This unexpected assignment put Luca in a real bind.
Forget the skill issue for a second—the war on drugs alone required Richie Roberts to stay alive and active. They were this close. How could he possibly take Richie out now? Luca was too busy trying to protect him to even consider the idea.
"Roberts. It's him."
Masking his surprise, Luca asked casually, "Did he offend the family?"
"He's blocking our path to money."
Mariggio trusted Luca implicitly and didn't hesitate to explain.
"The Commission issued the execution order this time because Dominic and several other made man pushed for it."
Mariggio—the man who had practically raised Luca since he was ten—was one of only two members in the family bold enough to operate in the drug trade. The other was the "White Tiger."
He tapped the photo.
"Roberts has been cracking down on street drugs in New York for years. He caught Henry before. Now he's targeting Frank. He's already taken down several distributors, and a few days ago he even arrested that Japanese-American Businessman."
He exhaled sharply.
"We sent people to talk to him. Offered money. Women. Cars. Vacation villas. We tried everything peacefully, just to get him to back off. He refused all of it."
Mariggio couldn't hide a flicker of admiration.
"The guy got a ball. Honestly? I respect him. Almost everyone in the NYPD and DEA takes money from the gangs. He doesn't. He found a million dollars and actually turned it in. Who does that?"
I've never seen a cop that clean.
"A million dollars!" Mariggio scoffed. "And in the end it'll just get divided up by greedy bureaucrats."
Luca shook his head internally.
Of course federal leadership approached Richie. That spotless "returning lost property" record made him a symbol.
"He won't listen to us," Mariggio said, sliding the photo closer. "But he might listen to you. Luca, you're the Dove of Peace. I need peace right now. Go handle this."
What am I supposed to do—negotiate him into retirement?
Luca stared at the photo.
This is way off the original storyline.
Did I push too hard somewhere? Butterfly effect?
He nodded calmly, then asked, "Mariggio, killing one Roberts won't solve this. The federal government is serious this time. They're determined to clean up drug crime in New York. Even if you kill him, more will come. They'll keep coming until the streets aren't flooded anymore."
Drugs had never disappeared from America—past, present, or future.
Mexico, Cuba, Couples of South America Country—supply lines would always exist.
Hell, even a dying high school chemistry teacher could cook up high-purity crystal in his garage.
But New York's drug scene was beyond chaotic. Even DEA and local cops were openly moving product. This wasn't just a crackdown—it was a purge of their own corrupt infrastructure.
The sewer was clogged.
And when there's a mountain of rot, someone eventually brings a plunger.
Mariggio frowned.
"This isn't the first federal crackdown. When have they ever succeeded? The only difference is we've never dealt with someone as stubborn as Roberts."
"You should trust me," Luca said evenly. "We rarely argue. But when we do, I'm usually right."
"Luca," Mariggio sighed, "I know you don't like this business. I've never forced you into it. So what do you want? How much?"
He smiled helplessly, like a tired father handing out allowance.
"I'm the only one in this family who pays you upfront to kill someone. Look at the other hitters—do they dare complain? This isn't some Continental Hotel job. This is loyalty."
"I know you've treated me well. I remember every bit of it," Luca said. "But this really isn't about money."
"For me, it is," Mariggio admitted quietly. "The others have diversified income. I don't. This is my revenue. If this shuts down, what do I rely on? A bar? I might not even keep my position."
He looked unusually candid.
"When you first came to me, I was just a soldier. You know better than anyone how I became a capo."
Because you aligned yourself with the underboss.
Luca knew that very well.
Many past "deliveries" had come from Dominic through Mariggio—including the execution of Stansfield.
But now Dominic's order threatened to derail everything.
Killing Richie Roberts would completely sabotage Luca's long-term plans.
Stop the war on drugs? Let Dominic expand unchecked? Watch the family walk straight into federal collapse?
And even if Richie died, would that stop the purge?
Why couldn't Dominic just sit in prison peacefully with Frank?
Why did he have to stir the pot?
This wasn't a side quest. This was a major storyline update.
One Richie wouldn't end it.
A cold light flickered in Luca's eyes.
Richie cannot die.
Help him win the war on drugs.
Secure the system rewards.
Imagine the payout for preserving peace at the end of a historic crackdown.
And if Dominic's drug empire collapsed in the process—even better.
If the underboss didn't fall, when would Luca ever have a chance to rise?
A narcotics empire was not his dream.
This was the first time Mariggio had seen Luca so silent.
He grew uneasy.
Luca used to accept contracts decisively. Price negotiated. Target removed.
Was this one different?
After a long pause, Mariggio extended his hand.
"Forget it. Give me the photo back. I'll talk to Dominic. Switch the hitter. He specifically wanted you on this—he respects your ability. But I won't force you."
Killing a cop wasn't complicated. Plenty of assassins existed.
Take the Deadly Viper organization. Elite killers operating through the Continental Hotel. Strong East Asian influences—Chinese Martial Arts combined with Japanese swordsmanship.
Mariggio had heard they were recently active in New York because the founder of Benihana Restaurant had been arrested, disrupting operations.
There were issues to handle.
He then asked casually, "You were at the scene when that Japanese guy got arrested, right? I heard one of your men stopped him."
"He owed me a car," Luca replied lightly. "Tried to run. I wasn't letting that slide."
Mariggio: "…"
So that's how it happened.
He knew the GT-R sat in Luca's garage—but not the cinematic backstory.
Out of trust—and instinct—he chose to believe him.
"Luca, we don't hate the police," Mariggio warned. "But don't get too close to the ones against us. Those who won't cooperate end up like Roberts. The family doesn't forgive that."
Luca smiled faintly.
I was planning to support Richie, win the drug war, and eliminate Dominic.
And now you're pushing the opposite direction.
Boss… you're forcing my hand.
Mariggio raised his glass.
"You've already distanced yourself from drugs. That's fine. Focus on the club. Let someone else handle this."
Luca looked at him—the man who had saved him from becoming a homeless orphan.
In the Mafia, refusing a mission was dangerous.
Orders weren't suggestions.
Family came before God. Before country.
Luca knew Mariggio had covered for him many times when he negotiated aggressively.
If Mariggio had a character card, their bond would've been Partner – Family Tier long ago.
Luca slipped the photo into his pocket and smiled.
"Uncle Mariggio. Been a while since I called you that, huh?"
"You little brat! I baptized you! I'm your godfather!"
"I'll take the mission."
"You agree?"
"You're my uncle. If I don't help you, who will?"
Let's stall.
Better the contract stays in my hands than someone else's.
Mariggio burst out laughing.
"I knew you'd come through! Let's Drink for the sake of Uncle and Nephew"
"I'm driving," Luca warned.
"Just one drink!"
They clinked glasses under the moonlight.
"Oh—right," Luca added casually. "You said two execution orders. Who's the other one for?"
David?
Mariggio didn't produce another photo.
After a pause, he said the name:
"Carmine Galante."
Not David.
The Bonanno boss.
The Commission truly held terrifying power.
Even a family head wasn't untouchable.
Luca went quiet again—but this time, he wasn't surprised.
In the original storyline, while Donnie was undercover, Galante was eliminated by other families—not because he was greedy, but because he didn't know how to share.
That assassination destabilized the Bonanno family.
The imprisoned underboss temporarily took control.
Sonny Black rose.
Lefty was crushed.
He'd waited decades—yet promotion went elsewhere.
He never realized Sonny Black had built strong ties in prison with the underboss.
Luca weighed the situation quickly.
Killing Richie? No.
Killing Galante? Different equation.
Depends on the reward.
A boss-level target.
System payout?
No political fallout—Commission authorization covered it.
"I'll take this one too."
Mariggio blinked.
"You hesitate to kill a cop, but you're eager to kill a boss?"
Two seconds.
Calculation complete.
"For the family."