you okay with doing it in public?" I asked.
"What, you think one of these guys is gonna rat us out?' Said Sonny.
"I guess so." I responded.
"Rat us out to who? The cops? We own them. Ain't no one ratting us out." Said Sonny. I merely watched as he began drinking his cup of whiskey. I must say it was quite the first impression.
*Vespasiano leans back in his chair.*
"Let's not get too hasty here. None of my men are dead, so I won't require murder. Monetary compensation is all that is required. And a guarantee that you will notify us before doing any more fishy business on this side of the bridge."
"Ok. I'll give you 1,000 in recompensation."
"That will be just fine, thank you"
*Vespasiano begins to get up*
Luciano also gets up, shaking Vespasiano's hand.
"Pleasure doing business with you Mr.Manzolillo."
"The pleasure is mine"
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