The wind pushed the small boat through the waves. Just on the horizon was " The Holy Oracle", the landmark of Omerta. The city was held in high regards as a beacon for how all city's should function. One reason for this was that Omerta had strict prohibition regulations, meaning that their were two other things thet this city was leading in. Bootlegging, and organized crime.
" Ten minutes tell shoreline. All passengers please head all instructions!" A sailor shouted over the sounds of the waves. One said passenger was Clayton Telford, an immigrant to this "city of virtue." He left his home in an attempt to heal his deep wounds, and make a new life, weather by legal, or illegal means mattered little. The comparatively small boat reached the dock with a lurch as everyone disembarked. Clay stared down the peer at the sprawling city before him. One thing was for sure, this was the beginning of somthing huge.
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