If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Even in the dim gaslight, Mary-Beth's ethereal beauty and the high quality tailoring of her navy blue walking dress stood out like a flawless diamond in a coal mine. The three slum dwellers, their brains entirely clouded by cheap alcohol and their own arrogant, street level stupidity, completely misread the situation.
They tried to tease her a bit, utterly not knowing who she is, and also completely oblivious to who Caleb is, or the absolute, terrifying positions the two of them have in the hierarchy of the city. To them, she just looked like a wealthy, soft aristocratic lady who had wandered into the wrong side of town with her quiet, well dressed escort.
The largest of the three thugs, a man with a missing front tooth and a jagged scar across his cheek, nudged his companions and laughed crudely. They pushed themselves off the bar and stumbled heavily toward the Don's booth.
"Well, well, well," the scarred thug slurred loudly, his voice cutting through the polite chatter of the surrounding tables. He leaned heavily against the wooden pillar next to their booth, looking down at Mary-Beth with a disgusting, leering grin. "Look at what washed up from the Garden District. Ain't you a pretty little bird? What's a fancy thing like you doing eating stew with the rats?"
His two companions snickered loudly, stepping closer, completely invading their personal space. "Maybe she's looking for some real men to show her a good time," the second thug jeered, reaching a filthy hand out as if to touch the lace trim on Mary-Beth's sleeve. "That rich boy you're sitting with looks a bit too soft to handle the docks."
The entire tavern suddenly went deathly quiet.
The piano player abruptly stopped playing. The factory foremen and the off duty policemen at the surrounding tables completely froze, their eyes widening in absolute, paralyzing horror. The patrons have heard the conversation, so they knew exactly who was sitting in that booth. Woke also recognized the dark Vaquero outfit, the twin Navy Revolvers, and the icy, terrifying demeanor of the new King of the Underworld.
Caleb, however, did not even flinch. He didn't reach for his guns. He didn't stand up. He simply took a slow, methodical bite of his roasted pork belly, chewing it thoughtfully, and just ignored them completely. His blue eyes remained fixed on Mary-Beth, entirely unbothered by the buzzing of insects.
Because he didn't have to do a single thing.
Before the filthy hand of the second thug could even get within a foot of Mary-Beth's dress, the atmosphere in the tavern violently exploded.
Immediately, Silvio and the elite soldiers came from the front of the tavern with the terrifying, unstoppable momentum of a runaway freight train.
The giant, heavily scarred enforcer moved with a speed that completely defied his massive size. Silvio closed the distance in a fraction of a second. He didn't speak a word of warning. He simply reached out with one massive, meat hook hand, grabbed the second thug by the back of his ragged collar, and effortlessly hurled the grown man through the air.
The thug crashed violently into a nearby empty wooden table, shattering the thick timber into splinters with a sickening crack, completely neutralizing him in an instant.
The other two slum dwellers froze, their drunken bravado instantly evaporating into sheer, primal terror. Before they could even process the violence, the four elite mafia soldiers descended upon them. Heavy rifle butts were slammed brutally into their stomachs, driving the wind from their lungs.
Silvio, towering over the scarred leader who had insulted the Don, grabbed the man by his throat, lifting him completely off his feet so his dirty boots dangled helplessly in the air.
The giant enforcer intimidated the three slum dwellers, his scarred face twisted into a mask of pure, demonic rage, and immediately made a brutal, highly visible statement out of them.
"You filthy, brainless rats," Silvio rumbled, his voice a terrifying, deep bass that shook the floorboards of the tavern. He squeezed the man's throat just tight enough to cut off his air, shaking him like a ragdoll.
While saying, his voice echoing loudly in the completely silent room, "You didn't realize who you are messing with. You walk into this tavern, smelling like garbage, and you dare to disrespect the Don? You dare to look at the Madam of the family?"
The thug's eyes bugged out of his head, his face turning a deep, suffocating shade of purple as the sheer, horrifying reality of his mistake finally crashed down upon him.
Everyone in the tavern was profoundly surprised by the sudden, overwhelming display of violence. The patrons who hadn't fully recognized Caleb in the dim light were shocked. But when they heard Silvio's booming voice, when they explicitly heard exactly who Caleb is, and that he is the new Don who completely replaced the legendary Angelo Bronte overnight...
Everyone immediately trembled.
A wave of absolute, suffocating terror washed over the entire establishment. Men shrank back into their leather booths, pulling their hats low over their eyes. Women covered their mouths in horror. They knew the reputation of the mafia.
They knew that Bronte would have locked the doors of the tavern and burned the entire building to the ground just to punish the patrons for witnessing the insult.
The crowd was terrified because they truly believed the three fools would cause all of them to get caught in the crossfire. They feared that the new Don would unleash a bloodbath right here in the middle of their safe haven, punishing the entire neighborhood because of their reckless actions.
Caleb, of course, noticed all of that.
He possessed a max level Leadership Skill and an unparalleled psychological understanding of crowds. He saw the sheer, unadulterated terror in the eyes of the working class people he relied upon to run the city's infrastructure. He knew that ruling purely through unpredictable, Bronte style terror was unsustainable. Fear was necessary, yes, but blind, panicked terror bred rebellion and instability.
So, Caleb calmly wiped his mouth with a crisp linen napkin and placed it gently on the table. He decided to use this critical chance, this sudden, highly public disruption, to achieve a masterpiece of urban manipulation.
He wanted to not only make him be feared beyond all measure, but also to ensure that they knew that as long as they didn't do anything stupid or cross the line, he and the family wouldn't do a single thing to harm them.
Caleb stood up from the leather booth. His towering frame and the heavy, lethal presence of his twin Navy Revolvers commanded the absolute, undivided attention of every single soul in the room.
"Silvio. Drop him," Caleb commanded, his voice calm, cold, and echoing with absolute authority.
Silvio immediately released his iron grip. The scarred thug crashed to the polished hardwood floor, gasping frantically for air, coughing and scrambling backward on his hands and knees in pure, abject terror. The other two thugs, bleeding from their noses and clutching their ribs, cowered alongside him beneath the towering shadows of the elite mafia soldiers.
Caleb slowly stepped out from the booth. He walked over and stood directly above the three trembling, broken men. He looked down at them with a gaze so devoid of human empathy it was chilling.
"Angelo Bronte," Caleb spoke softly, but his voice carried to the very back of the completely silent tavern, "would have had you three dragged out to the swamps, gutted like pigs, and fed to the alligators for looking at a woman at his table. He would have had your families hunted down just to prove a point."
The three thugs sobbed quietly, pressing their faces into the floorboards, waiting for the executioner's bullet.
"But I am not Angelo Bronte," Caleb declared, his max level Persuasion Skill washing over the terrified crowd, instantly shifting the atmosphere from panicked dread to desperate, captivated hope.
Caleb looked away from the thugs and swept his sharp blue eyes across the packed tavern, looking directly at the dockworkers, the clerks, and the factory hands.
"I bought this tavern, I cleaned it up, and I stationed my men at the doors so that the hardworking people of this district could have a place to eat and drink in absolute peace," Caleb proclaimed, his voice rising, adopting the inspiring, visionary cadence of a revolutionary leader. "I do not wage war on the working class. You are the men and women who build this city. You are the hands that load the ships and turn the gears of industry."
He pointed a firm, authoritative finger down at the three cowering thugs. "These men are parasites. They are the rot that holds this district back. They cross the line, they break the peace, and they disrespect the sanctity of this establishment."
Caleb turned back to the crowd. "Listen to me very carefully. As long as you do not do anything stupid, as long as you do not cross the line, pay your debts, and respect the laws of my family... you have absolutely nothing to fear from me or my men. My guns face outward, protecting this city from chaos, not inward at the innocent."
A collective, massive sigh of profound relief shuddered through the tavern. The sheer, suffocating fear of a bloodbath instantly evaporated, replaced by a deep, overwhelming sense of gratitude. The new Don wasn't a mad dog, he was a fiercely protective, highly logical ruler.
But Caleb wasn't finished. He used the momentum of their relief to completely secure their unwavering, fanatical loyalty.
"In fact," Caleb promised, his voice ringing with unparalleled ambition and the absolute certainty of his future knowledge. "I am not just here to keep the peace. I am here to build an empire, and you are all going to benefit from it. I will lead Saint Denis to an industrial revolution unlike anything the South has ever seen."
He gestured broadly, painting a picture of massive economic prosperity. "I am securing new shipping contracts. I am funding the construction of new factories in Scarlett Meadows, and I am laying down independent rail lines into the Heartlands. There will be massive construction, unparalleled trade, and endless opportunities. I am telling you tonight, that under the protection of the McLaughlin family, at least everyone in this district doesn't have to fear not having jobs anymore. There will be work, there will be wages, and there will be prosperity for anyone willing to put in an honest day's labor!"
The sheer magnitude of that promise, delivered by a man who had the absolute, undeniable power to make it a reality, struck the crowd like a bolt of lightning.
The silence held for a single, stunned heartbeat, before the entire tavern erupted.
It wasn't a polite, high society applause like at the coronation banquet. It was a deafening, raw, roaring cheer from the throats of the working class. Men slammed their heavy beer mugs against the wooden tables, shouting his name in absolute, fanatical devotion. They cheered for the Don, they cheered for the promised jobs, and they cheered for the safety he had just guaranteed them.
Caleb looked at the cheering crowd, an expression of cold, satisfied victory resting perfectly on his face. He had completely won the streets.
He turned his gaze back down to the three thugs, who were still trembling on the floorboards, entirely forgotten by the cheering masses.
"Silvio," Caleb ordered, his tone returning to a ruthless, business-like whisper. "Drag these three pieces of trash out the back door. Break their hands so they can't throw a punch for a month, and throw them into the alley. If I ever see their faces in this tavern again, break their necks."
"With pleasure, Don McLaughlin," Silvio rumbled, an eager, terrifying grin spreading across his scarred face. The giant enforcer and the elite soldiers grabbed the sobbing thugs by their collars and dragged them roughly toward the rear exit, disposing of the trash without further disrupting the massive celebration.
With the threat completely neutralized and his absolute control over the district completely solidified, Caleb turned back to his premium leather booth.
Mary-Beth was looking up at him, her dark eyes shining with a mixture of profound awe, thrilling excitement, and deep, overwhelming love. She had just watched him turn a potentially deadly, chaotic situation into a massive political victory using nothing but his terrifying presence and his brilliant, visionary words.
Caleb slid back into the booth beside her, picking up his glass of dark stout as if absolutely nothing had happened.
He offered her a warm, handsome smile, the terrifying mob boss vanishing once more, leaving only the deeply affectionate man who adored her. "Now," Caleb said smoothly, clinking his heavy glass gently against her delicate wine glass. "Where were we? I believe you were telling me how much you liked the stew."
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Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 8/10
- Agility: 8/10
- Perception: 9/10
- Stamina: 8/10
- Charm: 8/10
- Luck: 9/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl MAX)
- Rifle (Lvl MAX)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl MAX)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl MAX)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Dead Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Bow (Lvl MAX)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl MAX)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl MAX)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl MAX)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 100x100x100)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl MAX)
- Leadership (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,322 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 282,992 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 74 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 1 land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Braithwaites Land Deed, 1 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, 1 Senator Pendleton Sealed Envelope, Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co., 10 Dynamites, 1 LeMat, 1 M1899, 1 Carcano, 1 Ownership deed of Doyle's Tavern, 3 Diamonds, & Important Documents & Deeds Of Cornwall
Bank: -