The Fall and Rebirth of Tyler Soze





The sun shone through the slated window blinds. His back toward the window that was filing the office with light, Tyler sat at his desk. Paperwork scattered across the expanse of the mahogany desk, Tyler worked diligently. Across the desk, facing the window, was Vincent Fuzzio and Michael Deluca. His two right hand-men. Against the right wall was the plasma 65-inch television. Michael was watching “Way of the Gun.” Vincent was reading the daily Stock Report in the Paragon Paper.
The door opened as two men dressed in identical black suits walked in. Both stood quietly at the door, hands clasped behind their back. Michael stood as Vincent tossed the paper to his side.
“Well?!?” Tyler asked impatiently “What’s the word from the Syndicate?”
The two looked around nervously before speaking, “Well boss, it’s like this . . . The Syndicate . . . they sayin’ to strike a deal with Crey . . . uh . . . They tired of the war . . . they think there is enough pie for Syndicate and the Killuminati Family.” Tyler looked at the two messengers as he processed this troubling information. Just what is going on in the Syndicate. Strike a deal?! .
“Of Course they think there is enough. They don’t live here. Do you really think I am going to listen to people that don’t live here!? Forget New York, Vegas, Chicago, Los Angeles . . . This is Paragon City. This is my home! NO, deal will be struck.” Tyler rose smoothed his suit, fumbling around his coat pocket, he finally found his cigar and match, lit the stoggie. And genuflected a moment. “ Return to them and tell them that. We will not kneel to CREY!” The two messengers left, scared and hurried. Both Michael and Vincent approached the large desk, as Tyler puffed on his cigar, while dialing on the phone.
“ Yeah it’s SOZE . . . I don’t care! ...Well find out why these street rats are proving a problem,” His voice began to rise as did his annoyance. “.... Lucas, I don’t care. Take as many soldiers as you need. Remind the Skulls, The Hellions. And the snotnosed Outcast, why I am SOZE, why I run the streets . . . If you have to kill them all . . . Just get the point across as quick and silent as possible.” SOZE slammed the phone down, as he fell back into his chair . . . smoking his cigar, exhaling deeply.
“Vincent, what you got for me. Good news I hope.” Vincent reached into his suit, smiled and pulled out an envelope. “Now boss, if I had good news, it wouldn’t be a very exciting day, now would it?”
He tossed the envelope on the desk, as Tyler watched his friend try to be funny. Tyler ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter. A solitaire piece of letter paper. Tyler scanned the letter, once then again. Finally crumpling it, and lighting the paper on fire with a match, it turned to ashes in front of them.
“That was Mr. Hero himself. THE STATESMAN, he thinks we ought to watch our backs, and make sure we do nothing too terribly super-villain like.” SOZE stands, once again smoothing out his suit and makes his way toward the door. Vincent and Michael followed silently behind their leader, as they made their way out of the office. The hallway, long, narrow and incredibly cold, echoed the three’s footsteps. Tyler, leading the trio, dressed in his immaculate business suit with his hat and glasses, short clean-cut black hair barely visible, was well kept. Vincent behind him, was bald, with only a thin mustache above his mouth. Vincent was a cold calculating and ruthless business man. The third man Michael Deluca dressed in slacks and a well-pressed silk shirt. Long blonde hair tied, ended just at his shoulder blades. More interested in having fun, than serious work. He was responsible for the day to day physical activities, street operations. While Vincent handled the boardroom, banks and all finances domestic and foreign. From the ground up these three took over a small, pitiless gang. Inherited from their fathers, and created the largest Organized Crime Family in Paragons riddled history. Once Chicago and New York families were eager to ally themselves with SOZE and his business and war-tactics cunning. Vegas, Japan, Los Angeles and Italy and Russia, were all too eager to have associations with this new upstart o organization. In short years, they became untouchable, Having scuffles with the Feds and Statesman a couple of times. SOZE reached a gentleman’s agreement with the Feds. And formed an uneasy alliance with STATESMAN, which soon enough flourished into a peculiar type of respect between the two. SOZE, made sure his family avoided certain elements, even actively discouraged groups and activities within Paragon. An unnatural protector in one hand and vice suppliers in another, SOZE kept himself well protected from Enemies, the Law, and jealous families worldwide. For the better part of thirty years he ran the underworld. Now CREY has decided to take a piece of his action. He was not going to stand for it.
Lost in thought Tyler worked through the series of hallways and doors, stairs and guards, before the three were outside in front of the awaiting limo.
“Sir, Sir, . . . ” The two messengers arrived as Tyler’s door shut, the window lowered partially the two men stopped and relied the Syndicate reply. “ They request your presence at the LIBERTY building in Atlas Park. Sir they want you now.” Tyler raised his window as the limo rolled down the long stretch that was the drive way. Inside Michael, with drink in one hand, a cell phone in the other began to speak. “LIBERTY BUILDING in ATLAS PARK . . . no everybody . . . now!” The car ride was quick and silent. Vincent rarely talked, if ever, only offered words of advisement about Swiss accounts. And monies in European markets, Michael drank his scotch quietly. All while Tyler SOZE stared out his window at the city he loves, wondering when it would all end . . . And exactly how bloody would it all get.
The car slowed to a stop in front of a skyscraper, the three got out and made their way into the lobby. Filled with businessmen, who all made way for the trio, They headed for the elevators ignoring the sculptures, the waterfalls, and original artwork. Tyler decided not to focus on any of its beauty, he knew if it all went bad. Everything would be filled with bullet-holes by the end of the day any way.
Once the doors opened and Tyler focused again he was on the forty-fifth floor of the building a lady dressed in a business suit lead them to a conference room. Tyler waited for a second, while the other two composed themselves. Inhaling and exhaling Tyler threw open the double oak doors and with a flourish made his way toward the head of the table and stood in front of the window. With the sun-setting, I will be the only one not having trouble seeing.
“Good Day all, I recognize some of you, a couple of you . . . I don’t.” Tyler stood behind the President’s Chair, placed his hands of the Shoulder’s of Mr. Kimiyoto, President and spokesman of this board. Tyler looked at the four gentlemen standing in the corner, dressed like businessmen. He knew better, Delegates and lawyers from CREY.
“Now, why have I been summoned here!? I am a very busy man with little time to waste with Dead Issues.” Tyler looked around, as the four guests walked forward. One took off his eye glasses and rested his briefcase on the table next to him.
“Mr. SOZE we are here to end this meaningless squabble, much blood has spilled, lives has been lost and money squandered and wasted, on all sides involved. All we are asking is a small percentage of a very small location. Amongst your vast territory, 5% of two square miles, is all we ask of you, nothing more.” The businessman replaced his glasses and waited patiently. Looking around and finally at Tyler before finally speaking again, “We are all Gentlemen here. We can resolve this peacefully.” Tyler looked at this guest and smiled a vicious threatening smile.
“Well. My answer is no. I will not give up anything I have worked hard for. As far as gentlemen is concerned. I am a Gangster, a “GoodFellas” A dirty rotten Mobster, there is nothing Gentleman inside of me. If you would like to meet with my financial advisor, Mr. Fuzzio here, he is much more Gentleman-like than I can ever pray to be.”
Tyler motioned to Vincent as he made his way forward, placing himself between Tyler and the four guests.
“Mr. Fuzzio, I am Anthony Cardellio, head lawyer of CREY Enterprises, this man,” walking up to the man who addressed Tyler, “is Josef Hutlzmen, head negotiator for CREY. From a Business standpoint, I am sure you can see the wisdom in this transaction. Yes, you lose two square miles, yet will receive 45% profit and 0% liability and responsibility. How can you not see this is economically sound.”
Vincent regarded this new information. Without moving and talking he stood quiet for a few intense moments. Then without warning he pulled up his right hand, with his 9mm, pointed at Anthony’s head and pulled the trigger, twice. Dead and bloodied Anthony fell. Michael quick to move, killed the other two delegates before they were able to react. Tyler turned to Josef.
“Apparently Mr. Hutlzmen, Your lawyer and my gentleman financial advisor could not see eye to eye on this subject. Good bye,” Tyler turned to the members sitting. “ Gentleman, we will not strike a deal.” A bang silenced the room again. Josef laid slumped against the wall, with a shotgun wound in his chest. Michael stood there, watching the Syndicate members, while the shotgun rested across his shoulders. As the shot rang out, the doors burst open and Killuminati soldiers and enforcers stormed the room. All armed, with guns focused on the Syndicate Members.
“Now I can kill you all, and slowly, yet surely control all of your respective territories, yet I have no real desire too . . . Not yet anyway. You will return and tell the BOSSES that I stand behind my words. Killuminati will not kneel to the CREY.” SOZE looked around the room before a member from New York began to speak again.
“ You fool. You just started a war. You think CREY will sit patiently pacified doing nothing after you kill members of their legal team? They will come down harder on you. And you think any of us will assist you!?”
The member slumped back and rubbed his bald head, Tyler walked over to him and placed his hands on the bald mans shoulders.
“No, You will sit in your safe houses. Conducting business in your respective territories doing what you do best, doing what you do every day, I and my family alone will Fight the Menace within Paragon. No assistance is requested of any of you. This is not your concern,” Tyler looked at the bald man sitting below him. “Mr. Pulminero, This war has already started, all I am doing is calling out names and demanding sides are taken. Of course I know what side you will all take, right?!” After looking around the table for a few brief moments he made his way out of the room with Vincent and Michael his men slowly began to file out, without dropping their focus on the business men.
“Michael, collect the corpses, and send them to the good doctor. I am sure he can use them for his testing . . . ” Michael turned around and grabbed a handful of Enforcers.
Once inside the car alone with Vincent, Tyler breathed again, and took a shot of the scotch. “This is a dangerous game you play. My friend . . . just be careful. You know all the players and the rules. Tyler, make sure you don’t get in too deep.” Tyler looked at Vincent, while he dialed on his cell phone. After two rings it was answered.
“Lucas’ what you find out!? .....yeah . . . who!? ....the Fifth?! Cut the connection between the Fifth and those street thugs . . . Send a copy of all information you have, one copy sent to STATESMAN, the other to me.” Tyler closed his phone and looked out at his city once again.
“Becoming heroic, Tyler? Why would you involve super heroes?” Vincent asked nonchalantly as he rifled through the newspaper sipping on his drink.
“I will not waste resources on insignificant issues such as the fifth . . . If they are trying to resurrect their occult practices from the thirties and forties, I am sure STATESMAN, will want to know. Let him fight them, this way the street rats will lose their newfound powers and bring the Germans to a quick stop, a problem solved. The car sped off down the street back to Killuminati Estates.