The sound of the small waves hitting the docks filled the quiet New York night. Large cargo ships were finishing docking, and unloading. Once the workers and shipmates left for the nearest bar, a man wearing a sharp, clean charcoal suit with a black tie with an old matching fedora started walking through the empty cargo bay with four other men. He pulled out his pocket watch, looking at the time. They were right on schedule. His dark green eyes scanned the area. The night was quiet. He wasn't expecting anyone. He talked his way past the guards stationed at the gate. It came natural to Jones Lombardi. They were known to make people feel completely friendly and able to trust them.

As they reached one of the large cargo boxes, he nodded towards the other men. They started to open the box to reveal a large, round man with balding brown hair looking up at him, clearly scared. "Mister Andersen? Jones Lombardi. We're here to escort you." Jones said with a friendly smile, his white teeth shining. The round man nodded, looking around. "Are we... alone?" He asked.

"Just you me, and my family." Jones said assuringly. Mr. Andersen was an important political figure in New York at the moment. And he has been on many of the Mafia's hit lists for a while. If this man lives, it will cripple the other's safety with the law, and strengthen the Lombardi's. Personally, Jones had no problems with any of the families, but better their necks than theirs. "I'm sorry we had to transport you like this, but safety is safety." he shrugged. As he walked out of the box, he gave one more sigh of relief, and nodded. "Lead the way, Mister Lombardi."

Jones nodded and smiled, and as they started walking, he and his men made a diamond formation around him, but nothing too suspicious. Right before they reached the gate, Jones stopped and looked at Mr. Andersen. "I told the guard i was looking for my drunk friend who stumbled in here..." And with that, Jones ripped one sleeve, took out a small glass of alcohol, and splashed it over him. He messed up his balding here, and untucked his shirt. He nodded, then gave a nod towards the gate.

"Hello, sir! I found him. Was sleeping next to a bunch of seagulls!" Jones said with a laugh. The guard replied with a laugh himself, and nodded. "You should take more care of him. Dont want him accidentally drowning." He said. "Oh we will be taking good care of him from now on, sir. Have a good night!" Jones said with ease. They walked a couple more blocks until they reached a small, worn out car. Jones walked towards the trunk, opened it, and looked at Mr. Andersen. "I'd hate to do this for you, but..." He trailed off, giving him an apologetic look. Mr. Andersen looked rather scared, but nodded quickly and climbed in. Once closing the trunk, Jones and the four men climbed in to the cabin of the car, and drove off.

---

They dropped him off successfully. Mr. Andersen was safely stored in a safe house until his next political campaign. Some of his finest family members were covering him until then. He checked his pocket watch again. He cussed, realizing the time. Almost dinner. If it was one thing Italian families did, it was have dinner together, as a family. He sped up, driving into Harlem where the Lombardi's took residence. It had the most clubs, and people most loyal to the Lombardi's. He parked the car in front of a small little house. He climbed up the stairs, knocked on the door, taking off his hat to reveal a neatly groomed head of dark brown hair. He hoped he wasn't late.

Sophia:

She sat behind her desk, reviewing the data that she had received on the new gun that was just traded to them. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as what she was reading could bring them a lot of money. She was so good at what she did and loved every moment of it. After a few more minutes of review, she got up and placed the documents in a filing cabinet, which was just beside her desk. She closed the cabinet then looked up at her mother, who was entering her office.

“Hey Mama, I was just…” Her Mother raised her hand up, shaking her head. “I sometimes wish that I could’ve been there when you made the decision to be a part of this mafia business.” She said while sitting down in one of the chairs in Sophia’s office. “Well, I’m sorry but no matter what you said, I still would’ve joined anyway.” Sophia snapped towards her mother as she continued to walk past her and out of her office. Sophia was independent and was going to show her mother that she was wrong. The Mafia business is for Sophia, hell, she still alive and well.

Sophia walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, seeing that no one has bothered to get started on dinner. She scoffed and rolled her eyes while grabbing an apron and wrapping it around her waist, putting it up in a high ponytail as she got out pots and pans. “Now, what to cook is the question?” She asked to herself while tapping her chin. With the shrug of her shoulders, she just thought to make some vegetable soup and if they didn’t like it then they can come and cook for themselves.

&

Priscilla:

She turned to the side in the bed and reached for Jones, who wasn’t there as usual. She sighed while getting out of the bed and going into the bathroom, freshening up and getting her day started. Priscilla placed upon a blue, buttoned up blouse along with black pants and flat shoes, with stockings going up to her calf. She walked over to the tall mirror in the room and looked herself over while applying on a little bit of makeup – From there; she walked over to the window and scanned the streets below, hoping that Jones would be home for dinner. She sighed again while turning away from the window and leaving the room, going down the stairs and into the living area.

She greeted most of the Lombardi family that were sitting there then proceeded into the kitchen with a smile, greeting others again. “Oh, I’ll set the table for you guys.” She said while grabbing the dishes, silverware and napkins. She wasn’t scared of the Lombardi’s anymore, since she now works for them and dates their prized possession. She giggled to herself while setting up the last spot on the table.

A knock came over the door, which caused her to jump and gasp slightly as she looked at everyone, who was kind of cautious to get the door. “I’ll get it.” Priscilla spoke while walking towards the door, reaching for the doorknob as most of Lombardi men were ready to shoot. She hoped that it Jones behind this door and not a rival. With the close of her eyes and a slight breath outward, she turned the doorknob and opened the door, seeing that it was Jones.

Priscilla squealed and jumped up and gave him a tight hug. Soon, she broke the hug then waved for him to come on in. She would take his hat and coat and hang it up on a hook then walked quickly to stand by his side.

"Merda!" Analise called out loudly from the kitchen of their small home in the heart of Harlem. She had gotten slightly distracted while cooking and a light smoke filled the room quickly. Throwing open the window, she fanned wildly with the newspaper her husband had left on the counter earlier that morning during breakfast time. Her dish; Parmigiana di Melenzane was a little dark around the edges but nothing the woman couldn't recover. All the flavors of her home region were to be layered one upon the other. The dish consisted of fried eggplant, tomato sauce, mozzarella, parmesan and basil, and when done just right would make even the busiest man stop for seconds. It was a shame the only important men in her life we’re always a step above being just that.

Busy.

Ana gave a small smile to Priscilla; her daughter in law. “Don’t let anyone know eh? Our little secret.” she let out a laugh, fanning still. She wiped her damp forehead with her forearm as she watched the girl pick up the items for the table from the cabinet. Analise liked Priscilla quite a lot, it was apparent she was with Jones for him, and not just for the money. She watched her exit through the swinging kitchen door, revealing the scattered group of men and a few woman accompaniments that had tagged along. Most were related to Antonio in some fashion: friends, cousins, and others she had no idea who they were. Analise always fed them heartily though, a person could never leave the Lombardi house hold without a full stomach.

The sound of the door was always a heart dropper. The woman held her breath as the sounds of fidgeting in the other room caused the sound of her heart beat to triple. One second, two, seemed like several before the door was open. Alas, a squeal of joy escaped from Priscilla’s lips. That meant it was safe, her only son had returned from another night, and things would be okay for now. Grabbing the tray, Analise used her hip to open the door, “Dinner is ready, come-a get it!”

Angelo Moriarti

"Sophia, good evening." Said a blonde-haired young man as he strolled through the kitchen. He liked paying visits to his sister, even if it was mostly about business. With father confined to a bed and mother at odds with her daughter, Angelo found himself sticking around Sis' a lot. "I noticed there's been some more increases in sales recently. Raking in the profit... You're gonna take over as the Don instead of me if you keep this kinda thing up!" He chuckled, "I could never manage all that. I like to get my hands dirty instead. We'll bring our Family back to the top with our ever-growing connections, won't we?"

A family member in a brown suit with big round spectacles was waiting by the door, adjusting his watch and glancing at the two every now and again as if to tell Angelo to get a move on. Business was business. It was a new day - more people to threaten, dirty money to make and whatnot!

The Moriartis still held onto much of their old Brooklyn territory, but expansions by smaller gangs and other Families over time started reducing the previously dominant Mafia's power. Angelo intended to take back what was lost, and to simply "off the small-time fuckers" who took advantage of the Moriartis recent lack in manpower. Heads would roll, that was for sure. And it would be done with an honest-to-God smile on Angelo Moriarti's face...

---

Maria Russo

Life in an untrustworthy, sneaky and backstabbing Family as the Russos just didn't work out for one particular member of the Godfather's personal family. His daughter Maria wasn't like the rest. She had all the 'nice girl' qualities that could make her a valuable spy or assassin, but she simply didn't bother. Peace was all Maria wanted, but any sane individual would tell her they wouldn't fall for tricks like those. She was alone in that regard - her Family were infamous in the art of cloak & dagger acts, and she was just trying to live happily in her own little world. Her Family paid no attention, and other Families stayed away, fearing Maria to be some kind of time bomb the Russos could place close to the heart of their enemies. Nobody as part of the Mafia could be so innocent and pure... But they were all wrong.

Maria found herself sitting outside a cafe not very close to any of the rival gangs' territories this morning. A hot cappuccino, a book and some breakfast was a nice start to the day. Her friends and family were likely gathered together plotting at this hour, or doing whatever the Russo Family did. Couldn't anybody just take some time to sit down with the neighbouring Families' leadership and talk? It would be impossible for that to happen... Diplomacy didn't usually end well in the criminal underworld.

She wouldn't go home unless it was absolutely necessary, so by the time the sun was setting she just wasn't going to move from this spot.

A dim street light flickered, barely lighting the parking lot behind a doughnut shop. There was only one car there, a Chevrolet Impala with an older man in need of a shave sitting behind the wheel. Before long a young woman concealing her identity with a baseball cap and flannel took her place in the passenger seat.

"Leave it to a pig to set up a meeting behind a doughnut shop" she said, clearly annoyed.

"No one goes to doughnut shops at night, kid. Have you made any progress?" the cop said, still looking forward and not making eye contact.

"First of all my name's Rosie, not kid. And no, I haven't found a damn thing. I've barely been there a month, who do you think I am Sherlock Holmes?"

"We didn't pull you out of prison just for fun y'know. We need results. Do they at least trust you?"

"The old lady is glad I'm back, but its hard to say about the others. Probably think I'm a freeloader." She scratched her nose as she said so, and turned to look out the window.

"Good, as long as they don't suspect you. But next time we meet I expect something solid."

Rosie exited the car and took a cab back to the Moriarti mansion. "Watch it four eyes" she said as she squeezed her way past the man with the brown suit and into the kitchen in search of a snack. "Oh hey, whats cooking good looking" she joked when she realized Sophia was busy cooking dinner.

Jones smiled wide as he saw Priscilla at the door. He hugged her back, giving her a kiss on her head. "Hello, my love." He said with a smile as she took his hat and coat. He knew the scream of excitement was due to him being gone for so long... and having such a dangerous job. He loved Priscilla more than anything, and was glad she understood, and supported him. He tried to show his love as much as he could to her. "Thank you." He said, then jumped a bit when he heard his mother yell. Young little cousins of his ran through the house laughing towards the dinner table. Once Priscilla was done hanging up his stuff, he gave her a kiss on the lips, and a wink. He then made his way towards his mom. "Ciao, Madre" Jones said in italian, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Is Pop still working upstairs?" He asked her as they walked into the dining room. "I can go get him if you want." He said, getting pats on the back and nods and greetings from his large family.

Chovik walked through his medium sized furniture store gettting ready to lock it up and head to the dock to over see a shipment of merchandise come in. As he got to the front door he reached hia hand into his leather jacket and pulled out a ring of keys. Once to the door he inserted the key and locked the door then made his way to the back room where he exited after arming the alarm and locking the back door as well.

He walked at a steady pace to his car, a black two door Pontiac, and got in. He looked aroud the area behind his shop before starting his car, and driving out to the docks. On his way there a car fell in behind him, his boys, following him all the way to the storage wherd the shipment was coming in. Once there he stayed in his car waiting for the delivery truck to arrive. When the truck showed up Chovik grabbed his hand gun from the compartment under the passenger seat and put it in his inner jacket pocket then stepped out.
"Ah, Cho, how's it going?" Asked the man stepping out of the truck.
"Slow and full of der'mo. Do you have the merchandise, Herold?" Chovik asked annoyed, glancing out at the water and getting really close to the man. Though Herold was an old friend of his he still didn't like working with him. He talked way too much and asked too many questions, but, alas, he got what was needed and was out at sea a lot making him less of a liability.
"Oh, uh, yeah it's in the truck." At the Chovik waved a hand forward and two burly men came forward, passing the two, and began to unload several crates. "Business that bad?" Herold asked again.
Chovik let out an exasperated sigh before answering. "Yes, it is." He then reaxhed into his jacke, making Harold tens up, and produced a stack of bills. Harold relaxed and reached out takin the stack. "Now please get in your truck, and let us handle this."
Harold chuckled as he went back to the truck. "You haven't changed one bit."
Chovik's two men unloaded four crates, two labeled chair, one labeled couch and the last one was labeled table. Once they were done Harold drove away into the fading light as Chovik instructed his men where and how to put the crates in his storage unit. When they were done they all got in theor cars and drove away. Chovik to his hotel suite, and his men back to where ever they go for the night.

Carl Holtzer (Freddy Benedetti)

Anyone could be watching; it was a fact that Carl was painfully aware of.

It was true that it was a bit early in the game to get properly paranoid, but as the old saying went; you couldn't be too careful.

As he walked casually down the street with his fists stuffed into the pockets of his favorite jacket, the undercover cop realized that he didn't quite agree with the old idiom. You could easily be too careful. Being too careful could mean stagnation, getting nowhere, or missing a deadline. A lit cigarette stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he gazed at the street underneath him. It was still slick with yesterday morning's rain. The city that never slept, dried out, or cleaned itself. Like an old dishrag. That was one thing he missed dearly about Chicago, it was cleaner. Oh sure, the Big Apple was bustling. With germs.

Before long, his destination sat humbly before him; a Chinese restaurant. Or Chinese-American, whatever. Bright red lights shone through the muck that this city called air. Carl shook his head a little and stepped inside, instantly taking a dislike to his handler's choice of meeting place. The atmosphere was thick with scents and sounds of fried food, and touching the inside door handle revealed a thin layer of oil covering the interior. He had never considered himself a neat freak until he was transferred here. Carl sighed as he scanned the tables for Michael. There were others here, but not too many. That was good. He spotted his contact at the other end of the place, far away but with a good view of the door. Michael had seen him as well, and waved him over.

Michael Alker was his full name, though Carl suspected that he had it changed to sound more American. He could sympathize with that; the number of Kraut jokes Carl had received from some of the patrol officers was staggering. He couldn't immediately tell where Michael was from; he had the creepiest bright blue eyes and longish jet black hair pulled back tighter than a sailor's knot. The combination was unsettling, and he never did meet a more intimidating guy; tall, broad shouldered, and he had that mid forties 'I've seen more than you ever will' look about him. A sudden curiosity overcame his tact as Carl approached the table. Maybe he could pry his origins out of him.

“I never pictured you eating in a place like this.” Carl glanced at the restaurant around him.
“Find me somewhere that serves decent borscht and maybe then I'll fulfill your expectations.”
Bingo.
“Christ, Mike, are you Red?” Carl joked as he sat down, pretending to sound sincere. Michael stared at him disapprovingly.
“I'll bring you a pamphlet the next chance I get.” It was a joke, apparently.
Carl gestured at the plate of some soupy looking thing in front of Michael. “I see you got started without me.”

Mike slid a white paper carton across the table at him. “Have some rice. Then order something and stop whining.” He must have seen the look on Carl's face and continued, “It's good, I promise. Now, obviously I have news for you.”

“Is it good news?” Carl asked, more excited than he let on, though he masked it by carefully opening the carton as if he was afraid of its contents.

“That depends on your perspective. It's rice, Holtzer, it's not gonna kill you, so stop pretending like it will.” Michael glanced around before lowering his voice only slightly. “Dutch put in a good word for you- well, for 'Freddy'.” He corrected himself. “Told them about how you did time and you're looking for good work. They're interested; you have an in. They have your number and they'll give you a call, and like a good little mafioso you're gonna jump at the chance.”

Carl beamed and reached over the table to shake Mike's hand. “Oh, that is good. That is beyond good; I can finally get back to work, get my hands dirty.” Mike returned the gesture, his hand practically being crushed by Carl's enthusiasm, but he remained as stony-faced as ever.

“This is fun for you.” Michael observed. Oh, here it was, Michael Alker speech about how he was hot headed and that he should be more careful and that this wasn't a game and blah blah blah...

“I enjoy my work.” Carl grinned and waved someone over so he could order; he was in too good a mood to be afraid of some weird food. “Don't you? Why do you do this job? For queen and country? For civic duty?” He said rather abrasively, regretting it almost instantly.

Michael ignored the tone and put down his spoon. “Just remember that you're not here for the small fry. That's what informants are for. We want you in there, as high up as you can get. Work your way up, and then topple the Rosetti's from inside out. Like you did in Chicago.”

“Yeah, yeah...bring up my glory days why don't you.”

“I read the reports. It was good work.” Mike admitted. “I don't know what the families are like in Chicago, but it's different here.” Carl settled in, know full well what was coming. “Here...they make you feel like a friend. The word 'family'...it's a perfect word. They'll invite you over for dinner, or to their cousin's wedding. They're gonna fill you full of pasta and meatballs and lasagna that their Mama made and it'll be the best damn food you'll ever have. Maybe Mama kisses your face, calls you her favorite; you can be at their house all day and never talk a word of business. Then you'll go out for drinks with the sons; you'll laugh, drink and smoke and then they'll call you brother.” Michael's gaze pierced him now, as if seeing right through him. “But they'll just as soon blow your brains out.” Michael settled back again, returning to his soup. “Even if you weren't a cop. And they swear that they'd never hurt a civilian but for criminals that's surprisingly naïve. Some of them think their business only hurts the other families. Idioty.” he spat in Russian. “I'm the only one you can trust, Carl. Don't forget that. And don't forget who you're doing this for.”

Carl let Mike's little speech sink in as his food arrived. Some noodlely mound on a plate. Poking it with a chop stick, Carl said, “Well, I hope this doesn't kill me.” He ventured a careful bite. After a moment, his eyes widened and he admitted, “You know, that's actually really good.”

“No, I didn't know.” Michael said, his humor as dry as a bone. “I just come here for the fortune cookies.”

"Ciao" Analise cooed as she accepted the kiss upon setting the tray down. "Si," Ana started in an annoyed tone, "Your father has been hiding up stairs most of the day, he hasn't come down much at all." Ana began dishing out pieces onto plates, handing out slices to hands that were held out. "Please find your brother as well Jones, I can't seem to find him anywhere and I'm starting to get a little worried." Ana admitted as small grubby hands pulled at her dress.

"Zia Anaaaa" a pudgy face child whined below, Ana's soft grey eyes peered down. She remembered her own two children at this age, so full of life, wonder, and innocence. If she were younger she'd beg Antonio for another. Was that selfish of her? She just wanted someone to take care of in a way that only a mother could. "Si?" Ana questioned, her small frame leaning down slightly to hear the young boy's request. "Thank you for dinner! Will there be dessert?" A hearty laugh exploded from Analise as she patted the boy on the shoulder, "Of course!" she exclaimed, "But first you should eat your dinner, and then Zia will get you a nice piece of torta caprese, and if you're really good and eat everything.. she paused giving a playful smile, "I'll even put some ice cream on top!"

If smiles could mend problems, the smile that formed on the child's face would have ended the mafia right there and then. Quickly he rushed off to eat his food next to his parents. Whilst Ana waited for her family to be at the table. It was important for her for her husband and her sons to be safe and sound before she could even lift a fork to her mouth.

Priscilla:

She remembered the look that Ana had given her in the kitchen as she chuckled to herself then smiled as the kids ran up towards Jones. Her ears twitched slightly when she heard that dinner was ready as she received the kiss placed upon her lips from Jones. She blushed and turned to the side, after seeing his wink. It was nice to be with him and him alone; his money meant nothing to her since she was getting her own on the side anyway.

Priscilla watched from a distance as Jones received much love from his family. She couldn’t do anything but smile as she helped Ana: her mother-in-law, pass out the food. Once everyone had a plate, they didn’t waste any time at all. Priscilla smacked the hand of one of the males as he gave her look and she gave him one right back. She wasn’t the type to go toe to toe with and damn sure wasn’t the one to mess with. “There is enough for everyone, so there is no need to eat off anyone else’s plate.” She slightly rolled her eyes from the male then sat down at the table, not eating until she knew where Jones was going.

-&-

Sophia:

She turned her head slightly from her soup to face her brother with a smile. “I think you mean that I would be the doness.” She laughed at the word that she had just made up then looked towards her brother again. “Yes, the family will back on top like the good ol’ days. I got another shipment coming in on something that I think will bring us a lot of money.” She smirked while placing the top onto the pot after stirring it then looked at her brother again. “Put I am keeping my lips sealed until it gets here.”

Sophia sighed softly while lowering her head and rubbing her hands together. “How’s father doing?” She asked while raising her hand up but not looking at her brother this time. She waited for his response. She actually loved her brother, a lot. She liked the fact that with her mother and father kind of out of action, he was always by her side and paying her visits, sometimes unexpected but she really didn’t mind.

“Angelo…” She paused before asking her next question, knowing that it might set him off but she was going to ask anyway. “Do you really think that our family will be back on top?” She asked then turned back around, lifting the top off of the soup and stirring it then placing the top back on it. Her eyes then peered towards the female that had just entered and she heard her speak towards her and her brother. "Ew, don't talk to us." Sophia said while looking at her brother then rolling her eyes - Only he knew what that meant as she stared at the female. "And this food is only for the family. The rats eat the scraps." She said with a soft laugh while turning back to the pot and stirring it again.

Jones laughed and nodded. "You worry to much, Ma... He's probably upstairs with dad, or in his room reading." He said, smiling at the conversation between his mom and small cousin. He saw Priscilla cussing out Uncle Ralph. He smiled a bit. She fit in to the family perfectly. He walked up behind her, talking into her ear. "I'm gonna get my dad and brother. I'll be right back." He said with another peck on her cheek. He walked out into the hallway and towards the stairs. He loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. It felt good being home. He wanted a good night sleep with his woman right next to him, and waking up to his mother yelling to wake up for breakfast... but something told him that his job won't let him wake up just when he wanted. He made it upstairs, knocking on Matteo's door. "Brother! Dinner time! Ma's gonna kill you if you're a second later!" He called out. Although Matt was sick and quieter than most of the family, Jones loved him to death. Especially since he was his only brother. They did everything together as kids when he wasn't with his dad.

He then walked down the hall some more, to a large heavy wood door. He wasn't sure if his father was in here, but Mom's orders were sometimes more important than his. "Hey, Pop. Ma's getting mad. Time to eat!" He tapped on the door, then walking back downstairs. "They should be out soon." He announced to the family, taking his seat next to Priscilla.

"Advantage" was the word Matteo spoke through teeth, as his brother knocked on the door to tell him to come down. Good, He hadn't been late. He was reading a book, a book he had read many times, but people forget that books are things that you should read many times. Though, he had only been reading the book for two minutes. Even better, He'd only been in the house for five. There's a reason why he wanted this room, with the window in this paritcular place. He smiled and put down his book. Advantage.

He loved dinner with the family, who couldn't? He opened up the door, "Sto arrivando, sto arrivando!" He shouted. He sure hoped the food was good, he really did. Well, he would of gave a smile anyway, he wouldn't risk the wrath of ma
If anything, He hoped the chatting was good, because the family always talked. He nearly tripped when coming down the stairs. He made a small sigh as he put a smile on his face as he went to the table. He looked at his brother and his mom "I'm here! No need to worry, I wouldn't miss dinner no matter what." He gave a grinn as he dodged past a running little one. "Phew, They sure are going fast these days!"

Antonio Lambardi leaned forward, placing his elbows on the polished oak desk, staring down at the intricate little patterns burned into the wood as he listened to the conversion on the phone. Though his face was expressionless, there was a cold look in those hazel eyes--a look of fury, a look of pure animal rage. But if you saw him as he cradled the phone in his hand, you wouldn't guess how pissed he was unless you got a look into the dangerous eyes of his. That is where you could see the malice, the hate. He listened intently, slowly drumming his fingers across the top of the desk. I don't have time for this shit, Antonio thought angrily, glaring at the phone. "Worst fuckin' invention," he mumbled under his breath. He wished Analise was here right now--she was always able to make his rage melt away, make him feel better about things, even when shit just refused to go right. Like now.

"Now you listen here," Antonio spoke into the phone with amazing composure. "He said he doesn't need my fuckin' protection? He thinks he's just gonna run a fuckin' club on MY fuckin' turf, and not pay a damn cent? That fuck...that lousy, no good son of a bitch--" Antonio's brow furrowed slightly as he was interrupted by his associate on the phone. It furrowed even more at the mans words.

"You are treading on dangerous ground," Antonio told the man, his voice calm, polite, even respectful. But the tone was low, a clear warning if there ever was one. "You don't tell me how the fuck I should or should not run my family, you hear me? I know what I'm doing. You work for me, I don't fuckin' work for you. Now, you hang up this fucking phone, and tomorrow afternoon at 4:30, we're gonna have a little sit down. We're gonna chat about our fuckin' problem and decide what to do with that prick. Nobody opens up a fucking nightclub, without my fucking permission. I gotta go, family dinner." With those words, without waiting for a reply, he slammed the phone down, jaw clenched tightly. Seconds later he heard his son knock on the door, announcing it was time to eat. Sighing wearily, he thought of Analise...she was so disheartened of late. He knew that, he could see it in her eyes. It was the late nights, staying up until the early hours of the morning, then constantly having to arrange this or meet at this place, talk about that. It was never ending. He loved his family, respected it, but sometimes he felt he was losing touch with Analise....and it broke his heart sometimes. But business was business and family was family. She was tough, she'd handle it. She had for this long, after all.

Making his way downstairs, he saw the crowd had already arrived. Forcing a smile, hoping his eyes didn't betray the anger, that something had gone wrong, he walked write over to Analise, enveloping her in a bear-hug and kissing her quickly. "Ciao Bella--the food smells wonderful, Ana--but then, doesn't your cooking always? Best cook in Italy, best cook in America!" he ravished her with praise, then leaned close to her ear and in a soft whisper, spoke "Mi dispiace, I had business...I'll tell you about it later." With that, he took his place at the table, spreading a napkin over his suit, thoughts racing through his mind.

Carl had taken a cab to his apartment, not his real apartment but his undercover place. It was under the name Fred Benedetti, and he had been living in it for the past few months. Appropriately, it was a hole, but he had spent most of that time making it look like a lived in hole, so if anyone came in it wouldn't be an obvious facade.

As he entered, Carl shut the door behind him and leaned against it, taking a deep controlled breath. This was it, he was in now and there was no going back. The feeling was terrifying...and exhilarating. A false life enveloped around his own now. Carl didn't exist anymore, it was Freddy now. Freddy, the thug, the dumb muscle that would work his way up to the top because he wasn't quite so dumb.

He straightened against the door and shook his head, talking to himself, “Piss your pants, dive in and swim.”

Not long after he started lounging around on the couch, the sharp trill of the phone pierced through the confines of the apartment. Carl's head spun with apprehension. What, already? ...Can't be right...

He squirmed his way off the couch and picked up the phone, steeling his voice. “Fred here.”

“Benedetti?”

“Yeah.” Listen, don't talk. Do as your told. His mind ordered him.

“Work comes sooner than we thought, kid. I'll fill you in tomorrow; 4pm at Marco's Bistro on Grand Street, you know the place?”

“I'll find it.”

“Good. If you got a piece, bring it. If you don't, then find one. You're gonna need it. Don't be late.”

Before he could respond, the call was over. Carl hung up the receiver slowly, thinking of his revolver. Whatever this was, it was either big, dangerous, or both. Skip the frying pan, head straight into the fire. He would make sure he was ready for it.

Angelo Moriarti

"I beg your pardon?!" The bespectacled Englishman snapped at the young woman who'd just barged in. He totally lost his cool, but a threatening glare from Angelo's eyes put him down before he could go any further. If there was one thing Angelo couldn't tolerate, it was Family infighting.

Angelo turned his eyes away from his sister as she asked him of their father's health. The man was dying, and even the best doctors in NYC couldn't figure out why. He wasn't overly old, he was never a heavy smoker or drinker... "He's resting," he replied, "I think he might start making a recovery soon. Dad's tougher than losing to a damn cold."

Smirking at his sister's following question, Angelo leaned back on the kitchen wall. "You see a reason why we can't rise to our former status? We got guns, money and manpower - more than Father had. We gotta take every opportunity that presents itself to expand our enterprise. We might be able to form an alliance with one of the more powerful Families, let relations build - that's something I wanna look into. We gotta make our influence spread over more of this city by any means possible if we're to take back what the Moriarti have lost."

"...Ms. Delaney, good evening." Angelo then said, "What brings you here?"

---

Maria Russo

With nothing much going on, and her favourite cafe closing, Maria decided it was time to go home before it got too dark. Even if she wasn't regarded as a very important figure, her kidnapping or abduction could seriously damage the Russo's reputation. Staying out too late was almost begging for something to go wrong. "Thank you for your hospitality. Buonanotte, Mrs Voss!" The redhead called out as she left her table, leaving the money there along with a tip. The multicultural city was great. Civilian life seemed to be so peaceful...

"Stay safe, Miss Russo..." The German woman called after Maria.

For Maria, it would never be that 'normal'. She couldn't go back to being that part of 'everyone', she was a part of the Russo Famiglia and was expected to act like an obedient young lady should. ...All she could do was escape that dark world by not hanging around her family for too long, leaving home whenever possible.

Priscilla

She listened to Jones as he told where he was going then felt his lips touch her cheek. She blushed again and almost melt in her seat as she looked at everyone then immediately straightened up. Priscilla scanned everyone as they ate then grabbed her knife and fork and started eating herself. She was getting a cold stare from Uncle Ralph after their earlier tussle but hell, she knew that he wouldn't dare put his hands on her - Not in front of everybody at least. When she saw that Jones had returned to the table and sat beside her, a huge smile spreads across her face.

Her eyes then looked up and seen Matt finally made an appearance down the stairs, she offered him a small wave followed by a smile. She leaned over to Jones and whispered into his ear. "How are things at the club?" Her eyes diverted upward when she seen The Don had graced them with his appearance. Even though she was apart of the Lombardi family, Papa Antonio scared her the most. She didn't know whether it was his power or the fact that at a snap of a finger, ten guys can jump on you and kill you. She definitely wanted to stay on his good side and she barely spoke to him.

Priscilla poured some more beverage into Jones' cup with a smile then got up from the table. She saw that most of the men and women were finished eating so she took it upon herself to gather the plates. She walked through the swinging door of the kitchen and sat the dishes on the counter, scraping out any excess food but with Ana's cooking there hardly was any left on anyone's plate. She sat the plates in the sink then leaned against the sink, sighing to herself while leaning against the counter.

With the arrival of all her family, Analise could finally breathe. The three men in her life, her life support were all home. Safe and sound. As Antonio wrapped his arms around her petite body she couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. His lips met hers in a quick, but tender kiss. You're too good to me Antonio. Ana gleamed, smiling as everyone dug into the food she had prepared most of the evening. As Antonio's whispers invaded her ear, he apologized and explained that he was gone all night because of business that he would explain to her later. She whispered back softly. "Di niente. Just enjoy dinner with your family. You deserve it." With that she pushed off from him gracefully. Finding a small plate of food for herself, for what was left.

Silently she watched everyone interact, she had learned early on from her mother that as a wife you'll learn more from listening and watching then talking and doing any day. On that note Analise made a reminder to herself to send a letter and some money to her parents back home tomorrow. Putting another forkful into her painted red lips, her bright grey eyes watched Priscilla get up, taking plates with her. "Don't wash them bambolina, I'll get to it later!" she called, watching the door swing open and close.

It was only a few more bites in that she remembered the cake. Turning to address the group of people she announced, "I made dessert too, and coffee. So don't go anywhere without it. Okay? Okay!" Ana gathered some more of the empty plates as she made her way to the kitchen as well. Nodding at Priscilla she smiled noticing the troubled eyes she was given in return, "Why so sad sweetheart? Are you not happy Jones is home to us?" she questioned, piling dishes next to the sink as she reached into the cold oven to take out of the cake that had been sitting there since it was baked.

The aluminum foil across it had kept it warmed for the most part, warm enough to melt the ice cream that she had promised one of the children that would accompany it. Carefully she took a knife to the torta caprese; a chocolate cake filled with almonds that required no flour to make. A cake that was a nice treat, no plates necessary. "Priscilla, have I ever told you about why Jones is named Jones?" Ana started, she loved telling this story, and often got a huge laugh out of it herself when she did. The woman continued to slice the cake as she rattled off her story:

"Okay, imagine me yeah? I'm a little girl, around your age coming to America with Antonio, He couldn't keep his hands off of me. Not even long after we get off the boat, I'm-a pregnant with Jones, a big belly out to here" Ana exaggerates, her hands motioning to how large she was. "You would have thought I was married to a king! Any-a-way, before I knew it I was giving birth to him. Pop! He came-a out, and the nurse turned to me," Ana turned looking at Priscilla with a change of voice, as to imitate the nurse, "What do you want to name your newborn son Mrs. Lombardi?" Ana leaned back on one leg, positioning herself comfortably as she continued, "I thought to myself, I want to have a biblical name for my son, help him in the world, so I say to the nurse, I want his name to be-a Jonah!" Ana let out a laugh, "But, the thing is I barely could speak English at the time, and all she heard was-a Jones!" Ana laughed, and laughed, wiping her happy tears with her finger tips. By that time she had cut the cake, and gotten the ice cream from the icebox.

"Moral of the story is, don't have children." Ana slipped in, as she returned back to the dining room with ice cream, coffee and the dessert.

Matteo was rather quiet as he ate his food, staring down at the the table. He was thinking, he tended to get distracted. This food is delicous! Okay seriously Matt focus, I have to focus...think, What will I d-. Matteo looked up, Father, Antonio, Pa, Whatever name people would call him, He never really thought about what to call him. He just thought of something suitable and went with it. Which normally made him use different names in the same conversation. Matt gave a small smile and looked back down. Taking another bite he looked back down again.

These dinners, Why do they have to sometimes feel so tense? Well...I'll always know why. That's the sad truth, I'll always know why, but that will never change the mood, the small sighs. The small looks people give. Hah, This food is really nice..But I have to think. Think, But there are to many things around me. Advantage to them. Turn the Tide, that I was told right? Turn the tide and everything will slot into place.That what they told me, that was the one thin they kept telling me.Atleast I think so, I can't remember. Everything is a distraction. Think, Think till you have an Advantage! Because everything else will fail if you don't...

"Well...I think, That I might be goin-" The greatest smell crept into his nose, and there was only thing that it could ever, and I do mean there was only one thing that smelled like it. Mama's Desert. "Well, I guess..." He sat back down, well he wasn't sure if he ever got up but he sure as hell got back down.
"Ummm....." Was there something he was going to say? He swear there was something he wanted to say. Something about....
"Sickness?" Matt said quietly,

That wasn't it,Huh. Now that I think about...I do feel a little dizzy"

Jones smiled and patted Matt on the back when he appeared, then gave a nod to his father as he sat down as well. As he ate he was happy hearing the stories of his family, laughing at some of them, making a harmless remark, just enjoying being with his family. When Priscilla asked about the night club, he looked over at her, smiling. "Great. We got a new band joining in on our late night shows to get the place going, we got some imported beverages, the best in town thanks to Pop... So far its pretty well." Jones said, summing it down. So far he hasn't come in to any run-ins at his club, and he didn't want it to. It would be a shame to have the curtain of death hang over everyone that walked into the room. He thanked Priscilla when she poured him more of his drink. He could tell that Pop was troubled... pissed off one might say. But he knew best not to go around asking about it in front of anyone. If it were important, he would tell his second in command son.. right?

"Boy am i stuffed... I can't eat another--" He was cut off by the smell of the dessert, and sat back down. "Or i can stay a while and make sure everyone's cake is alright.." He got playful yells from the young ones, Jones laughed. "Alright, alright... I'll only Check Austin's." He said jokingly, getting another yell. He loved the time the most. Sometimes it was nice not worrying about what the Moriatti's were doing, or if the Russo's are scheming another trick meeting. He was with his beautiful wife, his family, and hopefully a good nights rest before another day on the job.

Geez, I don't even know why I bother Rosie thought to herself. "Is that anyway to talk to your cousin" she glared at both of them, sizing them up. "Whatever, enjoy your freakin soup" she muttered as she left the room. So Sophia was busy cooking and Angelo was going somewhere. Now was a good opportunity to snoop around. Rosie casually strolled through the hallway, trying to not look suspicious.

"Oh dear, you should really dress nicer" said a voice coming from behind her.

"Aww, auntie, its not like I'm going out tonight" Rosie responded, realizing she was still in her disguise.

"Kids these days!" her aunt said jokingly. "If you're not going anywhere then don't be late for dinner" she said as she continued on her way. Rosie's aunt was the only one that has been welcoming to her. Maybe it was just because she felt guilty about of what happened to Rosie's parents. Either way her aunt was the only one here she'd consider family.

When Rosie was certain she was alone she snuck into Sophia's office and closed the door behind her. Everything in there was nice and neat, Rosie was careful not to touch anything she didn't need to. The really juicy stuff was probably in the filling cabinet, which to her frustration was locked. Under other circumstances she would just force it open with a crowbar or hammer, but discretion was the name of the game here. Now, where would Sophia keep her keys. Rosie prayed she didn't keep it with her.