But this was no simplecorporate rebrand…
New owner comes in, slaps a new logo on it and jacks up the prices.
No, I had my work cut out for me. But I also had big plans, and it wasmyturn.
I’d made a name for myself.Now, it was time to introduceThe Ivoryto the world…
Bred from blood and fire, he takes no qualms with having no “blood lineage” in the cartel. In fact, he prefers it that way… Having earned this through guile and ruthlessness. He wasn’t born into it like some spoiled prince.
No silver spoon in Ivory’s mouth. Just razor sharp fangs.
It took time to develop my connections, grow my networks, and overall just get my footing.Sodom and Gomorrah wasn’t built in a day.
In the early days, I had to be forceful. Relentless. Demanding, and steadfast in my every reaction. Because respect is earned, and I earned mine by perpetuating my reputation as a heartless fucking monster.
I knew this wasn’t what my father had in mind for me when he was alive. But that was just it…
Hewasn’talive. He was dead, and nothing I did would ever bring him back.
Mi padre was gone, as was mi tío, as was the man who’d mentored me in a life of greed and corruption that would have made my father sick.
But it was fine. I owned it, because I was good at it, and some part of me still felt like my father would understand, so long as I was staying true to myself.
Andmyselfwas a deranged fucking psychopath, apparently.
But a smart one.Soy inteligente.I’d always valued being smarter than most in my position, and that was where I put my psychology degree to good use.
Once the word was out that Ivory would snap your neck for testing his patience, I didn’t have to snap necks anymore. Finally, I could sit back, and use my favorite weapon to slaughter my adversaries…My twisted fucking mind.
Five years passed wherein I did nothing but work. Built, restructured, planned and implemented. At that point, things in Medellin were running like a well-oiled machine. It was excellent, but truth be told, I was becoming a bit restless.
And so, shortly after I turned thirty-one, I knew it was finally time to migrate over to The United States.
Business there was booming. It always had been, but I’d yet to come up and check on things myself. Getting things settledwith the newregime, so to speak, in South America took time. But now that my infrastructure had been properly established, I was ready to roll up my sleeves, and dig my fingers into some fresh new soil.
Unofficial diplomatic immunity and foreign partnerships aside, there was much work to be done in the US, and I thought it best that I handled those delicate matters myself.
I had the leverage.After all, the cartel is like, the official sponsor of illegal narcotics in America.Between Colombia, Peru, and Mexico, we basically had it covered. There were some deals I wanted to work out in Asia, but that could wait.
Now that the home base was up and running, my next order of business was coming to America…Only unlike Eddie Murphy, I would make sure they knew damn well who their king was.
The importing, exporting, and general trade matters were very important, sure. But there was another reason I needed to come to The States myself.
You see, something had been sticking in my craw ever since I’d taken over. And I couldn’t ignore it for one more second.
Pajarito…
Upon arrival in New York, I met with my connections there. TheSeats, if you will. Meaning corrupt government officials and other decision-making individuals who control the people and the money. All of whom appear squeaky-clean on the outside, but are really just as dirty as me.Usually more.
Former Governor of New York, Giovanni Russo, was the kingpin, representing the Gambino family—unofficially, of course. He’d been our connection to the Italians since Arturo, but he, like most of the others, got on board with the change in leadership real quick when he realized how deadly serious I was about my business ventures.
Russo had retired years ago at that point, but he was still actively involved in most things, given that he’d put a lot of these deals into place.
This also meant he was the one with whom I had the biggest bone to pick.
His son was also involved. Antonio Russo was the current Mayor of New York City, although he was on his way out and planning to run for Governor himself in the next election—even more leverage for me.
Along with the Russos, we had a few district attorneys from Brooklyn and New Jersey, the NYPD Police Commissioner, MTA Commissioner, President of the New York Stock Exchange, and a few lower-level investors, circuit court judges, politicians, and wealthy elites of the tri-state area.
