Chapter 6: The Glorius Past

Angelo, Lucas, Bradley, Corteo gathered at La Famiglia yet again to celebrate their huge success, Angelo leaned back against the brick wall, pulling a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He shook one loose, placing it between his lips with a practiced ease. Flicked open a lighter. The flame danced for a moment before he brought it to the end of the cigarette, the tip glowing a fierce orange as he took a long, slow drag. Smoke curled from his mouth. Each exhale was a visible sigh, the tension leaving his body with the smoke.

Vanetti out of breath reached the pizzeria leaning downwards to catch a breath "that was one hell of a task Angelo! I had to run with all my might! Luckily you were right, and no one was there to catch me as if they were all super scared." Vanetti said, with a small laugh. 

"Angelo you are a fucking genius! We got two of them, red shirts are worth shit now!" exclaimed Corteo while patting Angelo's back. 

Lucas, holding a letter in his hand, spoke with a tone of revelation. "We've received word from King Pius. He's willing to stand by our side as an ally."

Corteo's eyes gleamed with a glint of hope. "This changes everything. With King Pius supporting us, we can finally crush the Red Shirts."

Angelo, ever the strategist, interjected thoughtfully. "True, but caution is key. One of us must go as a mere messenger, not revealing our ties to the 'Crowned in Shadow'."

Nods of agreement circled the table as they pondered the next step in their clandestine operations.

Lucas, his voice resolute, broke the deliberative silence that enveloped the table. "I'll take on the task. I'll go as the messenger to meet King Pius."

Corteo nodded in agreement, acknowledging Lucas's bold step. "You'll do great, Lucas. Just remember, we're counting on you."

Angelo's gaze, shrewd and calculating, fixed upon Lucas. "Remember, you represent the bridge between our cause and King Pius. Play your role meticulously. We're counting on your discretion."

Angelo, sensing the weight of their upcoming endeavours, took a momentary departure from the gravity of their discussions. With a characteristic smirk, he produced a bottle of fine Italian wine from beneath his coat, setting it down amidst the group.

"Here's to our future endeavours," Angelo proclaimed, pouring generous servings into each of their glasses.

Corteo chuckled, grateful for the brief respite. "A toast to Lucas's mission and our continued success."

The clinking of glasses resonated through the pizzeria. 

"Tomorrow is a big day, Lucas! Fill yourself up with this smooth wine, you might get your balls cracked by King Pius tomorrow" Bradley said sarcastically. 

"How about I crack your balls you little?" Lucas said with a funny face. 

Angelo, with a wry smile, slid a picture across the table to Lucas. "Here's King Pius. Recognize the face?"

Lucas inspected the photo, squinting slightly before chuckling. "He looks a bit, well, let's say, not what I expected. A bit...ugly, if I'm being honest."

Corteo stifled a laugh, trying to maintain composure. "Well, it's his alliances that matter, not his looks, right?"

Angelo, ever poised, added with a hint of amusement, "Remember, Lucas, our interests lie beyond appearances. Just ensure the conversation goes smoothly."

"Bravo captain! Agent Lucas on work" Lucas said in sarcasm. 

In the corner of the room, Vanetti stood with a subtle smirk, observing the banter between his companions. Bradley, sensing an opportunity to strike a conversation approached Vanetti. 

"Do you miss your family, Vanetti?" Bradley inquired, attempting to delve into a topic that held deeper significance.

Vanetti's lineage was entrenched in a formidable clan of gangsters, once influential and powerful. However, their stature crumbled after enduring oppression under King Emmanuel's reign, leaving Vanetti harbouring an enduring grudge.

Vanetti's attention shifted slightly at Bradley's question, a flicker of sentiment crossing his features. "I do miss my mother," he admitted softly, a trace of longing in his voice.

However, his tone quickly turned resolute, eyes glinting with a steely determination. "But mark my words, we'll restore our clan's legacy. King Emmanuel's reign won't last forever. We'll rise again, stronger and more formidable than ever, crushing anyone who dares to oppress us."

Vanetti's declaration reverberated through the room, his words etched with a chilling resolve. "My haven will be in Venetia district," he announced, his voice carrying a weight of determination.

"With unwavering force, I'll crush anyone who stands in my way," he continued. 

Vanetti's proclamation carried an added weight as he spoke of Venetia. "Venetia," he uttered, the name laced with a poignant sense of history. "It's where I used to live, where my roots lie."

The memories seemed to flicker across his eyes, a mix of nostalgia and a smouldering desire for retribution.

"Now," he continued, his voice taking on a steely edge, "I'll make it my stronghold. No one will defy me there. It's time to reclaim what was once ours, and I'll stop at nothing to achieve it."

Angelo, ever the mediator, interjected smoothly. "Easy there, big boy," he said with a knowing smirk, stepping in between the intense exchange. "We're all allies here, remember? Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

He gestured towards the bottle of wine on the table, an attempt to diffuse the escalating tension. "Why don't you join us and take a breather? A glass of wine might help soothe those ambitions."

Angelo's word seemed calm to others but to Vanetti it seemed like a warning, not to get ahead of himself. 

In the depths of his mind, he revisited the haunting scenes of his childhood, the anguish of losing his parents at a tender age, a heart-wrenching consequence of an attack orchestrated by the ruling powers, a stark reminder of King Emmanuel's unforgiving grasp.

an ever-present scar that fuelled his ambitions and hardened his resolve to forge a path of vengeance and restoration.