The horizon seen from Manhattan seemed far away. The color of night swathed the entire sky and twinkling stars were beginning to appear. The crystal-clear sky seemed to shatter in an instant as the entire city welcomed the coming of the night. Colorful lights blossomed in the middle of the streets, dispelling the darkness. The light reflecting off the colored bricks gave the streets and avenues a different kind of bustle and liveliness from daytime.
This was a New York that had never experienced the Great Depression. Although the level of activity was hurt, it still hadn't reached the point of no return.
As though anxious for night's arrival, New York's 32,000 odd 'underground bars' awoke and began stirring trouble.
Manhattan's nights embodied the whole of human desire, revealing a completely different side to the everyday.
This is one of the few nightclubs managed by the Martillo Family. Found between Little Italy and Chinatown, this small shop was called 'Alveare'. Following its namesake, the outside of the store looked just like a specialty shop for honey. However, there, beyond the counter and through a sturdy door with a porthole, was a speakeasy, the gathering place for people who desired refuge from the eye of law. This was a place for social gatherings that existed in the niche between public society and the law.
Back then in New York, many underground bars operated like this, putting up a front as a legal business. Hidden in clothing stores, under apothecaries, or even in churches and funeral parlors, there were these existences that slipped through the loopholes of the law.
This 'Alveare' store was also one of the sanctuaries from the law.
In its basement was an even larger space. Normally, it wouldn't be open if there weren't any customers, however there were ten men gathered there that day. In any case, the number of people was irrelevant for the entire place was enveloped in silence and tension.
The room had no electrical lighting; the only source of illumination was the dazzling glow from the flames of an oil lamp centered on the circular table.
The heavy silence was broken. The surrounding men took their respective places circling the round table that took up most of the space in the room. Only the man who just spoke was sitting. The others all stood.
The man who spoke... was the 'capo societa' of the Martillo Family, Molsa Martillo. Although he looked to be past fifty, he possessed a physique that didn't coincide with his age.
On either side of him were two high-level executives of the organization... the 'primo voto' responsible for matters within the organization, the Japanese Kanshichirô Yagulma and the 'chiamatore', Ronnie Sukiart. Maiza Avaro, the 'conta è oro', was standing on Ronnie's side, two people away from Molsa.
Although it was not his seniority that won him his office, Yagulma was already sixty-odd years old, and just a glance at him gave one the feel of a Chinatown apothecary.
In contrast, Ronnie was still very young, with a pair of fox-like eyes that were narrow and long; this was also his defining feature.
While Camorra was an organization that originated from Italy, Molsa didn't put much weight on the nationalities of its members, so all sorts of people could be found within this organization.
Standing opposite Molsa was Firo, and he responded nervously to the call, "... Yes, present. I am here, Capo Societa."
"... Will you be able to answer the following questions truthfully?"
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Let The Good Times Roll!Fanfiction
From the Big Easy to the Big Apple. After paying a visit to her brother, Charlie finds herself involved with the ruthless Gandor Family. But this doll face ain't no pushover. She's determined to let the good times roll no matter what life throws at...