Blood and Power
He barely remember when he had first started, it had been too long ago. He had been recruited much like everyone else, with the promise of money, power and fame.
Money had its obvious uses; buying off the right people, keeping his women happy and keeping his recruits well equipped. He had not wanted fame; it required more tact and more showiness. He had to keep up the appearance and not let it slip; he certainly didn’t need the other families seeing him any differently. But power, that is why he went into the business. He craved it, it was his lifeblood. Without it, he felt completely naked, like a newborn babe.
His rise to power had been anything but ordinary. He joined the Pelerossi family, much like the rest of his block. They were strongest in the area and ran protection on many of the business they frequented. He rose through the ranks quickly, gaining friends and contacts. He eventually became a Lieutenant within the family. He enjoyed the power, but certainly not the orders. He would argue with the Don that his plans were flawed and that he was ignoring the money that came from the drug trade.
So one day, he stood up in refusal of another plan from the Don. The Don became furious and told his goons to take him out. The goons blinked at him and smiled. They turned to the Don, cocked their pistols and ended the reign of the Pelerossi family. He had taken his last order; he quickly seized many of the Pelerossi Family’s assets. He managed to leave with three Packards, at least ten Thompsons, twenty Colt 1911s, a handful of shotguns and some revolvers. He also managed to take the majority of the family.
He began his family very simply by becoming another distributor of alcohol during the Prohibition. It was common to see families jump up out of the ghettos and sell alcohol, but the drug trade was what pushed his family into power. He set a policy of no drug use amongst the family, you wouldn’t want to be the goon caught while using. He made an example of the first one, the user ended up losing a leg, very painfully mind you.
The family had been called in for a “meeting.” During which the user had his leg removed directly above where the meeting took place. He told his men very carefully that they must learn what his words meant, they meant truth, they meant execution, they meant life. The user’s cries of pain echoed through the building while he lectured the men. After much of the screaming, blood began to drip through the ceiling. He knew he had gotten the message across to the men.
He knew what power was, it was being surrounded by over thirty men all carrying weapons and telling them they would lose limbs if they crossed him. That was power. He loved it, more than anything; more than any of his whores, more than the money, more than the success.
