It was all going so well: Carlo Two Toes decided to retire to Miami Beach, (well, okay, maybe you helped him make up his mind a little - he used to be Carlo Three Toes after all), but he left you his sweet little bookmaking operation before he went.
The dough was rolling in, your wiseguys were happy as clams in linguini, and you finally found a fedora that fit your unusually shaped head. Life was good.
Then that rat, Don D'Oro started moving in on your rackets on the docks, and Miss DeMeaner developed a thirst for your bootlegging business in Brooklyn. You knew it couldn't last; there are just too many Bosses in this town who want a piece of your action. Well, you'll just have to do something about that, won't you?
This is New York afterall, and this is DEATHGROUND.