Hidden 3 days ago Post by TheWildBunnii
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TheWildBunnii The Obsessed Latina

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"Ma'am?"


A body rolled over in the large four poster queen, the sheets were everywhere, barely covering the woman's half-naked body. The room was quite large, the floor made from wood, the walls painted a creamy white and the red velvet curtains kept the sun out without fail. That was half the problem, Catalina was one to get up early before the sun rose tot he horizon but some days she would sleep until late in the afternoon to make up for the sleepless nights. A woman dressed neatly walked to the curtains and yanked them open letting the sun pour into the room stirring Catalina once again. Catalina slowly raised her head, her eyes fluttered opened to reveal the beautiful blue eyes which many had fallen for.

“ It’s noon, Ma’am. The event coordinators had called, the chef and the decorators have arrived. All of the press and paparazzi have been informed once more this is a private event and no cameras or equipment are allowed within the premises while the event and its guests are in attendance.”

The event is supposed to showcase and grand opening to the Silk Petal’s new wing, after being closed for over 14 months. The rose gold metal card invitations were sent to many of the big names and elites all over the world in hopes to gain more investment funds. Anyone who was anybody would be there, including the five crime families.

“Anything from my sister?” Catalina asked softly as she sits up. The thick tresses of her hair falling in a silent curtain around her face as she pulled the covers away from her person. Passing a hand through her hair, she rose fluidity from her bed. The neatly dressed woman hand Catalina her robe which she took and slipped into, fastening a knot to her waist.

“No, nothing as of yet ” the woman replied. “ We have tried to get contact but-”

“Ms. Bloom,” Catalina’s voice broke out, her voice low and deadly. “ Try again, do not stop until you reach through and sent a friendly reminder to our neighbors. All parties must attend, if not I will be claiming favors. ”

“Yes, Ma’am”

Catalina walk to her bathroom removed her robe to get ready for tonight's event.
Hidden 2 days ago Post by officaz
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officaz

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Chris had no faith in a divine being watching over him. He took care of himself. He knows the who's who, but he would murder anyone who supposed they could bury his name, steal from him, inform to the feds, or demand to do this or that because they doubted how in charge he was. Or, "in charge" could be rephrased as Chris being a wiseguy. All these things maintained a perimeter that people had to know. These things governed his life.

In an hour, Chris would be woke up by a phone call from the innkeeper. He was in a hotel. A few things had the cops looking everywhere for him and a couple guys. A cocaine transfer that went went wrong, someone got shot, and an hour after the fuck-up, somebody walked in a bar in Little Italy and tossed in a grenade... and then the sonofabitch shot a few bullets at the bartender. Chris knew the Colombians were heated and wanted to hurt somebody. The cops? They're here and there, but Chris was a big street guy, he just slipped there and moved to the next one.

In twenty minutes, the gangster would received his wake up call. He would get out of bed, go get his coffee, and get ready for the day. The TV was on from the night before, and there was half a $5 cigar in the ashtray. Chris was sleeping away, in his khaki pant with the belt wrapped inside the loops, when the concierge called him five minutes ear

He got out of bed, and remained in his slacks and put on a big, white tee shirt. He walked to the cabinet beneath the TV, retrieved his .45 cal pistol. He tucked it in the front of his pants and tightened the belt. He turned off the TV. He checked a few things out. He had two phones. He checked the messages, nothing. But he noticed a pager number, which was to a friend who run dope in the past, and who agreed to 56 months in prison.

He called his partner in crime and they greeted each other tough guy to tough guy, and then they talked about business.

"I forgot about it," Chris said while he remembered. "I remember now. OK OK..."

He disconnected his personal cell phone. Then, by his bed, inside of the lampstand, he reached in and pulled out a small bag of cocaine. He dumped a small amount on the table. He got a credit card and pressed down to make the compressed flakes usable. Then, he used a money bill and ingested it. Next, he returned to the cigar and set it aflame. For the next hour, Chris begin to question himself.

Was there a God? Why was he thinking about God?... etc.
Hidden 1 day ago Post by Eviledd1984
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Eviledd1984 The Memer With No Name.

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@officaz

Francesco Sperrazza


&


Gaspare Moltisanti


Gaspare had woken up form what seemed like a great night, He had a amazing day yesterday and wondered if today would be the same. Getting ready putting on his suit, and going to the bathroom to attend to his hygiene routine. Kissing his wife and saying goodbye while leaving to heading to the kitchen, Eating some cereal and watching the news checking if their was anything about his "Business". So far it was mostly about black on black crimes, reports of murders and rich fat cats being caught committing fraud. Finishing up his breakfast seeing his oldest daughter coming down the stairs, "Hi honey, Whatcha gonna get up to today?" A smile on his face watching her toast some bread. "Oh just gonna go hang out with the girls at the mall, What are you up to?" She asked him waiting her her toast to finish.

"Just gonna go into the shop and get some work done, Just don't get into trouble okay" He said finishing his coffee and getting up. Kissing her forehead and leaving to his car. Riding his car down the highway and phoning Chris one of his made men, "Chris it's Gaspare, I need you to meet me at the Old Angel Midnight club downtown" He said into the voicemail that he heard over the phone. Then calling his pupil Francesco.

-------------------

Francesco meanwhile had woken up with a headache, Alone in his room with a large bottle of J.B whiskey that was laying on the other side of the bed like a lover. Getting out of bed and only wearing his underwear eating some breakfast, Drinking some pineapple juice while having some raisin bagels. Just stare at the brick wall of his apartment while having his breakfast, His mind racked with thoughts of last night and the many other nights before that. Hearing his phone ringing he answered it, It was his mentor and father like figure Gaspare. Nodding his head and telling his boss he would meet him at the Old Angel Midnight, Hanging up the phone and getting dressed in his suit knowing it sounded like a important meeting.

Leaving his apartment and getting into his care heading to the club, He felt even though Gaspare treated him like a son he was treated like some lower class since he was not a made man. Although Gaspare offered him the job of made man however he didn't like the business of a made man, All his life he knew how to kill and being a hitman was the only job he knew best. And it was a job he was damn good at. Many other mobs wanted his services he politely declined. Although he was interested in taking jobs for the The West End Mob, But he would have to run that by Gaspare.
Hidden 3 hrs ago Post by webboysurf
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webboysurf

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The Bratva's heir awoke as he normally did: butt naked and with new wounds he couldn't immediately remember. He felt the fabric of the sheets peel off of one wound on his right side, grunting as he shuffled across the wooden floor of his master bedroom. He was able to make it to the bathroom and flick on the lights, immediately regretting the blast of the incandescent bulbs above the mirror. His eyes remained closed for a moment as his left hand felt around the wound. It was a small divot in his side... probably a bullet that grazed by. When Nikolai opened his eyes, he was able to confirm his suspicion: the minor graze of a bullet wound that was already scabbed over. He gave a reassuring nod as he turned away and got in the shower to begin his day right. He felt his hand pass over the wound again, and it only took a moment to realize what exactly had caused this...

The Night Before...


Nikolai stepped into the small bar with Dmitri on his tail. Sitting throughout the bar were about ten men, all dressed casually but clearly not average patrons. Samovar was a hole in the wall located in the basement of a housing project that acted as one of the Bratva's lower-scale brothels. The men here were protection, certainly born into the family. As soon as Nikolai entered, all sound and movement in the bar stopped. Some of them looked afraid, as they knew exactly who the heir apparent was. Others... they looked almost excited. Like they wanted to be the ones to kill The Bear. But as the room got silent, a Russian in a fine suit walked out of the back room and lifted his hands in greeting. This Russian has silver hair, and his face was clearly marked with age beneath the shaggy beard he had grown. He was a friend of Alexi Petrokov who went by the name Vladmir Tykovski, and he was the one responsible for runing the Samovar. Vlad greeted Nikolai in Russian. "Ahhh, Alexi's little boy... What brings you to my domain?"

"I came to collect the tax." Nikolai's response was cold and calculated. His words were clear and businesslike.

Vlad laughed and shook his head as he walked behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of Vodka, removing its top and pouring two glasses. "Your father is the one who collects the tax. We came over to this country together, and he has always shown me that respect. Now he sends his son to collect from me. What am I to think of that, little bear?"

Nikolai took a deep breath as he walked towards the bar, fetching his glass and downing the drink as if it were a cold glass of water on a hot day. He turned his gaze around to acknowledge each of the men in the room before turning back to Vlad. "You have always been good to my father, so I will show you this kindness. He has come down with the flu, and is resting. Until he is recovered, I am taking his place in all business. Treat me as if I were him."

Vlad shook his head, finishing his drink in like fashion before pouring each of them another glass. "You are not your father, little bear. If you won't leave until you get the money, you may as well sit and get comfortable. I am not handing it over until your father collects it himself."

Nikolai's face was stoic, but his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The other men in the bar began reaching towards their waists for their weapons. Dmitri grabbed his boss' shoulder with his left hand as his right reached for his own sidearm. The singular, frozen moment seemed like it went on for an eternity. But Nikolai's hands relaxed eventually, and he made his way towards the stairs. The two made their way outside and onto the streets of New York, walking towards an old black muscle car by the curb. They went towards the trunk without saying a word and opened it. At first, it looked like just a normal trunk... shallow, but unremarkable. Dmitri felt the side of the trunk's bottom to flip open a latch, and it swung up to reveal a small arsenal of weaponry. Two guns and loads of ammunition were on display, as well as a set of tools for torture that would make the CIA's mouth water. Nikolai reached for the Vepr while Dmitri fetched the AKS, and both loaded their respective weapons with drum magazines. The Bratva's heir slammed the trunk with his free hand, and the two men moved like one unit back towards the bar.

Dmitri kicked in the door and began opening fire, a line of bullets impacting against the wall in a line. Three of the men were caught in this spread, and jerked violently as they were killed before they could draw their weapons. Nikolai was right behind him, aiming straight ahead and aiming the shotgun towards a table of made men. Six pulls of the trigger saw the visceral death of four men as they too were slain before they could even stand. The last three had just managed to pull their weapons out and were running for cover as Dmitri was able to kill them too with a spray of bullets, leaving Vladimir for Nikolai to handle. Vlad was quick on the draw, almost expecting this to happen. Vlad's finger rested on the trigger of his sidearm and pointed it towards Nikolai just as The Bear began to squeeze and release his own trigger over and over again. Nikolai fired his shotgun into Vlad six times out of pure rage. He didn't notice that Vlad had managed to get a single shot off as he was hit with the first blast of the Vepr. The shot wasn't fatal, but just graze Nikolai's side through his suit. The "firefight," if you could even call it that, was over in about twelve seconds. Blood hadn't even truly begun pooling on the floor by the time Dmitri held out his weapon to Nikolai.

The two had an unspoken agreement at this point. Nikolai took the guns back out to the car and packed them away while Dmitri got on the phone with the Bratva's janitors. The heir got in the back of the car and waited for his assistant. Dmitri pulled out a rag and picked up the glass of vodka that his boss had drunk from moments before, knocking the drink back himself before pocketing it. He gave the door handle a quick rub down, and then went out to drive his boss home. Dmitri had become efficient at figuring out his boss' temperaments and could anticipate his actions most of the time.

Nikolai closed and locked the door to his house in Staten Island as he made his way out to the car that was waiting for him on the street. Dmitri was there, right on time. As soon as the heir had sat down in the back seat, Dmitri was handing back a few papers and letters. "I updated Zhanna on what happened last night, and she's smoothing it over with the boss. No meetings today, but as you can see... it looks like the Latins are calling all the families together for an event. They're expecting-"

Nikolai simply raised his hand to silence his driver. Dmitri gave a nod and put the car into drive as they began to coast down the streets of NYC and join its traffic. Nikolai looked over the metal invitation, giving a short nod. "Get in touch with Diabla's people. Let her know I'll be there in my father's place. If she has a problem, tell her we can discuss it in person." The Petrokov looked out the window as he spoke, his thick Russian accent almost suffocating the words as he spoke them. He would never admit it, but Nikolai knew how important his reception was at an event like this. It was only a matter of time before he was the official head of the family... but how that event went would determine if he would be able to stay that way once his father was gone.
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