Your father? Sure, boss. If you want. But there are different kinds of power. When I was a kid, there was a gangster, real old-school type. Rex Calabrese. He was a big deal, at least in my neighborhood. He helped people. If someone in your family was sick, he'd find you a doctor. Short on rent, front you the cash. Knew everyone's names, too. I dunno how he kept 'em all in his head, but he saw you on the street, he'd call out to you, ask how you were. Felt like he meant it, too. When I'm fourteen or something, he has a heart attack and dies, still holding his cigar. In my neighborhood, they threw a parade in his honor. A friggin parade. I mean, it wasn't fancy, but it was the gesture. The show of love, of what he meant. Can you imagine? To be remembered like that? Revered?
AAlberto
What is this? You want me to be like some small-time asshole?
Holy shit, it is! This is your dream. It's so sweet, too! And so pathetic. You really think people would make a float of your dumb face and march it down the street chanting your goddamn name? "Oh, oh, Oswald Cobb! Remember him? What a guy!" What a little bitch.
I mean, at the end of the day, this is all about money, right? Maybe we don't see eye-to-eye on every little thing. Y'know, maybe you don't like me... That's fine. I'm an acquired taste. But I make you money.
Don't you see, dear? What you did wasn't impulsive; it was instinctual. You shot that junkie pissant because you wanted to. Just like that. Oh, you're so close now, to having everything you ever wanted, everything you deserve. You wanna run? You wanna hide? No... This city is meant to be yours, sweetheart. What are you gonna do to get it?
Now, I've been where you are, and you heard my ma, I mean this... This is one of those moments, you know, where you gotta ask yourself "What kinda life do I want?" You wanna spend your days thinking small, stealing rims, barely getting by... or do you want more for yourself? You saw how the Falcones live. Can you imagine living like that, huh? In a mansion? Maids and butlers and shit? And they don't even know what they got 'cause they always had it? Never hungry, born full... Not us. The world wasn't built for guys like us. That's why we gotta take whatever we decide is ours. 'Cause no-one's gonna give it to us, I mean, not without a fight.
The guards at Arkham stripped us bare every morning. It was humiliating, being turned into a thing. But after a while, I just started to think "Well, what's it matter? There's nothing left anyway." But my brother? My brother visited me every week, and every week he said that there was something left, and that he was gonna help me fight to keep it. I-- I just wonder how you see me, Oz. If I am more than a thing to play with.
Jesus, Vic, relax! We just put the Maronis back on the map. If Sal's got a problem with that, then... fuck him. I don't need him. I don't need any of 'em. From here on out, there's no more playing it safe. Drops are yesterday's game. I'm gonna get whatever the hell's in that shipment, I'm gonna run this goddamn city, and I want you in on it.
Is that all you care about? The product? The money we lost? We can get more money, gentlemen. I think you're missing the point here -- they humiliated our family. I mean, they took my brother and they shoved his body in the trunk of a car like he was a piece of trash.
Fuckin' desperate. You are scrambling for whatever dignity you have left, and you're hoping I will save you. Not gonna happen. I don't owe you a fuckin' thing.
