Agent Manhattan

By Vincent Randazzo

In 2025, New York City is still under the influence of the mafia. Ever since the Rockefeller Incident in 2011, subway stations in Manhattan have been inoperable, and the mob's reign over the city continues to linger. Due to this reign, a task force was built within the FBI to combat organized crime. Under the leadership of Rob Costello and his b

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vinran
• Release date: Aug 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988884019

Book preview

Contents

Vincent Randazzo

Prologue

Chapter One: Path

Chapter Two: Perspective

Chapter Three: Suddenness

Chapter Four: Deus ex machina

Chapter Five: Progression

Chapter Six: A Different World

Chapter Seven: Medium

Chapter Eight: Dystopia

Chapter Nine: The Fifth Family

Postscript

Vincent Randazzo

Agent Manhattan

Volume On

Copyright © 2023 Vincent Randazzo

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording,  or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

An imprint of the Vinran organization by Vincent Randazzo.

ISBN Paperback: 979-8-9888840-0-2

ISBN eBook: 979-8-9888840-1-9

Twitter (X): @AgentManhattan

Email: [e-mail]

Prologue

​In a world that still lives in the shadow of the Mafia, with power equivalent to that of the mid-late 1900’s, New York is heavily influenced by such crime organizations. Now, in the year 2025, the mob has actually been quiet for some time. Although they exist, they aren’t as present as they used to be in day-to-day actions, rather they are just behind the scenes. This suppression is mainly because of a task force that was built within the FBI called the Organized Crime Prevention (OCP) Unit. This unit was established in 2006, and the first ever member to sign up is the current Chief, Cosmo Shepherd. It is the best thing that has ever happened to the FBI.

​However, where there is good, there is bad.

​In 2011, about five years after this task force’s creation, the defeat of a man under the alias ‘The Masked Man of Manhattan’ left the city in shambles. The entire subway system was destroyed throughout Manhattan from the ground up, and has been inoperable ever since then. You aren’t even allowed to venture down there if you want. It has been cemented and barricaded off, and you’ll be arrested for trespassing if attempting to do so. While it does still exist throughout the other boroughs, if you want to get to or from Manhattan, you can take the subway to a ferry transportation system. This system saw an abundant rise in usage rate after the disappearance of the Manhattan subway, and has even made its way to a Fortune 500 Company due to that fact. It is called the New York Ferryway (NYFW). This ferry system is what allowed the citizens to remain in New York.

​There are certain services that are constantly being investigated, the NYFW is one of them. The Cattaneo crime family is especially suspected of being involved with this service. Their family resides in Queens, along with the Messina family. The Consegna family resides in Brooklyn, and the Bonetti family resides in the Bronx. There is another organization in Manhattan, which has severely weakened since 2011 after the defeat of the Masked Man, but they are just a shadow organization now.

​The task force went through ups and downs, fighting against remnants of the old mob that popped up out of nowhere. But for some reason, come every election of a new mayor, the task force seemingly gets destroyed. The Manhattan organization are the ones suspected of interfering with and troubling the mayor. A newly elected mayor is sworn in at the start of the New Year, and the night of December 31st. The past mayor served from 2010-2017. The current mayor has served from 2018-present. Both mayors have served two full terms, and it was by an overwhelming margin. These are usually the times when the task force gets busy. They typically hold off well, but still saw some casualties and retirees. We are only a couple of months away for a new mayor to get elected, and the task force is preparing for that.

There is new blood now, and it is considered to be the most skilled team to ever be employed in the unit, and they are currently fighting crime throughout all of New York. There are two separate teams led by young genius brothers who are both very similar, yet very different. They are on a path to discover themselves and somehow ended up here.

These two brothers were born on October 11th, 1996.

They are just a mere 28 years old.

They were hired straight away into the FBI after completing the 20 required weeks in the Quantico training program, and were considered to be the best in their class. They even graduated as the top two in both of their respective High School and University classes. All things considered, though, they wound up here, and the story begins on Tuesday September 9th, 2025. Or rather, that’s just when the present starts.

It is told through the perspective of Rob Costello, as are all of the excerpts right at the beginning of each chapter, unless otherwise stated by a different name being deemed as the new point of view. Other than that, it will always reset to our protagonist's point of view, Rob.

Chapter One: Path

​Fun fact, the path of a man is determined by what he decides is most valuable in life. It is what he decides is right, and what is not. In other words, priorities can vary from person to person, and it is at this point where people begin to define ‘success’ differently.

The most prominent example of defining these values comes from the debate that every working man in America must face: money, passion, or love. One who would prioritize wealth over their happiness and relationships may define success as simply making money. Another who defines success would view working a ‘dutiful’ career as their passion would be fulfilling. Then, of course, there are those who simply live for having the ability to thrive on the relationships they’ve made, and need only be surrounded by people they love, and people that love them.

I was conflicted by these paths as early as the emergence of my sentience. I, Rob Costello, was presented with such paths throughout my young life. My brother, Ray, also endured this. It seemed to be a family practice. Back then there was a man, whose face is etched into my mind, who was responsible for these teachings. He acted as our father. He taught us how to learn, perceive, judge, fight, reason and many other traits needed for the path that my brother and I are destined to lead. However, I later found out that he wasn’t our father, so I’ll just refer to him as a teacher.

The paths I brought up before about money, passion, and love, are all just fantasies to me. That’s because my life has been predetermined for me from the moment I was born. Most children spend their early years in ignorance, and learn only through their own perception and reason. My brother and I, however, learned through having actual judgment, and all we knew was education right from the beginning. I never had a chance to develop a passion for anything, and I never had a reason to attain money. I certainly never had a reason for falling in love, so I had forsaken that long ago. This is all because I was taught that these are just human concepts that average people fall for.

Being that we lived in New York, the mob was a rather prevalent factor in our day-to-day lives. My teacher had ended up getting killed in the year of 2012 by a sweep from the FBI where they had allegedly mistaken them for being associates of the mob. Ray and I were only 15 years old.

Our teacher wasn’t as capable as I remember him to be, when I look back now as an adult that is. He was simply an overly-ambitious researcher who went too far with his studies and got himself killed. Considering that he was a neuro-researcher, I wonder if that paper had anything to do with my brother and I, and how our talent is practically manufactured. Those thoughts all got put to rest fast, though.

Although I never knew my father as a kid, I did have a mother, and she seemed to care for Ray and I in a different way than our teacher did. I think she hated him. I once had a theory that maybe our teacher forced our father out of the picture and my mother resented him for it, but as always, I never had answers to anything. She would say things to me meant to antagonize our teacher’s beliefs, and she would try to develop me in her own way. Our teacher would restrict this, though, and she went from always being present in the house, to then only sometimes, to then not at all. It got to a point where she was only at the safe haven we would occasionally visit, and other researchers lived there as well in order to, what I now assume is, to prevent us from running away. It was better than how it was back in the city at least.

There was no free time.

We spent the mornings studying academics, the afternoons learning general practice, and the evenings were combat and strength training. It was, in a word, intense homeschool. I had only attended kindergarten, and then Ray and I were pulled out of that to pursue a more advanced course. Then, for some reason, we attended the fourth grade in a public school as a trial, and then grades ten through twelve as high schoolers once we were taken in by our real father. But before that time, I only remained in the house to accomplish the things that were required of me. This was mainly done in Queens, which was close to nearby science and medical institutes our teacher would take our results to, apparently. If there was ever any free time, it was spent studying what we learned, or visiting the safe haven in the mountains. It was associated with a feeling of peace.

One day I was at the safe haven, and there was a massacre going on. Someone was killing all the instructors as Ray and I watched, rather nonchalantly. I was 15 years old. This day was not one of the peaceful ones. Among the aggressors was a man named Cosmo Shepherd, who was an FBI Agent. This man ended up taking us in, and claiming us as his rightful sons.

This man is our real father.

He had once said he was affiliated with our teacher, but we never asked how. All we knew was that he had liberated us from, what we later found out to be, a sad life. The very first time I made my own life-altering decision was when I was 23 years old. My brother and I enrolled in the training academy at Quantico with the intent to work for the FBI.

I was proud of this decision. Not because it made me happy, but simply because I decided it for myself.

I am on a journey. A journey of my own existentialist belief that I am a singular being who got to where I am because of my own capabilities. I have dedicated myself to going against our teachers' ideals. I don’t know when that desire got sparked, maybe I’ll remember someday. But what I do know is that those ‘paths’ are so generalized. Ray joined the Bureau as well, but for different reasons than me. I think Ray wants to find out more about the death of the man who taught us what we know. He is under the belief that our childhood only turned bad after he had died, but our real father had explained how that man stole us from him, and that we were brainwashed. That is what I choose to believe now, because it simply grants me an easy life, and I respect my real father much more than that vigilante who I can hardly recall ever acting fatherly.

Unlike me, Ray is in the pursuit of knowledge. He frequently asks me to get more emotionally invested in his search for knowledge, but I’m honestly fine with just blowing with the wind. What’s done is done, and I am of the belief to let sleeping dogs lie. I’m not sure why Ray is particularly obsessed with that man, but my theory is that it gives him a sense of identity.

Honestly, I find it peaceful to just be an observer. In the FBI, I get to work with interesting people who tell interesting stories, and all that is good enough to me. I don’t want to attain anything, I just want peace. I think that this feeling of serenity and nothingness gives me a sense of something akin to happiness.

1.1

09/09/2025

​How sad, I muttered to myself.

​A man who appeared to be homeless was sitting outside on private business property, asking passerbyers for spare cash. After seeing him, I asked no one in particular, about the root question that has hung over my head for my entire life. ‘What does it mean to be successful?’ I wondered if that man ever asked himself that question, and what series of decisions did he make that led him to this moment.

​As I asked myself this, I instantly regretted pitying him. What if this man is actually happy with his life? Since he has obviously been able to survive and has clothes on his back, one could argue that he has succeeded. If he is happy, then he may even be more successful than me. If you ask anyone in the office, though, they will tell you to look the other way, and explain to you that those people should just get a job like the rest of us.

​I decided to do something I rarely do, which is approach another person of my own free will. At first, I was going to ask the man about how he felt about his current standing in life. I quickly scratched that thought, though, as the citizens of this city may take deep offense to such a question. I went with a basic alternative and simply put a one dollar bill in his cup without saying anything.

​It is the beginning of an experiment for me. I want to see if this man has the ability to pinpoint the differences between one who is successful and one who is not, and if he is able to decide for himself where he stands. Then, I will see if that can shape my subjection about success as well; for the many things that I do know, that is one thing that I still do not know.

​Bless you bless you bless you! he repeated in succession.

​It seemed like a somewhat automated response, as if he says this often.

​Ain’t none of these white collar dwellers want anything to do with me, you fugazi punks! he said. He then made a couple of other shouting statements that were rather inaudible and difficult to decipher. I simply shook my head goodbye and walked the other way. His tone didn’t sound particularly grateful, I still felt as if he was referring to me with that one comment he had made, considering I have passed by him before. Nevertheless, I have now done ‘right’ by him. Or at least, what he considers right. I went to the agency, swiped my card, and walked in.

1.2

​One minute late, how strange for Mr. Punctual a colleague said to me on my way to the investigation division. I think he said this because I was always here at exactly 8:00 AM. It was currently 8:01 AM.

​Yes. I was stopped by a homeless man who beckoned to me for money. I replied.

​Those bums, pass by ‘em every time. We should throw them in jail for disturbing the peace, am I right! He looked at a co-worker and they shared a laugh together. I wondered what was funny, considering the correct terminology for that charge would be ‘loitering’, not ‘disturbing the peace.’ But of course, I kept that to myself.

​I suppose so. I shook my head to signal a goodbye and walked forward into the door labeled ‘OCP’, for the Organized Crime Prevention unit. Those two men said something I couldn’t hear as I walked into the office.

​Hey Rob, how was traffic? My brother greeted me.

​Not too bad. Are you asking because I’m one minute late?

​Of course not, he chuckled. Just checking in on you.

​From the corner of my eye, I saw Ray dish a nasty look to the two men who stopped me on the way to the office. His eyes were saying something like ‘stop talking to my brother.’ I don’t know why Ray did that. It’s not like I got hurt by them or anything.

​Stop, Ray. You know he probably didn’t even hear it, you know he doesn’t care. This came from the mouth of a man named Brian ‘The Claw’ Crawford, who was referring to me apparently. Brian is Ray’s right hand man, sort of like a field tactical advisor, for when Ray isn’t available. He was explaining to Ray that apparently I don’t have an ear for insults that are hurled at me, and just tune it out completely. I suppose that’s why I get by so easily.

​It’s not just about looking out for him, it’s about the principle. It’s the principle that we are all professionals here. We are all equals and on the same side and they have no right to mock an agent who, in my completely unbiased opinion, outshines them in every way. Along with every agent in this office. Those fugazi cyber investigators can go to hell.

​That was the second time I heard the term ‘fugazi’ today.

​I said hello to Brian, and turned to my half of the office to greet my tactical advisor, Jacob ‘JR’ Ruettiger. Our tactical advisors had developed such nicknames from years of arresting people in the field. When we pull reports from local NYPD precincts, we frequently hear nicknames of those circulating around as time goes on. The coining of these nicknames can vary from the complexity of the strategies in how an agent arrests someone, down to something as basic as a name abbreviation or spinoff, using a synonym. I have heard people say that if the ‘streets’ nickname you, you have had an impact in some way. Whether it is good or bad depends on the kind of person in question, I suppose.

​My brother and I share a nickname too. It is only used when we work in unison, though, because it is at that point where people begin to connect the dots.

​You’re those ‘Midtown Brothers’, aren’t you? I have heard this many times.

​I wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Having an individual nickname means you stand out more, and thus covert work becomes more difficult. It is ideal to not let your opponents know of your identities and abilities until after you have dealt with them properly. Luckily, it’s not like everyone knows these names. However, none are more famous than the nationally known agent Cosmo ‘The Hound’ Shepherd, our chief. He got this name for his ability to sniff crime in any area, as well as a spinoff of his last name. He is most well known for defeating the Masked Man of Manhattan, who ruled over the boroughs and the underworld for an idiotic number of 18 years. How one man can evade law enforcement for 18 straight years in the same city, is beyond me.

​But, The Hound took him down. This unit was established in 2006, when the Chief was just slightly older than I am now, 33 years old. The Chief was born August 15th, 1973. He is currently 52 years old. When the unit was established with him as the figurehead, organized crime rates decreased by the largest percentage we have seen since the end of the prohibition era. Five years later, in 2011, the Masked Man of Manhattan was defeated at the ice skating rink at Rockefeller Center in Times Square, on New Year’s Eve, known as the Rockefeller Incident.

​This is considered to be a monumental moment in the agency.

​Years later, crime slowed down significantly. As the unit led by Cosmo Shepherd began to get so adept in their investigations, there were those that believed he was able to sniff out crime before it even happened at all. Hence the name ‘Hound’.

This man has a gift.

​This same man is my father. We have DNA tests to prove it.

​When my pretend father died in 2012, we were in the mountains. We were staying in the safe haven when the 2012 OCP unit swept the premises. It was on this day that Ray and I were liberated. I wish I could still thank those agents that were there on that day, but every single agent that has been in the unit since its creation is either deceased or retired. It is a rigorous unit, no matter the era. The only man to have survived through it all, is Cosmo Shepherd.

​‘Speak of the devil.’ I said in my mind, as the man in my head who I was just reminiscing about, walked through the door in orderly fashion. He wore old-fashioned vintage suits with the chains around the waist that were popular in the old days.

​How do you keep this wardrobe going everyday Chief? asked one of my field agents, Eddie Pasquale.

​Ah, the man at the coffee shop has wonderful ideas, doesn’t he.

​The Chief was referring to the owner of a small cafe that agents from this precinct frequently visited. They say he gives good advice apparently, and if the Chief says so, then it must be true. I have visited this cafe myself, but I have yet to ask the man anything in particular. They often refer to him as ‘Franky Three Times’. I have two things to ask that man when I see him: one is what his full name is, and the other, is how he got a nickname like that.

​I felt accomplished that I now have something to do tomorrow morning before work, like I have a busy schedule, or something like that.

​Hello? Earth to Rob?

​I zoned back in to see Agent Carbone waving his hand in my face, trying to get my attention about something.

​Sorry. What is it?

​I figured you were gonna tell us, you’re doing the briefing today, remember? He said.

​That’s right, let me get my computer. I replied.

​I logged on and took the podium in this small room. Contrary to my personality, I didn’t mind speaking in this setting as much as I normally would in other settings. Mainly because this room is small, so I only had to speak at about a 45 point rating on the decibel hearing scale. For reference, 0 is nothing, and 180 is a gunshot. 60 is normal speaking, 80 is screaming, and 30 is a whisper. I’d rather speak at 40, but I’m told to be stern when advising others, and it also happens to be the only group of ten other people in total that I am semi-comfortable with, so I don’t mind pushing 45 or even 50 points if it’s something that interests me.

​The criminal investigation division has been getting backstocked with cases consisting of extortion and bribery of political and enforcement authorities. At first they were viewed as payoffs, but further investigation led them to believe that the mob may be involved. They had a special ops field team recently raid a warehouse where multiple witnesses saw suspects going in and out of it, transporting large black bags with unknown contents. During this raid, they only found drugs, and no evidence of any homicidal activity. The narcotics unit thinks that it was all a setup, though, so they differed, and gave it to us. Information from Moley suggests that warehouses similar to this all have reports regarding similar activities, so we are to investigate it.

​I summed up what was sent to us, and left it to Chief Shepherd to disperse our roles.

​"Alright then. Since Rob read off of it and understands it well, I’ll have your team go out for this one. You and JR can decide which of you goes to the field, whoever doesn’t will stay back with Moley to communicate intel from the field to him so he can find warehouses if necessary. Rest of your