In the vast expanse of the ocean, a lone yacht was visible. Aboard it were four men, armed and watchful, their gazes fixed on a figure before them. This man, blindfolded and bound, was struggling to breathe, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each labored breath.
Amidst the sound of the waves and the scent of saltwater, the captive could tell he was on a boat, rocking gently with the rhythm of the sea. With a voice roughened by distress, he uttered, "I can't believe the boss would do this to me..."
One of the men, whose attire and manner screamed of his underworld affiliations, let out a scoff. "You better believe it. Right now, we're in the middle of nowhere, poised to feed you to the sharks," he said with a menacing grin. Then, pausing for effect, he continued, "Or, you might just drown. What a tragic end. Frankly, being devoured might seem like a kindness in comparison."
The man, struggling for air, spoke with a trembling voice filled with indignation. "You guys... Have you forgotten how I looked out for you? Back when you were all just starting out in the gang—I was the one who showed you the ropes! And this... This is how you repay me?" His words were laced with a mix of anger and disbelief.
"Ah, now you're really laying it on thick," sneered one of the men, before delivering a harsh kick to the captive's stomach, eliciting a pained groan.
"You think you're the reason we made it and thrived in the gang? That's laughable!"
"It's our hard work that got us here, not you, you traitor!" Another man added insult to injury with a punch, underscoring his words with violence.
One of them spat on the beaten man, adding, "We're just doing our job, Lorenzo. Don't take it personally." He then pressed his foot against Lorenzo's face with increasing force, his words cold and ruthless. "Blame your own bad luck for getting caught up in that disastrous deal. Had you made better choices, you wouldn't find yourself in this mess."
Humiliation and anger coursed through Lorenzo as he spat out his defiance. "Damn you and your ancestors, Marco. I should've left you to die in that raid—hng!" His tirade was abruptly cut short by a slap from Marco.
Slap
A second slap struck Lorenzo's face, followed by a brutal thud as Marco used his gun to hit Lorenzo's head. "Gah!" Lorenzo gasped in agony. Marco, gripping his hair, sneered, "Quit your babbling, you're finished anyway. And yet, you still dare to spout such nonsense..."
"Should we just dump him now?" one of the men interjected, growing impatient with the delay.
Marco stood, hands in his pockets, then turned away from Lorenzo, addressing his crew with a cold command. "Put a bullet in his head before tossing him into the sea."
"Do we have to kill him right now? Wouldn't it be more satisfying to watch him struggle?" another voice questioned.
"Yeah, I want to see him flailing in the water, gasping for air," added another, reveling in the cruelty of the suggestion.
Marco's frown deepened as he listened to the casual cruelty of his men. He interjected with a tone of finality, "We need to ensure he's dead—his body lost forever in these depths. And..." His gaze shifted to Lorenzo, heavy with consideration. "Should he somehow survive and seek revenge, it would spell trouble for us." Marco respected, perhaps even feared, Lorenzo's resilience and prowess. He acknowledged that capturing Lorenzo had been possible only because he had let his guard down, misled by the belief that Marco, an old ally, could be trusted.
"What? Boss Marco, are you really scared of him? Even if he did survive, it wouldn't be a big deal—"
Bang
The retort was cut short by the deafening sound of a gunshot. Marco had made his point clear, decisively ending the life of the man who had dared to question his orders.
The sudden violence shocked the remaining men into silence. They watched, swallowed by fear, as Marco, without a hint of hesitation, turned his cold gaze upon them. Initially, they tensed, anticipating the worst, but then Marco simply commanded, "Throw him overboard along with Lorenzo."
"Un-understood, boss," they stammered, quickly complying. They lifted the body of their now-silent comrade, who moments ago had been smirking alongside them, and tossed it into the sea's oblivion.
Marco merely glanced at Lorenzo one last time before retreating into the yacht to unwind, leaving the grim task to his underlings.
"Who's going to do it? Me or you?"
"Let's settle it with rock-paper-scissors."
Amid the tense atmosphere, the two men resorted to a childishly simple game to decide who would take Lorenzo's life.
Lorenzo, despite the dire situation and the blood trickling from his head, managed to laugh. "Hurry up, or you might be next on Marco's list."
"Shut up..."
"Quite eager to meet your end, aren't you? Take a moment, breathe—it's not like you're going anywhere."
"I've been 'taking my time' for the past hour," Lorenzo retorted with a bitter laugh. "In any other circumstance, you two would be dead for your incompetence..."
Their patience worn thin, one of them snapped, "Enough. Any last words?"
As the cold barrel pressed against his head, Lorenzo offered his final thought with a dark chuckle. "Tell Marco... to watch his back in the underworld. Who knows? His fate might be even worse than mine—"
Bang!!!
The echo of the gunshot marked the end of Lorenzo's defiance. And yet, the eerie echo of his laughter seemed to linger, a chilling reminder of his final words.
"He faced his end bravely," one remarked, a hint of respect in his voice.
"Indeed. It's clear why Marco was cautious," the other agreed.
As they conversed, Marco approached, his figure casting a long shadow over the scene. Observing Lorenzo's lifeless form, he commanded, "Finished? Dispose of him."
The finality of the moment hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the ruthless world they inhabited.
As the two henchmen followed through with Marco's cold directive, tossing Lorenzo's body into the unforgiving sea, they felt no compulsion to relay his final message to their boss. Yet, unknown to them, Marco had caught every word, the ominous warning not lost on him. Lorenzo's parting words irked Marco, stirring an uneasy premonition within him.
His contemplations were violently interrupted by a sudden explosion from the yacht's cockpit. Fire and smoke billowed out, signaling imminent disaster.
"Boss Marco! It looks like there were hidden explosives on board! We need to get out of here—"
"Boss Marco—"
Panic set in quickly among the men. In their scramble for safety, another explosion tore through the yacht, sealing their fate before they could even attempt to escape into the sea.
Marco, despite his instincts urging him to leap into the water and evade the engulfing flames, found himself caught in the blast. As the fire consumed him, the haunting echo of Lorenzo's final warning replayed in his mind: "His fate might be worse than mine—"
In those last moments, the prophecy fulfilled itself, leaving behind a stark reminder of the treacherous paths woven through the underworld.
--
Awakening in a dilapidated, small room, Lorenzo was immediately struck by the ancient, decaying surroundings. Yet, the state of the room paled in comparison to the shock of self-awareness that followed. Clutching his head as his heart pounded furiously, he whispered in disbelief, "I'm... I'm alive?"
His gaze drifted to a cracked mirror before him, offering a reflection that seemed utterly alien. The hands he observed were rugged, lined with callouses—undeniably the hands of someone accustomed to hard labor. But it was the face reflected back at him that sent a jolt of confusion through his mind. It wasn't his own.
The face in the mirror was younger, undeniably attractive, yet to Lorenzo, it appeared vulnerable, almost delicate. From his perspective, it seemed as though the slightest aggression could mar the soft features, a thought that unsettled him deeply. Lorenzo's identity crisis was palpable; he was trapped in a body and a face that were entirely foreign to him, a situation that raised more questions than answers.
"This is truly bizarre," Lorenzo whispered to himself, his confusion deepening as he noticed the outdated style of his attire. The high-waisted, pleated trousers coupled with a classic white dress shirt seemed lifted straight from the 1940s, a choice that baffled him. "Why the hell am I dressed like I've stepped out of a time warp?" he muttered, a mix of annoyance and bewilderment in his voice.
His contemplation was abruptly interrupted by a forceful knock at the door. Promptly, Lorenzo moved to answer it, revealing a young man on the other side, dressed in similarly dated attire.
"Lorenzo! What's keeping you? We're going to be late for work, come on," the young man urged, a hint of impatience in his tone.
Lorenzo, grasping for understanding, detained him with a question. "What work?"
"What do you mean? It's work—at the factory, obviously!" The young man brushed Lorenzo's hand aside, his impatience thinly veiled. "Look, if you're not coming, I'll head out without you," he stated briskly before departing, leaving Lorenzo to grapple with his bewilderment alone.
Left in a whirlwind of disbelief, Lorenzo decided to follow the young man, hoping to shed some light on his perplexing situation by exploring this supposed workplace. Every step he took felt surreal. By all logic, he should be dead, yet here he was—alive, in a body not his own, and about to embark on a day's work in a factory.
--
--
--
Author's Note: This story is a fanfiction, set in the universe of "The Godfather" movies. To be frank, my motivation to write this comes purely from a personal desire, coupled with the realization that "The Godfather" fanfics are notably absent in the Webnovel Fanfic section. This sparked my interest in creating my own. Please bear with me as I only have one chapter to share today. However, I'll try to update this novel consistently. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!
In 1943, amidst the throes of World War II, the Lower East Side of Manhattan was a hive of activity. Despite the global turmoil, the streets teemed with life.
Lorenzo, still coming to terms with his predicament, had just stepped out of the cramped tenement alongside a young man who had summoned him to work in a factory. As they navigated the narrow streets, Lorenzo couldn't help but notice the rows of tenement buildings, each in various stages of upkeep. It dawned on him that his own living quarters were much the same.
A synagogue stood out in the distance, its presence punctuated by a handful of men meandering through the streets, their yarmulkes a clear sign. This, Lorenzo realized, was a Jewish neighborhood.
Having been to New York before, Lorenzo found the language and the vibe unmistakably familiar, placing him squarely in the heart of New York. Yet, there was something peculiar about his surroundings that seemed to whisper tales from a bygone era.
Lorenzo was no stranger to New York, having visited a few times before. However, the version of the city unfolding before him now lacked the modern sheen he remembered. Everything around him carried an air of antiquity, from the architectural style to the very pulse of the streets.
He pondered whether he had stumbled upon an unexplored corner of New York, a hidden gem frozen in time. But as he continued his walk, even the cars that passed by had a distinctly vintage look, bolstering the feeling that he had somehow stepped into a different era.
"Don't tell me... I traveled back in time?" Lorenzo whispered to himself in disbelief.
Hearing the murmur, the young man accompanying him inquired, "Did you say something, Lorenzo?"
Jolted back to the present, Lorenzo waved off his concern with a quick shake of his head, "Nothing. Let's head to work."
With a quick glance at Lorenzo, the young man redirected his focus, stepping forward to join the queue. In a smooth exchange, he offered a handful of coins to the conductor for their tickets. Lorenzo, rummaging through his pockets, breathed a sigh of relief when he found exactly 5 cents. Handing the small coin over to the conductor, he then hurried to catch up with the young man, both of them boarding the train just as it began to pull away from the station. As the landscape outside the window blurred into motion, they remained on the train until it slowed to a halt at their destination. Lorenzo followed the young man down from the train and toward a factory, its silhouette casting a long shadow from its place by the city's railroad tracks. The proximity of the factory to the tracks seemed to Lorenzo like yet another sign that he had stepped into a different era entirely.
Before Lorenzo stood a formidable brick factory, its facade punctuated by large, rectangular windows and dominated by two towering smokestacks. Large freight doors hinted at the bustling activity within, as materials were continuously ushered inside.
The factory was a fortress in its own right, with guards stationed strategically and fences encircling the premises. Notices plastered around the area served as silent sentinels, further emphasizing the site's stringent security measures.
As Lorenzo and the young man, entered the factory, they were immediately greeted by the authoritative voice of a middle-aged man.
"Adam, Lorenzo! You two are here! Come on and do your work and assemble some guns!" he bellowed across the clamor of the factory floor.
Adam snapped to attention, his response crisp and disciplined, "Yes, sir!"
The man's gaze then shifted to Lorenzo, sizing him up with a swift glance. "What about you, young man?"
In a moment of imitation, Lorenzo mirrored Adam's earlier gesture and saluted, albeit awkwardly, "I'll do my job, sir."
As Lorenzo and Adam made their way to the assembly lines, Adam couldn't help but express his concern over Lorenzo's unusual demeanor. "What is wrong with you today, Lorenzo? Why are you acting so strange..."
Lorenzo, eyebrows knitting in confusion, replied, "What do you mean?"
Adam elaborated, a hint of worry in his voice, "You're usually the first one to jump at the boss's orders, but today you're off...your game." Without waiting for a further response, Adam turned and headed towards the designated workstation.
Lorenzo followed silently, his mind swirling with thoughts he dared not voice. The last thing he needed was to fuel further speculation about his odd behavior. Approaching the assembly line, he braced himself for the task ahead. The sight that greeted him, however, was both shocking and strangely familiar. They were tasked with assembling M1 Garand Rifles, a weapon Lorenzo knew all too well from his own experience.
Drawing on his extensive experience, Lorenzo set to work with a focus and skill. The components of the M1 Garand seemed to fit together effortlessly under his practiced hands, each movement precise and efficient.
The rhythmic clanking and clicking of parts being assembled soon drew the attention of his fellow workers. One by one, they paused their own tasks, their gazes drawn to the fluidity of Lorenzo's actions. Even Adam stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide with astonishment.
There, amidst the din and clatter of the factory, Lorenzo worked with the grace of a seasoned craftsman, assembling the M1 Garand Rifle with an expertise that left his coworkers in awe.
"Lorenzo!" Adam's voice cut through the noise, pulling Lorenzo's attention away from his work.
Lorenzo was so engrossed in assembling the weapons that it took Adam calling his name three times to snap him back to reality.
"What?" Lorenzo turned towards Adam, only to find not just him, but also the other workers staring in admiration.
The crowd around him consisted of women and young men, all seemingly around 15 years old, like Lorenzo and Adam. Yet, the harshness of life had aged them beyond their years, evident in their weary eyes and somber expressions.
"What's everyone staring at?" Lorenzo asked, his gaze sweeping over the group.
"Lorenzo, you're quite something! I had no idea you could put together a weapon so quickly!" Adam exclaimed.
Echoes of praise followed from the others, "How did you do that? You're incredibly skilled!"
"I never knew you were this good!"
Lorenzo, caught off guard by the admiration, scrambled for an explanation, "What's so surprising? I've been here for a while now; I've had time to pick up a few things..."
Adam stared at him, dumbfounded, "Lorenzo, we've only been working here for a week, and you weren't exactly an expert from the start."
Unwavering, Lorenzo clung to his story, "Well, it's been a week, and I'm a quick learner."
The chatter and awe among the workers came to an abrupt halt as a stern voice cut through their admiration. "What are you guys being so idle around? Get back to work!"
A menacing-looking man in his twenties stepped into view, prompting the assembly line workers—including Adam and Lorenzo—to hastily return to their tasks.
With a hawk-like vigilance, the man scanned the room. His sharp gaze briefly lingered on Lorenzo, who was adeptly assembling weapons, before he continued on his way, leaving the workspace.
A collective sigh of relief was almost audible as he departed.
"Damn that guy. All he does is stroll around while we break our backs here," one young man grumbled under his breath.
"That loaf's nothing but a layabout," another chimed in.
An older woman among them quickly warned, "You guys better keep it down. If he hears you, you'll be in for it."
"I'm not scared of that no-good slacker," another young man retorted defiantly.
Lorenzo, observing the unanimous disdain for the supervisor, curiously inquired, "Why does everyone have such a grudge against him?"
Adam looked over at Lorenzo, puzzled, as he worked on a weapon. "Why are you asking? Don't you despise him as well?"
Lorenzo's response was nonchalant, yet tinged with genuine confusion. "Uh... I guess I forgot why I'm supposed to hate him. Someone better remind me—"
His words sparked laughter among the workers.
A woman, her chuckle breaking through her focus on the task at hand, shot Lorenzo a playful look. "Funny joke, young man."
Others joined in, their laughter mingling with the sounds of the factory. "You really know how to lighten the mood, Lorenzo."
As the laughter echoed around him, Lorenzo found himself at the center of a moment of levity he hadn't intended to create. Everyone around him assumed he was making a joke, but in reality, he was earnest in his inquiry. He genuinely wanted to understand the source of their collective disdain for the imposing figure who had just left the room.
Fortunately, a young man next to Lorenzo provided some insight. "That guy earlier was Antonio. He's supposed to be on the line with us, assembling weapons."
Curious, Lorenzo pressed on, "So why isn't Antonio working? How come he has the nerve to boss us around?"
The worker to Lorenzo's left chimed in with a tidbit that seemed to hold significant weight. "That Antonio is an underling of the Barzini family!"
"Barzini family?" Lorenzo echoed, his confusion evident in his furrowed brows.
The question seemed to startle the workers around him. "What's wrong with you? You don't know about the Barzini family?" one of them asked, incredulity lacing his words.
This mention of the Barzini family seemed to imply a deeper web of connections and influences at play, far beyond the mundane hierarchy of the factory floor.
Observing Lorenzo's bewilderment, the young man tried to explain with a sense of resignation, "The Barzini family is one of the powerful five families in New York. Without the Barzini family backing that jerk Antonio, I swear I'd have dealt with him myself."
"Yeah, me too," another voice piped up, echoing the sentiment.
As the conversation unfolded, Lorenzo's interest in the so-called "Five Families" of New York deepened. Seeking to understand more, he asked, "Which family do you guys think is the most powerful among the five?"
One of the young men laughed before confidently stating, "Is that even a question? Obviously, the Corleone family tops them all."
"Absolutely agreed!"
"They're not just powerful; I've heard the Corleone family is led by a kind-hearted Don."
This prompted a woman among them to speak up, her voice laced with skepticism, "A kind Don? I highly doubt that. They're all criminals at the end of the day. They're mafia."
Her perspective seemed to resonate with many of the workers, sparking nods and murmurs of agreement.
Lorenzo was taken aback upon hearing the name "Corleone" family—it rang all too familiar in his ears.
Similarly, the mention of the "Barzini" family struck a chord with him. From what he remembered, these were the names of the families featured in his favorite series, "The Godfather"!
The first day shift wrapped up at 3 PM, and Lorenzo and Adam stepped out of the factory, pockets five dollars richer from their toil from 6 AM. Together, they made their way to the train, setting off towards the lower east side of Manhattan.
As the train carved its path through the city, Lorenzo reflected on his new reality. Conversations with fellow workers had unveiled a startling truth—he was living in 1943, amidst the throes of World War II.
This era was marked by austerity; citizens clutched ration books, a necessity to purchase scarce commodities like sugar, meat, and coffee. These measures were part of a larger effort to support the war, necessitating the rationing of food, gasoline, and other essentials.
Surviving on five dollars a day was a challenge for Lorenzo and Adam, barely covering their rent and food. When the train halted, they alighted and made their way to a Jewish neighborhood, with Lorenzo pondering his next steps in this historically fraught world.
Lorenzo also discovered that his friend Adam was Jewish, while he himself was of mixed heritage, with an Italian father and a Jewish mother.
The war had scattered their families—both their fathers had been called to serve overseas, and their mothers had left them in the care of the Jewish neighborhood, despite Lorenzo being only 16 and Adam a year younger.
Bonded by their shared circumstances, Lorenzo and Adam grew close, finding solace and friendship in each other's company.
As they wandered through the streets of the Jewish neighborhood, Adam suddenly suggested, "Let's grab something to eat at the deli, Lorenzo."
"Isn't that a bit pricey?" Lorenzo questioned, his brow furrowed in concern.
Adam just smiled, giving Lorenzo a reassuring pat on the back. "Trust me, it's worth every penny. It's delicious," he assured. With that, the two of them made their way to the neighborhood delicatessen, eager for a taste of comfort in the midst of uncertainty.
Stepping into the delicatessen, Lorenzo and Adam were greeted by the sight of desserts and various dishes showcased behind glass displays.
"What'll it be for you two?" asked a chubby young man behind the counter, eyeing both Lorenzo and Adam.
"I'll have a sandwich, please," Adam decided.
The young man then looked expectantly at Lorenzo, who, following Adam's lead, said, "A sandwich for me, too."
With a nod, the man disappeared into the back.
As Lorenzo settled in to wait, Adam suddenly stood, casting curious glances around before heading towards a specific direction. Watching Adam's suspicious movements, Lorenzo rubbed his chin thoughtfully and decided to follow, tracing Adam's steps to the restroom of the delicatessen.
Lorenzo had assumed Adam was merely taking a break, but to his astonishment, he watched as Adam clambered onto a wooden crate and reached for the upper wall of the restroom. With a swift movement, Adam removed a piece of wood, revealing a hidden hole. Lorenzo's eyes widened in surprise at the sight.
"What are you doing there, Adam?" Lorenzo's voice, sudden and curious, startled Adam.
Seeing Adam's shocked jump, Lorenzo couldn't help but chuckle. "What's going on? Are you spying on someone?"
Adam, hand pressed to his chest in a sigh of relief at recognizing Lorenzo, motioned for silence with a finger to his lips.
Curiosity piqued, Lorenzo climbed up to stand beside Adam. In a hushed tone, Adam whispered, "Remember the pretty girl I've been talking about these past few days?"
Lorenzo, puzzled and slightly conflicted due to not actually remembering any girl Adam mentioned—owing to his disconnection from his current body's past memories—decided to play along, "Yeah... What about her?"
Adam, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and nervousness, confessed, "I found out there was a peephole here, and... it looks into a room she often uses..."
"Interesting," Lorenzo commented, eyeing Adam with a mix of amusement and intrigue. "No wonder you suggested this delicatessen..."
Though Adam seemed a tad embarrassed by the admission, he couldn't hide his anticipation as he peered through the hole, "But she's still not here—"
"Shush!" Lorenzo suddenly cut him off, motioning for silence. The door to the room they were spying on opened, and in walked a stunningly beautiful girl. Clad in a white dress that accentuated her figure, her long hair cascaded perfectly over her shoulders, highlighting her smooth, flawless skin. The sight of her was so striking that even Lorenzo found his heart skipping a beat.
As Lorenzo's gaze fixed on the girl's beautiful visage, a thought unbidden crossed his mind, "Could that be Jennifer Connelly?" The resemblance was uncanny, but the momentary distraction faded as he observed the young woman, who appeared to be about 16, gracefully embarking on what seemed to be ballet practice, her movements flowing elegantly through the space.
This scene, somehow deeply familiar to Lorenzo, stirred a sense of déjà vu within him. It was reminiscent of a poignant scene from the film "Once Upon A Time in America," where a similar moment of observation and longing is depicted through the character of Noodles watching his love interest, Deborah, dance.
The coincidence of watching the young woman dance through the very peephole reminiscent of the one Noodles used, sparked a startling thought in Lorenzo's mind, "Could she actually be Deborah?" This connection between the scene before him and the iconic movie deepened his intrigue and wonder.
Lorenzo's recent conversations with his coworkers had led him to a staggering realization: he might actually be living within the universe of "The Godfather," evidenced by the presence of both the Barzini and Corleone families among New York's Five Families in this reality. This revelation made him ponder the possibility that elements from another cinematic classic, "Once Upon A Time in America," could also intertwine with this world.
Given that both films delve into the realms of crime and gang life, the idea didn't seem too far-fetched.
As Lorenzo watched the young woman, whom he'd internally dubbed "Deborah," dance before him, he couldn't hide his admiration.
Suddenly, a thud broke the spell. Adam, shifting beside him, had accidentally knocked against the wooden crates, sending a jarring sound through the quiet room. The dance halted abruptly as the young woman stopped and directed her gaze straight towards the peephole where Lorenzo and Adam were peeking.
"Who's there!?" she exclaimed, her eyes darting to the hole that revealed their peering faces.
At the sight of the young woman's direct gaze, Lorenzo quickly pulled back, realizing they needed to make a swift exit. Noticing Adam frozen in place, seemingly paralyzed by shock, Lorenzo had no choice but to grab him by the arm and hustle him out of the bathroom.
"Who's there!?" The young woman's voice echoed sharply behind them, but Lorenzo didn't look back.
As they returned to their table, Lorenzo couldn't help but chide Adam, "What were you doing? You froze up like a jittery joe out there."
Adam, still looking somewhat dazed, offered a sheepish apology. "I don't know. My heart just skipped a beat when she looked right at me..."
Lorenzo couldn't suppress a snort of amusement. "Idiot."
They settled at their table just as the young man returned with their order. "Here's what you asked for," he said, placing the sandwiches in front of them.
Lorenzo nodded in thanks, but as the server turned to leave, a curious thought struck him. He called after the young man, "Fat Moe?"
The young man stopped dead in his tracks and turned, a look of surprise etched on his face. "What did you just call me?"
Adam, sensing the potential for offense in Lorenzo's remark, quickly interjected with a nervous chuckle. "Ah, don't mind my friend. He might have confused you with someone else."
The young man, however, brushed off the concern with a shake of his head. "No, it's just... he used a nickname that only my close friends use." His gaze shifted back to Lorenzo, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "Do we know each other from somewhere?"
"Uh, just heard about you from a friend," Lorenzo replied, managing a smile that belied his inner turmoil.
"Is that so..." Fat Moe murmured, before turning away and leaving them to their meal.
Adam, picking up on the odd exchange, teased, "Looks like you've got friends other than me, huh?"
Lorenzo, however, was far from the mood for banter. His face was etched with a serious expression, his mind racing. By calling the young man "Fat Moe," Lorenzo had sought to test a theory about the reality he was ensnared in. The server's recognition of the nickname confirmed it: they were indeed navigating a world woven from the threads of "Once Upon A Time in America." This realization weighed heavily on Lorenzo, as the implications of their situation began to fully dawn on him.
Lorenzo's discovery that he might be in a world blending elements of "The Godfather" and "Once Upon A Time in America" was staggering, but the presence of "Fat Moe" and the young woman who mirrored Deborah from the latter movie made the scenario undeniable.
The encounter with the young woman they had inadvertently spied on clinched it for Lorenzo. There was no doubt in his mind now; she was the spitting image of Deborah, a character pivotal to "Once Upon A Time in America," and her resemblance to Jennifer Connelly only reinforced this realization.
While Lorenzo was lost in thought, munching on his sandwich, Adam gave him a jittery nudge.
Lorenzo was pulled from his reverie and turned to Adam, puzzled, "What's going on?"
With a nervous grin, Adam tilted his head towards an approaching figure. Lorenzo's gaze followed to find the striking Deborah before them. She bore a striking resemblance to Jennifer Connelly, with a charmingly vexed expression...
Lorenzo, caught off guard, stammered, "Um... Can I do something for you?"
Pointing accusingly, the young woman demanded, "Were you two spying on me?"
Adam, mortified, began, "I... I'm sor—" but Lorenzo quickly silenced him with a hand over his mouth.
"No, you must be confusing us with someone else," Lorenzo interjected smoothly, without missing a beat.
Her suspicion evident, Deborah quizzed, "Why are you silencing him?"
Lorenzo stumbled over his words for a moment before replying, "Oh, no, that's not it at all. It's just that..." His thoughts raced as he struggled to find an explanation. "It's just that it's considered impolite to talk while eating, especially in the company of a charming young lady like yourself."
Deborah's skepticism lingered, yet without concrete evidence, her accusations remained unconfirmed.
Seizing a more congenial moment, Lorenzo smoothly transitioned, "By the way, I'm Lorenzo. And your name is?"
Adam offered a blank stare in the midst of the awkward exchange.
Lorenzo extended his hand in greeting, but Deborah hesitated, wary of the hand Lorenzo had just used to muzzle Adam. Noticing her hesitation, Lorenzo quickly wiped his hand on his shirt for a do-over. This time, Deborah, though still reluctant, accepted the gesture, introducing herself in kind, "I'm Deborah. Nice to meet you..."
In the delicatessen, Lorenzo's eyes lingered on Deborah as she introduced herself, captivated.
Honestly, Lorenzo was smitten; it was undeniable that her stunning beauty had taken his breath away.
He wouldn't pretend to be insincere, claiming, "It was love at first sight, I felt we shared something special." That's just not true.
Truth be told, it was her extraordinary, flawless beauty that ensnared Lorenzo at that very moment. He'd seen his fair share of beautiful faces throughout his life, but none held a candle to Deborah's radiance.
"Are you alright?" Deborah inquired, noticing Lorenzo's prolonged gaze.
Jolted back to reality, Lorenzo replied with a warm smile, "Yes, I'm fine. It's a pleasure to meet you, Deborah."
Deborah gave a slight nod, her gaze shifting briefly to a quiet Adam, then back to Lorenzo, before she apologized, "I hope I didn't come off too strong just now."
Lorenzo chuckled, reassuring her with a wave, "Not at all, don't worry about it."
Deborah gave a nod, adding, "I'm really sorry. Please enjoy your meal at our deli. I'll excuse myself now."
Just as she was about to leave, Lorenzo called out to her, "Are you hungry? I can order something for you."
Deborah shook her head, declining politely, "Thank you for the offer, but I'm good. I've already eaten." With those words, she departed.
Watching her leave before she disappeared into a room, Lorenzo turned to Adam, saying, "Adam, I get that you have feelings for her, but, unfortunately... I do too. Maybe you should consider setting your sights elsewhere."
Adam's frown deepened at Lorenzo's words, "What are you suggesting?"
Lorenzo draped an arm around Adam's shoulders, half-teasing, "Let's be honest. You barely have the courage to speak to her. She's not the one for you, so I'll take it from here..."
Adam shrugged off Lorenzo's arm, defiantly retorting, "I'll be the one she chooses someday! And I'll muster the courage to face her confidently..."
Lorenzo shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're stubborn," he observed. Then, locking eyes with Adam, he continued, "Let me tell you something, Adam... I don't think she's into guys like you. It'd be easier on you to just give up now and save yourself the heartache."
Adam shot back, "That could easily apply to you too. I doubt she's into you either."
Lorenzo couldn't help but laugh at Adam's comeback. "Did you see how she was with me? Did you notice? I even touched her hand!" He leaned in, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret, "It was soft... Smooth... Holding her hand felt like touching an angel..."
Adam felt a flush of jealousy, recalling how Lorenzo had indeed managed to touch Deborah's hand and engage her effortlessly.
Lorenzo's description, almost like a temptation, was too much for Adam. Frustrated, he blurted out, "Damn it. One day I'll touch her hand too, Lorenzo! Mark my words! And I'll do much more!"
Lorenzo regarded him with a bemused look. "Really? You can't even talk to her now—"
"One day—not now!" Adam interrupted, his pride wounded.
Lorenzo sighed, "If you're so set on pursuing what might be a beautiful yet thorny flower, be my guest. But don't say I didn't warn you about the thorns." He finished off his sandwich with this final note.
Adam looked perplexed. "You're speaking in ways I can't even follow, Lorenzo..."
Lorenzo chuckled to himself, reminded of their different paths. Adam hadn't had the benefit of an education, lacking even the basics of reading or arithmetic.
If not for Lorenzo's consciousness inhabiting this body, the original Lorenzo would have been as uneducated as Adam. They had both been left to fend for themselves from a young age.
Noticing Adam had finished his meal too, Lorenzo suggested, "Let's head to the counter and settle up for our meal."
The sandwiches, priced at a modest 15 cents, were within reach for Lorenzo and Adam, though they still felt it pinched their wallets a bit.
"After this, I'll definitely be back, Fat Moe. Thanks for the awesome meal." Lorenzo expressed his gratitude to Fat Moe as he paid.
"Thank you as well," Fat Moe replied with a smile, visibly touched by the compliment, as he waved goodbye to Lorenzo and Adam making their way out of the deli.
"You seemed unusually nice back there—not the Lorenzo I'm used to. You're acting strange today," Adam remarked, eyeing Lorenzo curiously.
Lorenzo just laughed off the comment. "Ah, you're unaware, but that Fat Moe is Deborah's brother," he revealed, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm just laying the groundwork with my future brother-in-law."
Adam's eyes bulged in surprise. "What? Fat Moe is Deborah's brother?"
Lorenzo nodded. "Exactly. You're just finding this out now?"
Adam couldn't help but swear under his breath. "Damn. Had I known, I would've complimented him, called him 'Handsome Moe' or something!"
Lorenzo chuckled at the idea. "Ha, 'Handsome Moe', that's brilliant!"
"Think I can go back and make a good impression on Fat Moe?" Adam inquired, hopeful.
"You could go back, but you'd just end up embarrassing yourself," Lorenzo pointed out.
Adam sighed, resigning himself to the situation. "Fine, tomorrow, I'll lay it on thick with the compliments."
Lorenzo nodded, half-joking, "Sure, maybe you should just focus on charming Fat Moe instead of pining after my Deborah."
With a playful shove, Adam retorted, "Man, you're such a jerk, you know that?"
--
Over the following days, life for Lorenzo and Adam fell into a familiar pattern, with their days beginning early at the factory from 6 AM until 3 PM. Despite the daily grind, they made it a point to visit the Gelly family's delicatessen regularly.
Deborah and Fat Moe, the Gelly siblings, were the main attraction for the two friends at the deli.
One of these visits saw Lorenzo and Adam attempting to sneak a peek at Deborah dancing, something they seemed to have tried before. However, this time, Deborah appeared more vigilant, prompting the pair to abandon their attempt after a brief moment.
The inability to engage Deborah in conversation left Lorenzo and Adam feeling somewhat dejected in the days that followed.
--
As the days rolled on, Lorenzo maintained his routine, juggling his factory job with visits to the Gelly family's deli, despite the strain on his finances.
It dawned on Lorenzo that it had been five days since he found himself in this unfamiliar world, a realization that brought with it a mix of emotions and reflections on his new life.
Determined to maintain his newfound routine, Lorenzo resolved to continue working at the factory and visiting the delicatessen in hopes of winning Deborah's heart. However, his sixth day at the factory took an unexpected turn.
As usual, Lorenzo was immersed in his work, assembling weapons with a proficiency that had recently earned him a pay raise to $6. But amidst the monotony, a sudden commotion erupted.
Workers nearby halted their tasks and rushed towards the source of the disturbance. Driven by curiosity, Lorenzo decided to investigate.
"Quick, quick! Treat him immediately!"
"Oh, lord. What happened to him... Poor boy..."
Approaching the crowd, Lorenzo was greeted by the concerned murmurs of his colleagues, particularly the women.
Seizing the shoulder of a bystander, Lorenzo inquired, "What happened?"
"I don't know, I'm just as in the dark as you are..." The man shrugged, equally bewildered.
Navigating through the throng of people, Lorenzo managed to reach the center of the commotion. To his shock, he found Adam at the heart of the gathering, the focus of everyone's concern.
Lorenzo's heart skipped as he took in the sight of Adam, gravely injured and barely recognizable. His face was a mess of blood, and the swelling around his eyes and mouth was so severe, yet Lorenzo immediately knew it was Adam. In this strange world, Adam was the closest thing Lorenzo had to a friend.
"Adam!" he shouted, rushing to his side. "What happened to you?"
"Be careful with him, he's badly hurt," a woman cautioned Lorenzo as he approached.
"I'm his friend," Lorenzo quickly explained.
The woman nodded in understanding. "I know," she said. Lorenzo had started to make a name for himself in the factory due to his efficiency and skill at assembling weapons.
Fury and concern etched across Lorenzo's face as he demanded, "Who did this to him?" He looked down at Adam, the usually buoyant young man now lying battered and bruised before him. Several of Adam's teeth were missing, and blood trickled from his mouth, painting a stark contrast to the cheerful disposition he typically carried.
"We're not sure who—" The woman began, her explanation cut short by the sound of Adam's coughing.
Adam struggled to cough, his efforts to open his swollen eyes painfully evident.
Lorenzo gently supported Adam, his own eyes widening with concern. "Adam, who did this to you?"
It was clear that speaking was a struggle for Adam.
"You said you were just going out for a quick smoke break, and now you come back like this?" Lorenzo's tone mixed worry with disbelief as he looked at Adam.
"It was... Antonio..." Adam managed to say, each word a battle. "I saw him... with a group of guys, and they..."
Lorenzo pressed for more details, "What happened? What did they do?"
With great effort, Adam whispered, "They were taking weapons... from the inventory..." His voice trailed off, underscoring the gravity of what he had witnessed.
Hearing Adam's account, Lorenzo and the woman by his side were stunned.
"After they saw me... they came over... and beat me up..." Adam's voice was halting, and despite the damage to his eyes, tears mixed with blood streamed down his face. "Hu... Hng..."
Lorenzo enveloped Adam in a hug, offering words of comfort. "Hey, buddy, everything's going to be okay..." He then addressed the woman, "Have you called for medical help?"
The woman confirmed, "Yes, I have. And I've alerted management as well."
Lorenzo's response was a nod, but his expression hardened. His mind raced with suspicions that some within the factory's management might be complicit in this crime, possibly linked to the Barzini family.
It was well-known that Antonio was affiliated with the Barzini family, but his presence in the factory indicated a deeper problem. It suggested that someone in management, or perhaps the entire management, was involved and had allowed Antonio and his accomplices to enter the premises to steal weapons.
Lorenzo doubted the management's willingness to fully cover Adam's medical expenses. Given the possible entanglement with the mafia, even if management wasn't entirely in cahoots with the Barzini family, they might still seek to minimize the cost of Adam's medical care. This could mean that Adam would not receive the full compensation or care he deserved, leaving him in a precarious position.
In that moment, the harsh realities of their situation weighed heavily on Lorenzo.
In the factory, Lorenzo witnessed his friend Adam being rushed to the hospital, just moments before he and the other workers were sternly reminded to resume their duties.
"Why are you loitering around? Back to work!" bellowed the middle-aged man, directing his frustration at Lorenzo, who was visibly upset about his friend's plight.
Despite being reprimanded by his boss, Lorenzo couldn't peel his eyes away, retorting, "How can I concentrate on work after what happened to my friend?"
The middle-aged man, who typically showed a softer side to Lorenzo, scoffed, "Listen, kid, it's high time you learned about the harsh realities of life. No matter what, the work must go on!"
This provoked an involuntary smirk from Lorenzo. "Oh? Don't be mistaken, I've had my fair share of harsh realities of life."
Flashes of his past life in the criminal underworld, where he ascended the ranks to lead a faction within a notorious gang, committed unspeakable acts against fellow outlaws, and faced death only to be discarded into the sea, flooded his mind. All these memories were vivid, marking his tumultuous journey before he found himself in this new reality.
The middle-aged man eyed Lorenzo, unnerved by his uncontrollable grin but ultimately shrugged it off with a grunt. "Alright, cut the act. Get to work."
"I just told you, I can't. Not after what happened to my friend..." Lorenzo replied, shaking his head. "I need to take a break."
"You're starting to get on my nerves, kid," the man retorted, locking eyes with Lorenzo. Yet, seeing Lorenzo's unwavering stance, he exhaled a resigned sigh. "If you weren't such a good worker, I'd have fired you for your backtalk, but... if you're really not up to it today, I'll let you off." Checking his watch and noting it was only about 11 AM, he reluctantly handed Lorenzo his pay, a mere three dollars for the incomplete shift.
"Leave now, before I change my mind," the man dismissed Lorenzo with a wave of his hand.
"Thank you, boss," Lorenzo replied, stepping out of the factory. Once outside, he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
"Antonio..." he whispered under his breath. Spotting an unsmoked cigarette on the ground, he picked it up. He had never allowed his current body to smoke, but overwhelmed by his emotions, he felt the urge to light it up.
Lorenzo approached a young policeman, who was enjoying a cigarette, and boldly asked, "Could you light my cigarette?"
The request took the policeman aback, not used to such directness from a young man towards an officer, especially over a cigarette.
Lorenzo's confidence stemmed from knowing that at this time, it wasn't unusual for minors to smoke, and there were no laws yet in place prohibiting minors from smoking.
The policeman chuckled, took the cigarette from Lorenzo, and lit it with his own. "There you go," he said, handing it back.
"Thanks," Lorenzo responded, placing the cigarette between his lips, taking a drag, and letting out a cloud of smoke.
"Don't mention it," the policeman replied, noting Lorenzo's sullen mood from his posture and expression.
"You seem to be having a tough day," the officer remarked.
"Is it that obvious?" Lorenzo chuckled, trying to mask his distress.
"I've been there, feeling down and out on bad days myself," the policeman shared, finishing his cigarette, crushing it underfoot.
"I don't want to intrude, but what's got you so down?" he inquired, genuine concern lacing his voice.
Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Lorenzo shared, "My friend was beaten up. He was attacked by a gang..."
"Really?" The policeman seemed taken aback, then asked, "So, what's next? You're thinking about revenge?"
Lorenzo gave a wry smile, "I'd like to, but it's not something I can do at the moment..." He took another drag, releasing a thick plume of smoke as if trying to expel his current turmoil—the sense of helplessness, the vulnerability he detested.
Adam's ordeal wasn't the sole source of Lorenzo's anguish. The incident had unearthed a torrent of haunting memories for Lorenzo, moments when he felt utterly powerless—like being murdered and discarded in the sea or witnessing his family in his past life being massacred by foes. These memories dredged up a profound sense of frailty he seemed unable to shake off.
The policeman placed a reassuring hand on Lorenzo's shoulder, recognizing the depth of his predicament.
Lorenzo sighed, "I just can't stand feeling so powerless."
At this, the policeman's demeanor brightened slightly as he introduced himself, "By the way, I'm Albert Neri. And you?"
After a brief handshake, Lorenzo replied, "I'm Lorenzo Lupo."
"An Italian, I presume?" Albert inquired, picking up on Lorenzo's heritage from his name.
Lorenzo nodded. While his current identity was indeed half-Italian, the surname "Lupo" carried over from his previous life's legacy.
Albert gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, adding, "Well, that's even better."
Lorenzo, clearly puzzled, watched as Albert added, "I have a contact who might be willing to help you with your quest for revenge. If you're interested, reach out to me at this address." He then handed Lorenzo a slip of paper with an address scribbled on it.
Lorenzo studied the address, confusion written all over his face. "What's this for?" he asked.
"It's simple," Albert explained with a grin. "If you're really looking to settle scores, visit this address. I can connect you with someone who can make it happen."
Intrigued, Lorenzo couldn't hide his interest. "You have a contact who can assist me in taking revenge? I'm all ears..." He paused, then asked, "Who might this be?"
Albert wasted no time in revealing, "I'm acquainted with someone from the Corleone family. They can introduce you to the Don himself. Don Vito Corleone could certainly lend you a hand with your situation..."
Hearing this, Lorenzo was taken aback. He hadn't expected the officer before him to have ties with the mafia, especially not the renowned Corleone family!
"Could a powerful don really step in to help me?" Lorenzo asked, though he was already somewhat aware that a figure like a don could indeed offer assistance. He was more interested in gauging Albert's perspective.
"Absolutely," Albert replied with conviction. "I've heard from a friend closely connected to the Corleones that even ordinary folks can seek Don Vito's aid. As long as you approach him as a friend and show him respect, Don Vito won't hesitate to lend a hand."
Lorenzo remained quiet, digesting Albert's words. After a moment, Albert checked his watch and said, "I should get back to my duties. It was good to meet you, Lorenzo." With that, he departed.
Lorenzo watched Albert leave, then bought a train ticket and found himself aboard the next train. Seated, he revisited the piece of paper in his hand—Albert's address. The potential it represented churned through his mind; it could be the doorway to a new chapter. Tucking the paper into his pocket, he resolved it might come in handy later.
With thoughts of his hospitalized friend swirling in his mind, Lorenzo looked out the train window until he reached his stop. He made his way to the Jewish neighborhood and entered the Gelly family's delicatessen, a place tinged with nostalgia and now, a touch of sorrow. He settled into the familiar table he and Adam often shared.
Fat Moe, busy attending to other customers, caught sight of Lorenzo and approached. "You're here early today, Lorenzo. Where's Adam?"
Lorenzo offered a subdued smile. "He's... under the weather," he said, before changing the subject. "Fat Moe, does the deli serve alcohol?"
Fat Moe responded matter-of-factly, "We're a delicatessen; we serve food, not drinks."
Feeling a bit deflated, Lorenzo replied, "Alright, then. I'll have the chicken noodle soup."
"Coming right up. That'll be 25 cents," Fat Moe said before going to prepare Lorenzo's order.
Once Fat Moe disappeared into the kitchen, Lorenzo slipped away to the restroom, climbed onto a wooden crate, and carefully removed the panel concealing a secret peephole.
Lorenzo Isn't expecting to catch a glimpse of Deborah, the young and enchanting woman he found himself drawn to, in the backroom of the deli. Given the time of day, he thought she'd be at drama school. Yet, to his astonishment, he heard footsteps and saw her dancing gracefully.
As he watched her move, the weight of his earlier gloom began to lift. Deborah's presence, her dance, seemed to cast a spell over him, drawing him away from his troubles, if only for a moment.
But the spell was abruptly broken when Deborah turned towards the very peephole Lorenzo was using to watch her. In a flash, he withdrew, quickly covering the hole and making his escape from the bathroom.
"That was close," he muttered to himself, a mix of adrenaline and relief pulsing through him. Despite the scare, a smile played on his lips.
This encounter had been unexpectedly thrilling. Facing danger usually didn't unsettle Lorenzo this way, but the thought of being caught spying on Deborah had sent his heart racing in a way he hadn't anticipated.
Though he narrowly avoided being discovered, Lorenzo felt the risk was somehow worth it. The brief distraction had lightened his spirits, offering a fleeting escape from his somber mood.