Satriale's was smaller than I expected.
It wasn't flashy. It didn't need to be. The pork store didn't just sell meat, it radiated authority. It was the kind of place where deals were made next to hanging sausages, and every coffee had ten pounds of subtext.
Sally led the way in like it was his church. I followed a step behind.
"Don't talk unless someone talks to you," he reminded me under his breath. "Don't smile too much. And don't touch anything behind the counter unless you wanna lose a finger."
Inside, the air smelled like garlic, salami, and faint aggression. The counters were wiped clean, the back table already occupied.
Silvio Dante was reading a newspaper. Paulie Walnuts leaned against the deli case like he owned the air in the room. And at the back table, sipping espresso and staring into space like a lion in deep thought, was Tony Soprano.
That was the first time I saw him.
Thicker than he looked on screen. More tired, too. Like he carried a war behind his eyes but had to smile for the kids anyway.
He didn't glance at me. Good. I didn't want his attention yet.
Sally gave a nod to Silvio. "Coffee?"
"Fresh pot's in the back."
We moved past Paulie, who gave me a quick look.
"Who's the kid?"
"My nephew."
Paulie raised an eyebrow. "Looks like he should be in school."
"Graduated early," Sally said. "Sharp one."
Paulie smirked. "We'll see."
Reputation +1 → 5(Paulie is aware of your presence.)
I sat near the front window. Not too close to the table, not too far to be rude. Just… there.
Silvio kept reading. Paulie grabbed a toothpick from the counter and muttered something about overpriced razors. Tony didn't speak.
Ten minutes passed like twenty.
Mob Etiquette +2 → 10(Maintained silence. Watched the room.)Combat Awareness +1 → 2(Tracked body language. Noted exits.)
Finally, Tony spoke gruff and casual.
"You hear about Kenny over in Passaic?"
Paulie clicked his tongue. "He's light again?"
"Couple hundred short."
"Jesus. That place prints money."
Sally leaned forward. "I can send the kid to talk to him."
Tony looked at me for the first time.
His eyes locked onto mine. For a second, the whole room froze.
Then he blinked and shrugged. "Eh. Let him try. Worst case, we write it off as a training exercise."
Charisma Check PassedReputation +2 → 7(Tony is indifferent but watching.)
The table moved on. Talk shifted to unions, trucks, and something about a guy named Beansie getting hit with a car.
I listened. Took mental notes. Didn't blink unless I had to.
Eventually, Sally stood. "We're good?"
Tony nodded. "Yeah."
We walked out together into the blinding daylight.
Outside, Sally lit a cigarette and handed me one. I took it.
"You did good," he said. "Didn't make a fool of yourself."
"I just sat."
"That's more than half these assholes can manage."
Trait Unlocked: Quiet Credibility – Slight reputation boost when observing without interrupting.
That afternoon, Sally drove us out to Passaic. His old Lincoln rode like a boat that smelled like cigars and leather failure.
"Kenny runs a place called Velvet Bliss," he said. "Used to be a real earner. Lately? Not so much."
"Short on his envelope?"
"Three weeks in a row."
"And I'm supposed to fix that?"
"You're supposed to make him understand that's no longer acceptable."
"Got it."
"He'll test you. Don't let him."
We pulled up outside a squat building sandwiched between a pawn shop and a pizza joint. Neon lights flickered weakly above the door.
"You want backup?"
I looked at him. "Not unless you think I'll need it."
He grinned. "I like that."
I stepped out of the car and into my first real test.
Inside, the club was humid with sweat, perfume, and regret. A girl in heels and too much makeup gave me a once over. The bartender didn't blink.
"Kenny's in back," he said.
I pushed open the office door.
Kenny Falco looked like a guy who used to lift weights but now only curled excuses.
"You Sally's nephew?" he asked, lounging behind a desk.
"Yeah."
"You here to collect?"
"That's right."
He laughed. "Tell Sally business is bad. Girls ain't dancing, guys ain't tipping, and everyone's on E instead of whiskey."
I pointed to the bottle of Johnnie Blue on the shelf.
"Tell me again how bad it is."
He leaned forward, face shifting.
"You threatening me, kid?"
"No," I said. "Not yet."
He stared at me for a moment, then opened a drawer and pulled out an envelope.
"You want a drink?"
"No," I said. "I don't drink with guys who lie to me."
I took the envelope and walked out without looking back.
Mob Etiquette +2 → 12Manipulation +1 → 11Reputation +3 → 10Trait Unlocked: Precision Pressure – Increased effectiveness in verbal standoffs.
Back in the car, Sally didn't ask questions. He just took the envelope, counted it silently, and nodded.
"You're going to make people nervous," he said.
"Good."
He didn't respond. But he smiled as he drove.
I sat back, watching the world outside the window, strip malls, gas stations, billboards. All part of a system. Just like me.
And for the first time, I didn't feel like a visitor.
I felt like a player.
That night, I lay in bed, eyes open, the ceiling fan spinning like a lazy executioner.
Something had shifted. I felt it in my chest, low and calm, like a storm that hadn't touched the ground yet.
I wasn't scared. That surprised me. I should've been rattled. I'd just extorted a grown man and returned a mob envelope like it was a library book.
Instead, I felt awake.
I'd spent my past life behind a keyboard. I fixed problems. Coded quietly. Pacified bosses. Now? I was the problem people whispered about. A kid with a name and nothing to lose.
And I had more than just instincts now.
System Notification: Path Selection Emerging…
The Shadow – Stay quiet. Build leverage. Influence from the background.
The Enforcer – Gain respect through fear. Master violence.
The Earner – Focus on money, manipulation, and legal fronts.
The Politician – Balance loyalty, diplomacy, and long-term survival.
Progress: 4% toward Earner
Made sense.
I wasn't here to be a button man. Not unless I had to be.
I'd rather play the game the way Caesar would: quietly, ruthlessly, and with just enough charm to make people underestimate me.
The next morning, Sally brought me to a diner out on Route 46. Red booths. Greasy plates. Waitresses who'd been there longer than most marriages.
Across from us sat Jason Gervasi young, athletic, sharp eyes and his boy Benny, who smelled like cologne and debt.
They were talking about some guy who owed money from a card game and hadn't been seen since Thursday.
"You know what it is," Benny said. "Guys get bold when the weather's good. They forget the rules."
Jason leaned toward me. "You're the DeSantis kid?"
"Ade."
"You did the Kenny thing, right?"
"That's right."
He looked at Sally. "He handled it?"
Sally grunted affirmatively.
Jason smirked. "Good. You got plans Friday night?"
"No."
"We got a card game. Nutley. Nothing heavy. Sit, listen, maybe help run a couple errands."
I nodded.
Benny grinned. "Don't wear white."
Opportunity Unlocked: Nutley Game (Side Contacts Possible)
After they left, I looked at Sally.
"Why'd you bring me here?"
"You need young friends too," he said, sipping his coffee. "Guys your age. Easier to blend in. You hang around me all day, you'll smell like mothballs and regret."
I laughed.
Charisma +1 → 13(Natural response. Social tone controlled.)
Sally tapped the table. "These kids? Jason, Benny, Patsy's boy, they're jockeying for position. You want to get in with 'em, do it now. Before they figure out they hate each other."
"And what do you want me to do?"
"I want you to be smarter than them."
"I already am."
He smiled. "Then prove it."
Later that afternoon, I walked alone through downtown Newark. Kept my head down, my eyes scanning the streets.
I wasn't just stretching my legs.
I was learning the layout. Watching how guys moved. Which businesses looked like fronts. Who got nervous when cops passed by. Which coffee shop had real locals and which one was there to launder fifty dollar bills disguised as espresso.
Every block had layers.
By the time I returned to the apartment, I had more than muscle memory.
I had a mental map.
Street Smarts +2 → 6(Urban awareness expanding.)Passive Skill Learned: Territory Familiarity – Increases read on local tension.
I dropped into the couch and turned on the old TV. News, mostly boring. Then some footage of a protest in Manhattan. Wall Street stuff.
But it triggered something in me.
Stocks. Sports betting. Music rights. Hell, even real estate.
This world wasn't just violence and envelope pickups.
It was money. Money nobody here was smart enough to move right.
That's where I'd eat.
I spent an hour sketching out a basic outline, just names, dates, investments from memory. Nothing too specific yet.
But I remembered a few things clearly:
Amazon was still basically a bookstore.
Google hadn't IPO'd yet.
Sports betting wasn't fully legalized, but underground action was everywhere.
A few R&B hits hadn't even been written yet, but I knew the lyrics by heart.
And Adriana? She'd eventually try to start a record label. I didn't need to protect her. But I could use her.
Maybe produce one album. Sing one track. Just enough to get a royalty stream going.
Not for art.
For leverage.
Side Goal Logged: Legacy Royalties – 0/3 tracks produced
That night, I went back to the gym. Alone this time.
Shadowboxed for thirty minutes. Hit the bag for twenty. Stretched. Practiced stance.
I didn't want to be some goon.
But I also wasn't going to be a victim.
Combat Awareness +2 → 4Trait Unlocked: Foundation – Physical training slightly boosts intimidation in hostile scenes.
By the time I got back, my knuckles ached and my shirt clung to me with sweat.
I looked in the mirror and saw something new.
Not just a younger face.
But hunger.
The kind that made kings or monsters.
Before bed, I sat on the floor with a fresh sheet of paper and wrote three words at the top:
No loyalty. Only leverage.
Below that, I made two columns.
Allies
Sally (for now)
Jason (young, social climber)
Benny (wild card, loyal to a point)
Risks
Tony (center of the storm)
Paulie (unstable, sniffing weakness)
Chris (junkie, unreliable)
Ralphie (psycho)
I underlined Tony twice.
I'd deal with him eventually.
Just not yet.
First, I needed to become necessary.
The kind of guy who didn't beg for protection.
The kind of guy you called before you needed protection.