Story 3: The 3 little brothers & big bad wolf

Story 3: The 3 little brothers & big bad wolf

Being the eldest of three brothers, even by two minutes, has its perks. It puts me in charge, which means I call the shots. My brothers, Benny and Lou, they look to me for guidance, and together, we run this city. Not legally, of course. But where’s the fun in that?

The year is 1927, and Prohibition is the best thing that ever happened to us. When the government outlawed booze, they handed us a goldmine. Over the past few years, we’ve built an empire from the shadows, and our speakeasy, The Three Little Pigs, has become the place to be. Wealthy patrons, corrupt politicians, and even a few cops on the take, they all come through our doors, eager for a taste of the forbidden. And we’re happy to oblige—for a price.

The name—The Three Little Pigs—was a joke at first, something some two-bit paper boy coined when he saw the three of us together. We figured, why not lean into it? We adopted the moniker, slapped it on the sign out front, and watched as our reputation grew. We became the most dangerous men in the city, not because of our size or strength, but because we knew how to play the game. We were smart, ruthless when needed, and we protected what was ours.

But staying on top isn’t easy. There’s always some hotshot who thinks he can take us on. We’ve had our share of challengers, from small-time crooks looking for a quick payday to more organized gangs trying to muscle in on our territory. None of them lasted long. We made sure of that. Benny’s got a way with numbers, Lou’s a crack shot, and me? Well, I’ve got a mind for strategy. Together, we’ve made a meal out of anyone stupid enough to try.

Until now.

Lately, there’s been whispers. Whispers of a man named Frank “The Wolf” Corozzo. Some call him “The Big Bad.” A guy like that doesn’t get a nickname like ‘The Wolf’ for nothing. He’s been moving in on speakeasies across the state, leaving a trail of bodies behind him. One by one, rival operations have folded under his weight, either by bullet or by fear. Now, word on the street is that he’s got his sights set on us. On our city. On our speakeasy.

I can’t let that happen. We’ve worked too hard, come too far, to let some outsider take it all away.

I sit at the round table in the back of our speakeasy, tapping my fingers against the polished wood. Benny sits across from me, casually flipping a coin in the air, while Lou leans against the wall, cleaning his gun. They’re waiting for me to speak, to tell them what the plan is. We’ve always had a plan, and it’s always worked. But this time, there’s something different in the air. Something uneasy.

“You think this Corozzo’s as bad as they say?” Benny asks, catching his coin mid-air and looking at me with that sly grin of his.

I shrug, playing it cool. “Doesn’t matter what they say. No one’s ever been able to take us down, and I don’t see that changing now.”

Lou snorts from his corner. “Yeah, but this guy ain’t like the others. He’s methodical. Calculated. Doesn’t just show up guns blazing. He’s... patient.”

“And?” I raise an eyebrow. “So what? We’ve been patient too. We’ve been watching. We know he’s coming. We just gotta make sure we’re ready.”

But even as I say it, I feel the tension tightening in my chest. I’ve heard the stories about Corozzo. He doesn’t just kill you; he dismantles you. Piece by piece, he takes everything you love and burns it to the ground.

I stand up, pacing the room. “We’re gonna fortify the place. Make sure every corner of this joint is locked down. No one gets in or out without our say-so. Benny, you work the numbers. Make sure we’ve got enough cash on hand for bribes, payoffs, whatever it takes. Lou, keep the boys armed and ready. I want men at every door.”

“And you?” Benny asks, his grin fading into something more serious. “What are you gonna do?”

I stop pacing and look him dead in the eye. “I’m gonna pay Mr. Corozzo a visit. Let him know exactly who he’s dealing with.”

It’s risky, but we didn’t get where we are by playing it safe. Frank “The Wolf” Corozzo may think he’s untouchable, but he’s never gone up against the Three Little Pigs. And in this city, we don’t get huffed, puffed, or blown down.

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