Marco stands in an alley, the music from the speakeasy below still buzzing in his ears. Wind whistles through, condensed in the tight walls, and a man writhes on the ground. He doesn't know how he really got to the point of being able to beat someone up in a back alley. It's for the greater good, he tries to convince himself, breathing in the smoke from his cigarette, his hands shaking heavily.
“Are you ready to answer?” Marco asks the man on the snow and trash-ridden ground.
The man stays silent for a moment.
--> [[threaten again]]
-->[[wait]]
Marco raised his hand again, and the man flinched. “Wait,” he gasped. “There is someone who’s been giving information to the police.”
“What's his name?” Marco asked.
“It’s Enzo, Enzo Moretti,” he replied, holding his hand over his broken nose.
Marco nodded, feeling a jolt in his stomach, and then turned to [[walk away.]]
Marco waited for response, watching the mans skin form bruises. This isn’t whathe signed up for, it’s just the job he was given. Maybe he should just walk away…
-->[[walk away]]
-->[[threaten again]]
Marco finds himself back in the speakeasy, the music pounding in his ears. Crowds of people dance in the center to the electric music, with drinks flowing and beads on dresses glinting in the low yellow light. Marco feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around to see the back of someone guiding him to the door.
-->[[Follow the man.]]
--> [[Stay in the room.]]
Marco followed the shoulders through the crowd, billows of smoke filling the air. They went to a room with many of the men he had gotten to trust him over the past months. Their thick italian accents filled the room with chatter, and they all acknowledged his presence with a nod.
The head boss, Mr. Romano, stood from his seat, and set his eyes on Marco.
“Tell me, do you know the meaning of brotherhood, Marco?” Romano asked, with a tone that made Marco's spine crawl.
--> [[answer]]
-->[[stay silent]]
Romano’s daughter Emilia danced in the center of the room, her long black hair spinning with her movements. She smiled broadly and looked like she was dancing on air. She was the only person that Marco really wanted to [[speak to]]. “It’s about loyalty, trust,” Marco replied.
The boss walked around room, stopping behind Marcos chair. Before Marco could nod in response, he felt the cold weight of a gun pressed to his neck. A chill burst through him, as he tried to remain calm. Had he been found out?
He didn’t get a chance to think of a response. The shot was heard by a few but mostly drowned by the pounding drum beat and kicksnare.
--> You lose, back to [[The Alley]]
Marco breathed, wondering if his hesetance earlier that evening had been a cause for question among the leaders. He wondered if they would believe him if he answered correctly.
The boss leaned on the table, “Tell me.” He voice was sterner this time, as if he had discovered the truth about Marco already.
--> [[answer]]
Marco walked quickly to Mr. Romano’s office. The man spun in his chair as Marco entered, and he relayed the information about Enzo Moretti.
“Can you find him?” Romano asked, placing his hand on the corner of the desk.
“Yes,” Marco replied.
→ [[go alone]]
→ [[go with someone]]
Marco decided to go on alone, because there were only so many people he could trust. The line that he walked was thin, and anyone else on the mission would get in the way of his ultimate [[goal]]. Go to the main room in the speakeasy with the music and dancing. [[Stay in the room.]]Emilia waved, and Marco walked between the crowd to reach her. “Hey, I have a question for you.” He gestured to the side of the room and she followed. Slightly away from the crowd, he leaned over and asked, “Do you know of Enzo Moretti?”
“I’ve heard of him, I think,” she nodded.
Marco told her what he had heard from the man in the alley, “I think we need to find him. Would you help me look?”
She nodded, looking around the room, then walked towards the stairs that led outside. Being raised by her father, the boss of the Romano’s, her skills in finding people who didn’t want to be found were impressive. She didn’t look like much of a [[mastermind]], but certainly could be if she tried.
She stopped on the sidewalk and waited for Marco to follow. She sighed, and her breath was visible in the cold city air. “Last I heard, Enzo was workin’ by the rivers.”
“The rivers?” Marco sighed, not wanting to go farther north to the colder climate.
“Don’t sound so excited,” Emilia laughed, and the sound filled Marco with a warm feeling.
He had often wondered if she had figured out who he truly was a while ago and hadn’t said anything. If she was sure he wouldn’t betray the Romano’s or she wished he would.
→ [[Go to ‘the rivers’ with Emilia]]
→ Say that you can [[go alone]] from here.
It took them 2 days to travel north through cars easily arranged through Emilia’s vast connections on the route.
The night air was icy as the stark lights of the boats lit up the river on the border. Marco wished for the enticing energy of the late nights in the city. For now, the boats and the moon acted as the only solace from the pitch night. He sought warmth in his coat pockets, but the numbness of his hands and feet had set in ages ago. He watched as the barrels of alcohol were hauled onto the boat by young, less experienced members of the gang who hadn’t earned the right to oversee yet. This transfer of business was made illegal by January 17th’s Prohibition.
The Detroit River rushed through the darkness, leading to the next transfer point till it reached Romano’s establishment in Chicago. The frigid transfers were Marco’s least favorite part of the job, but in his business, no amount of trust could be lost.
He and Emilia watched for young Enzo, and found him carrying a large barrel of alcohol onto the boat.
--> [[wait.]]
-->[[pull him aside]], into the woods.Enzo gazed up at them, as he sat on the snowy ground. Pine trees crowded around them, stretching tall into the sky.
“We’ve been hearing about some of the stories you tell, Enzo.”
The boy looked terrified, and pale beneath the moon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his voice broke as he spoke the lie.
Emilia gave Marco a meaningful nod, then walked away toward the operation site. Marco pulled a pistol from the holster hidden beneath his neat suit jacket.
→ [[Finish the job.]]
→ [[Show mercy and run.]]
Emilia glances over at you, then rolls her eyes. She walks up to Enzo to [[pull him aside]] from the operation.The shot rang in the air. Now that this was done, he knew the truth. He could never go back to his old life. He was a Romano.
[You may not have lost, but did you win?] Marco couldn’t bring himself to finish the job. He ran from the operation site, tumbling through the snow. A mere week later, Marco was found dead in a hotel room, with the Romano’s signature cigarette burning in the ash tray.
--> Back to [[The Alley]].Marco had heard tales of Enzo before, and his loyalty to the gang was shaky at best. At first, it was chalked up to incompetence, but the boss had suspected long ago that he would become a larger problem in the future. More than likely, Enzo was trying to make ends meet, but Marco couldn’t think of that now. Otherwise the job would be too much.
[[Continue on alone]]
Turn back, and [[go with someone]]
Marco knew of a few places where Enzo could be. To the North, by the Detroit River route, that’s where Enzo would more than likely be. The river was where the new recruits and all the people that hadn’t earned the trust of the Romano’s had to work. The hours were long and grueling, spent till snow soaked through winter clothes, and brought about a cold so chilling it stayed beneath the skin for days. Marco remembers it well, because a few months previous, he was in the same place. He felt for all the boys trying to earn the money they needed to survive. Marco arrived at the operation sight, and began to oversee as soon as he arrived, waiting to [[find Enzo]].The night air was icy as the stark lights of the boats lit up the river on the border. Marco wished for the enticing energy of the late nights in the city. For now, the boats and the moon acted as the only solace from the pitch night. He sought warmth in his coat pockets, but the numbness of his hands and feet had set in ages ago. He watched as the barrels of alcohol were hauled onto the boat by young, less experienced members of the gang who hadn’t earned the right to oversee yet. This transfer of business was made illegal by January 17th’s Prohibition.
The Detroit River rushed through the darkness, leading to the next transfer point till it reached Romano’s establishment in Chicago. The frigid transfers were Marco’s least favorite part of the job, but in his business, no amount of trust could be lost.
Marco spotted Enzo carrying a barrel of alcohol onto the boat, and once he set it down, Marco [[waved him over]].
Enzo and Marco walked 20 paces away from the trail, mostly out of earshot from the rest of the crew. Enzo sat down in the snow, too tired to care about the cold. The pines stared down at them from far above. Marco looked around a few times, glancing for anyone who might be able to hear them. Enzo seemed to have already accepted his fate, and was awaiting his death in knee-deep snow.
Marco turned back to the boy, “[[I need your help]]. What is the secret you found out about the Romano family?”
Enzo looked shocked.
Marco breathed quickly, this was his first time revealing his identity for months.
→ [[“Please Enzo, tell me what you know.”]]
→ [[“Tell me Enzo, or I will do exactly what Romano sent me to do.”]]
Enzo looked to the ground, as if debating whether to tell Marco. He seemed almost ready to accept his fate regardless. “I found out where they keep their records, all the sales they make from the border through the Detroit River. Basically, there’s a paper trail that could be traced back to the Romano’s.”
“Where is it?” Marco asked.
“Benethe the [[Hidden Rose]], in the cellar,” Enzo replied.
“Thank you, Enzo. You have to get out of here, disappear, tonight. Romano has lost his trust in you, he’s after you. If you get to Canada within the next few days, you could be safe.” Marco warned him quickly, then ran toward the car.Enzo looked defiant, and Marco realized he had brught out his pride.
[[“Please Enzo, tell me what you know.”]]
Marco raced from the operation site, and found the car he had driven up north. He rushed toward Chicago, where the Hidden Rose sat on the outskirts.
When he reached it, he snuck carefully to [[the cellar]].
The room was pitch black, till Marco found a lantern in the hallway. He only needed a little more proof, and then he could finally be free from this life. He had signed up for the job due to his father's connection to the mafia, so he had a way in. The Chicago Herald had said if he could get the right information, they would have the first story of its kind. One unveiling the underground operations, the sale of illegal alcohol, and the deep family ties that lay beneath the city.
Marco stuffed the records into his bag, the last piece of proof that he needed, to bring the Romano family to the ground.
[You found the information and published the story, you win.]