Michael Corleone was frustrated, tired and altogether angry. His god brother was brutally murdered. Earlier in the year, his father had worked extra hard to get him a part in a new war movie. The director was determined not to give him the part though. The Don had chopped off the head of the movie director's horse, and laid it in his bed. The whole movie industry was out for revenge on this New York City gang who thought they could storm right in and act like they owned the place. So they killed Johnny Fontane. And his family. Everyone in the Corleone family knew that the Don would come up with some brilliant plan to get back at the Hollywood wanabees. Too bad however, the Don had died two weeks ago. Michael, the next Don, was left with the responsibility of cleaning the whole mess up, and teaching the movie directors a lesson.
Have you made any plans yet?" Asked Tom Hagen, the adopted son of the Don. "I am still really tired, Tom, I'm sorry." Said Michael. "Well you better work on it soon, because I'm going on vacation in two weeks and I am not going to be available." Said Hagen. "I kind of brewed something up here." Said Michael. "We just move the whole operation out to Hollywood. Bring all our guns, all our men, everything. Then we rent out some hotel rooms and start the vengeance. Start out by taking out the hit men. Then slowly work our way up to the real guy, the one who ordered the hit." "Sounds good to me." Said Hagen. A week later the entire Corleone family and all of there allies were stationed in the Best Western over looking downtown Hollywood.
The late night air was filled with the sound of machine gun shots. The bar was destroyed. Wood chips were flying everywhere, and screams were being emitted from the inside of the building. A few minutes later some shots were returned. Apparently a few people were able to escape the barrage of bullets. Hagen was the first to be shot. He silently sank to his knees, blood filling the street. Everyone retreated back. Everyone except Mike. Mike was never in firefights, except when one of his favorite men was shot. He ran across the road and pounded bullet after bullet into the gunner of Hagen.
Hagen was dead. In fact he had died within seconds of the shot going right through his heart. Michael was mad, but determined. He decided to forge an all out war. Later that night there was a body count of four Corleone men, and eight Hollywood hooligans. The Hollywood war was officially on.
Everything went according to plan, except that the fact that almost all of the hit men were taken out by the night of the job. They were going to be two men short, including Mike doing some of the shooting. The bar was noisy and filled with ecstatic people dancing everywhere. The only people there that were sober were the Corleones.
Does anyone have any leads on anyone?" Asked Hagen at a meeting after the first day investigating. After a short pause a new worker for the family named Frankie Kiedis responded. "Yea I got some leads." Frankie was one of the most promising of the new recruits. He was young and not intimidated by anyone. "I walked into the local bar, ya know?" He said in his New York accent. "And I said to this guy. 'I heard some stuff about some New York gangsters acting tough around here.' This guy takes it personal and whacks me right across my face. He replies by saying 'What's it to ya?' Well I'm one of them." "Why would you give away your identity like that?" Michael asked. "I wanted to see if they were smart or not. They weren't. They whacked me again. I knew they were part of it. The whole bar. As soon as he hit me I ran out and came right back here. I think we should just light the whole bar up, and scram." "We do that first, but we cant do that and leave right away." Added Hagen. "Alright. We do that tonight." Said Michael Commandingly.'s finally had some leads. Jack Woltz, the studio owner and the one that the horse head and been given to, was to be at a party at the Hollywood nightclub on Friday night. The plan was relatively simple. Frankie was supposed to act like he was another one of Jack's many worshipers. As he was doing this, and getting Jack distracted, Michael was going to get his men into position around the bar. At exactly 11:35 on Mike's signal Frankie was going to smash his wine glass across Jack's face. As soon as Frankie dives away bullets are going to rip the dazed Jack Woltz into pieces. The only problem that presented itself was how to get into the nightclub. However, the problem was soon remedied by one of the hit men who found a secret storm entrance in the back of the building.'s and their men. Frankie Kiedis went into the bathroom and prepared himself for his huge act on Jack Woltz. Frankie looked exactly like he wanted to. Touristy, young, and totally innocent. He gazed around the bar and dance floor until he spotted Jack Woltz. Jack was in the middle of the dance floor drinking and dancing. Frankie approached him and said "H-hello Mr. Woltz." "Get outta here you punk." Woltz returned. "Mr. W-Woltz I-I just wanted one s-small aut-autograph please." "Alright, but don't get too many people around me here, Imp trying to have fun." As soon Jack started to sign Frankie's paper the shooters got ready. At exactly 11:35 as Woltz handed the paper back, Frankie smashed his glass straight across his face. He dove for cover and Mike and his men tore Woltz into pieces. 's men, who had been forgotten about, got there guns out and were shooting in every direction. None of the Corleones were shot, and everyone made it back to the hotel safe that night. After the killing of Woltz the whole family packed their bags and headed back to New York. Another twenty men dead.
