CS: The Cappollas(Cont.VIII)

Tony nodded, “Yeah. You’re right.” He waved his finger as he marched around the room, reformulating his plan. “Anyway, I love my son. Reno may shoot his mouth off as much as his gun and as much as other things, as well, but he’s a good kid and some of his ideas are right on. He’s even convinced me that now is the time for the rise of the Cappolla family, something which I never saw, though what he’s got boiling in his brain is pretty damn good and I can’t seem to poke a hole big enough for liability to get through. You see, we’ve got very little loyal manpower that isn’t being paid through the ass, so we’ve been trying to keep out of the gang wars that are raging through this gigantic metropolis that we call home and work. We’ve funded various rebellions throughout the city and kept the other powers always struggling internally, but we haven’t been a threat that has offered enough danger for any group to wipe us out. But Reno has heard, as he spends more time on the streets than I, due to my, I’ll admit it, paranoia of being shot down like my father, about thoughts of taking our business. Already we’re getting stepped on by everybody, including our ‘allies’ the Gambinis. This can’t happen. If we lose our money, we might as well check out. That’s why you’re here.”

“You see, I made a deal with the Gambinis to merge houses if they would willingly allow us to remain in the game. In return for keeping our lives, our territory, and our cash, we offered to deal with the other gangs. ‘How?’ they asked. Well, our fundings are rarely used and that is why we have such a large sum still gathering interest in the various banks of the city, so we said that if the Gambinis could provide us with the right men, we could easily pay them to do this. You were the one they found. An ex-operative for various ‘unnamed’ organizations within the government. Who knows if your name is the real one. Who knows where the hell you came from or who you work or have worked for, who even knows who you’ve killed. Who even knows you exist. You’re a ghost and a damn good one, since nobody’s ever hung around long to talk about you except those who are the type not to tell. Like me. Sylvestro tells me that he’s been told you’re one of the damn best at dealing with violent situations and assassinations and I think that it is time that we deal with the Eights, the Cubans, and the Black Dragon. You see, these people aren’t just fucking immigrant minorities undeserving of a shot at the big leagues, but they’re rude and nasty. They’ve crushed some of the other Italians and they’ve massacred the Cappollas.”

Tony seemed to be on the edge of fumes at this latest thought, his blood veins rising and his hands clenching tight as he shook his head. “My God what they’ve done. They’ve killed so many of my boys and blood that it isn’t a nightmare just to think about. They deserve worse than death but that’s the worst I can give em. The Dragons haven’t been so bad, they’ve just been trouncing us in some of the darker areas of the drug-dealing trade….but the Cubans and the Eights…they’re fuckin savages. The Eights were a nothing group, trying to rise their way through the ranks with casinos and gambling, only dabbling into drugs. The Cubans were strong in manpower but they were limitted to selling drugs to whatever dealers were crazy enough to buy from em as the Eights and the Gambinis killed anyone selling Cuban ‘gold.’ That’s when problems arose. We tried to wipe out the Eights who were beginning to trash our Casinos and we bashed them pretty good. The Black Dragons didn’t like the Eights much either, as the Eights had thought that the fuckin yellow bastards would go down easy and ended up losing a lot of guys. Both sides were constantly fighting and we made it a two front war. So what did the Eights do? They allied with the fucking Cubans and brought their manpower around and fucking manhandled our protection. Dealers gave in and started selling for the Cubans. Nobody but the Dragons now have any valuable chance of making a profit in the drug trade. In that process, we tried and tried to get the dealers back, but the Cubans fucked us up every time. It all culminated in a deal gone sour between the Cubans and us.”

The don picked up his cigar and inhaled deeply, letting the embers burn the cigar down. “We went to make a deal, tried to make peace. I sent a lot of my good boys in and they did, too. In fact, almost all of the lower down blood members from both sides were going to hash things out. I couldn’t go, I was out of town on other business…you in fact. Reno wouldn’t go either, he didn’t want to make peace. Anyway, the fucking thing went haywire. The Eights didn’t want the alliance to go south and so they tried to force their way into the negotiations. Somebody squeezed off a few and the place became an absolute firefight. Cops wouldn’t go near the place and the Cubans quickly were gunned down by our boys who were supported by a few of the Gambinis. The Eights pulled out out of fear, but the Cubans….they just wouldn’t fuckin’ give in. They’re almost all gone now, though they and the Eights are still allied which makes for problems. That and the crazy fuck they have for a leader.”

“Luca?”