American variety show: The Godfather, the Peace Ambassador, what the heck?

Chapter 83 Destruction Together

Only the two brothers, Luka and Tarasov, remained in the spacious hall.

John didn't want to know about these business matters and knew his boss was quite sensitive about them, so after dropping Luca off, he left the room alone.

After a polite exchange, Vigo brought up Teddy and the two gamblers, and offered his apologies.

“I heard about Teddy and Mike’s situation. I’m sorry. Teddy’s dedication to his work led to this misunderstanding. He didn’t mean to hurt your friend.”

It was just a misunderstanding.

The upward curve of his eyes made Luca's smile look very tough. "Misunderstandings are okay. Only by clearing up misunderstandings can our connection become deeper. Just like when my man accidentally injured your son on the racetrack, he was just driving too fast and did not intend to hit Youssef's car."

Vigo, holding a cigar, smiled and nodded. "This is a good thing for Youssef. Hopefully, this incident will serve as a reminder to him not to act so impulsively in the future. Young people should be more mature."

"Then you underestimate your son," Luca agreed. "I agree with you. Composure is a virtue, so I crippled the bug's right hand to teach him a lesson. He should understand that he can cheat countless times at the poker table, but when he encounters a true master like Teddy, he will never have the chance to cheat again in his life."

Vigo's smile faded slightly, and his eyes showed more apprehension.

He now knew that the Butcher could indeed transform into a pigeon, possessing killer abilities comparable to the Night Demon, while also bearing the title of Peace Ambassador.

The key point is that he is so young.

Vigo looked at the dark brown skin on the back of his hand, which no longer had the vitality of his youth.

He picked up his wine glass, and the two raised their glasses and smiled, temporarily clearing up the misunderstanding.

Next, we talked about the real gasoline tax business, Russian oil smuggling, and port matters.

"Old Pigeon, how's things at the port?" Abram inquired. "We've made a lot from the gasoline tax. If our oil could go directly through the ports of New York State, we would make even more."

Currently, Russian oil is concentrated in the north, such as Boston, which, although not particularly far from New York, is no longer part of the same state.

Unless it's tourism, some interstate businesses are not simply about moving goods from one place to another.

Luca gave a conservative answer: "I'll try to get things sorted out at the port by next month. I still have some troubles to deal with, and I'll need Mr. Wick's help then."

The main problem was that they hadn't found a suitable opportunity to make a move against Gaudi.

Gotti and Joe Gallo, these lunatics, directly violated regulations by assassinating Mafia members and were both named and executed. Gotti was just lucky to escape a few times, while Joe Gallo was not so lucky and was directly crushed by a rare card.

Luca didn't want to act rashly unless absolutely necessary, as it wouldn't help seize control of the port. Unjustified killing would only get him Gotti's head, not the port, and the Gambino family could simply replace him with someone else.

But if Gaudi dares to interfere in the Lucchese family's internal affairs, then the peace ambassador will dare to extend his reach to the Gambino family's port and openly rob it.

Luca hopes Pauli can fan the flames even more.

He'd like to take advantage of the chaos if White Tiger and Gotti started fighting sooner rather than later, and he wouldn't mind adding fuel to the fire.

Currently, Lyon is secretly monitoring those people's actions, hoping that it will erupt before the public assembly. Otherwise, if the White Tiger doesn't die, what will Pauli rely on to take over?

Luca chuckled to himself. Everyone thought that Marigio had become useless without the drug business and had become a lackey of the White Tiger, but they never imagined that the Butcher was actually quite shrewd in business.

After receiving Luca's verbal promise, the three of them chatted even more happily.

Abram downed a gulp of liquor, his neck thick with emotion, and exclaimed, "Luca, if the port deal goes through, we can even give you more of the profits from the gasoline tax business. Mr. Putinsh values ​​the oil business highly, and you will gain even more friendship from the Russians."

Putinsh? Russian? That name sounds familiar.
Luca raised an eyebrow slightly, a bad feeling suddenly rising in his heart.

Putinsh, Boston, oil smuggling
A flash of inspiration struck Luca.

Boston shouldn't have an SSR card, right?

Suddenly, a barely perceptible hint of sympathy flashed in Luka's eyes as he looked at the Russians.

After calmly taking a sip of his drink and exchanging a few more words, Luca asked curiously, "How's your brothel business lately?"

“Pigeon, are you interested in this business?” Abram smiled ambiguously. “Our Eastern European women are the most popular in the market and never lack customers.”

Luca shook his head: "I'm not interested in this. I was just asking casually. Someone here has been sending business cards to our club."

He is now 50% certain that there is a high probability, or will be in the future, that an SSR card exists in Boston—a top-tier assassin who "retired" from the U.S. Army's Black Forces.

That's not the main problem. The key issue is that, like Luca, that guy likes to meddle in other people's business, to act as a righteous savior, to uphold justice, and to defend peace.

—For example, to rescue a prostitute being bullied by Russians, he wiped out the entire gang and even went to Moscow to kill the mastermind behind it all.

Ridiculously strong!

Peace ambassadors need peace-loving individuals like this.

Luca observed that the two brothers' business in New York might not have strong ties to the Russian gangs in Boston.

You two brothers, one provoking the Night Demon, the other provoking the Equalizer, it's enough to make Luca laugh his head off. He picked up his wine glass and, smiling, toasted the two warriors:

"Vigo, Abram, I wish us a pleasant cooperation and prosperous business!"

"Pleasant to work with."

The two brothers laughed and clinked glasses.

[Bond: Familiarity]

[Vigor: A]

[Extravagant Bounty: When you post a bounty for a kill, it will attract more assassins to claim the reward, increasing its attractiveness by an additional 20%; when you offer an exorbitant bounty, there is a low probability that you will incite assassins to violate the rules of the mainland hotel and commit murder inside the hotel.]

[Learning Requirements: Friendship or higher bond level: Requires 50 Skill Fragments]

[An impossible mission: Trading loyalty for combat power. Active skill: When you issue a mission to your subordinates, you can choose to decrease their loyalty to increase their combat power; loyalty is permanently decreased by 5%~25%, and combat power is temporarily increased by 10%~50%. The combat power bonus disappears after the mission is completed.]

[Learning Requirements: Bond level must be close friend or higher: Requires 80 skill fragments]

The second skill startled Luca: a permanent reduction in loyalty? Upon closer inspection, thankfully it was an active skill, allowing him to choose whether to activate it.

Using loyalty to gain combat power was a strategy Luca knew he couldn't use lightly, unless it meant sacrificing a pawn.
If any of his subordinates harbor ill intentions, Luca wouldn't hesitate to cut them off completely, boost their combat capabilities, and send them to serve as cannon fodder.

Luca and Abram left the hotel together, leaving Vigo alone in the lobby.

He went to the window, stared at the black vintage car driving away downstairs, his eyes flickered for a moment, and then he closed his eyes tightly.

Based on his observations and Luca's exploits in New York, Vigo can be absolutely certain that the Butcher is a level more dangerous than the Night Demon.

The butcher is not a pure killer.

Thinking of his useless son, who was recovering in a wheelchair, Vigo felt only heartache.

There is no successor!

If Luka were Russian and involved in the Tarasov gang, wouldn't that be great? New York would become Tarasov family territory sooner or later!
You can't expect Night Demon to suddenly become a businessperson, can you?

The Lucchese family

The Bronx.

There's an Italian restaurant here that serves really good grilled sausages. Insiders know that the owner, Pauli Cicero, often goes to the kitchen and makes the sausages himself.

In the evening, Poly was in the kitchen, wearing a white apron, stirring large sausages in a pot with cooking utensils.

A subordinate came over and said, "Poly, the pigeons have come to the restaurant."

Paul stared at the pot, not even looking up. "How many people came?"

"He was alone; he had just ordered."

"Hmm, ignore him."

After his subordinate left, Poly continued to turn the sausages to ensure they were heated evenly from all sides, so they would taste better.

But there were too many sausages in the pot, and as he turned them over and over, Pauli couldn't remember how well they were cooked. It wasn't until they were burnt that he noticed some of them hadn't been cooked properly.

He thought to himself that he wasn't like this when he was young. No matter how many sausages were in the pot, he could remember every single one clearly. Now that he's older, he often gets confused.

No wonder my wife said last time that the sausages I grilled didn't taste as good as they used to.

Paul picked out a few burnt sausages, reducing the quantity so he could distinguish them and control the process.

He sighed softly.

Actually, the taste should have remained the same, and the technique has become even more skillful and adept, but the restaurant's business is not as good as before.

After baking this batch, Paul put it in a bowl, personally carried it out, and delivered it to Luca's table.

"I thought you were used to the delicacies at the club, so you wouldn't come to a small restaurant like mine."

He placed the bowl on the table. "Try my grilled sausage and see if the taste has changed."

“I can’t quite remember the taste from before.” Luca pried up a sausage with his fork. “My dad took me to your restaurant when I was a kid. It wasn’t in this location back then, and it wasn’t this big.”

After taking a bite, Luca said, "It's very good. It's the best sausage I've had recently."

"It's alright as long as it tastes good." Pauli smiled faintly. "Luca, how's business at your club lately? I heard that Marigio hasn't been able to get any jewelry lately. He hasn't made a sale in a long time. You guys just took over, haven't you adjusted yet?"

Luca is chewing on a sausage and hasn't made a single sale? Do you think company licenses are obtained through such means? Where are those tanker truck drivers who transport oil non-stop recruited from? Why is the truck driver union giving them so much face?
Marigio has been very busy lately, traveling to various places, and his schedule is no less demanding than Luca's.

In this competition for the second-in-command position, Marigio is already confident of victory. Even if White Tiger's drug business were to multiply several times over, it still couldn't compete with the gasoline tax.

And what does Poly have to offer?

After swallowing the sausage, Luca said with a smile, "If Pauli could come to my club as the head chef and grill sausages in the club restaurant, I think my business would definitely take off."

Paul shook his head: "Pigeon, the reason you can sit here and eat the sausages I made is because you are my junior, and you don't touch drugs now. I have severed ties with everyone in the family who touches drugs, and the whole family knows my attitude towards drugs."

“I admire that about you too.” Luca nodded sincerely.

"The Lucchese family still has a drug business now, but not in the future."

Pauli stared at Luca and said bluntly, "Pigeon, of the new generation of young members in the family, you are the one I have the most faith in, but your performance with Marigio last time disappointed me. Although you gave up drugs, you created an even more powerful drug lord."

At this point, Luca didn't tell Pauli, whose round, chubby face and taut skin resembled the crust of a sausage, that it was actually a little burnt.

Paul's skill popped up before my eyes—[Black Hand Execution]

Luca asked directly, "What would you have preferred us to do back then?"

Paul: "Either the drugs are destroyed, or the drugs are destroyed by the family! The Bonano family has never been a role model for us. Pigeon, you are still young, you may still have a chance to see a brand new family, or watch my burning body perish along with the family."

Luca took a big bite of the sausage.

The next night.

Lyon called Luca:
"The white tiger is dead."

(End of this chapter)