Spoiler
Hampton's Story -- Day One in Las Vegas
Hampton walks into the meeting room, wearing a grey business suit and tinted sunglasses, and puts down a large briefcase next to the doorframe. He has a broad smile on his face as he walks forward and greets the nine men there. One of them, a young Native American in a much more expensive suit, steps forward and shakes Hampton's hand.
"Glad to finally meet ya," he says.
"As well, Nicholas," Hampton replies. "You have quite the organization out here."
Nicholas nods and both of them sit down on a silk couch. It's right in front of a large bay window that overlooks the massive city, which disturbs Hampton a bit. Heights had never been his thing.
"But I don't know what you're doing here," Nicholas says. "I don't have any business with DeSanto. He doesn't even have a presence in Nevada."
"He doesn't want territory," Hampton says, the serene smile still on his face. "He wants allies. There's a war coming, and we need all the help we can get. You know that our Family is a wealthy one, and we treat our friends well."
Nicholas tilts his head. "I don't like smart talk. Be straight with me. What can I expect in return?"
Hampton puts his hand on Nicholas' shoulder. "Whatever you want. The limit of the Family's influence is nearly nonexistent. Name a favor, and we'll make it happen."
Nicholas smiles and nods slowly. "All right, then. You have a deal. The Wa-shae Clan will be there when you need us." He stands up and puts his hand to his chest, and the other eight men follow suit.
Hampton also stands up and bows to Nicholas slightly, then speaks to him. "I figured you'd say yes, so I brought this with me." He walks back to the doorframe and picks up the briefcase. He then returns to Nicholas and opens it, revealing a large amount of silver bars.
"These are hot pieces of silver," Hampton says. "We need a place to store them until the theft blows over in a few days, and we'd like that place to be this very office. Consider it a test of your loyalty to the Family."
Nicholas nods tentatively. "If that's what's required to show our dedication, then we'll accept." He picks up the briefcase and sets it down in front of couch. "Is there anything else you require?"
"Not at all," Hampton says with a smile. "I'm just so glad that I finally got to come out here and see you. I've heard rumors about your clan's dominance of the area. It's admirable."
Nicholas gives a small smile. "You flatter me, Mr. Keller. I'm glad to be working together."
Hampton shakes Nicholas' hand again and waves goodbye as he exits the office. He takes the elevator to the ground floor and exists the Lazarus Building. He walks across the parking lot, toward a white El Camino in the corner of the lot. The busy city blares and moves around him.
Hampton reaches his car and stops before he enters it. He looks up at the 16th floor of the building, Nicholas' office. His face bare of expression, Hampton pulls out a small remote with a 9 number keypad. He enters "883" into the keypad, and two beeps sound from the device. Hampton then enters his car and drives onto the interstate, back toward Arizona. He turns on his car's CD player immedietly, missing an urgent news story about an alien collective making contact with Earth. The soft sounds of Air Supply fill the El Camino as Hampton pulls out a flip phone and makes a call.
"It's done. You can move in with the muscle any time you want."
Hampton ends the call and snaps the phone in half. Then he wipes it down and throws it into the Nevada night.
Two minutes later, a giant explosion erupts from the 16th floor of the Lazarus Building. Police arrive at the scene in four minutes, finding eleven dead bodies. None in the office survived, and the lives of two late shift janitors were also taken.
A white El Camino pulled onto the luxurious roundabout that served as the estate's driveway. Roughly thirty other cars were also parked there. Hampton stepped out of his car, and looking up at the elaborate mansion before him, would be in awe if he hadn't seen it so many times before. He approached the building, passing many other sharply dressed man. Most greeted Hampton in some way as he made his way toward the dark oak doors of the DeSanto estate.
The entrance room was tall, wide, and expensive-looking, as all good entrance rooms should be. Hampton didn't care to make conversation with the dozens of men filling it up today, and so he darted into the eastern hallway instead. There were a few unfriendly looking members here, but they all still stopped what they were doing to greet Hampton as he passed. He eventually came to a mundane door at the end of the hall. A muscular man in a dirty suit was standing guard beside it.
"Well," he said with a scowl. "If it aint the great Hampton Keller. Haven't sucked off the bosses enough this week?"
"I'd watch your tongue, Mark," Hampton said with a half smile. "By the time this meeting's over, you're going to be the one sucking up to me.
"I don't even care if they make you the underboss," Mark said. "I'd slit my own throat before I said a good word about you."
Hampton chuckled as he opened the door. "We'll see about that, capo."
There were four men in the room: a very elderly Latino man behind a mahogany desk, a spectacled, straight-backed man standing to his left, and two more caporegimes silently standing guard on either side of the room.
"Ah, Hampton," the old man said in a gravelly voice. "I'm glad the job was a success. I knew I could count on you for this delicate matter."
"Of course, Don DeSanto," Hampton said. "But surely you didn't call me here just to offer your congratulations."
"Always to the point," DeSanto said with a wrinkled smile. "That's what I like about you, Hampton."
Hampton smiled. He knew what was coming. No more treading water among the other capos. He'd played the game for years, made the right connections. He knew who the Don was going to choose to replace the late underboss, and he couldn't be happier about it.
DeSanto nodded to the spectacled man beside him. "Samuel, fill him in."
DeSanto's consigliere cleared his throat and spoke: "Our men have already taken over Wa-shae's operation in Vegas, but we've got problems."
Hampton's smile faded. He knew then that this meeting wasn't about a promotion.
"Apparently, Wa-shae was under the LHG's protection," Samuel continued. "And now they want blood. Logan's soldiers are on their way to the Strip as we speak. It's imperative that we hold Vegas, Keller. But the LHG has grown large since we dealt with them eight years ago. Most of Nevada is under their control, and word is that their muscle rivals our own."
DeSanto lit a cigar. "We made a mistake last time. Logan begged me for mercy, and I foolishly believed that their continued existence could help us." He looked up. "Hampton, you're to ensure that mistake doesn't happen twice. Go back to Vegas and deal with whoever he sends. Remind him who he's dealing with."
Hampton nodded. Though he was furious that DeSanto didn't give him the promotion he deserved, he knew better than to show it. "Of course, Don DeSanto," Hampton said. "I'll leave right away."
DeSanto smiled. "I don't need to tell you how grateful I am. Show me your best work when you arrive. Logan may be brash, but he's not an idiot."
"And Keller," Samuel said, "you, of course, have full command of the muscle there when you arrive. Use them as you see fit."
Hampton gave a fake smile. "I'll wield the Family's name with honor. Don't lose any sleep over this, I'll personally see to its success. Consigliere, Don DeSanto." He gave a small bow as he exited the room and shut the door.
Mark chuckled as Hampton walked out of the office. "So, how'd it go, 'Boss Keller'?"
"Fuck off, knuckle-dragger," Hampton said with a scowl, showing his middle finger to the large man.
Hampton could hear Mark making fun of his insult as he returned to the El Camino. It only bothered him a little. Soon enough, assholes like that would be history.
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