A full moon hung ominously over the bustling, sprawling city of Gotham. Cars ran back and forth like an army of ants. Neon lights flashed brightly like hundreds of fireworks. The city that never slept. Gotham was always active. So was its crime lords. And no mob boss so much as Carmine Falcone. He rules his Empire with an iron fist. And no one knew this more than his son, Mario. At twenty years old, he was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. He owned several bars, restaurants, and nightclubs. He sat in the back of a stretch limousine, taking lazy puffs on a cigarette. He watched the buildings as they passed by and idly flicked his ashes in the tray. He knew his heritage. He followed quietly in his father's steps. He would have been wanted for armed robbery, soliciting a prostitute, murder, and several sexual charges. All at twenty years old. Yes, he was untouchable.

The limo pulled up to a building with a large lime-green neon sign that read "Falcone's Fatales." He smiled. He always liked alliteration, it made him feel clever. The door opened and he stepped out. Dressed in a black suit coat with a black button down shirt underneath, complete with a black hat with white stripes. He flung his cigarette into the harbor and walked toward the club. He waved at the bouncer as he stepped in flanked by two men built like NFL linebackers. The music pounded and the lights flashed a myriad of colors. He walked toward his usual booth and sat down. A dark haired girl walked up to him and smiled coyly. He gave her his usual once over.

"The usual, Mr Falcone?"

"Mix it up for me Veronica, and maybe we'll do something special later tonight." He pursed his lips as though kissing.

She smiled and threw her hair over her shoulder. "I'll see what I can do for you"

"Work your magic baby."

She walked away and he began taking in the sights. Mostly he watched people throwing money over the counter and sticking down the waitress's shirts and skirts. He smiled. Most of that would become his money. Life was good when you are a Falcone.

Suddenly a man he had never seen before came up and laid an envelope on his table. He quickly scurried off as though he would have been beaten if he stayed any longer. Falcone picked up the letter and opened it. In clear typed letters, it simply said, "I see you S. Maroni." Falcone whirled around and what he saw made his stomach turn. Salvatore Maroni was there with four of his men. He motioned for Falcone to come join him. Standing slowly, Falcone walked over to his table. When his men stood also he motioned for them to sit back down. Confused, they did as they were told. He slid down in the chair next to Maroni.

"Glad you decided to join us Mario" Sal said with a toothless smile.

"What do you want from me?" I paid you what I owed you."

"Sorry to say this Mars, but the price just went up, I still need two thousand."

"What are you trying to pull Sal?" You think you can stand against my father?"

"When are you gonna stop running to your daddy every time you get in trouble? I'm sure his sick of bailing your ass out."

Mario knew this was true. He had reached his monthly allowance already. He knew Carmine wouldn't give him another penny. He had his back against a wall. "I need to take a piss."

Sal nodded, "Sure, take Kino with you."

"Fuck you Sal." Falcone stood up and knocked his chair over as he made his way over to the restrooms. Surprisingly, it was empty. He went over to the sink and turned the water on cold. Getting handfuls of water he began splashing them on his face. He glanced in the mirror, and spun around reaching for his pistol in the holster on his back.

Sal Maroni waited out in the club. The music was incessantly loud and certainly was not his style. He glanced at his cell phone. It had been three minutes. "Kino go get him."

Kino got up and pushed through the bathroom door. He was surprised to find it empty. That's when he noticed a piece of paper on the floor. He walked over to it and looked at it. "look up" He raised his head toward the ceiling. All he saw was the AC return over his head. The next thing he knew it was on his head.

Sal Maroni was watching a customer fondling a waitress when one of his men spoke up. "Who does that asshole think he is?" He turned to see what his man was talking about. Out on the dance floor, some idiot was wearing a mask and a cap was draped around his body. He had pointy "ears" coming out of the top of his mask. He was all black. When he reached Maroni's table he stopped. "Can I help you?" Maroni said with some disdain. The masked figure reached out and flipped the table over, sending drinks everywhere. Maroni's crew stood up and circled around the dark figure. One of the men pulled out an electrical night stick. The smallest of the three stepped forward and swung at him. The masked individual caught his wrist in mid blow and twisted it, resulting in a popping noise. He then kicked his kneecap which blew his knee out. Screaming in pain the man fell to the floor. The man with the club took an overhead swing at him. He caught it again and twisted it behind him. The thug released his grip on the club, allowing the dark garbed man to grab it from him. He then touched it to the gangster's back sending hundreds of volts coursing through his body. He fell to the floor convulsing. The final foe stood his ground waiting for him to make his move. With almost in human speed he was on him. Two quick jabs to his face sent him reeling, Then he grabbed him by the front of the shirt and slammed him on the floor. He pulled himself in an erect position and looked Maroni dead in the eye. Sal needed no convincing. He ran toward the door at full speed.

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