"Have the Doves arrived?"
When Nick Trupo heard the word "Dove," he froze. In that brief lapse, David Mills caught him off guard and drove a punch straight into his face, sending two streams of blood pouring from his nose.
"Give me back my damn money!" David roared.
Trupo snapped out of it, grabbed David's wrist, and shoved him back hard. "You maniac! Get away from me!"
He quickly put some distance between them and glanced to the side.
A tall, composed man in a slim black trench coat walked calmly into the center of the crowd.
Luca Greco's gaze swept across the entire scene like a drawn blade. His voice was low, yet the air seemed to freeze instantly.
"That's enough. You need to learn to respect my territory."
The chaos stopped immediately. Silence fell over the street.
David Mills and Richie Roberts both recognized Luca.
Trupo, having dealt with gangsters for years, knew Luca even better than they did.
Luca stood like an immovable wall between the two sides. The groups faced each other from a distance, and for a moment, both flames died out.
The onlookers and shopkeepers nearby felt the scene was utterly surreal. Normally, the police break up gang fights—but today, a Mafia soldier had silenced two groups of police officers.
"This is Luca the Dove," a grocer, clearly used to such scenes, boasted to a passerby. "In Little Italy, nobody dares cause trouble in front of him. See? Even the cops follow the rules of peace here. They don't dare cross him!"
The passersby were stunned.
The grocer continued proudly, "You can open your shop here with total peace of mind. No street thugs will harass you. Of course, there's a small protection fee. Even if you're short on cash, that's fine—but you must show respect."
"Luca the Dove helps every friend he has. He's the protector of the people in Little Italy—like a godfather!"
The passersby were amazed.
"That's incredible. Maybe I should move here."
At that moment, watching Luca's sharply defined profile, Trupo was in a foul mood. He knew he would gain nothing today. Luca would never allow further conflict in Little Italy.
The money had to be returned intact. It was useless once exposed—and how could he dare spend marked bills registered with the court?
He'd thought he'd hit a jackpot. Instead, it all slipped through his fingers.
Trupo was furious.
But he despised Richie's righteous attitude even more, and David's hot temper disgusted him.
Two self-righteous bastards. Are you kidding me?
"I don't want the money," Trupo sneered. He threw the bag onto the ground and glared at Richie. "You honest idiot—take it and hand it over to your federal daddies."
He gestured for his men to leave.
Then three calm words came from behind him.
"Pick it up."
Hearing Luca's voice, Trupo's fists clenched. But when he turned around, a strained smile was on his face.
Luca pointed at the money bag on the pavement. His tone was steady and firm.
"Return it the way it was taken. Have you forgotten how to spell 'respect'? Pick it up."
The officers' expressions shifted repeatedly.
Even Nick Trupo—normally reckless and lawless—fell silent in front of Luca, who carried himself with even greater authority.
His fists tightened, then loosened. Finally, he exhaled.
He bent down, picked up the bag, stuffed it into Richie's arms, then turned and walked away without another word, unwilling to remain a second longer.
The stares from the crowd burned into him. He felt utterly humiliated.
Only after driving away did Trupo finally breathe out.
One of his colleagues said, "There were so many of us—we should've taught that Dove a lesson! We're cops! Why are we scared of a Mafia soldier?"
Trupo cursed under his breath. "If you wanna die, don't drag me with you! All of us combined couldn't take him. You know why those Italian crews fear him? He used to be called The Butcher. He wiped out an entire gang by himself."
"You've heard of Baba Yaga? The Dove isn't much less terrifying."
The colleague fell silent.
__________________________________________________________________________
Ding! You stopped the conflict between police officers; you upheld justice and peace within the force.
[Gain Skill Points +5]
[Gain Skill Fragment +1]
[Current Skill Fragments: 31]
__________________________________________________________________________
Luca blinked and closed the panel.
He turned back to the two officers.
"Detective Roberts. Long time no see."
Luca extended his hand in a friendly gesture. "Why didn't you say hello when you came to Little Italy?"
Richie looked slightly flattered. Perhaps it was the first time he had seen Luca so commanding—so commanding that even a vicious cop like Trupo backed down.
Sometimes it really does take one dangerous man to restrain another.
Richie shook his hand. "I didn't know you were here. I mean—I didn't expect to run into you again."
"This is my neighborhood." Luca gestured toward the shopkeepers lining the street. "Look—everyone here knows me."
Richie stared at the warm smiles from the residents. They looked so sincere it almost felt unreal.
Little Italy truly had its own peacekeeper.
[Bond: Familiar]
After talking, Luca learned that David Mills had officially joined Richie Roberts' special narcotics task force.
Well now. So the two rare cards have teamed up.
Luca pulled David aside for a quiet conversation, glancing at Richie, who was busy recounting the recovered cash.
"I'm curious," Luca said. "Did Roberts recruit you, or did you volunteer?"
"Roberts is someone you can trust," David said with genuine admiration. "I've never seen a cop find a million dollars and turn it in. Never. He's the first."
"Do you know what he told me when I asked why?"
"He said it was the right thing to do."
"So when he asked me to join him, I didn't hesitate. I figured… I should do the right thing too."
Luca thought of other men who believed they were doing the "right" thing—the sniper, the zealot obsessed with the Seven Deadly Sins. They all believed in their own justice.
But most people didn't agree with them.
What Richie and David were doing—that would be recognized by many.
Once the money was fully counted, Richie didn't linger. He exchanged a few final words with Luca, then left the Bronx with David.
Perhaps Luca's Mafia ties prevented deeper trust. After all, the Mafia was still deeply involved in narcotics.
"So the two of them really did team up."
Luca waved at the departing car, smiling faintly.
He was genuinely pleased. Two rare pieces moving toward the same goal, doing what they believed was right.
Judging from the situation, Richie had already located one of Frank Lucas's distribution points. Frank would soon come under direct scrutiny.
But that wasn't enough.
To take Frank down, they needed to uncover his supply chain—especially the channels tied to U.S. military transport routes.
What good was shutting down a single tire shop?
Don't sacrifice the bigger picture for small victories.
New Jersey.
In a small county town over a hundred kilometers from New York City, Richie Roberts and his team relocated their temporary office.
There was no alternative. New York was too compromised. Between the NYPD and the DEA, they couldn't trust anyone. Sensitive information leaked too easily.
Moving operations across state lines gave them greater autonomy.
That day, the team gathered around a blackboard filled with photos and notes on major suspects. Richie briefed them on the latest intelligence.
Four or five days had passed since the tire shop incident, and they had already dug up new leads on Frank Lucas.
Frank's operation was structured through family ties.
He was the eldest of many brothers and cousins. Those relatives were scattered across all five boroughs and nearby cities. On the surface, they ran legitimate businesses—laundromats, tire shops, furniture stores, hardware stores.
Behind closed doors, they were distribution hubs.
"Frank keeps a low personal profile," Richie explained. "Financially, he only deals through his attorney and accountant. He's copying the Italians—using their compartmentalized structure to insulate himself."
One superior asked, "How solid is your evidence? Without drugs in evidence or cooperating witnesses, nobody's going to prison."
Richie pointed to another photograph on the board.
"This man is Dominic Cattano—the underboss of the Lucchese crime family. We've confirmed links between him and Frank."
He moved his finger to two more photos.
"Marigio and a man known as White Tiger. Both are ranking members in the Lucchese family. They've been quietly assisting Dominic with distribution. I believe Frank is working as a distributor under Dominic."
The intelligence was still incomplete. They hadn't yet realized that Frank Lucas was effectively operating as the North American wholesaler.
Conventional wisdom placed the Mafia at the top. Few in law enforcement were ready to believe that a Harlem kingpin could outmaneuver an Italian syndicate.
"The Lucchese family?" the inspecting superior frowned. "That complicates things."
Everyone's faces darkened.
Targeting the Mafia was exponentially more difficult.
Then a voice spoke up from the back.
"If it's the Lucchese family… I might be able to help."
All eyes turned to David Mills.
Under their stares, David gave a dry laugh and pointed to a photo tacked in the lower corner of the board.
A sharply dressed young man smiled confidently from the picture, standing out among the hardened criminals around him.
— Luca Greco
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