The First Don In Liberty
Chapter 1 - Cleansing The Souls Of A Blood Soaked Land

"Mr Leone, we didn't get the cleaner. Word on the street is that he escaped to Staunton Island under Yakuza protection with Maria."

Damn. Salvatore had been so confident in his plan. It pained him to have that operation set up, he'd been a good kid and had helped solve a few problems, particularly that Cartel liner producing SPANK. What a position he now lay in, a massive Triad presence in Chinatown and them bastard Forellis in his own Saint Marks. Never did he admit to failure but Salvatore could sense an end to his reign nearing.

It always struck Salvatore that his stronghold over Liberty City at its peak in the late eighties was as much due to fortune as it was to his skill. His fify three years of life had led him from Sicily to America, while settled with a glass of anisette in his lounge he thought back to a hard childhood in the village of Trapani in Sicily. It was a childhood frought with loss, the loss of his elder brother and the loss of his mother. His brother Antonio was the victim of a petty feud over cattle and lost his life to the authorities, not the police but the Cosa Nostra. He still couldn't bring himself to use the word mafia, not once had he heard it in his childhood in Trapani. The discovery of his bullet riddled body in a dirty alley sent his mother into shock and left her debilitated from a stroke - she only saw two more summers. While at the age of fourteen Salvatore felt ready to avenge the deaths of his mother and brother, but he was stopped by his father. The
grief had consumed his quest for venegance and Luca Salvatore decided to take him and his son to America, to live the dream and to cleanse their souls from the blood soaked land of Sicily. It was now sat in his
mansion and reminiscing that Salvatore acknowledged his father's lack of Sicilian revenge but also acknowledged his wisdom, a hot-blooded quest by him back then would have led to his own death in a dirty
alley. To the ordinary Sicilian peasant the Cosa Nostra were the law of the land and their slippery nature meant they would never be defeated in their founding land. It was with heavy hearts that both left for
America.

Liberty City was a new American city built after the prohibition, a thriving town just off the Eastern seaboard. Within twenty years and the end of the war its population exploded and developed into a city. Much like New York, Liberty was home to a mix of immigrants. Many nations, cultures and beliefs formed the city and there was a predominance of Italian-Americans. Luca and his son Salvatore were with the first Sicilians who settled in Liberty in the Saint Marks area of Portland. He remembered his first job, working as a lackey in a cardshop buried behind a grocers on Temperance Street. The job was an easy one, all he had to do was keep the liquor flowing. Them years pouring drinks gave him an untold amount of knowledge. Local kingpins of Liberty's small underworld indulged in describing their exploits to one another. While some of their deeds were truly inspired, others dumbfounded Salvatore so much that he wondered how they held any power at all. By keeping his ears open he learnt the best aspects from each of the cardshop's characters and locked their wisdom away for future use. Five years he worked there and in them five years he had come to know many of the faces of Liberty's new underworld. There were the usual nobodies who had delusions of grandeur, and there was his boss, Domenic Finucci, a disgrace of a man. He was the most powerful of the card players and held control over the whole of Temperance Street, Saint Marks sprawling high street. Finucci muscled his way into every business on Temperance Street, he terrorised shop keepers with hollow threats of violence and took a share of their pitiful takings. While he raged to his father about Finicci's actions Luca was dismissive, the man had spent half his life caught up in
the underworld and refused to acknowledge its slow birth in Liberty. Salvatore instead turned his frustrastion to Frederico Forreli another lackey at the cardshop and a close friend of Salvatore's. Frederico was very similar to himself, although the man had no physical presence about him, Frederico had an unseen cunning and ruthless nature. He had a quiet strength within him and a strong sense of justice, both detested their boss and both were determined to have him punished.

For a number of weeks Salvatore studied Finnuci. Every week the man would visit shops on Temperance Street and squeeze shopkeepers for their measly takings. He continued to make threats of violence and boasted about connections with Sicily's great mafioso who according to him were only a few cities away on business trips. The truth was Domenic Finucci was a lone operator using the power of fear to earn a living and Salvatore wouldn't stand for it.

On a cold winter's day Salvatore began the short trip to the card shop on Temperance Road, if his expectations were correct Finucci would be making his weekly collection and sure enough he was stood in the bare shop of Georgio Brasi's butchers. The plan had been set and he was confident it would succeed, Finucci was a predictable person. He took a deep breath then ran into the butchers screaming, "Domenic,
Domenic you're being robbed! It's Frederico Forreli, he's in the card shop hoarding your profits!" Sure enough an enraged Finnuci followed Salvatore to his base of operations at the grocers where both Salvatore
and Frederico worked. Inside the back room of the grocers standing by the poker table was Frederico holding a shotgun, waiting. Finucci burst into the grocers and charged for the back door into his dealing den.
Salvatore tuck cover behind the counter. The ageing boss forced the door open with his boot then shot after shot was fired, Domenic Finucci's body lunged back into the front of the grocers. The man's greed had been his downfall. Salvatore rose from his safety and paced to the spluttering wreck of a man. "It was your lack of respect that led to your lack of fortune." The cool smiles of the young killers was the last thing Finucci saw.