❝Dance wit' me, doll-face. I don't bite.❞
The year is 1945, and New York City is booming once again. Benedetta felt that things were finally beginning to return to normal, the aftermath of World War II and The Great Depression becoming less and less...
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—01— THE ARRIVAL
EVENING HAD JUST BEGUN tofall when the plane finally landed. The airport was completely packed with people as the boys exited the terminal, clad in professional business suits. Reporters were everywhere and cameras were flashing all around them—which they hadn't expected. They were under the impression that this situation would be discreet.
When they had finally managed to get through the crowd, there was already someone waiting for them as they stepped outside. After the man spotted the group, he recognized them immediately, proceeding to park his car in front of them.
"You Lucky's guy?" The group's boss, Namjoon "The Monster" Kim, asked cautiously—he gripped the gun he had tucked away in his dress pants, just in case.
The man only nodded, flashing him a white envelope. He reached his arm out of the window and handed it to the boss, who opened it to find a letter. The content of the letter was a direct order to pick up the Bangtan boys from the airport, written by Lucky Luciano himself.
The boss looked back at the boys, nodding in confirmation. Together, they hauled their suitcases and walked toward the man's 1939 Rolls-Royce Wraith, climbing in when the man handled their bags for them.
The Bangtan boys had finally arrived in New York City.
Namjoon had also received a letter from the boss of the Genovese crime family, Charles "Lucky" Luciano, a week previously. After being incarcerated, Lucky knew that, without his direct guidance, the family was going to need some assistance if they intended to stay the most powerful family in the mob. He mentioned this in his letter, and went on to say that he also knew that, with the war having just ended, the asians—no matter if they were Korean, Japanese, Chinese, Indian, etc.—were still being highly discriminated against.
With the Italians being discriminated against as well, Lucky proposed that the Bangtan boys come stay in New York for a while to help the Genovese family heads with business.
Knowing Bangtan was the most influential crime group in all of South Korea—with tens of hundreds heeding to their orders—and with only seven members, Lucky wanted to secure the family legacy by joining forces. With Bangtan already being in a tough spot post-wartime, as they themselves were Korean, he figured it to be a perfect fit—and he was right.
Namjoon knew that this was one of his only choices to keep the boys, and himself, from being killed. If he refused the call, he knew the consequences. The boys didn't need another enemy, especially not a foreign enemy. So why not a foreign ally?
"By the way," The driver spoke up, catching the boys' attention. "the name's Meyer Lanksy. I'm out runnin' a few errands for Frankie, so I'm gonna let you guys off at the apartment." He finished, turning left onto a busy street. His Italian accent wasn't super thick, but certain words like "the" sounded like "da", and "gonna" like "goin-a".
"Frankie? As in The Prime Minister?" Namjoon curiously asked, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his slacks. The boys in the back began to chatter amongst themselves, as Namjoon, who sat in the passenger's seat, spoke with Lanksy.
"Yeah, stupid as that name is. That's our guy. Lucky had him get you boys an apartment on the Upper East Side." Lanksy answered.
Namjoon nodded, cigarette now in his mouth—unlighted. When he flicked his lighter, Lanksy looked over at him. Namjoon's voice was slightly muffled with the cig between his teeth when he said, "Shit, forgot to ask."
"Nah, it's fine. I don't mind." Lanksy lightly chuckled.
"But there will be a party tomorrow night," Lanksy continued, "that's where you're gonna meet the rest of our... administration. People like Frank Costello, Willie Moretti, Don Vitone, they all gonna be there. I assume you boys know how to dress."
Namjoon nodded again, blowing out a cloud of smoke, then cracked open the window to tap off some of the ash. Lanksy suddenly honked at a driver who was going ten under the speed limit, swerving around them. "Fuckin' fat-head!" He shouted, roughly gripping the steering wheel.
The boys didn't even flinch. They were used to this kind of behavior—everyone in the business of organized crime acted like that, no matter where they were from. Even the boys could act like that, at times.
Eventually, Lanksy pulled onto a wealthy business street. Industries ranging from coffee shops to jewelry stores lined either side of the road. He came to a stop at an extremely tall apartment building, which seemed to glimmer in the evening sunlight.
Lanksy parked the car just outside the entrance, proceeding to get out and grab the boys' suitcases from the trunk, placing them on the curb. The boys grabbed their belongings and began to head inside, when Lanksy suddenly spoke up.
"One more thing," Lanksy said, stopping them. He grabbed yet another envelope from under the driver's seat and handed it to Namjoon. "Curtesy of The Prime Minister," He said, shaking Namjoon's hand, then getting back in the car. Before he went, he rolled the window down and said, "Welcome to New York, boys." With that, Lanksy drove off, leaving them to fend for themselves.
"What's in it?" Seokjin, known as Seokjin "Pretty Boy" Kim, asked the boss. Namjoon placed his suitcase back down to hold the envelope with both hands.
Namjoon muttered, "Dunno," before opening it.
Inside was roughly $1,500.00.
"Holy shit," Jin muttered, Namjoon beginning to count the money.
"What's up?" Yoongi, known as Yoongi "Grim Reaper" Min, walked over with one hand in his pocket, the other clutching his suitcase.
Namjoon closed the envelope, tucking it into his inner suit pocket. "We'll discuss it inside," He said, picking up his suitcase from the curb.
"Fine by me," Yoongi shrugged, walking back toward the entrance where the rest of the group waited.
"Let's see this apartment," Seokjin said, smiling and patting his boss's back.
"Let's," Namjoon agreed, putting his arm around Jin's shoulder.
The boys then entered the building, having no idea what would befall them next.
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A U T H O R ' S N O T E
➵ Sorry this is so short! I think only the first couple are going to be shorter because they're kind of like introductions, so like 900-1000 words, but then it picks up to about 2000-2500. Also, I know 1,500 dollars doesn't seem like much, especially in New York, but back in the 40s it was equivalent to about 27,000 dollars today. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!
