The Nonpareil Order

Prologue

Origins of the Order

Year: 1912

"You have no choice Du Pont," Dieudonne Garnier said as he paced the underground tunnel of the Hôtel-Dieu de Paris. It was a rainy, spring night is Paris, France, just three days after Jules O. Bonnot, the first crime boss of his kind, had been assassinated by police in the very hotel they stood beneath. Garnier inhaled sharply and placed his hands on the shoulders of E. I. Du Pont. Du Pont, a French man in his mid-thirties and considered to be a political refugee of his home land turned mogul in America, had been smuggled into the country to attend the funeral of his deceased cousin. "Bonnot said to me, if he were to die, you should be the one we turn to. You are his only family. He was like your brother. You cannot let all we have, he had, fought for go in vein, Du Pont."

"I know who Jules was to me Garnier." He removed the mans hands off of his suit shoulders and began to pace. "But it's more than I can handle-"

"No Du Pont! You are the rightful person to rule! You cannot decline! The only one capable of becoming the next king of Le Milieu, The Underworld, is you! The money you had to escape and resettle in the States-- where did it come from? Us! The money you had to invest and become the mogul you are today-- where did it come from? Hmm?! Us, Du Pont! Us! We are so close to a coup d'etat, to running society as it should be ran, and you can be the one to take us there! Don't let all that we, that Bonnot fought for, go in vein. Please, Du Pont, please." He begged.

"I'm running businesses well in America, Garnier. I'm the leading supplier of gunpowder to the U.S. Government. Next I'll do weapons. I produce chemicals. I invented nylon, kevlon, and Teflon. If you guys need me to supply you weapons,supplies, I can do that. Money, I can do that. But I just cannot jeopardize what I have established." He said, frustrated and tugging at the roots of his hair. Garnier gently gripped Du Pont's shoulders again.

"And you won't have to. You need something on the surface to protect you in the public eye," he spoke quietly, "It's perfect. Magnificent even! You have the connections over there, you're in with the elite and your cousin... Napoleon Héroux! He's eighteen and he's there with you , he's a man now. You can teach him the life of Le Milieu! Was he not a fighter here?! Under your rule, once we overthrow the scum that have run this country to shit, you'll be on the surface here again too. We already have Marseille, Grenable, Paris, and Lyon, and we have formed allies with the Coriscan Mafia. We are going to win, then, we go global. Say you'll do it. For the people, for us, for yourself... for Bonnot." Garnier's eyes pleaded, searching for the yes in Du Pont's. Du Pont closed his eyes and sighed.

"....Fine. So be it. In one hour time, I'll be headed to Sicily for 24 hours before I return to the states. I will be there before the break of dawn. Meet me there and bring The Goodfellas," Garnier grinned and hugged the new underground king, Du Pont returned the gesture and smiled," Spread the word that the empire lives on. When I return to the states, you will run France. I will train Napoleon and put you two in contact. Is that understood?" Garnier nodded.

"Indeed Monsieur."

"Bon. We have many a task to accomplish. I'll see you in Sicily." And with that, Garnier humbly nodded and turned in the other direction to summon the men for their new leader.

Year: 1957

"Madam St. Clair, I wanted for our sides to keep peace. That was the agreement of breaking up into the First and Second Tiers, you taking with you who wanted to go. We have always fought for the same thing." Spoke Napoleon Héroux, who was now essentially the ruler of the Black Market. Decades from where the Underground had began, attack on the government from all industries on the surface and below had been successful in undermining the political leaders across the world. Now he sat with other mob bosses of America, around a table in Oakland, California, with a dark liquor swirling in his glass and cigar smoldering between his fingers. "I did what you asked of me and got Dutch Schultz under control, restricting him to the Bronx and staying out Harlem. I've had Aldaine run you positive press and generate business. But it seems you can not keep up your end in preserving peace. Your Spank Lucas has continuously interfered with my business and now his half brother, Samuel Jones, has put my cousin, his wife, and their three sons in the hospital... fighting for their lives. Kaalihahn has told me, that they don't look like they are going to make it. That is why I've summoned you all here today, without them." He sipped his drink. Madame St.Clair gulped.

"Napoleon, it-it must have been an accident. He mustn't have known who he was firing at during the robbery. And I can get Lucas right in a heartbeat. There's no need for trouble. We want peace too." She pleaded.

"Bullshit!" He yelled and slammed his glass onto the table. The mob bosses around them shuttered, diverting their eyes from the infuriated Napoleon. "He knew who's house he was robbing. He knew when he put bullets in my young nephews. That was no accident," his pupils dilated and the whites of his eyes became blood shot. He jammed the cigar into the table cloth. "Look around me, Alanzo, Dayton, and Kaalihahn are all like family to me. They saved my life on multiple occasions, so I brought them up with me. They would never lie to me. They told me how Jones and Lucas called them traitors to their own kind for sticking by me, the white man, who has done nothing but fight by your side. Look at the time we're in! The marches, the protests. I've protected you all because what has been done in society is wrong and I wanted to change that with you all, and have been attacked by the klan myself! My blood for all of yours, including theirs! You let them into our system, and this is what they've done to repay me. Desecrate, destruct, and murder my family. I want justice. I want revenge." He bellowed. Madame St. Clair nodded.

"None of that was my doing Napoleon. They were my friends too." She said.

"Then get rid of Lucas and Jones."

"I can't." She lowered her eyes from his.

"And why is that?!"

"Because people on the East would come after me. And there is a rumor that the both of them want me gone because they don't think a woman is fit to rule."

"So then why defend them? Even more the reason to get rid of them!"

"Jones... Jones is going to be the father... Of my son. I would never forgive myself. And he knows this. Even if he wanted to harm me, I'm having his child." Napoleon rolled his tongue and nodded. Just then, another doctor from the Kaalihahns appeared at his side. He whispered to Napoleon and took a step back.

"They're gone," he whispered, " It's time you left Madame St. Clair. I cannot promise you I won't come after the father of your child or Spank Lucas. Because I will. You are my lifelong friend, but from this day forward, the Second Tier will always be an enemy of the First. I understand your loyalty. So warn them. If they attack, we attack a hundred times worse. Both Aldaine's Corsican and Sicilian family will be watching on that side. And please just make sure that you stay out of the crossfire; protect yourself from the both of them, because I won't be able to avenge you or protect you any longer." Napoleon stood up at the end of the table to address the room. "This is the last bit of mercy you'll ever see from the First Tier to traitors, to the Second. I suggest if you disagree with the values of this tier, you should leave at once and follow Madame St. Clair. If you do not, you have chosen this side. Once she leaves and that door shuts, and you feel you want to go, the only way out is by death." After his final words, two more mob bosses stood and sided with Madame St. Clair.

"You are not our enemy Napoleon." One said.

"But we just cannot leave her. We will stay on the Second Tier, for Madame St. Clair's sake." The other said with saddened eyes.

"Anyone who joins the side of Spank Lucas and Samuel Jones is an enemy of mine. Of ours. You've made your choices. Leave." And with that, the bosses departed.

It was then Napoleon let a tear role down his face. Only his closest friends has seen this vulnerable state of the new man who now possessed complete and absolute control of what he and his cousin had built; what he had been trained for. The four other bosses, Aldaine, Dayton, Alanzo, and Kaalihahn, placed their hands on their friend. He exhaled deeply, wiped his face, and adjusted his tailored suit.

"The five of them will make up the Second Tier and the five of us will make up ours. They must never, even in time to come, generation after generation, never, gain control. We are barely good people, but they are evil. All of them will become corrupt. We've worked too hard, and the world, all we have built collectively, will not fall because of them. We will be the strongest, and will always be the strongest. We will be furious. We will be unmatched. This is the new world order. The Nonpareil Order. " The four others nodded in agreement.

And thus in that very instant, in that dark room, the way the world would forever operate, a new class system and power structure, a secret to the average global citizen, was born.