Chapter 2.3: Night at the Foundation [01/31/1925]
Staring at the Penhew Foundation, Moretti was suddenly sixteen again, getting ready to break into Bill Mahoney's warehouse, standing in a Hell's Kitchen alley at midnight with a thirty year old Ray Spano, the January New York chill gnawing at his chest.
After regarding the entrance of the aging building for a long moment, Spano had turned his attention to Moretti.
"You nervous, kid?" He asked, his breath steaming in the winter air.
Moretti had just nodded, his mouth too dry for words.
Spano shrugged. "Working for the family, it's not the last time you're going to go somewhere you don't belong, or take something that doesn't belong to you. All part of the business."
Spano had eyed Morettii sternly, the lines of his rawboned features even sharper in the dim light. "I could give you some kind of encouragement. Tell you it all gets easier the more you do it. But I don't want to feed you a bunch of false sunshine. Will your nerves steady out? Sure. Eventually. That part'll get easier."
Glancing back at the warehouse, Spano said, "Thing is, you've seen enough now, you know what this life is. What it's about. You and me? We're just tools. Kept around when we're useful. Tossed to the street when we're not. This kind of job? This is the exact sort of work that gets you killed. Eventually, you walk in the wrong place, mess with the wrong guy's people or property and you're gone. Good news is, the way most of us do business, you'll never see it coming. You'll just be dead."
"It's the life you agreed to. Better to accept it now, swallow the medicine, and put the worry behind you. Whatever you joined this outfit for, money, security, influence, you'll get it. But we soldati... we don't get old. And we don't get remembered. Nobody's going to show up with flowers at the potter's field. I know I sound harsh kid, but it's better you get rid of any illusions now. They'll only trip you up in the end."
Spano had motioned for Moretti to follow him. "Let's get this done."
Rosalie's observations drew Moretti from his memories. He considered what she had said quietly, regarding the stately building with a frown.
"I honestly think the rear entrance is the better route," he said quietly. "With all these homes nearby, it's hard to guess who might look out their window at the wrong time. I'd bet that some of the neighbors know the faces of the staff who usually come and go."
He studied the windows, watching the flicker of the watchman's flashlight. "That guard looks pretty diligent about his rounds. We may have to help him take a nap if we want to get a good look at both floors."
01:09, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 61 using 1d100 with rolls of 61. Stealth - Stealth 80%.