The Corleone Family

[MI7]

 

 

 

 

The Corleone Family

Vido Corleone - The first Godfather of New York's most powerful crime family.

---Clariss Corleone - Vido Corleone's wife and mother of their four children; Corredo, Aldo, Ricco and Marcio.

Aldo Corleone - Vido Corleone's oldest son and heir to the Family interests.

---Anne Corleone - Aldo's wife, now living in Cleveland, Ohio.

---Franco and Luisa - Aldo and Anne Corleone's twin children.

Ricco Corleone - Vido and Clariss' second-born son.

Corredo Corleone - Vido and Clariss' youngest son, born in 1916. Reigning Don of the Corleone Family since 1943.

---Margaret Corleone - Wife of Corredo Corleone.

---Vincent, Daniel and Therese - Children of Corredo and Margaret Corleone.

Marcio Corleone - Vido and Clariss' second-youngest son, left America for Sicily in 1932 and not heard from again.

 

The Corleone Family Organisation

Beavis Fresno - Underboss 1920-1954.

Eddie Brasso - Consigliere 1920-1933.

Gerry "Howard" Sternis - Unofficially adopted son of the Corleones, consigliere 1933 - .

Tom Mason - Irish-American member of the Family, only non-Italian to be 'made' (Underboss 1954- ).

Anthony "Tony" Kalis - Caporegime 1955 - .

Jordan Hagen - Feared Corleone Enforcer, caporegime 1950-1954. Recently returned from a time behind bars.

Victor McKlown - Manages the Corleone Cab Stand in The Bronx.

Teun Steenbekkers - Family lawyer.

 

Rival Crime Families

Furio Andolini - Andolini Boss, Liberty City.

Aaron Burkley - Soldato, Andolini Family and Corleone Associate.

Dominick Deez - Leone Boss, Liberty City.

Yee-Tiso - Boss, Chi Shingi Meiyo

Jonny Tightlips - Ex-Caporegime turned enemy of the Corleone Family.

'Osirus' - Boss, System.

 

A Note: This is based on the GTAForums gang The Corleone Family and other related gangs. You can probably work out which character is who if you take the time. More characters will be added as soon as I can think of decent names for them. Also, 1920 reflects 2002 when the gang was established, with 1955 being 'current day'.

The chapters will not be written in chronological order, but will intertwine in and out of the timeline.

 

Book I, Chapter I: Winter 1920-Spring 1921

 

Vido Corleone turned up the collar on his overcoat. Winter in New York City was not the time to be fighting the elements. Even with his three-piece suit (cheap as it was, Vido knew a guy in the market who made them), the wind still cut through him like a knife. Standing on the street corner, Vido tried to light a cigarette. The flame on his lighter was shaky at the best of times (Vido knew a guy at the market who sold them from a truck), and it took Vido seven attempts to light it. Vido cupped his hands around the naked flame to get warmth from it whilst it was still functioning. Vido drew a long breath of the cigarette and, for the first time in his hour of standing on the street corner, looked around at his surroundings. Every block in Little Italy was covered with a thick blanket of pure, white snow. Vido had never seen anything like it in his ten years of living in Sicily and even now, after almost another twenty living in New York, the nigh-annual snowfall still amazed and fascinated him.

Vido had been standing on the corner of Mott and Hester Street, facing Canal Street, for almost ninety minutes when he finally heard the voice of his underboss, Beavis Fresno. The streets around him were dead, only a few immigrant kids having a snow fight. Not that it mattered. Vido could recognise the fat mans' voice from a mile off.

"Hey! How you doin'!," Beavis yelled at Vido, "Sorry I took so long, I was at the new bakery over on Baxter Street. You gotta try their stuff." Beavis grasped a cannolo in the chubby lump that served as his right hand. Vido had never seen Beavis use a gun before in their long association together, and looking at those hands, Vido could see why. "Alright," replied Vido after a few moments, "are we ready to do this thing?" Beavis, with a moutful of cannolo cream, nodded yes and grunted obligingly. Vido had never seen Beavis use a gun before, though he suspected that this would change in just a few hours.

The truck pulled up at Vido Corleone's apartment. The brains of it's driver were still spattered all over the passenger seat, not that this seemed to bother Beavis, who tucked into another cannolo seemingly unawares of both the gore surrounding him and the blood oozing from the hole in the sleeve of his overcoat. Finally, the big man turned and trained his watery puppy-dog eyes on Vido. "You ever killed someone before, Vido?"

"No Beavis, not until today." Vido's voice quaked and his arms still tingled with the effort he had expended to garotte the driver's bodyguard with his own neckscarf. The snow in New York seemingly did have its' advantages, being that their enemies seemed to be fond of supplying their own methods of demise. Vido hadn't wanted to kill the man. It had been his own fault. If they had just gotten out of the truck, it could have ended peacefully. But the guard had had a wave of adrenaline wash over him, and had pulled out a Colt .38 and delivered a bullet into Beavis' arm. Beavis responded accordingly by blowing open the drivers' head with the sawn-off shotgun he had concealed under his coat, while Vido took care of the guard sitting beside him. Vido now not only was facing retribution from the Triads (who were currently expecting their weekly delivery of counterfeit dollars hidden amongst fish crates) but also the deaths of two men on his conscience. Luckily, the Chinese population of New York was small (some guy said that in 100 years the Italian place would be taken over totally by the Japs and Chinks - what an idiot!) and so it could be possible to escape persecution by the Triads; however, Vido would have the deaths of the two men tainting his soul forever. He vowed to himself never again to take the life of another. It was a vow he never broke again. However, he did not realise how far into the seedy criminal underworld that simple truck robbery would take him.

 

To Be Continued.

Edited February 22, 2007 by MI7

[Archaon, Lord of End Times]

Excellent, Tom. Great work.

[Phatgordo13]

Interesting start. Im looking forward to the next one tom. The list of characters is quite a class.

[No Escape?]

Haha, excellent concept. Nice start, too.

 

I can't wait for the next installment.

[MI7]

Book I, Chapter II: 1954

 

Corredo Corleone stood on the balcony of his penthouse at the Diamond Heights Casino, looking out at the failing light over the Nevada Desert. Unlike most cities (and here in Las Vegas it would have been the most spectacular) there is no time when the lights are switched on as twilight sets in. The lights are always on in Vegas, it's just too bright during the day to notice them. Either that or the tourists are too f*cking stupid to notice them, thought Corredo. Some would see it as a waste to leave the lights on. Corredo and others in his profession saw it as just another symbol of making enough money to be able to burn it in the power plants at the Hoover Dam.

Corredo became aware of the door opening in the suite behind him. He didn't even turn round to acknowledge who it was. The chain of bribes and heavily armed, loyal Corleone guards that protected his suite meant that he was safer here than 50 miles under the Atlantic. Whoever had entered the suite crossed the room and stopped about a foot behind Corredo. Pause. At last Tom spoke.

"There's trouble in Brooklyn. Some upstart street gang, apparently. When I first heard I suspected one of the other families was involved but apparently not."

Corredo wasn't surprised that one of the other families was not to blame. Upon becoming Don in 1943 he had ordered the deaths of several high-profile members of the Five Families (and rumour had it amongst the men, his own brother Ricco, though they would never confront the Don on the issue). Corredo also knew that this was only a minor problem. Tom was the Irish consigliere, the one who didn't understand fully the way things worked in Sicily and thus, in America. "Tell Beavis to visit them with a message," Corredo responded without giving much second thought, "that if they f*ck with our interests in Brooklyn, it's war."

"It could be dangerous, Corredo," responded Tom, "perhaps I should go instead? They know it's off-limits to kill a consigliere. At least they should understand."

"Beavis can handle himself," replied Corredo, "I've known him for a long time. He's trustworthy."

 

Beavis hated flying. People looked at him funny because he was a little on the large side. And the seats were always too f*cking small. And the planes were always cramped and windy, no matter how much you paid for the flight. The flight from Vegas back to LaGuardia in New York had only taken a few hours but Beavis hadn't enjoyed a moment of it. The fact that he would have to do it all over again in a matter of hours were of no comfort to him. The Corleone sedan was waiting in front of the airport as promised, sandwiched in between two bright yellow Checker Marathons. It was parked in one of the restricted parking bays reserved for taxicabs, but Vic (the Corleone's guy in The Bronx) was able to circumvent that by licensing the sedan as one of his taxicabs for the day. The parking in front of the airport gate wasn't anything to do with security, simply to avoid Beavis having to walk the extra fifty metres to the commerical parking lot on his pudgy, car softened legs. He wasn't as young as he used to be, after all. He had been born at the turn of the century, and what little hair he had left anyway was now a dark granite gray.

The young man who was leaning on the front of the sedan was like a parallel mirror image of Beavis. Young, tanned, slim, and with a full head of slicked back black hair, he finished off his look in a flash modern double-breasted suit and fedora in comparison to Beavis' preference for vests and porkpie hats.

Beavis reached the car and gave a minimalistic greeting to the man. Beavis had to tug twice on the door to open it. His right arm had never been as strong as it used to be since about 1920, though Beavis was at a pain to remember why. He slid along the leather back seat like a huge slug wearing a suit, coming to rest in the dead centre.

The young man who was leaning on the car followed suit and entered the drivers side. "You know where the meet is, right?"

"Sure boss, Embassy Club in Brooklyn."

"Yeah that's right, now step on it! And if you see a decent bakery on the way, make sure you call in."

 

Something worried Tom Mason. He couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was however. It could have been that he totally f*cking hated Nevada in every respect. It could have been something else. He wandered out onto the balcony and felt a wave of cool desert air wash over him. Vegas may have been baking during the day but during the night, it was like a meat freezer. Meat freezer. The irony of the phrase being used as a similie by someone in his line of work turned the corners of Tom's mouth up into something halfway between a smile and the face of a recently dead man. Tom sipped his Gin and Tonic that he had brought out onto the balcony. He insisted on mixing them himself. The others ruined it, he said. It was one of his little things. Like always using a cocktail shaker to shake alcohol even when there was only one kind being used.

He took a bigger drink of the gin. For some reason any worry or bad feeling that he had in him evaporated in an instant. He thought of who he was, the poor Irish kid who had fled to America from England and had been found on the streets and took in my Corredo Corleone. He saw Corredo as a mix between a brother and a father despite the fact that Corredo was only a few years older than him. Whatever the situation of his early life was, it couldn't be more different to now. He was the consigliere to the most powerful crime syndicate in the world. He was a f*cking millionaire. He started to laugh to himself. Now, looking out over the deep night sky of Las Vegas, permeated by the glow from countless casinos, he raised a toast to his dead parents.

 

Jonny Tightlips felt good inside. He always did after killing someone, though he didn't know why. It could have been adrenaline, but this feeling was much more euphoric. He wasn't a psychopath though, not by a long way. Killing was still a chore to him. And there was always a bad feeling that came a few minutes later much more powerful than the good feeling. So powerful that he forgot the good feeling altogether. No matter, this time he was confident there would be no bad feeling. And this killing hadn't been a chore, because he hadn't been ordered by the f*cking Corleones to do it this time. He wasn't there dog any longer. He was free.

Beavis still sat in the dead centre of the back car seat (this dead center thought occured to Jonny, and he felt a swell of gallows humour rise in him). However now, Beavis's eyes bulged out of his head, and there was a deep rut in his neck.

Garotting the fat man with a seatbelt hadn't been easy (safety first with seatbelts - Jonny was good with wit after a murder). The ease of the killing had not been increased by Beavis choosing to sit in the back. Jonny should have thought on and told him to sit in the front but no matter, it was done now. Jonny had no reason to kill Beavis. It was just to send the Corleones a message. That he was back, and not be f*cked with. Jonny pushed the car into the Hudson and watched it slowly sink beneath the surface. It would be months before the car was pulled out of the river by NYPD. But it took only til the next day, when Beavis was not on the first flight back to Las Vegas, for Corredo to know he was dead. Beavis hated flying.

 

To Be Continued...

Edited February 22, 2007 by MI7

[Archaon, Lord of End Times]

Even better than the last, Tom. Great work.

[Nick Papagiorgio]

This is looking good, MI7. I like it. Keep it up.

[Greene]

Great work. I look forward to the next

[Phatgordo13]

Good stuff man. Despite the spoiler, still an enjoyable read. lol

[Jonny_Tightlips]

 

Zak stabs Corleone Family

Zak parties

 

Great story. I love it.

[Hurricane5]

 

Aiello

 

Writers on the payroll?

[-/TNT\-]

Very good. You get into it straight away. Keep it up.