Billy had been sent to pick up the guest on his boss's orders. Costello had told him a heavy hitter was coming—a Mafia boss from New York. In Billy's mind, that meant an older guy in a fedora and polished leather shoes, chomping on a cigar and surrounded by a dozen muscle-bound guys in black suits.
When he finally laid eyes on Luca, Billy froze. His gaze flicked past the young man, scanning the street behind him.
Where's the rest of them? Where's the Godfather?
This kid didn't look any older than Billy himself. And yet… there was something off. A cold, glacial composure—like a man who'd already lived through a hundred years of bloodshed.
"Mr. Greco?" Billy asked, stepping forward with cautious respect.
"And you are?"
"Just call me Billy. I'm one of Costello's… associates."
Billy led the trio inside, his eyes lingering on the two men flanking Luca. One was a quiet shadow in a suit, radiating pure menace. The other looked like a seasoned street soldier. The restaurant had been cleared out—no customers, no staff in sight.
At the center of the room sat a man with thinning hair and the eyes of an old predator. Beside him stood a bearded enforcer.
[Character Card Discovered: Frank Costello (Unlocked)]
[Rank: B]
[Origin: The Departed]
[Skill: Deep Infiltration]
[Bond: Strangers]
Costello was the undisputed king of the Winter Hill Gang. In the grand hierarchy of the Commission, he was third-rate—but in the vacuum that was Boston, he was a giant.
Luca already knew how this story ended: Costello wouldn't live long enough to see his empire peak. He'd be taken down by the very undercovers he'd raised himself—the price of grooming men who secretly wanted to be a "good person".
The bearded man was Frenchy, Costello's right hand. Billy dropped them off and disappeared without a word. He knew better than to hang around when the big dogs started circling.
Luca took his seat. The air felt polite on the surface—but underneath, it was razor wire.
Costello spoke first, his voice rough, almost theatrical, like something out of a stage play.
"Well, look what the wind dragged in. The Dove of Peace flying north for the winter. You looking to nest here, or just passing by?"
His smile was thin and jagged.
A fox, Luca thought. The kind that plants spies like crops.
Luca reached out and shook his hand, grip firm. "Doves prefer warmer weather, Mr. Costello. Your hands are a little cold. You feeling alright?"
Costello's eyes narrowed. "My health? My own guys don't ask about my health. They're too busy working. Unlike you—wandering around like a tourist."
"Busy fighting the Killeens and the Mullens for scraps?" Luca shot back with a faint smirk. "Heard things have been… lively down south."
Costello stiffened.
This was supposed to be a business meeting—and Luca was already poking at open wounds. Costello had been letting those Irish crews bleed each other dry, waiting for the right moment to step in.
"They're nothing," Costello said dismissively. "The South Side's mine. Now enough with the bird talk—what do you want?"
"The hardware," Luca said quietly. "I heard you picked up a batch of microprocessors. I want them."
Costello went still.
The Mass Corporation theft had made the news—but the thief had vanished. No one was supposed to know the chips had landed in his hands.
Did the Chinese talk?
He'd been negotiating with a Triad group—but they were lowballing him. A hundred million for twenty chips that could guide a missile with surgical precision? Insulting.
"I don't have any chips," Costello said smoothly. "But I've heard the rumors. Sounds like someone got lucky."
"I want them. Name your price."
"I told you—I don't have them."
"Then what are you planning to sell the Chinese?" Luca asked calmly. "Lightbulbs?"
That did it.
Real suspicion flickered across Costello's face. Those bastards.
"The Dove really does see everything, huh?" he said, dropping the act. "Too late. I've already got a deal. I'm a man of my word. Maybe next time someone robs a tech firm, I'll give you a call."
Luca leaned forward slightly.
"Why sell to the Chinese? You hand over that kind of tech, and when the missiles start flying back this way, they won't miss. If anyone's going to play international broker, it should be the Dove of Peace."
Costello chuckled. "If they ever make it to Boston, they'll remember who their friends are."
"120 million," Luca said.
Costello shook his head. "Reputation's worth more than money."
Liar, Luca thought. You're planning to burn them anyway.
"150 million," Luca said, pulling a heavy handgun from his suit and placing it on the table.
The room went still.
"There are two bullets in this," Luca continued calmly. "One for the Mullens. One for the Killeens. Or… I could give the Patriarca family a reason to repaint the South Side in Italian colors. Either way, you're looking at a two-front war."
Costello's expression finally hardened.
This wasn't some green New York kid. This was a Lucchese operator who knew exactly how to apply pressure.
"You tight with the Triads?" Costello asked
Luca laughed, casually popping an Oreo into his mouth. "I know you sell to them. Does that sound like friendship? If I liked them, I wouldn't be taking their shipment."
Costello leaned back, thinking it through.
"150 million," he said finally. "But I've got a condition. Your people move a weapons shipment for me. Straight to Ireland. Call it a barter deal."
Luca raised an eyebrow. "The IRA?"
"I'm just the middleman," Costello shrugged.
Luca nodded slowly.
If Costello wanted to play gunrunner, Luca knew exactly who to call. Yuri Orlov would handle logistics—and take his cut.
"Deal."
They shook hands.
[Character Card: Frank Costello]
[Rank: B]
[Source: The Departed]
[Skill: Deep Infiltration]
Effect: Success rate for planting moles in official forces +10%. However, the chance of subordinate betrayal increases by +20%.
Requirement: Bond: Friend or above | Cost: 50 Skill Fragments
[Bond: Attention]
What a garbage skill, Luca thought. Why plant a mole when I can own the guy already inside?
The deal moved fast.
Luca returned to New York, met with the "Lord of War," Yuri Orlov, and finalized the shipment.
Three days later, on a fog-drenched pier, Costello watched crates of rifles disappear into the night.
In exchange, a small, heavy suitcase was handed over to Luca.
Twenty chips.
All real.
"Did you cancel on the Chinese?" Luca asked as they prepared to part ways.
"Cancel?" Costello grinned. "Hell no. I'm selling them fakes. Already tipped off the Boston FBI. When they get caught crossing the border with counterfeit military tech, the Feds look like heroes—and I get a free pass. Everybody wins."
Luca smiled faintly.
I've got a surprise for you too, Frank.
The next night.
A rain-soaked rooftop in Boston.
Billy Costigan met his handler—Sergeant Dignam.
"Costello's making the deal with the Chinese tomorrow night at the docks," Billy said, handing over the location.
Dignam spat over the edge. "Jesus Christ. We might be at war with those people in thirty years, and this fat bastard's out here selling them guidance systems. I ought to strap him to a missile and fire him straight at Beijing."
He started patting Billy down roughly, checking for wires.
Billy snapped.
"I'm falling apart, Dignam! I can't do this anymore! A year pretending to be a piece of shit—my psychologist says I'm losing my mind!"
"Relax," Dignam shot back. "Everybody's faking it. What makes you special?"
"I'm not like them!"
"You're nobody, Billy," Dignam said flatly. "Right now, only me and the Captain know you're a cop. I could burn your file and you'd be just another junkie in Costello's crew. You've committed more felonies this year than I can count."
"I'll kill you!" Billy snapped, lunging at him.
They crashed into each other, fists flying in the rain—pure frustration, raw and ugly. Two men on the same side, beating the hell out of each other because neither of them could take it anymore.
Eventually, they broke apart, gasping for air.
Billy wiped blood from his nose.
"One more thing," he muttered. "Costello met with someone from New York. Calls himself the Dove of Peace."
Dignam frowned. "The Dove… yeah, I've heard the name. What'd they talk about?"
"I don't know," Billy said. "I'm not in the room for that level of conversation. And next time—just call me. I don't want to see your face."
"You think I enjoy looking at you?" Dignam shot back. "Just hold it together. If this deal goes through, we don't just get a bust—we get Costello for treason."
Treason…
Billy stared out over the dark city.
I just want this to be over.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Big Thanks to Gerard Steeghs and zach pilkington for becoming my P Knight, my cats eat a feast tonight.
If you enjoy my work, please consider supporting me on P Site/OrbisTranslate. Access 15 advanced chapters for just $3.
Additionally, I will release two bonus chapters for every 100 Stones received.