Luther: An Underworld Odyssey

Pierre grew up in the slums of Paris. A cornerstone of French society that was often ignored and beaten down. As he grew older, he realized quickly that the opportunities for cash were running few and far between. Then, everything changed when war broke out. Being a young man in his late teens, he knew it was a matter of time before he was forced to enlist or find a new home in a prison cell. So, he did what any reasonable man with nothing to lose would've done. He ran.

Working his way across the Italian border, Pierre found a new life awaiting him. He was quick to make friends and connections. In Sicily, he joined the Cosa Nostra, otherwise known as the Sicilian Mafia. He was on the bottom of the food chain, and still poor, but "The Family" gave him a purpose. A place where he could belong and make an impression.

Over the next two years Pierre continued to rise in the ranks. Working on jobs focused on narcotrafficking, protection racketeering and occasional loan shark business, Pierre felt his conscious was clean in what they did. After all, innocent people weren't being hurt in his eyes, and he saw it as his job to try and keep it that way.

Near the end of spring, word came down the pipeline that a new business venture was being opened up. A job that involved the renowned Guiseppe Camorra. Pierre was assigned to be in the room for initial negotiations between the two parties. He was intrigued to see two higher-up members of separate organizations in action.

The day of negotiations arrived, and Pierre waited alongside his friend Michael for the meeting to start. All things considered, Michael was a good man in Pierre's eyes. He brought him into the family, gave him a place to live, and always showed him support. Sure, he had a drug and whore problem, but that was common for men in their line of work. We all have our vices, and Pierre wasn't in a place to judge.

Michael pulled out a yoyo from his pocket. It was jet black with a red saint logo on it; but it was starting to show some wear and tear from its usage. One strong pull or a drop to the ground could break it apart.

"Always got to have it on you, don't you," said Pierre as Michael began fidgeting with the children's toy.

"It keeps my hands busy." Michael replied.

"Yeah and no matter how hard you toss it away, it comes back to you with a simple flick."

"Sounds like last weekend."

"Sounds like an addiction."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck your sister."

The two men laughed and gave each other a punch in the arm.

"You know P, I got an idea brewing," said Michael.

"You with an idea," Pierre scoffed. "Must be serious."

"No, look, I'm being serious. I'm thinking of leaving soon."

"For a vacation?"

Michael wrapped up the yoyo as he continued talking, "I was talking to Anne, and we were thinking of immigrating to America."

Pierre was taken aback by Michael's idea. "You know you can't leave. They would never let you."

"I know, which is why I need to know if I can depend on you. Everything we've been through together, this place is going downhill fast, it's not the right area to start a family right now."

"Family?"

There was a pause between the two.

"After our next pay, Anne and I are leaving for a better opportunity. If you want to come, you're welcome. If not, you can keep the apartment. I won't hold anything against you."

A few men entered the room along with the boss, Lorenzo "God" Mancini. He had earned that name for how long he'd survived in the family. Despite multiple disputes and hits put out against him, he always came out on top. As if God himself was on his side and the cross necklace he wore gave him an immunity to lead.

Everyone took their seats at the table in the center of the conference room. Michael and Pierre were standing along the wall as security. Nobody spoke in the presence of Lorenzo unless they were spoken to. Shortly after, the doors reopened and Guiseppe Camorra entered the room with a few of his men.

Lorenzo stood up from his seat and walked over to shake Camorra's hand. "Mr. Camorra. It's been some time. How have you been?"

"I've been better Mr. Mancini. Business is good, but my ventures have been a little more crowded than I like," Camorra replied.

The two men sat in their respective chairs.

"Well, let's get down to business then. What can we do to help one another?" said Lorenzo.

"I need to move my stock to a new comfort station. I have them inland right now, but I'd like to get them out before anyone comes knocking."

Lorenzo gave a quick glance at Michael and Pierre. The two underlings were expandable should anything go wrong for Lorenzo, making them perfect bargaining chips.

"So, you need a few of my boys to help you with the move? Is that it?"

"We'll need them for the move and guidance across the border into France. In exchange, we'll allow your family into our crop market."

"I wasn't aware Italy is in season like our neighbors."

"Right now, it isn't. But my source says the floodgates are on the verge of opening."

Lorenzo scanned over Camorra and his goons. This was an opportunity he couldn't pass on.

"What percentage are we talking?" inquired Lorenzo.

"Fifteen" said Camorra

"Make it twenty and we'll help you."

There was silence in the room, Camorra wasn't budging.

"Keep the coin for the job. But make it twenty for business," Lorenzo bargained.

"Eighteen."

Lorenzo gave a nod. He turned to his men.

"Pierre, Michael, and Vito, I'm leaving you in charge of escorting Camorra and his stock across the border. Use the tunnels. Once the job is complete, you can report back to me."

The three men gave a nod and walked across the room to be with Camorra and his men. Camorra handed Michael a card with an address on it.

"I need you to meet us here in 2 weeks for the move. We will get moving at half past midnight, so arrive an hour early," ordered Camorra.

The business meeting eventually came to an end and Pierre and Michael went home for the night. As Michael was driving, something was eating away at Pierre.

"What's the stock?" asked Pierre.

"Excuse me?" said Michael.

"The job for Camorra, what stock are we moving across the border."

"It's better if we don't talk about it."

"Is it?"

Michael stopped at a light. He took a hit from his cigarette and blew it out the window. "It happens everywhere Pierre. We aren't in the business for it though, this is a one-off."

Pierre wasn't satisfied with Michael's answer. This had crossed one of his personal boundaries. Michael took notice of Pierre's reluctance.

"It's like I said, we complete this job, get a nice paycheck, and we can both leave forever. It will be fine. Just don't let it eat at you too much. There isn't much we can do to help them."

The next two weeks felt like normal. Pierre and Michael did their work and nothing out of the ordinary occurred. Then, just before the scheduled job, Camorra was found dead in an alleyway near one of his local spots. Word of his death spread like wildfire and the empire that Camorra left was waiting to be siezed. Lorenzo met with his men to discuss what their plan of action was going to be.

Lorenzo looked over his men as everyone took a seat at the table.

"As you know, Camorra's been killed. Some say he was assassinated by the Witch of Verdun."

Vito spoke first, "That's impossible. The Witch is just a story to scare off the German. They aren't actually real"

Pierre intervened, "So what does that mean for the job. His stock that we are supposed to move next week?"

"Camorra's second in command is taking over for the job. Pierre, Michael and Vito, you will move out tonight to get it done. With Camorra gone, they need to be moved as soon as possible before the police can intervene. As for our deal with the crops, with Camorra out of commission, his empire will crumble before long. We'll take over his operations. Some of Camorra's men will be brought in, others will remain in France working their stock trade."

The men in the room seemed happy about the news. One hundred percent was a whole lot better than eighteen, and they didn't even have to go to war to take it.

"Why not let the stock free or ignore the job?" asked Pierre.

The cheerful atmosphere came to a sudden stop. Lorenzo's icy gaze locked on to Pierre. He rose from his chair and crept over to him.

"If we abandon Camorra's men and they are arrested. Then word might get out about our deal, which would jeopardize this new expansion. So be a good soldier and do what you are told."

Lorenzo gave a pat on Pierre's shoulder before turning back around. "Now, are there any more questions about what we are doing?"

The meeting had ended. Pierre was uneasy about everything. As Michael and Pierre were leaving the room, he caught a glimpse of Vito whispering something into Lorenzo's ear.

Later that night, Pierre, Michael, and Vito arrived at Camorra's address to help with the move. The location was Camorra's mansion. There were two cargo trucks parked outside in the driveway. The three mob enforcers exited Michael's vehicle and walked up to the front door.

Camorra's second in command Bruce answered the door. "Thank God you're here. The last twenty-four hours have been a shit show."

"Where is the stock?" asked Vito.

"We have them chained up in the basement for now. Soon we will move them to the cargo trucks and then we can get moving to the border."

Pierre's nose twitched. Something felt off. He nudged at Michael to stay alert.

The group walked into the mansion. Pierre was in awe of its size and extravagance. It was unlike anything he had seen growing up in the slums of Paris. There was a barrage of art and displayed weapons along the marble walls. The living room and kitchen areas were open and spacious. The light from the backyard pool lit up through the wall of window glass that displayed the backyard.

Michael pulled out his yoyo to fidget with for a moment and Pierre went into the kitchen to grab some water. Meanwhile, Vito walked over to Bruce and whispered something into his ear. Pierre walked around the different rooms of the house. As he went room to room, he noticed the door to the basement. It was bolted shut with multiple padlocks. A sense of dread overwhelmed him as he moved closer to the door. What kind of pain and suffering was on the other side of the splintered wood.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. Pierre reached for his weapon and ran toward the source of the noise. As Pierre turned the corner, he froze in his tracks. His heartbeat became still. A warm pool of blood flowed around his shoes. He felt ill, he felt enraged, and he felt sick to his stomach. Michael's lifeless corpse laid on the floor. His brains partially splattered across the kitchen counter. Vito was holding a smoking barreled gun.

Before a single word could come out of Pierre's mouth, or he could react by shooting Vito himself, the power to the mansion went out. The entire estate became pitch black.