((Here it is! The intro. I advise reading this too: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/22722010/))

By day, the city of Bonanno-Marcello was a vibrant cluster of cultures, a flavorful, beautiful sea of old-fashioned southern buildings, contrasted by the skyscrapers of the modern age nestled deeper within the city’s limits, all amidst the brackish Louisiana swamps and bayous, which were historic and marvelous in their own right. Old stone streets mirrored the nightlife, hibernating nightclubs and bars waiting for the sun to set. Nothing was ever silent―Swing music and jazz, the beating of drums and the laughter of many. The city was alive, vibrant and pleasant. There was nothing that could be despised.
But as the sun set on Bonanno-Marcello, a fiery orange flare overcast the tenements and slums and the fiercely contrasting skyscrapers of the rich. The dense and humid southern heat set in on the citizens, and they dragged themselves back into their homes in a lethargic agony. The wealthy, counting coins in their chilled lofts, bathed in the last bit of sunlight until the darkness enveloped the world below them. And when the last ray of light disappeared, a very, very different life emerged…
The streetlights flickered on. As did the red light districts, and the fetish clubs and the nightclubs, as did the lighters, and the cigarettes and the pistols. Under the moonlight was a glistening spider’s web, a web of degeneracy, a web of cruelty, a web of corruption, a web the plagued the city, a veritable nest of black widows and brown recluses, not to mention the ravenous rats and voracious gators that wallowed within the city’s brackish waters.
Racketeers, conspiracists, loan sharks, money launderers, drug traffickers, extortionists, gamblers, murderers. Leather clubs, heaps of vodka and whiskey and bourbon piling in the bars, nightclubs and hallucinogens, all flashing together in perfect tandem. But within this mess of depravity and crime, there no lawlessness. It was organized crime―A well oiled machine with cogs that couldn’t be stopped. The near unbreakable silk of a spider.
But a spider’s silk stretches―The strings of this web were ever so delicately pulled at by one puppetmaster. In the wealthiest skyscraper, in the tallest loft, dwelling in the shadows and overlooking an empire, was a single ruler. Bonanno-Marcello, under the night sky, trembled under the iron rule of the elusive matriarch Belladonna Giancana. A megabat of cold calculations, a tactical mind that watched every miniscule pawn with deadly, bloodsucking fangs and sharp yellow eyes of unmatched wit. Seldom did she step outside her loft―She watched her empire, maintaining her machine carefully, slowly, each word spoken in her quest for power. Every politician, every tycoon, every benefactor and every drug dealer were on their hands and knees, kissing the underside of her boots while she slowly crushed their heads.
And nothing, nothing, went through without her knowing.
And nobody, nobody dared challenge her.
And those who did, well, they never woke up.

That is, until one threat refused to be slaughtered.