| “ | There are many things my father taught me here in this room. He taught me: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.
— Michael Corleone
|
” |
Michael initially wanted nothing to do with the Corleone's "family business," even though everyone assumed that he would take over from his father, and enrolled at Dartmouth College in order to escape it. After the United States' entry into World War II in 1941, he enlisted in the Marines (training under Sergeant Bradshaw) and fought in the Pacific, despite his father's express command not to do so. For his bravery in battle, Michael was awarded the Navy Cross, he was also featured in Life magazine in 1944. Michael was discharged as a Captain to recover from wounds in 1945 (unbeknownst to him, the doctor treating him had been bribed by his father to exaggerate his injury in order to send him home). He would later re-enter Dartmouth, where he would meet his future wife Kay Adams. However, when his father was nearly assassinated in 1945, he volunteered to murder the men responsible, Virgil Sollozzo and Captain McCluskey, a police captain who was acting as Sollozzo's bodyguard, follow McCluskey's assault on Michael at the hospital in Little Italy. Michael showed his cunning when he suggested that the family use their contacts in the newspaper to play up McCluskey's connection to the drug lord Sollozzo, thereby relieving some of the flack that the Corleones would receive afterward. After committing the murders, Michael fled to Sicily, under the watch of Aldo Trapani.
Under the protection of his father's old friend Lionele Tommasino, whilst living in his Dr. Taza's house, Michael remained in hiding for two years, where he learned of the Mafia's roots. While in Sicily, he fell in love with, and soon married, a beautiful young woman named Apollonia, but she was killed by a car bomb intended for Michael. After this, Michael decided to fully join his father's business.
After his father's retirement in 1954, he became Don of the Corleone crime family until 1980 when he retired. He died in sicily in 1997.
Battle vs. John Shaft (by Omnicube1)[]
John Shaft was strolling down the streets of Harlem and looked to the right. Some black children and teenagers were cheerfully playing various games like jump rope and basketball. Feels good to retire, he thought to himself. A purple-black Chevrolet Fleetmaster drove down the road and began to slow down. He saw white and tan hands fling eggs at the African-American children and teens.
"You're ruining society, go back to Africa!" said a voice with an Italian accent. Goddamn Italian pricks messing with my neighborhood. Shaft thought the feud between the two ethnicities was over. He shook his head and headed home.
"Who does this guy think he is?" shouted Michael Corleone in anger.
"He's a private eye, sir." was Corleone's minion's reply.
"I want him dead! You hear! If you can't do it, I'll show this guy who's boss!"
"He's a tough guy to kill, sir, we'll lose plenty of men before he goes down."
"I don't care, he's killed my friends damnit!" Corleone picked up his plate of carbonara and sent it across the room. "Get my car, you dumb piece of s***."
The Corleone family mob leader grabbed his Smith & Wesson Model 10, unlatched the cylinder, spun it, and slapped it back in.
Shaft took off his shirt and prepared to go to bed. He heard a car pull up to the apartment driveway. He heard yelling down below. He walked over to a nearby window and pushed aside the curtains. He saw a white male holding a double-barrel shotgun over his shoulder. He pushed the man in front of him towards the car, drew a revolver, and shot him. Shaft flinched when the shot rang out. He quickly grabbed his High-Standard Model 10 and loaded it with 12 gauge rounds. He grabbed his black leather vest and made his way out of his home.
"You aren't going to survive, Mr. Corleone." said the mobster.
"Do you think I give a s***?" was the reply.
"But sir, please!" Michael Corleone pushed his minion onto the car, causing him to panic. He drew out his revolver and shot him.
"I don't need a pussy like you in my empire." He ran inside and pointed his Lupara at the lock of the door that kept him from moving upstairs to deal with the man that was responsible for his friends' deaths. He fired, kicked open the door, and moved slowly upstairs. After moving onto the second floor a shotgun blast rang out and dozens of pellets nearly made it into Corleone's head. He found cover behind a pillar. He swiveled around and blind-fired. He was able to locate his target, drew out his Smith & Wesson and emptied out all remaining five rounds at his target. He missed his shots and used the time to reload both weapons.
Shaft was panting hard. He was almost killed by the Italian. He had to find more adequate cover. He made his way out of cover and fired his High Standard shotgun and made his way into the hallway. The Italian was right behind him and was firing his shotgun. Three pellets made their way into Shaft's left shoulder, causing him to drop his weapon. He took out his Colt Detective .38 Special and returned fire. He heard a shout and began to fire off the remaining rounds in his revolver and made his way to the third floor to get more weapons from his apartment room.
"AHHH!" screamed Corleone in agony. A bullet made its way into his right leg. He was out of munitions for his revolver and his double-barrel shotgun. He put his hand on the pistol grip of his Madsen M50. He chased after the black detective. He climbed the stairs slowly, ready to kill anyone in the way.
"Hey you!" The Italian mobster looked up, but could not find his enemy. A rifle shot cracked, but the bullet narrowly missed Corleone. He ducked and peeked. He saw the curly hair of his black nemesis. He let loose a torrent of bullets. He saw the hair move away. Corleone ran after him, climbing up the stairs.
Shaft, Lee-Enfield No. 1 Mk. 3 ready, ran down the hallway. The next thing he felt was the a thud and a sharp rush of pain. He put his hand on his back. He felt blood. He fell down, lying on his belly. He heard the Italian come closer. This is it.
Corleone twisted his head as he moved closer towards the black man. He was now eight feet away from his victim. Suddenly, he flipped around and was firing his Star Z45. More than half of the bullets made their way into his body. He fell to his knees. No this can't be.
Shaft got up slowly and kicked the Carcano rifle away from Corleone. He drew out his Colt Detective revolver. He put it to Corleone's forehead.
"I'm tired of you pricks messing with my people." he pulled the trigger. As Shaft holstered his weapon, his neighbors stuck their heads out of the door. He saw a little girl standing near her mother. He smiled at her, ignoring the pain.
Expert's Opinion[]
Shaft won do to his far superior set of weaponry and experience.
To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.
Battle vs. Tony Montana (by MilitaryBrat)[]
No battle written.
Winner: Tony Montana
Expert's Opinion[]
Tony Montana won primarily due to packing much more modern weapons which gave him a major edge.
To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.
Battle vs. Marsellus Wallace (by Wassboss)[]
The Bunny Situation[]
The door to the Stacked Deck swings open as Michael Corleone enters the brothel. Two men sat at the front desk look up briefly, before returning to their conversation. Michael approaches the desk, stopping and waiting for the pair to stop talking. When, after several minutes, no such thing looks likely he coughs gently to get their attention.
“Is Panne available?” he asks.
“No,” comes the reply, from dark skinned man with blond hair before returning to his conversation.
“Well can you let me know when she’s finished?” Michael says interrupting.
“She’s not with a client. She’s just not here,” the blond says.
“What do you mean she’s not here? Where is she then?” Michael says before they can begin talking again. The man shrugs and Michael can feel his annoyance rising. “Then can I speak to Chalis?”
“The Madame is very busy; she doesn’t have time…”
“She’ll speak to me. Just get her.” Michael says cutting them off. The blonde sighs.
“Squalo ring the Madame for me would you.” Squalo picks up the phone, pressing the quick dial button for Chalis.
“Sorry to bother you Madame but we’ve got a customer here who wants to talk to you. He’s asking about one of our girls… Panne… He has one of those control collars on… Okay see you soon.” He puts down the phone and looks back at Michael. “She’s coming down now.” After a few seconds Chalis appears from another room.
“Oh Mike what is it with you and that woman,” she says. “We’ve got plenty of other girls here. Misuzu, Hitomi, Miu. We’ve even got some male prostitutes if you swing that way as well. I know my two receptionists here are enamoured with one Frenchman in particular. But no, you always want her.”
“I’ve been told she isn’t here. Do you know where she is?”
“I don’t. I last saw her a couple of days ago.”
“Well, if you hear from her, can you let me know?” He turns and leaves, the seeds of worry growing in his mind.
Meanwhile, high above the city on the top level of a skyscraper, Bruno Bucciarati awaits the reason for his latest summoning.
“How well do you know the Corleone Family?” Wass asks,
“Fairly well. They’re one of the few gangs in this city who don’t deal in drugs so I’ve done some work for them in the past. Why?”
“I want you to keep an eye on their activities. I’ve been hearing rumours about a feud they’re embroiled in with Marsellus Wallace and his gang. It could get ugly and I don’t want it to get too out of hand. If you find anything interesting, I want to hear about it. Understood?”
“I understand,” Bruno says, inclining his head slightly before leaving. Wass leans back in his chair, rubbing his mask where his eyes would be. The phone on his desk rings and he looks at the caller ID, groaning when he sees the name “Beast” flash up.
“God not again,” he mutters to himself, remembering the hour-long phone call he took earlier that morning. “He’s been really obsessed with citizen rights lately. I don’t know what’s possessed him,” he ponders. Looking over at his television he sees an advertisement flash up for a rerun of the Juuni Taisen Battle Royale coming up in the next few minutes. “Sod it,” he says, turning up the volume and leaving the phone to ring out.
Michael scrambles through the door to his house in the slums, hastily sliding across the makeshift bolt lock. Something thumps into the creaky wooden door, making it shake violently but it manages to hold strong. Michael cautiously walks over to it, peering through a small hole in the wood. Outside a raptor cocks it head at the door, as if it is trying to figure out a way past it before scurrying off. Michael lets out a sigh of relief.
“They’re clever girls, aren’t they?” comes a voice from behind him. Michael whirls around and reaches for the holster on his belt, cursing as he realises, he forgot to take his revolver with him. “Don’t worry we’re not here to rob you,” says the man. “My name is Robert Muldoon. This is my associate Clayton. We’re from the Hunters Guild, we help keep people safe from the creatures running amok in this place.”
“Look I don’t care who you are,” Michael says. “Just tell me why you’re here if it isn’t to rob me.”
“Now now, no need to be rude old boy,” Clayton says. “We’re here on behalf of a client of ours. He wanted us to give you this.” He takes out a small tablet, handing it to Michael who accepts it cautiously. Looking at the screen his heart drops as he sees Panne, metal chains fastening her to the inside of a giant cage.
“What have you done to her?” he says angrily.
“Like I said we’re from the Hunters Guild, we deal with animals. And your lover there well, she comes under that remit.”
“Where is she,” Michael snarls, tearing his eyes away from the screen to glare at the two hunters.
“We can’t tell you. All we’re here to do is deliver a message.”
“And just who is this client you mentioned?”
“Marsellus Wallace. If you ever want to see your beloved again then you’ll need to discuss the terms of her release with him.” Michael’s gaze returns to the screen, watching as Panne struggles in vain against her restraints.
“I’ll find you,” he whispers, stroking the screen affectionately.
An Offer that Cannot be Refused[]
Michael looks up at the name of the club, The Closet, with a degree of trepidation. He’d heard about this place before, the sort of degeneracy that goes on inside it. Still if he wants to get his beloved back, this is the place to do it. He steps through the door, being hit immediately by the blaring of noise as ‘I Will Survive’ blasts through the club. He pushes his way through the groups of dancers to the bar and the bartender, a man dressed in a blue pilot’s uniform with a red helmet, walks over to him. “What can I get you friend? Personally, I’d recommend the PAWNCH,” he says, indicating the large punch bowl behind him.
“I’m here to meet Marsellus Wallace. My name is Michael Corleone,” Michael replies. The bartenders cheerful smile fades and he nods.
“Wait here, I’ll see if he’s available” he says and wanders off. Not long after he does a man dressed in bronze armour sidles up to Michael.
“I’ve not seen you around here before,” he says slyly. “My name’s Alexander, but all my friends call me Al. And what brings you here this fine night?” Michael tries to ignore him but Alexander persists. “I’m here with my boyfriend Anton,” he continues gesturing behind him and Michael can’t help but glance over, seeing a man dressed like he’s heading to a funeral rather than a bar, glaring at him. “Don’t worry though, we have an arrangement,” Alexander says leaning in closer.
“I’m not interested,” Michael says turning away from him.
“Ooh, playing hard to get are we. I can show you a great time don’t you worry.”
“I said. I’m. Not. Interested,” Michael repeats, coldly. Alexander finally seems to take the hint and shrugs, walking away just as the bartender returns.
“Come with me,” he says and Michael follows him to a backroom. Knocking on the door sharply three times, a metal eye slot slides open before the sound of a lock being unbolted and Michael is ushered inside. The room is small but lavishly furnished, with an assortment of weaponry hung up on the walls. Michael keeps his expression passive as he is lead to a chair, sitting down across from the man he is here to meet.
“I’m not going to fuck about here Michael,” Marsellus says. “During my short time in this shithole I’ve seen some crazy shit and I’ve been involved in some crazy shit. I’ve seen gangs rise and fall. Some have been crushed and disbanded, others have been absorbed into other more powerful syndicates. I would know, I’ve taken part in a few of those wars myself. The Bloods, Pablo Escobar, those weird ass crocodile motherfuckers. I’ve dealt with all of them. But there is one enemy that still remains.”
“Let me guess, my father.”
“Yes. Now Michael, your family has treated you poorly. What kind of father lets his son rot away in the slums when he has the connections and power that he has. He could’ve put you up with the rest of your family. And yet they abandoned you as soon as things got difficult.”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my family that way,” Michael says, a hardness creeping into his voice.
“I’m just trying to tell you that there’s no point in staying loyal to them when they have not repaid that loyalty.” Michael doesn’t respond and Marsellus sighs.
“I thought you might do this. So enough of being nice. We have that whore of yours locked away, someplace where you’ll never find her. You ever want to see her again, then listen up.” Michael sits up straighter at the mention of Panne. “I want you to go to your father and tell him I want to meet him, to straighten shit out with him and move forward. I’ve picked out a place on neutral territory, a bar called the Jar of Dirt, owned by a guy called Jack Sparrow. I want you to arrange for a meeting there at midday two days from now, between your father and I.”
“He’ll never agree to that,” Michael interrupts.
“Well then you make him agree. Otherwise, the next time you see that bitch of yours she won’t be all in one piece. You understand that motherfucker?” Marsellus says. Michael holds his gaze and after what seems like an age, nods his head stiffly. “I’m glad we understand each other.” Marsellus snaps his fingers and Jules saunters over. “Would you escort Mr Corleone out of here,” he says and both men rise. After he has left, Jules bolts the door shut and sits down in Michael’s seat.
“So, do you think he’ll do it?”
“I don’t know Jules. It depends on where his loyalty lies, to his family or to his woman…”
Great Vengeance and Furious Anger[]
Two days later at the Jar of Dirt, Marsellus sits swirling his drink, waiting to see if Michael Corleone is going to hold up his end of the deal. At one minute to twelve, one of his goons walks over from the window. “He’s here Boss. He’s brought a whole entourage with him by the looks of it.” he says.
“How many?”
“Looks to be about half a dozen of them, plus the two guys he’s bringing in for protection.”
“Well make sure they don’t try any funny business. Has Jules showed up yet?”
“No Boss. He said he might be late; he had some business he needed to attend to.” Marsellus waves him away and he retakes his seat, just before the bar door swings open and Vito Corleone, flanked by two bodyguards, walks through. Marsellus rises to greet him, shaking his hand before they both sit down, opposite to each other with both of their backs facing a wall.
“My son tells me that you want to make peace between our two organizations?” Vito says.
“That’s right,” Marsellus says nodding. “A lot of shit has gone down between us but nothing that we can’t straighten out, right?”
“That is what I am hoping” Vito says. Marsellus leans over to say something when his wallet falls out of his trouser pocket and falls under the table.
“Excuse me,” he says and ducks down to reach it while at the same time a line of men pop up from behind the bar, machine guns in hand. Before Vito or his bodyguards can react, they open fire, pumping the three of them full of bullets. Once the gunfire dies down, Marsellus pops back up from under the table, moving around to check the bodies. The bloody, bullet battered corpse of Vito lies prone on the floor and one of his goons is already checking for a pulse. He looks up at Marsellus and nods.
“The men he brought with him; have they been dealt with as well?” Marsellus asks.
“Yes Boss. That Finnish guy you got to cover the area made pretty easy work of them.” Marsellus nods his head in approval. Looking back at Vito’s body a look of shock passes over his face.
“Hold up, where the fuck is his bod-“
The previous day
“And that is how I propose we deal with Marsellus Wallace,” Michael says. Vito sits, pondering the idea for a while before responding.
“That does sound like a solid plan. However why do you need me for this. Surely this is something you could do without my assistance?”
“I need to make it look as convincing as possible. Mr Wallace knows what he’s doing and he’ll smell a rat right away if you turn up with people in my crew.”
“So you’re asking me to send our guys to their deaths?” Sonny says, cutting in to the conversation.
“Death is temporary in a place like this,” Michael replies, his gaze not wavering from his father.
“That is true,” Vito says after what seems like an age. “Very well, I’m willing to authorise the use of some of our crew for this. Santino, I want you to pick out the guys for this job, loyal men, men who are willing to die for us. Tell them they’ll be well rewarded for their service.”
“I’ll get on that right away,” Sonny says.
“And Michael, my son. I have to thank you for coming to me with this information after all that has happened. You know I never wanted to exile you. I had to do what was best for the family and your involvement with the Wolves could’ve jeopardized everything we had built here.”
“I know Pa,” Michael says quietly.
“If this plan of yours works out, maybe we can look at you returning to the fold,” Vito continues. The pair stand and embrace briefly before Michael leaves.
Michael Corleone: 
As the dust begins to settle, Marsellus gets groggily to his feet, his ears still ringing from the explosion. Around him some of his men are also stirring, shouting out to each other to make sure they’re okay. One of them rushes over to Marsellus.
“Are you okay Boss?” he asks.
“Just a-fucking-bout,” he says. Through the large hole that has been blasted in the wall he see figures clambering through, guns in hand and already raising. “Incoming” he shouts and backs up, drawing his M1911 as the rest of his goons also go for their weapons. The two groups open fire at almost the same time and those who have not had time to properly get behind cover are riddled with bullets. Marsellus and four of his men manage to find themselves behind the cover of the bar, glass raining down on them as the bottles are struck by bullets.
“We need to get out of here Boss and regroup,” one of them says.
“No shit we do,” Marsellus says. “There’s another exit round the back, but we’re going to need to come out from here. I’ll lead the way; you guys provide some cover fire.” As his goons stand up and start firing, Marsellus dashes over to the back door, making sure to keep behind cover as much as possible. Flinging it open, he shouts for them to follow him as he steps out into the alleyway. The four goons follow after him but as the last one gets to the doorway he collapses suddenly, his back peppered with bullet holes. 
“They went through here,” one of Michael’s crew says, gesturing to the back door. The rest of his mobsters dash after them and Michael goes to follow, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see a man in a ski mask standing before him.
“Don’t forget our deal, monsieur” he says.
“Yes, yes. I’ll get my father to lower the protection fee on your brothel. Now get the hell off me,” Michael replies, shaking himself loose and following after his men. The Spy shrugs his shoulders, lighting up a cigarette and taking a long drag.
“WHAT ABOUT MY BOTTLE OF SCUMPY?!” comes a demand from behind.
“Do you ever think about anything else,” Spy says, reaching into his suit pocket and producing a Cornish scrumpy which the Demoman snatches from him gratefully.
“Cheers mate” he says drunkenly, staggering away with his reward in hand. The Spy shakes his head before he too makes his exit.
Meanwhile outside in the streets, Michael re-joins the rest of his crew. One of them lies face down on the ground not moving . The other three are trading fire with Marsellus and his goons who are backing away. With a lack of cover from the gunfire, it is not long before there are more casualties, and one of Michael’s Crew and two of Marsellus’ Gang are soon left bleeding out in the road. . As Marsellus and his last gang member retreat out of site around the street corner, Michael and his mobsters take the opportunity to slip fresh magazines into their Thompsons before following after them.
Bringing up the rear of the group, Michael is the last one to turn round the corner and does so just in time to see one of his men get smashed into a wall, his body crumpled as if he had been hit by a train. In the middle of the road stands a dinosaur, covered in armour and with a nasty looking club on the end of it’s tail. It bellows aggressively, waving it’s tail around at the other mobster who desperately tries to avoid being struck and woman dressed in khaki who is furiously waving at the beast. “What the hell is that thing?” Michael says in awe.
“Hey, you two keep away from that thing,” shouts the woman. “There we go, there’s a good girl. No need to be afraid, nobody is going to hurt you” she says as she approaches it. Slowly but surely the creature seems to become less and less agitated. The woman pulls out some ferns out of her backpack, offering them to the it and it gladly obliges, chewing on the vegetation seemingly content. “See that wasn’t so bad was it,” the woman says and pats it’s head gently. She unhooks a walkie-talkie from her belt and speaks into it. “Munro, I’ve got the Ankylosaurus under control.”
“Has it done much damage?” Comes the reply from the other end.
“We’ve got one casualty. But it was scared and confused. We both know it’s not a threat. We just need to find it somewhere to live.”
“Okay. Well keep it there. I’ll get Muldoon to bring the truck round and we can transport it somewhere safer.” As the conversation ends, Michael calls out to the woman.
“Excuse me Miss. You wouldn’t have happened to see a couple of guys run past here did you?”
“Yeah, two of them, right? They went into that house over there,” she says pointing at a two story house. Thanking her, Michael and the last member of his crew make their way over to the building. The door is slightly ajar and Michael signals to the other mobster to go first. Pushing open the door, he raises his gun in preparation for an attack but doesn’t hear or see anything. Gesturing for Michael to follow the pair move around the first floor but finding nobody there they decide to climb up the stairs. As they reach the top, a man steps out from one of the doors, shotgun raised and fires, blasting a hole through the mobster. . Before he can load in another chamber, Michael returns fire with his revolver, hitting the man dead in the chest with two shots and sending him careening back into the bathtub. . Taking a brief moment to reload, Michael checks to make sure the man is dead before continuing his search of the house.
With only one room left and no sign of Marsellus, Michael gently pushes the door open slightly, peeking his head through cautiously. There is no sign of anybody however a large wardrobe directly opposite the door gives him a bad feeling. Unwilling to risk it he steps into the room and empties his chamber into the wardrobe. All that follows is dead silence and Michael carefully opens the doors, only to find there is nothing inside. “Guess he’s not here after all then” Michael thinks, wondering if he simply left one of his gang here as a red herring. A flicker of movement catches his eye to the left of him and he snaps his head around but realises he is looking at his own reflection in a mirror on the far wall. Before he can even sigh in relief however, he sees a hand with a pistol poke into view on the mirror, inches away from the back of his head.
He swings his arm round wildly, connecting with the gun just before the shot goes off and knocking the barrel off course. He then throws himself backwards, knocking into Marsellus and sending the gun flying out of his hand. Marsellus shoves him away before grabbing the nearest thing, a bed side lamp and swinging it at his opponent as a makeshift club. It smashes into his shoulder, making him grunt in pain but not enough to stop him swinging a punch which rocks Marsellus’ head back. He follows up by punching him several times in the gut which makes him hunch over before snatching the lamp off him and smashing it over his head. As Marsellus falls, Michael straddles him, punching him several more times in the face before standing and stalking over to where the M1911 is lying. He snatches it up and walks back to Marsellus who is trying desperately to crawl away. He crouches down and presses the barrel into the back of his head.
“Where is she?” Michael demands.
“You didn’t stick to our side of the deal motherfucker. I ain’t tell you shit,” Marsellus says.
“You tell me where she is or I swear to god I’ll blow your fucking brains out,” Michael says, the anger rising.
“She’s just some whore. Why do you care so much,” Marsellus says, spitting out a mouthful of blood in contempt. Michael smacks him in the back of the head with the butt of the gun.
“Don’t you ever call her that,” he says coldly. “This is your last chance, tell me where you’re keeping her.”
“If you have the balls then do it you son of a bitch,” Marsellus says defiantly. He feels the barrel press into his head and takes a deep breath. A gunshot echoes in the eerie silence but when Marsellus opens his eyes, he finds he is still alive. Looking around through blurred vision he sees Michael lying dead on the floor, a bullet hole neatly through his forehead . In the doorway Jules lowers his pistol. “Man I am I glad to see you,” Marsellus says.
“Jesus Christ Marsellus what the hell happened,” Jules says, holstering his gun and stooping down to check on his boss.
“Things went a little bit south,” Marsellus replies, his vision slowly getting more and more blurry into he slips into unconsciousness…
Winner: Marsellus Wallace
Epilogue[]
“I don’t think he’s going to be waking up any time soon. So you can probably come out now,” Jules says. A zipper opens up on Michael’s back and Bruno clambers out of it, joining Jules in looking down at the two mob bosses. “What do you think the big man is going to make of this,” Jules continues.
“He’ll probably love it if he’s like the rest of the users,” Bruno says. “That’s why we’re here isn’t it? Cause they like to watch us fight.”
“True.”
“So what are we going to do with these two then?”
“The Boss, or sorry, Marsellus, said he wanted Michael to be dealt with once this deal was over. He didn’t want any loose ends. We were planning on keeping it under wraps, if they don’t know he’s dead then he can’t be revived after all.”
“And the girl?”
Jules shrugs. “We only ever needed her to get to him. Marsellus already has some compensation planned for her. One of our associates has a home in the wealthy district and they’ve agreed to let her live there with them. A big step up from sleeping in a shit pipe like she has been the past few years so that should keep her from wanting any revenge.”
“Go ahead with those plans then,” Bruno says. “I’ll report back to the King about what happened here. Keep me up to date if there are any further developments on your side.”
“Will do,” Jules says. Bruno disappears into another zipper, leaving him alone with Marsellus.
Expert's Opinion[]
In a close fought battle Marsellus managed to come out on top. Most voters, even those who voted for Michael, agreed that Marsellus had the superior weaponry and Marsellus voters also argued that given the scenario this was the most important factor. While Michael voters argued that Michael's time in the marines and his intelligence in building his criminal empire would carry him to victory, the Marsellus voters pointed out that all of Michael's skills were applicable to a large scale mob war, not a squad on squad engagement, something which Marsellus was more used to.
To see the original, battle, weapons, and votes, click here.Battles here were deemed to be unfair or otherwise not in accordance with wiki standards, and have been removed from the statuses of the warriors and displayed below.
Battle vs. Joker (Nolanverse) (by Samurai234)[]
Joker: 
Corleone: 
In an abandoned hotel, the Joker is telling his thugs a plan; they will plant M67 grenades over different parts of Gotham City, then blow them up. They store the grenades in a duffel bag, and prepare to leave. Meanwhile, a car being driven by Michael Corleone's gang (consisting of Michael himself and Sonny Corleonre, Fredo Corleonre, Peter Clemenza, and Salvatore Tessio) pulls up next to the hotel. The five gangsters then exit the car and enter the hotel. As the five Corleone family members enter the lobby, they hear a "ding" noise. They turn and see the Joker and his thugs exiting from a elevator. The two teams run into each other and wait for each other to make a move. Fredo pulls out a Molotov Cocktail while Michael lights it. One of the Joker's thugs quickly spots it, though, and yells, "Boss! They're lighting a bomb!". He then quickly pulls out a Glock pistol and shoots the Molotov, injuring Fredo. Quickly, The Joker pulls out his Smith and Wesson M76 and kills Fredo.
Joker:
Corleone:
Enraged at his brother's death, Michael grabs a tommy gun and kills the clown thug with the glock.
Joker:
Corleone:
The two teams fire at each other, each trying to get an edge. During the firefight, Peter loads his Lupara shotgun and takes out another Joker goon.
Joker:
Corleone:
Realizing they are outnumbered now, The Joker and his remaining henchman retreat deeper into the hotel, with the remaining Corleone family members trying to catch up to them. As they approach a hallway, one of the Joker's men armed with a M1 Garand fires the rifle and wounds Peter. Salvatore tries to shoot the thug with his Browning Automatic Rifle, but misses.
He, Michael, and Sonny follow the two remaining Joker thugs, while Peter struggles to follow. Suddenly he hears someone behind him say, "Excuse me, kind sir, but do you know what time it is?". He turns and sees the Joker, Remington 870 in hand.
The Joker says, " It's time to die!", then shoots Peter at point blank range with the shotgun.
Joker:
Corleone:
Meanwhile, in the hotel's dining room, the two remaining Joker goons come face to with Sonny and Salvatore and a gunfight ensues. During the confusion, Salvatore takes cover behind a table while Sonny takes out one of the clowns with his Browning Rifle.
Joker:
Corleone:
The other clown (who has the duffel bag) retreats to the basement, with Sonny in hot pursuit. Meanwhile, the Joker enter the dining room and grabs one of his dead henchmen's M1 Garands and takes out Salvatore, who popped out of the table to check if the coast was clear. The Joker shakes him and says, "Hey! Are you awake?".
Joker:
Corleone:
Meanwhile, in the basement, the last goon sets the duffel bag on the floor and fires his M1 Garand at Sonny. Sonny fires back, though, and wounds him with his Browning auto rifle. He goes down the stairs and picks up the duffel bag, thinking there might be money in there, unaware that the goon is still alive and is pulling out a dentonator. Realizing he has no choice, he pushes the button on the remote, blowing up the the grenades in the duffel bag, taking out both himself and Sonny.
Joker:
Corleone:
The explosion alerts Michael, who quickly rushes toward the dining room. He sees his dead brother and briefly mourns him, when suddenly, a bullets flies and hits a lamp. He looks and sees the Joker, Glock in hand. Michael angrily pulls out his M1911 and fires back, missing. The Joker aims carefully and hits the gun, knocking it out of Michael's hand. Realizing he's been beat, Michael raises his hands in defeat. The Joker laughs and pulls the trigger, but finds that he's out of bullets. He quickly runs away while Michael pulls out an ice pick and follows him. The Joker pulls out his knife and slashes Michael across his cheek, leaving a scar. Michael counters, though, and stabs the Joker in his arm with the ice pick. He then punches the Joker in the face, disarming the Jker of his knife. He points the ice pick to te Joker's throat. He says, "You kill my family, I'll kill you. Any last words?"
The Joker laughs and says, "Yeah. Why so serious?".
He then kicks Michael in the stomach and quickly picks up his knife and says, "Let's put a smile on that face!"He then scars Micheal's mouth in the shape of a smile and finally stabs michael in the chest with knife, killing him.
Joker:
Corleone:
He cleans the blood off the knife and laughs, disappointed that his plan failed, but pleased at his victory.
Winner: The Joker
Expert's Opinion[]
Even though Michael and his family members were a lot tougher than the Joker's goons, the Joker's wit and well as slightly more advanced weaponary helped the clown prince of crime defeat the son of the Godfather.
To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.