Chapter I
Thursday. July 27, 1952. 10:27 P.M. Carlisi's Restaurant, Downtown.
The day had been clear up until a few hours ago when Sam Carlisi, gang in tow, arrived at his restaurant with kegs of booze and a van full of scantly clothed broads. They were throwing a celebration for Sam's youngest son, Georgio, who had just got back from a ten year stretch for murder, and were planning on partying until they dropped. It was as if the Spirits themself had set up the events to coincide with the start of the rainiest day Republic City has ever seen.
They were having a goodfella party, the type one would see in the moving pictures and fantazise about. They drank booze, listened and - tried to - dance to the music, flirting with the broads and getting dances from them. It seemed that it was the greatest party they have ever been to.
However, the eldest son Leonardo, was troubled. He had a terrible feeling of upcoming pain and the end of the line. All he could do was down a shot of booze and continue to stare silently into the cold, rainy streets of downtown Republic City, hoping that his feeling was wrong and that everything was just fine.
That is when he noticed him.
Out in the middle of the crowd of drunken gangsters and scantly dressed broads, there was one that stood out from the rest. His face showed no emotion whatsoever. He did not interact with the gangsters and ignored the many broads trying to get into his pants. You could spot him a mile away, like a green plainclothes cop tailing your bestfriend down one of City's busy highways. He had short, black hair that was oily and slicked back as if he was some wetback and wore an odd looking suit, as if he came straight out of the Zoot Suit Riots of '43.
The unknown man started moving through the crowd, getting closer and closer to someone, as if he was going to ask them something. He started to reach into his jacket, as if trying to find a cigarette case.
The realization came to late.
The restaurant was illuminated by the assassin's pistol; the sound of gunfire drowned the screaming broads and brought the deafining ring of sadness and grief. Carlisi's boys reacted rather slowly, giving the assassin the chance to kill several of them before biting the bullet himself.
By the time Leonardo got to his father's side, Georgio was cradling him, crying. Sam muttered nonsense as blood gushed out of several holes in his waistcoat and Georgio adjusted his eyes to the darkness that began to envelope him. He looked at Leonardo and smiled.
"Get those...f-fuckers...for us Leo," Georgio stated as his last breath left his lips.
Leonardo stared at the lifeless replicas of his family when Sam's top men, Charlie di Giovanni and Vincenzo Trapani, dragged him away from the scene of the crime and hauled him off to their compound.
-o-o-o-o-
Friday. July 28 1952. 9:26 A.M. Carlisi's Restaurant, Downtown.
"Well, it appears to me what we have here is the remnants of a standard gangland shootout, ending with uh," the inspector said, nudging the dead Kingpin's lifeless corpse, "Sam Carlisi here being killed, as well as his youngest son and several of his associates, and the assassin biting the bullet. From what I can judge from my own perspective and several witnesses' statements, Sam here was throwing a party for his son when the assassin entered the restaurant, sneaking in a semi-automatic pistol chambered in .38 Super into the joint. Due to the positions of the assassin's body, he approached Carlisi, whipped out his pistol, and gunned him, his son, and several of his associates down, giving the remaining associates enough time to realize what the fuck was going on and gun him down...What do you think, Mako?"
The young inspector puffed on his cigar and looked around the crime scene. Everything his partner said had appeared to be true.
"Well, to be honest with you, I personally think its a load of bullshit that we got another mob hit dumped on us. I mean, Bei Fong's special "Intelligence Division" hasn't done anything since they put away Noatak Freeman and his boys. It's been a year, they should get off their asses."
The older inspector chuckled at Mako's remark and told him to deal with it, as well as he was going to search for some more...evidence
"Bastards probably going to steal something out of their wallets. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he started drinking their booze," thought the younger inspector, chuckling at the thought of the old geezer attempting to act sneaky.
Mako walked over to the assassin's corpse and knelt next to it. He started to check his pockets for any evidence when he found a slightly crumpled up note in the coat pocket:
Luca,
It seems like our informant inside Carlisi's gang has been
found out. We can only assume that he was clipped by th-
at fuck's son, Georgio. Even though we cannot confirm the-
se suspisions as of right now, I want you to kill that fuck, and
if you can, kill his old man and his brother. A little birdy has info-
rmed us that they're having a party at their joint in downtown Am-
elia. Get in there, kill those fucks, and watch out - they'll be surrounded
by their boys. Make your shots count, kid.
- Rick Blaine
The inspector folded the note up and put it back where he found it. He picks up "Luca's" wallet and looks at the identification. Luca Grimaldi. The name sounded familar, but the younger inspector couldn't put his tongue on where he's heard it before.
"Hey!" he shouted to his partner. "Does the name Luca Grimaldi ring a bell to you?"
"Luca Grimaldi? Sure. He was an ex-cop with a passion for marijuana, booze, and loose women. Got kicked off the force for taking money from Costello's Outfit. Word on the street is that he's peddling narcotics and working as extra muscle in some small cry gang aiming to take over Frankie Boy's rackets. Why do you ask?"
"Guess who barged into this place with the intention to kill. I almost forgot, what about the name Rick Blaine?" Mako asked, his mind starting to ponder about how many dirty cops were on the force.
"Rick Blaine? Sounds like someone I saw in the moving pictures one time," the elder said, shaking his head. "It was a shame Luca - you were a good kid who got mixed up in a load of shit. Here's to lookin' at you kid," he stated as he took a swing from his flask.
Mako ignored his partner's action and looked over the crime scene, sighing. He shook his head as he looked at the ground, trying to figure out what the big picture was. Why were gangsters being knocked off left and right?
"Hey Lu, I think we ought to head back to station and write up our reports. Bei Fong will be on our asses if we don't, and I don't feel like getting suspended because of you," Mako stated as he headed towards the door.
"You know what kid? I think I'm going to call it a day. I'll call up a friend of mine to pick me up from here...I got a uh...important business meeting with a couple of dames. I'll see you bright 'n early tomorrow morning," Lu said, chuckling at the anger boiling inside of his younger partner.