* CHUD Mafia RPG - Chapter One

"What the fuck is this shit?? How in mother teresa's ass did they find us??? Goddamm mother-loving...."

Vinnie was already becoming a mess and the cops weren't even inside yet. His longtime friend Lou and sometime aquiantance Angel Face were already opening up a false wall which led into the sewers, but he continued.

"You know who I bet it was?? That fuck face Scapeli! He's been losing here lately and he's looking to fuck us. I tell ya, I'm gonna find that shit for cocks and boil his fat ass in oil! I swear..."

"hey" Lou cut in, almost too calm. "Can we leave now?"

As the group began to exit led by Angel Face who was calmly watching his steps in the dark tunnel, Vinnie continued his tirade.

"Ahhh FUCK! It smells down here! I told you when you were building this Lou that I wasn't ever gonna use it! I can't believe this shit, my new shirt is fucked up now. I'd rather go back out there and crack every onena them lousy cops heads open! I swear I'd do it! I'll fuckin shit shit down their eye sockets and make pasta outta their fuckin cocks! AND THEN, I'll feed it to that cocksucker Scapeli!!! I tell ya....their all fuckin dead......all fucking.......dead...."

Outside, so as not to disturb the Don...

"Bene...I assume you two know this old game? I want inquiries made...anyone Zeta had contact with...his wife, his mistress, the corner grocer. Anyone. I want Nicky's crew alleviated of any family business until we know their allegiances. I want this done clean."

The big guy stands there for a moment, mulling the offer over. “I have neither fear of nor love for the Italians. If they get in our way, they will wish they hadn’t. Your offer is fair and the work looks challenging enough. I accept.” He bows almost imperceptibly to the greasy number cruncher and heads out of the office door. He punches the call button on the elevator and waits.

Tony "Alto" positions himself directly underneath a lamppost near the unloading/loading action, and lights a cigarette. He is relaxed and seemingly aloof, although he is keeping an surreptitious eye on the action, noting license plate numbers and physical descriptions of the loaders. To all who glance his way, he appears to be a man simply leaning against a lamppost reading a well-worn copy of a book. The book's title is in large block letters across the front cover: "A Farewell to Arms."

Tony stood outside the room, leaning against the wall. He reached into his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes, removed one, and let it hang on his dry lips. He replaced the pack and reached for his Zippo lighter. He swiftly flipped it open and lit his cigarette, taking a deep hit.

"Sure thing, boss...don't worry 'bout nothin'. Dino and I will make sure all bases are covered. You just leave it to us."

With that, he waited for a response from Dino as to where they should start looking.

Frank Tobiasi winced as he gulped down the double scotch, roughly placing the glass down on the mini-bar’s counter. He thought it was nice for the rat to let him use the room, even though he could use his cleaning skills now. He stared out of the window by the counter and down at the open-air pool. Suits covered the area. They didn’t look too smart, Frank thought. After all, they hadn’t seen him yet, and he’d been much more obvious than usual. As he moved away from the window, he stepped past the rookie’s corpse, lying on the floor by the side of the bed wrapped in off-white bed sheets, a red flower growing increasingly big by the area wrapped around his neck. Frank casually walked to the bed and sat down on the edge, taking up a piece of the sheet and cleaning the small sharp knife he was holding. The blood came off easily, but there was a stain. A stain from the recent past. Tobiasi slipped the knife back into the thin sheath strapped to his left ankle and stood up, about to head back to the bar when he heard something. Something faint. Hallways and corridors play tricks, but Frank’s ears never play with him. He unholstered the stripped-down Beretta from the back of his waist and stepped behind the door, cocking back the hammer. A tiny bead of sweat left his brow as he heard the footsteps come closer. Someone was coming...

As the door swung open, Frank suddenly stepped back, then immediately drew back his weapon as the figure of Paulie DiVialoso stepped into the room.

‘Christ, don’t you ever knock?’

Mickey takes a look around, leans against the wall. He takes out his Roger Rabbit zippo and lights a lucky.

After a few drags, he walks out the door. A few steps out he looks inside and stares the man down. He shakes his head and lets the cig drop to the ground. He doesn't bother to put it out.

"I'm in. But I'm not big on the whole loyalty thing, so you fuck me I fuck you back. And my dick'll hurt ya ass."

He uses the stairs to go outside.

Stepping out of the elevator and into the foyer, Othello looks the punk up and down.

"Mickey "Mouse" is it? Look little dick, if I fucked you you be lucky to live and if you lived you wouldn't be able to walk for a month of Sundays. You mess up or in any way botch this operation and you'll wish I had just fucked you instead. You read me? Hell, I should just cap your sorry little ass now but for some reason our employer thinks you might come in handy. Personally I doubt it, but who am I to second guess."

He checks his watch and waits patiently.

Mickey shakes his head and says in a whisper.

"We'll see about that."

He shakes his head, leans back agaisnt the wall and closes his eyes.

Paulie stares at the barrel of Tobiasi's gun for a moment, nonplussed. "Hey, I ain't thrilled about doin' this gig with a partner either, but you don't see me drawin' iron over it."

He flops down onto a chair and turns on the TV. "You get any cartoons on this thing?"

Forbes takes the briefcase.

"Are all my papers still in here? I have to teach class in an hour."

Virgil suddenly turned away towards Vinnie. He was beginning to lose his temper. The thought of having to get dirt on him to escape was intolerable, and Vinnie's rambling weren't helping. He grabbed him by the collar.

"You shut the fuck up now,pauvre imbecile. That secret wall ain't the thickest there is, and the cops are probably still up there searching for us. In fact, there's a good chance they found the passage and are heading straight for us. So unless you wanna get caught, I suggest you tone that sweet voice of yours down,c'est compris? Now, if Scapelli did it, I'm gonna get him. I was out to make a buck, that was my lucky day. I don't like being kept away from my money, and I even less like having someone sics the cop after me. And believe me, when I'm through with him, the pigs are gonna have to DNA test the bloodstains, cause they won't be anything else left to identify. For now, let's move on, we're almost at the exit."

Letting go of Vinnie, he carried on, carefully stepping so as not to get mud on his brand new shoes.

The Fist stares at him waiting for a response. A big change is coming. He feels it. Delpino's smoke blurs his vision, yet he's completely clear about their mission.

"We gotta do this alone. Let's get that straight. You take a shit, you let me know about it. I take a leak, I'd even let you hold my dick."

Delpino intently eyes Morinelli. He's a no-bullshit kinda guy and someone Morinelli will gladly take a bullet in the heart for. Morinelli takes a deep breath and makes his decision.

"Broads. Always the broads. Let's check out all the pussies he's fucked. We do the wife last."

With that, Tony nods. That's how it is in every mob movie, he thought. The broads are the fuckin' ones you go to because they're the one who always start everything. They're the ones who grab your money and grab your dick and don't let go of neither.

"The broads it is...I think we oughta go down to that strip joint a few blocks from here.....I hear he was fucking some girl with dollars bills in her g-string. She might know somethin' because I hear he told her all his problems and shit. Well, that's what I do with strippers anyway. Almost like a shrink, you know? Well, a shrink you can fuck."

With that, Tony flicked his cigarette to the ashtray on top of the trash can, and the smoke slowly pouring out of the tip was almost a reminder of things to come.

He reached into his shirt pocket and took out one of many individually-packaged toothpicks. He opened it and put it in his mouth. He was ready now.

He started down the stairwell and waited for Dino to follow.

Lou quick-timed it down the stone steps to the hastily dug shelter. His hand went for the silver cigarette case in his inner coat pocket, but he thought better of it and reached for his 9mm instead. Carefully choosing his steps, he made his way to a crate at the far side wall. Pulling the handkerchief from his breast pocket, he wipes a layer of dirt from the crate, and when satisfied sits down facing the stares.

Crossing his right leg over his left, Lou casually rests his pistol hand on his knee.

"Alright. Vinnie, Virgil's right. Shut the fuck up. We'll get this figured out when cat and mouse time is over. Til then, calm down."

Ignoring his own advice, the list of players ran through Lou's mind. All the right people were being paid. He took care of that personally - it wouldn't do to come so far so fast only to be derailed by greed. His own, or Vinnie's. He was fond of the guy, but somethings were more important. And Virgil, well, Virgil was another story.

Lou kept one eye on the closed door, and the other on Virgil.

"We cool? Let's go."

Upon standing, it was evident that he hadn't been very thorough cleaning dirt off the crate. Must be the nerves. Wiping dirt from his backside as casually as possible, Lou added a cleaning bill to his current list of problems.

"alright alright!"

Vinnie was a tough guy when he's bullying people on the streets, but he knows when to back down. He knew his friends Lou and Virgil were no amateurs and thought better than to keep mouthing off. But then, he just couldn't help it. They were in the sewers now, which one can assume smells like Louie Anderson's asshole.

"ahhh fuck! I want outta here! You sure you know your way round down here Louie? I don't wanna spend another second down here if i don't have to!"

'This is a lot more interesting to watch.'

Frank again stared out of the window and down at the pool. For a second, his glance caught a short redhead in a red bikini, but then his gaze swung over to the quintet lounging in the pool, and the suits covering them at all angles.

'I count eight in black down here. No doubt a few more hidden away.'

Paulie sighs, shuts off the TV, and walks over to the window. "Okay, this had better be good if I'm gonna miss Thundercats over it."

He stares down and snorts in disgust. "They'd better have a few more hidden away -- those jokers might as well have 'Rent-A-Thug' stenciled on their coats." His eyes narrow. "And I wouldn't be surprised if a few of those honeys were packing a surprise or two."

Paulie pauses, then steps back from the window and eyes Tobiasi with a suspicious glare. "Wait a goddamn minute -- if they got all this security, how the hell did you get a room with a view?" His pistol is in his hand before Tobiasi realizes he's made a move.

'Relax, ya big palooka. I have connections. Well, I had 'em...'

Frank glanced towards the corpse wrapped in sheets on the floor.

Paulie laughs. "'Palooka'? Jesus, who the fuck talks like that anymore?" He puts his gun away. "You gotta be on the level, no self-respectin' back-stabber would be caught dead talkin' like that." He looks back out the window. "You figure we can take 'em out from up here?"

'From here? Sure.'

Frank looked back down.

'But it'd be a lot more fun doing it down there.'

"Don't worry Vinnie. I think we're almost at the exit."

Virgil led the two men through the tunnels. His heart was now racing in his chest. The last thing he wanted was to get caught by the cops. Sure, they had nothing on him for the murders, he was careful enough, but getting caught at a bookie joint was reason enough for getting sent to jail. And he hated to think about what could happen there, what with the face on him.

"No way I'm gonna end up being someone's bitch. No chance in hell", he muttered under his breath. His senses were telling him the exit was near. He took a couple turns, and they all ended up in front of a large concrete door.

"Told ya. There's our escape. Vinnie, lend me a hand with this, it's freakin' heavy. Okay, here it comes."

The light of day flooded the dark tunnels as the door opened, momentarily blinding the three men. They hastily exited the stinking hole. Virgil looked down on his shoes. The pale white had turned brown. His suit was ruined. Spoiling Angel Face's good looks was a surefire way of getting you into trouble. Head still lowered, he told his partners "Now, what say we get busy trying to find the son of a whore who did this to us? I'd sure like to have a talk with that mister."

And when he raised his head, his eyes were filled with a rage that could only be stopped by the sight of blood. A lot of blood.

Dino watches Tony walk down the stairwell. Jesus, I'm gonna stink and stick out like a fucking sore thumb from some homo's ass, he worries about his massive frame. As he walks down the stairs, he tries to control his heavy breathing. He hates weakness and he doesn't want to show to Tony that he's nothing but a slab of walking pork with coronary health issues.

To ease his mind, he thinks of Tony's toothpick. Goddamn kid will choke on it one of these days. He laughs silently as he thinks of Nicky. He silently prays as he vows vengeance on Don Marco's son -- his friend.

It is a cool night -- a night where he and Tony have been baptized as the new beginning of the mob in Coldstone. It's a shame to celebrate the night's final hours by driving. Plus, he can use the exercise.

"Tony, we walk. Let's get to know this place," he inhales a deep and loving breath of the cool air. "Really know her..."

"Alright..I could use a little fresh air. Besides, your car smells like fuckin' ass."

Tony slowly walks beside Dino. He pats his coat-pocket to see if he's packing.

"Good. I left my piece in the bathroom. Don't ask me why, I didn't want that fuckin' thing going off while i'm taking a piss, you know?"

Tony felt like that was stupid of him to say, as if maybe Dino would view it as incompetence. But he thought better of that since the 2 of them were hand-picked and had been trusted. He had to have done SOMETHING right to get here. Forgetting his gun is a minor setback. After all, he always had his fist.

"I mean, all we're doin' is going to talk to some fuckin' dancer or something. What's her name again....wait....don't say it.....Delilah, right?"

That was the name, Tony thought. And with that they continued walking along the cold and soulless street, towards the neon lights of "Jasmine's Den", their ultimate destination.

Fucking moron, Dino thought. How the fuck can somebody forget to pack at a time like this? Dino wants to scold that dumbfuck Tony, but decides that concessions should be allowed...once.

Delilah. Such a sweet name. It's been awhile since Dino has got some lay and maybe he can get some action tonight. He thinks about it briefly, but decides not to taint his promise to Nicky. This is business and ain't no fucking walk down Coldstone Amusement Park.

From a distance, the two look like ordinary friends talking about simple shit, like cars, booze, and chicks. In fact, seeing them enter Jasmine's Den, it's even more obvious as to what they intend to do.

Dino looks at Tony with a stonefaced grin. "Alright. Let's fuck us a pussy."

They walk in and immediately are assaulted by flashing lights and loud music. "Affection" by The Lost Boys is blaring on the sound system and 4 girls- 3 blondes and a redhead- are dancing to it. They are all topless and are really into what they are doing.

The redhead swings around the pole in the middle of the stage. I could show her a good time, Tony thought. It's business now, though....there'll be time for that later.

Tony and Dino walk up to the stage and take a seat on a plush leather couch directly in front of the redhead. She is eyeing Tony adoringly, almost mysteriously, and winks at him several times.

This broad may know where to find Delilah, Tony thought.

Paulie grins broadly. "I think this is the beginnin' of a bee-yoo-tiful friendship." Something catches his eye. "And I think I know how we can get close."

He walks over to the corpse and lifts the sheet. It's a bellboy, the bloody dot of a bullet hole above the surprised expression on his face. The uniform is clean, however. Paulie begins removing it. "Sleeping Beauty here ain't gonna be needing this no more," he says as he holds up the jacket. "Your size or mine, pal?"

The last of the pallets, loaded with crates, is lowered to the dockside, dropping the last few inches with a loud crash. The forklift operator, a guy as broad as he is tall, shrugs and spits the butt of his cigarette into the water. As the rest of the crew begin to transfer the crates to waiting vans, a hand taps the forklift guy on the shoulder. He turns to see a small, unassuming middle-aged guy, shabbily dressed, sucking on a hand-rolled cigarette. Forklift guy doesn't know it yet, but this is Jimmy Palooka. He speaks fast. Really fucking fast.

"Hey, fucko. Are you on loan from American Airlines?"

A stunned and confused stare is all the forklift guy can muster in return.

"Flew to Florida with them once. Kicked the fucking shit out of my luggage. You one of theirs?"

"...the fuck?" starts forklift guy.

"It's just that I couldn't help noticing a certain lack of care and attention in your work ethic there".

"Fuck off, dickweed. Take it up with the boss if you got a problem".

The rest of the crew have stopped their unpacking, and are watching the confrontation, curious. The short guy sucks his teeth and leans in close, unfolding a letter from his pocket. He whispers, the sweet stink of rolling tobacco on his breath.

"You take a close look at the name on this piece of paper, chuckles. You see the name there? You recognise that name, you fuck? You read the newspapers? Well, if I take your attitude up with him, you'd know about it. If you're lucky, you'll lose your job. If you get unlucky, you'll wake up at the bottom of the fucking harbor with that truck of yours up your ass, got that?"

Forklift guy nods, mute, but still simmering with anger. He can't quite believe this pipsqueak is getting away with this. But Jimmy isn't finished with him yet.

"You ain't married are you? Know how I can tell? Borrowed workshirt. Nametag says "Chico", and if you're Mexican then I'm Sammy fucking Davis Jr. A married man always has a fresh shirt. It's one of the few perks of the job. Now, I got no beef with you. I'm just bustin' balls here because that's the only way things get done. Just happens you caught my eye first. Don't sweat it...name?"

"Hank" replies a humbled forklift guy.

"Figures. OK Hank, I want you to do me a favor, then you can clock off and get back to your domestic beer and stroke mags. See the guy by the lamppost over there? Don't stare. You see him?"

Hank flicks his eyes to the guy and nods.

"Now our mutual friend, the guy you do not want to fuck with, prefers his trading to remain private, you got me? Maybe you didn't think anything strange about a guy coming to the docks for a midnight reading session, but I get curious real quick. I want you to gather some more of your big-ass friends, and go and ask our guest to come over here for a chat."

Jimmy tucks a $100 bill into Hanks shirt pocket.

"There's another one of those if I need you to medicine this fuck. You game?"

Hank nods, smiling now. He motions for his crew to join him, and they set off towards the stranger...

Frank knelt down and began to pull the jacket off the body, careful to keep his gun by his side, and more importantly, within reach. Paulie was well-known to Frank, an important character in the profession. But infamous or not, he wasn't taking any chances. He stood up as he slid the bright blue jacket on, and began to arrange his tie.

'I'm gonna look like an idiot in this. That means I get first dibs on the hot tub.'

He slid the Beretta into the holster on his lower back, and pulled out another shiny silver auto from a holster under his left arm. He checked the mag and pulled the slide back.

'After all, my boys have been aching for some action.'