The cigarette hit the ashtray with a hiss, a last puff of smoke fogged out of Anakin's lips as he spoke to the room of Italians and Sicilians sitting at a rather long, wooden oak table, adorned with crystal glasses of expensive brandy and crystal ashtrays that were once sparkling, but now dull due to the littered cigarettes that lie in them.

"And I told you, Mancini, it won't happen again as long as you keep your end of the bargain," Anakin breathed, his eyes sat firmly on the man who sat across from him.

Anakin sat at the head of the table, his finger twisted in the cigarette into the ashtray, looking at Mancini ahead of him.

It was he who started this. This war, this war that had been going on for almost three years now. Yet, despite his actions, he sat smugly, his hand wrapped around his crystal glass of brandy, sipping on it gently as if he were savoring the flavor.

"As long as I keep my end of the bargain? And what would that be, Cielo?" The old man's voice was gravely and full of age and years of smoking cigarettes.

Mancini was very old but didn't look like it, even though he was known to always have a cigarette in his mouth. His grey, silvery hair was thick and greased back, light grey stubble crossed his sharp jaw features and his brown eyes were narrowed at Anakin under his hooded eyelids. He had on a silk, green suit that clung to his body, and a black ascot that was tucked under his white collar. He always wore that damn green suit every time he was in a meeting with the five other Dons.

Anakin spread his hands out, gesturing to the other three men in the room.

"Well, that's what we're here to discuss."

"Mancini!"

Anakin turned his head to Pisani--a stunted fiery old man who was the Don of the Bronx--who slammed his fist on the table, the crystal glasses shook when he had done so.

"I want my territory back. You don't have the right to start a war and then continue to claim my territory, you no-good imbroglione!" Pisani shook a pointer finger at him wildly, his teeth gritted and quickly began to stand up but Mancini's bodyguards quickly rushed over to Pisani and pushed him back down in his seat.

Everyone's eyes around the table had widened at Pisani's actions. Sure, they all understood, but it was quite unexpected, even coming from him.

He cleared his throat when he realized his mistakes and tightened his tie in a hope to correct his unprofessionalism.

"Spiacente," he quickly apologizes before taking a quick drink.

"It's alright, Don. Don't worry, we all have our quarrels with Mancini." Mancini rolls his eyes. "So let's discuss then, shall we?"

"I suppose..." Mancini mumbles, lifting the glass to his lips once again before taking another swig.

"Good. Now, I suppose on that note, Don Pisani, would you like to go first?" Anakin turns his head to the short bald man in the brown silk suit.

"Yes, I would. Thank you." He turns to Mancini.

"Mancini, you owe me my territory. You and your men had swarmed my area, taking up my drug stores and clubs. I don't like it, Mancini. It's making me and la famiglia feel uneasy. "

"Well," Mancini sat up in his chair and folded his hands on the deep brown table. "What would you like me to do, Pisani? You want me to pull my family out of there? Make them jobless?"

Pisani nodded. "Yeah, that's exactly what I want you to do, Don. If you want, when my people are back and owning those shops, we'll give you twenty percent of the profit, if you want. Is that what you want?"

Mancini rubbed his chin for a few seconds. "Twenty-five."

"Done. That should be enough to get your family back on track. Don't want to see the family like that, Mancini."

Mancini chuckles softly, a soft grin appeared on his lips. "Grazie, Don. I wouldn't want to see your family like that either."

"Bene! I guess I'm settled then."

Anakin nods to Pisani before turning to the man who sat across from Pisani: Don Sirvano.

Sirvano was on the younger side. Not as young as Anakin, but possibly in his early forties to mid-forties.

"Sirvano?" Anakin gestures his hand to him then to Mancini.

"You killed my brother, Mancini. I want something to cover that up, in fact, for all of our relatives that you spilled blood over. Something that's going to benefit all of us. I'm tired of this lacking, Mancini. I want something stable. You've been at this for years now--picking and choosing what you want to do when you know that there's an agreement between all of us. You can't keep doing this," he says in his thick Italian accent.

"How about political protection?" Mazzanti suggests, who hadn't spoken up for quite some time.

"No," Mancini shakes his head and nods it towards Anakin. "I don't have that kind of protection. Cielo does, though. His wife is a politician. "

Anakin chuckles, shaking his head. "This is true. Though I don't have too much on the east side, unlike you, Mancini. If I remember correctly, that's your territory, right?"

Mancini nods. "I do, but it's not much. Just part of Queens."

"Fine. How about firepower, protection for all of us across the board?" Sirvano suggests again.

"Done. Anyone else?"

Mazzanti turns to Anakin. "What about you, Cielo?"

Anakin hums, thinking. "I can offer political protection. Nobody won't harm anyone, that is, if everyone keeps up their end of the deal. And also safe houses--places to make exchanges discreetly."

"And in return?"

He taps his pen against his chin, wondering what he would take in return. He hadn't really thought about it.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, how about... How about someone to help you out, eh? How about someone like a... a secretary. "

Anakin blinks, looking at Mancini as if he were mad. "No, I don't think..."

"Ah, come on. Listen, I got a niece, beautiful girl--"

Anakin's eyes widened. "Don, I'm flattered but you know I'm already married--"

"Listen, she's great, she's looking for a job, and this could be a term between us... Y'know... Take care of my niece and I'll take care of you. Hell, I'll even pay her. You won't have to pay shit," Mancini offers, taking a drag off his cigarette.

He sighs, throwing his hands up. "I uh... What the hell, why not? Sure, sounds good enough. I suppose I could use someone to run a few errands for me."

Mancini's face lit up, throwing his hands up into the air. "Ah! See! Exactly. Everything's good. Bene!"

He sighs, chuckling before turning his head to Mazzanti, the last man of the night.

"And you? What are your terms, Mazzanti?"