This is a short drama. The name references Chicago's nickname as the "City of Big Shoulders." Enjoy. WARNING: This story gets kind of gory; I think most people can handle it with no problem, but you have been warned.

Part 1

Theme song(every good Noir story has a good theme song): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XsCBZxpo ... re=related

Michigan City, LaPort County, Indiana. September 1st, 1932

Vinny Costello's Pierce Arrow parked up next to the grimy old pasta restaurant. Showtime. He checked his WWI-vintage Tommy and made sure it was clean. He had "gone to the mattress," a mafia term referring to getting out the weapons from under the bed, two hours earlier, acting upon orders from his boss and uncle Kelly Spinelli. Just a simple mafia "soldier," he obeyed immediately. All over the cracked, run-down street, and using the cold, nighttime darkness as cover, men of the Spinelli family were getting out of Rolls, Arrows, and Fords and were loading pistols, Thompsons, and BAR's. Some were even coming on foot. Time to move.

Down the block, a four-story warehouse for illegal booze, owned by the Jewish-Polish crime family named Baczewski, was about to get the rub-down. The Baczewskis worked for the Purple Gang, the Jewish rum-runner group that based itself in Chicago and Detroit. The Spinelli family and the Purples had a very long and very violent history of murders, extortion, and religious tensions. It was time for it to end. The Purples had gone through multiple busts by the "cops," who were actually... well, that will be discussed later. The point is that the Purples were in their death throws. If this old warehouse was "commandeered," the Jewish gang would be out of Michigan City for good.

Click. Vinny's gun was ready to fire. Shady-looking fellows wearing suits and fedoras bought from hit money and booze cash filed out of the pasta place. Everything was going as planned. The men advanced down the street, almost in ranks like soldiers. They stopped outside the warehouse. Vinny and his cohorts quietly surrounded the old building. Most of the buildings in Michigan City were old, this one in particular. It had belonged to the Purples for generations.

Ratatatatatatatatatatatat...

Bullets blasted through the windows, riddling the Purples with holes before they could know what was going on. Those who survived reached for their weapons. The mobsters were going to try to shoot their way out. One Baczewski kicked the door down and fired a BAR at the Spinelli men on the sidewalk. Immediately, several rounds smashed through his skull, killing him instantly. Skull half-gone, but mostly still covered by his brown fedora, the body collapsed and rolled down the five concrete steps to the ground. The other Purples charged out, bullets flying in every direction.

Ratatatatatatatatatatatat...

Down they went. Vinny advanced closer to them and fired an entire clip into the pile of bodies. Old school. Then, he and several other men entered the building.

Ratatatatatatatatatatatat...

Ratatatatatatatatatatatat...

Vinny stepped outside and waved his red-hot MG. "It's over! The Purples have been sent packing."

The men seemed satisfied, but they showed no open joy. Secretly, though, many of them loved shooting the place up. It was a mafia hit-job as perfectly executed as one ever was. The men hurried and cleared the bodies from the street. Several minutes later, a cop car pulled up. Out stepped a uniformed man with brown hair and a green eye; the left was covered by an eye patch. "Good going, y'guys. That'll teach the Purples."

Vinny waved to his brother Benny. The Spinellis even made up the police force.

Benny looked at the carnage with his one good eye. "Don't worry. I'll make sure witnesses 'bite their tongues.' I think Uncle Kelly will be real satisfied, knowhattamean? See yous guys later." He did a mock salute and got back in his squad car.

Benny was known to cut tongues out of "squealers."

I was born in Michigan City, where my Dad used to pass Capone's "Tommy-shaped" house:

Not bad, but I've got a few constructive nitpicks.

1. Descriptiveness vs. Action: I know you're more of a 'just get the idea on the table' sort of writer, but a little more description rather than just plain action would be nice. It helps the reader to 'be there' more, and it makes things easier to picture. Don't just talk about how the guys went into the warehouse with their guns blazing, talk about the weather, how the buildings were shaped, what the street looked like, different vantage points, people's facial expressions, the way they moved, how they got into the building, etc. It helps more than you think.

2. Violence: The only really descriptive parts I found were the gory parts, and I found that (to be frank) distasteful. I know I used to think making the story gory and violent would make it more awesome, but it really doesn't (and this is something I've learned a while back). It gets old after a few sentences or so, it makes the reader lose respect for you as the writer, and it puts pictures into people's heads (especially the younger heads here) that really don't need to be there. I might be alone in thinking this, but it's what I've learned over the past few years I've been writing (and the decade or so that I've been reading) that excessive gore just doesn't need to be there. A few appropriate action/violence sequences were a guy takes a shot to the torso or head are completely fine in action writing, but come on, a guy's head getting completely shot off? Seriously? If this were a movie it would be rated R or worse, and PG/PG-13 is at the most what it should be at. If you're going to go R with it, you might as well add some cuss words and innuendo (I'm not saying you should, I'm just making an example ). If you absolutely must make it that violent, put a disclaimer in the title, or just PM people the story if they ask for it, like CB did with his Fallout story.

3. Background music: To put it simply, don't do it. It's a bad idea. I used to listen to music while writing, and it completely ruins it. The music goes to your head, makes it speed up and makes you feel awesome, you end up writing without description (just action), the whole thing goes too fast, and in the end you only have about 1000 words of action where there should be 2000 or 3000 with action and description. I'm assuming you added the background music into the post because it's supposed to replicate the feeling you had when you were writing it, but it doesn't. Writing, reading and music are three very different things that should never be mixed.

Alright, I'm getting off my soapbox now. Hope this is helpful.

Thanks for the help! I'm definitely using some of your ideas. EDIT: Used 'em. I think you'll like it much better now. I'm deeply indebted to your help.

As for violence: "If that was in a movie, it'd be rated R."

Uh, have you seen what makes it into PG-13/TV-14? For instance, in Christian Bale's Equilibrium, a TV-14 movie on SyFy, a guy get's his face cut off with a katana on-screen. On a zombie movie rated TV-14, an actual non-zombie woman is cut down the middle with a chainsaw while still alive and screaming. And SyFy's made-for-TV movie Dog Soldiers, where a wolfman disemboweled a Scottish soldier on-screen, and his intestines were hanging out while he was still alive. I once watched a PG-rated movie about the French Revolution, where people were guillotined on-screen. That is much more or at least as gory and at least as painful as getting your head shot off. Plus, I didn't say completely headless. I said almost, thus, he still has his head, but half of it is basically shot to pieces. You hear worse stuff on the news, for instance, that Loughner nut who wasted people's faces with a handgun in Arizona. Also, I get lots of my style from celebrated macho-man movies like Zulu, True Lies, Dawn of the Dead, PotC, LotR, Godfather, Rambo, Rocky, Great Escape, Clint Eastwood, John Wayne, etc, etc. All of which are extremely bloody and violent. Great Escape: PG and people get blasted to bits on razor-wire fences by machine guns. I grew up with that movie, and it never bothered me. Plus, this is a mobster story, so yeah, it's going to center around bloody Prohibition violence. Also, in every school in the country, kids get taught about how JWB blew Lincoln's head open and how LHO literally blew the brains out of JFK. It's gory, but it happened and kids seem to think of it as any other "boring fact" they'll see in their 3rd grade history book.



Um, Fives is the only non-admitable to a PG-13 film that we have as a frequent member that I'm at all familiar with, and he doesn't really seem to be interested in the Scriptorium. 13-18 guys dominate this section. I'll post a warning about violence though. Hehe, when I originally picked up including "macho" violence in my stories, it was after I read Brichstopia. Brichstopia's often gruesome scenes have ne'er bothered me.

I didn't actually listen to any music while I was writing at all. I was referring to listening to it while I was reading the finished product. I wasn't going to do it anymore, anyway, as it was just to set the mood. You know, like the theme song at the beginning of a movie.

But the other stuff is definitely usable and I deeply appreciate your help! *starts rewrite* EDIT: Done.

PART 2

One Week Later...

Knock, knock, knock!

Vinny groaned and checked the clock. 1:30. "Ugh, what kinda loser wakes me up at 1:30 in the morning!" Vinny lived in a ritzy apartment complex in Michigan City where disturbances in the morning were not supposed to happen.

Knock, knock, knock!

"All right! I'm comin'! Keep ya pants on!" He put on his robe and shoes and grabbed his pistol from his nightstand. He looked out the peep-hole and saw his cousin Joey outside. Vinny unlocked the deadbolt and removed the chain and padlock. "Darn it, Joey! What're ya doin'! Ya drunk?"

Joey looked nervously around at the street. "No. Keep it quiet!"

"Quiet! Like your pounding on m' door? Badda-bing! Gotcha there! That's how I got my nickname as the Master of Quips."

"Will... you... shut... up!"

"All right, all right, watcha prob'm?"

"News got out several Purples escaped from the warehouse shooting."

"That's impossible."

"Not. Vinny, they shot your brother Benny."

"What!?"

"Yeah, they shot him at the doughnut shop in a drive-by. It was brutal. The entire storefront was shot to pieces. That's not all. We discovered my brother Phillipe's body washed up on shore next to the Lighthouse. His legs had some shredded rope on 'em, like they put a concrete block on his feet and the rope snapped. He had a stab wound in the back. Now the grapevine says they're comin' afta you. Their might be Purples in your shrubs right now!"

Vinny stuck a cigarette in his mouth. "A'right. Come in." They stepped inside the apartment.

Joey stared in disbelief. "Wow. Quite a place y'got. Man, I'd kill to have my place look like t'is. Literally." Vinny shot him a dirty look. Then he laughed.

"The family is who gives me enough jobs to afford this place. Get more jobs, and you will be able to, too. Now, I'm grabbin' a shower. Pack up my things, will ya?"

"Sure thing. Where ya goin'?"

"Chicago. Gonna get some help from some friends. Start out on my own. Maybe someday I'll be a don like Uncle Kelly."

"Okay, man. I'll pack up y' stuff. Get ya shower, and be quick about it." He opened an empty trunk at the foot of Vinny's bed and started stuffing valuable items in it.

A half-hour later...

"You's done packin', Joey?" Vinny asked while examining his newly-combed hair in the living room mirror. He put on his jacket and fedora.

"Yeah, sure thing! Everything transportable is loaded!" The two men then hurried and loaded up Vinny's car, filling so much there was only room in the front two seats. Joey closed the trunk and doors while Vinny started the engine. "Hey, Vinny, you mind if I go with ya?"

"Sure thing! I'm gonna need some help in Chicago. Hop in!" Vinny was visibly happy. A lone mafioso was a walking target for every cop, bounty-hunter, and screwball gangster in the state.

Joey slapped himself on the head as if remembering something. "Just a minute! Let me get my suitcase outa my Ford." He went back one parking space and unlocked his car. He grabbed a leather bag from the passenger seat and headed back.

Ratatatatatatatatatatata...

"Joey!" Vinny screamed in horror.

Ratatatatatatatatatatata...

Vinny watched in horror as dozens of Thompson rounds plowed into Joey's back. Joey fell to his knees, mouthed the words "GET OUT!" and fell over dead. Vinny slammed the passenger door shut and slammed on the accelerator. The Pierce Arrow screeched out of the apartment complex parking lot, wheels spewing water from the gutters left over from the rain the night before. Machine gun bullets made sharp denting noises on the back of the car. The windows remained intact, however, which was good. However, seconds later, he saw two Plymouths following him. Because of the street lights, he made out shady-looking thugs with machine guns. One rolled down the window.

Ting, ting, ting, ting! More dents on the Pierce Arrow. Vinny was worried sick one would hit the gas tank. "C'mon! Go! C'mon!" The speedometer's arrow hit ninety as he whirled around street corners and scraped up against light posts. "You dirty Purples! Y'know how this car cost me?!" They sped out to Long Beach, where shocked citizens saw them speeding by on Lake Shore Drive. Vinny read the sign on the side of the road. Belle Plaine Trail. "Badda-bing!" He whirled the steering wheel to the right and sped onto Belle Plaine. He whipped out his Colt, rolled down his window, and fired shots into the windshield of one of the confused Purple cars. One bullet hit the driver in the chest, and the car swerved off the road and crashed in a clump of trees. Vinny managed to get off two more shots, which took out the machine-gun toting goon in the passenger seat. The second car learned from the first and turned carefully onto Belle Plaine, firing shots randomly. After a few more turns onto Glendale Way and Hermoine Trail, they wound up on the beachfront again. Cop cars were now in pursuit, with an obvious bias leaning toward Vinny. Automatic weapons erupted from two of the police cruisers, and the Purples' second car blew up in a ball of flames due to a gas tank hit. The frame of the car wheeled off the road and fell into the waters of Lake Michigan. The cops did not follow Vinny.

PART 3

Chicago, Illinois, two days later...

Vinny woke up and shoved the newspaper off his face. He had slept in his car last night, which was not extremely comfortable. His bones creaked as he straightened himself out and put his key in the ignition. His car whirred a little and stopped. Again he tried. Nothing. He got out and inspected the engine. Totally blown. The bullets had an effect after all. He swore a few times and looked around. He was in a suburb, a rich part of town, mainly owned by wealthy businessmen. He walked out of the alley and stared at the fancy houses. Cars slowly traveled down the street, going about their business even though 90% of the world was groveling in the poverty of the Great Depression. Then he saw a cop car. His family was not in charge of the Chicago Police; that honor fell to Capone's infamous Chicago Outfit. If the policeman saw him, for Vinny was a wanted man everywhere but Michigan City, and even there by the Purples, he would likely shoot. Vinny pulled out his Colt and hid behind the wall. He fired. The corrupt cop went down instantly. Vinny ran over to the body and took the pistol and nightstick. When a terrified man in a car saw what happened, he tried to drive off. However, Vinny pointed his pistol at the driver's seat. The man stopped the car and got out.

"Please, don't hurt me, man!" the middle-aged driver came close to tears. "I got a wife and kids!"

Vinny lowered the Colt. "If you tell anyone, and I mean anyone, your wife and kids will have to fish you out of the Lake. Understand?"

"Yeah! Yeah! Sure! Cross my heart and hope to die!" The man started to get back in his car.

"Halt, buddy!" Vinny raised his gun again. "My car's broken down in that alley. Get the stuff out of it and put it in yours. Sorry, chump, but I gotta take your car." The man frowned and obeyed. Vinny got in the new car and turned on the ignition. "Adios, compadre!" He drove off. Minutes later, several cop cars discovered the body of the assassinated policeman. The carjacking victim did not squeal.

Vinny motored along the road, heading deeper into Chicago. He could see the skyscrapers. "Beautiful. He parked in a burger joint's parking lot and went in. Fast n' Tasty Burgers. The inside was filled with shifty-looking men wearing suits. Almost all of them had bumps under their jackets wear they kept all manner of weapons. It obviously was not an actual burger joint. Sure, they sold burgers, but the stereotypical "backroom" was used for something totally unrelated to fast food. Vinny knew what to do. He stepped up to the bar and ordered a burger. When the worker handed it to him, Vinny whispered "Backroom meeting."

The man at the counter looked him over. "Go see Leo Lombardi over on table six."

"Much obliged." He tipped his fedora and headed to table six.

Leo, a fat man with a beard and a honking Italian nose, sat alone, sipping a beer and smoking a pipe. "Buongiorno."

Vinny nodded. "Good day yourself. I'm here to get a job."

Leo looked skeptical. "Y'ain't one a the Outfit, are ya?" The gangs in this neighborhood had for years waged an intense and violent turf war with Capone's outfit. The smaller gangs grew in power after Capone's arrest. Now, the war was escalating once again, and the small gangs needed new men.

Vinny laughed. "No way, mac. I'm an exile from Michigan City. The Purples put a hit on me. Name's Vinny Costello, of the Spinelli crime family."

Leo's beer slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor. "The Spinellis. Woah, they got some power. I worked with Kelly the Belly when me and him were young. We both have gray hair now and are too old, but I swear if I had to do a job with someone again, it'd be him. Tell you the truth, we fought in the same regiment during the War. Me and him were responsible for the deaths of two hundred Huns. I still have a spiked helmet on my desk I got from a dead German."

"Kelly's my uncle."

"Well! Ya don't say! All right, kid, I'm gonna help ya. Any friend of Kelly is a friend of mine. My boys need a hand to pull this job... ever robbed a bank?"

"A bank heist?"

"Yeah, one a 'em."

"No. But now's a good chance to, I suppose, Leo."

"That's the stuff. You'd have made a good doughboy."

"By the way, if someone asks about a dead cop in the 'burbs, tell 'em Vinny the Terror was there."

"Vinny the Terror... Nice nickname. Meet my boys on Mackenzie Street at noon."

"Gotcha, 'boss.' "

Leo slapped him on the back and roared with laughter. "Haha! That's m'boy! Yous'll be a don before you knows it. Now get goin'. My boys have some big weapons, so don't worry about not having equipment for the heist."

Vinny straightened his wrinkled suit and tried to comb his hair with his pocket comb. He got up from the table. "Where'll I stay tonight?"

"You do good, I'll get ya a fancy apartment. Get goin."

Vinny waited outside till 11:30 and then drove to Mackenzie Street. Sure enough, ten mafioso's were parked along the street. After identifying himself, Vinny was told to get back in his car and follow them to the bank. Twenty minutes later, they pulled up. Vinny, eager to prove himself, went first. They had given him a Tommy, and he kicked the bank doors open and fired shots at the ceiling. The civilians screamed and dropped to the ground, hands over their heads. Except for two. The two who didn't two "security" soldiers from the Outfit's protection racket, whipped out revolvers and jumped behind the bank teller desk. A few shots were immediately exchanged, and Leo's son-in-law Willy went down from a shot to the calf. Vinny let loose with the Tommy. He fired so many bullets that they just chewed through the desk and took down the two racketeers. Vinny and the others climbed over the desk and went to the backroom, where the safe was. Unfortunately, several more racketeers were waiting with pistols and a BAR. Vinny took a few deep breaths and ran out from behind his cover. Almost in slow motion, he took down all three men with one sweep of the gun. Leo's gangsters cheered and started loading flour sacks with cash. After two minutes, they got all they could carry. They went back to the lobby and tried to scramble back to their cars. But Outfit-serving cops had already showed up and were blazing away with automatic weapons. Willy, who was being helped along by two other men, took a bloody headshot and was dead instantly. His body tripped another man, who was immediately pulverized by a nightstick. Vinny and the others gave themselves covering fire. Much to everyone's surprise, Jimmy, Willy's brother, pulled an M1919 out of his trunk and opened fire on the police. All of them went down. The gangsters loaded up Willy's body and the stolen cash and made a clean escape.

Leo was deeply grieved at his son-in-law's death, and his daughter even more so. Within two months, though, Vinny had married the widowed daughter and was now second in command of the Lombardi crime family. If Leo, the don, died, Vinny would have risen from Michigan City exile to Chicago crime lord within months. Vinny was happy, very happy.

A few character names I wanna use. I was inspired largely by the flashy, unique pirates in PotC, so I figured PotC's general layout could work for a mafia story.

Romeo "The Silencer" Romano

Luigi "Scars" Baresi

Guglielmo "Razors" Baresi

Guiseppe "Two Fists" Giordano

Antonio "La Morte Nera" Udinese

Jimmy "The Mouthpiece" Koehler

Sammy "The Slugger" Napolitano

Jack "The Rabbi" Lewinsky

Samuel "The Pope" Lodovico

Leo(nardo) "The Lion" Lombardi

EDIT: Changed title.

Huh, neat story! I don't see many mafia stories, so I enjoyed reading this one.

Danke!

That's exactly why I wrote it; no one here writes them. My Austrian great granpa was a Chicago mobster; we found out he might have been Dillinger's (yes, THE Dillinger) getaway car driver. It's rawther awesome. In a bizarre, perverted sort of way. I guess it's not awesome at all. Also, found out today my cousin is Jesse James.