"Welcome back to Good Morning Gotham. It's the top of the hour, and after a brief check for traffic and weather we'll be back with the new 'kid' on the block: Gotham City's own Portia de Luca."<br/><br/>The man smiled and looked directly in front of him, at the lens and the camera behind it. The man was handsome; tall, broad shouldered, with silver framed glasses and black hair shadowing his otherwise bald head around the ears. He looked distinctive, even intellectual, with a smile that was easy and friendly. Thom Broker was the man's name. A morning host for the morning news and talk show that was the only thing on the vast majority of Gotham televisions in the morning, so said the ratings, anyway. Come to think of it, Portia had never watched the show. Nor did she know anybody that did. But therein lied the problem: morning. Of all the things Portia knew herself to be...a morning person was not always one of them.<br/><br/>She could go a very long time without sleep, or with little to no sleep, and function at a very high level. It had been part of her training. But like other parts of her training, Portia found she had a natural affinity for functioning well for long periods of time without sleep. She was simply one of those people that could do well without a lot of sleep. Her training had only taken that natural talent, or trait, of hers and expanded it to a peek human ability. But when she did sleep...she certainly didn't like having to be brought up and painted up and put before all to see. In short, as she was standing next to one of many cameras in the oversized studio holding onto a 'to-go' oversized coffee as if it were a part of her body, she found herself lost in the haze of someone who hadn't fully awoken mixed with someone lost in thought.<br/><br/>The thought she was lost in? Her sudden desire to fire whoever scheduled her for this early morning interview.<br/><br/>"Miss de Luca?"<br/><br/>Thom Broker was standing just off his set now, a set dressed up with a coffee table and two comfortable looking seats. Thom would sit in one, and Portia would fill in the other, and he would ask her...Portia had no idea what she would be asked, actually. Her chief assistant Henri had screened the questions and told her it was good. She had meant to find the time to screen them herself, but never actually found it. Too many new toys to play with, too many new things to do. A mistake, true, but a harmless one. Any question Thom Broker was going to throw at her she could handle. Henri wasn't an idiot, either, but that didn't mean Portia trusted him. In fact, Portia trusted only one person...and even then not enough to tell that person the full truth about everything.<br/><br/>She had shown up ready to go in front of the camera. The makeup artist had been selected by Henri, and was considered one of the best. Her name was Eileen, and she had started in East Gotham as a hair stylist at the age of 19. Eileen was now forty, with two children and a small house in the Gotham suburb of Gotham Shores, where even a small house could cost enough to break people. She had an ex-husband, two boyfriends, and a pedestrian financial portfolio. That was all information quickly gleaned by the background check Portia had Andre put together on the woman. Because that was the rule: If they got close to Portia, they did so after an extensive security and background check. It wasn't her rule. It was Andre's rule. Andre de Luca was her first cousin from her father's side, a little older than her, and utterly devoted to both Portia and her quest to put their family back atop Gotham City's elite. He was the only person she trusted, even somewhat. Ever since his own parents had been murdered in the same massacre that had taken her's, Andre had dreamed of returning the de Luca family to power and punishing those that had ordered the hits that had nearly destroyed their family. He was Mafioso. He was the closest family she had left to her.<br/><br/>Part of her loved him dearly. Part of her knew one day she would have to kill him.<br/><br/>Again, there was no one Portia trusted completely. She simply could never afford to.<br/><br/>Eileen had waited for Portia in Portia's downtown penthouse. Promptly at 4:30am, Portia sat down in the chair before the mirror and let the woman go to work. Eileen was sweet, friendly, and chatty. And had confessed over and over again how Portia made her job easy. It was something Portia had heard before. Beauty was another gift life had given her. With olive gold skin as soft as sin and smooth as silk, shining dark Italian hair that always seemed to tumble artfully about her shoulders, and eyes that seemed to be able to sparkle as easily as they seemed to able to inspire fear. The makeup, therefore, was light and the Eileen's part quickly finished.<br/><br/>Then Portia was in the limo, then at the studio, where Henri awaited with the cafe mocha...with a double shot of expresso.<br/><br/>Thom Broker found himself having to repeat himself, finding the Italian lost in the morning space. "Miss de Luca?"<br/><br/>"Hmm?" She said, the voice cutting through the thick haze of early morning and suddenly dismissed trains of thought. "Oh, yes. Sorry." Then she was moving towards the set, still in the designer black wool peacoat that had shielded her from Gotham City's early morning December freeze. Underneath was a black semi-sleeveless silk designer blouse, and a matching dark grey pencil skirt with heels to match. The entire outfit cost five times that of the suit Broker wore, which by look and cut of it, wasn't cheap itself.<br/><br/>"Did I say it right? de Lou-kuh?"<br/><br/>Her smile was small but electric, and when the light of the set flooded her eyes it made them nearly glow a powdery, breath taking auburn tinted brown. "Yes." Responded as she sat, some technician coming up and helping her put on the microphone before taking her coffee away from her. A simple black clip that clipped to the top of her blouse. The technician was gone as quickly as he appeared, departing with a near silent thanks whispered from the Italian woman that accompanied the small smile that already accompanied her lips.<br/><br/>"In five. Five, four..." And then the director's count went silent, and suddenly Portia found herself...nervous, just in time for the center camera to light it's red light that meant it was live, centered on Broker, who reapplied his anchor ready smile and began what would surely be the strangest part of Portia's day.<br/><br/>"We're back with an extraordinary woman this morning. She has overcome personal tragedy to conquer the the business world from one end of the globe to the other. Forbes has crowned her the world's top Entrepreneur, following in the financial footsteps of men like Howard Hughes, Richard Branson, and Lex Luthor.  Fortune Magazine has dubbed her 'Queen of the 500', and People has recently named her one of the most beautiful women in the world. Portia de Luca, Good Morning, and welcome back to Gotham City."<br/><br/>The camera changed in sync with Thom Broker's movements, as a heartbeat after his introduction he turned his attention and his smile to her, just as suddenly the camera to the left went live in order to get both of them in the same frame. And no doubt a close up on her. Her smile remained the same as it had been before. Small, but seemingly genuine, her eyes big and beautiful, her brows dark and lush. "Morning, Thom."<br/><br/>A pleasantry, to be sure, as Broker immediately went into a thoughtful kind of voice in order to pitch her the first question. "It's been widely reported that you've returned to Gotham City to make the city your home again. Why Gotham City, why now?"<br/><br/>"Gotham City is my home. I was born here. I left shortly after the death of my parents, but I always considered the city to be home. As for why now...the stars aligned for that, I think. My group bought control of several businesses big and small, from parts of well known big corporations located in Gotham like STAR Labs to part of LexCorp, to smaller businesses with emerging technologies and ideas that will shape the future like Cyberonix and GenTech. They're all part of a small group of businesses I've decided to actively be apart of, be it directly or more indirectly, and nearly all of them happen to be in Gotham City. And nearly all of them had plans of moving out of Gotham City to reduce costs. That's a lot of jobs for a lot of people in Gotham, and keeping those jobs in Gotham City was one of the big reasons for the timing, for doing all of this now."<br/><br/>"And I'm sure we're all glad you did." Broker added, before going to his next question. "You moved back into the same estate your family was murdered in. Was that determination on your part to rebuild? It has to be hard for you?"<br/><br/>Act the part, Portia found her brain reminding her. Her eyes a little glassy, the emotion of that loss shadowing her otherwise bright and beautiful features. It was an act...but she had always been more than enough of an actress to pull it off, whatever the real emotions of that loss were, locked deep inside her own soul where no camera could reach as they were. "It's been hard, yes. The estate in Gotham Heights is full of early memories for me. The estate was a crime scene for a long time, and kept up by friends of the family while I was young. In the past five years it's caretaker was my cousin Andre. I know my father would want me there."<br/><br/>It was something she didn't otherwise elaborate on. Her father was a man known for his many charities...but everyone had also known he was a Mob man. Mob boss' daughter turned savior to Gotham jobs and business, though, smoothed over any and all demons of her father's reputation. Still, it was best not to talk on it overly much.<br/><br/>"Any holiday plans now that you're back?"<br/><br/>The end, she knew. A fact she was suddenly much more appreciative of than she thought she would've been. In step with the role she played on the camera, her lips turned half smile, and half grin. "Few Christmas parties, and of course I'm supposed to spend Christmas Day at the Woman's Shelter in Old Gotham."<br/><br/>"Good plans, and thank you for coming, Miss de Luca."<br/><br/>And that was it. Broker said a few more words to the camera, and then the red lights went away. The man thanked her off camera again, and added a half joke that if she was throwing a party not to forget his name. Portia made no promises. Soon enough she was walking off the set, finding Henri waiting for her...and Andre. Henri had a smile, Andre did not. Doubtless, Portia knew, there was a reason for that. As soon as she grew in ear shot, Henri started talking. As requested, he informed her, she had the rest of the morning to herself. It had made a few business contacts unhappy, a few meetings she would miss, but nothing major. Of course, it helped if you owned the businesses for unhappy people to not become a serious thing, Portia had always found. The morning wasn't for business...at least, not that kind of business. This morning was for other business. Mafia business. For that reason alone, Portia excused Henri for the rest of the morning. If she needed him, or he needed her, she'd keep her phone on.<br/><br/>A second after Henri dissapeared, before they had even left the studio building, Andre was whispering at her ear. "Detonni killed one of our men."<br/><br/>"He did, or one of his sons?" There was a difference, even if it was more or less purely an artificial difference to everyone but Portia. But to Portia, it did matter. Detonni's sons were thugs, and brutes. Spoiled South Shore morons. Detonni's neglect and own brute ways had only inspired his sons, but Detonni wasn't stupid. Nor was he shameful, or ignorant of the Mafia and it's ways. And it's rules. If Detonni had killed one of their men...it meant war. de Luca had just returned to Gotham. They were strong, and scary...because afterall, Portia had no ties to them. No ties anyone could rightfully prove, anyway. Andre was the fall guy. It had been his idea, and Portia had been more than happy to let him do it...even if she acted as if she would never let anything happen to him. But people knew Portia was in charge. At least, the other Bosses did. And that's what mattered. There was a woman in their man's world. Not the first time. Sofia Falcone had once been a Mafia Gotham boss, too...much good that it did her.<br/><br/>"One of his sons."<br/><br/>Portia smiled at the door man and the police officers that were there for security when she exited the building through a side exit. Even for a side exit, she could hear the crowd before she saw them. And the moment she appeared out of the doors and into the street, her coat back around her, that crowd was all she heard. Gotham City reminded her of Rome, sometimes. That she were Caesar returning from some foreign war, cheered and adored by the Roman citizens. Because as far as she could tell, that's as simple as it was for Gotham City. She had helped keep Gotham City alive, bailing them out of the kind of financial trouble that would've put the city into a deep economic funk. Had she not stepped in, the jobless in the city would swell to record levels, if the projections were correct. And Portia had seen the math on the projections. They WERE right. People Magazine had turned her into a sex symbol. It was something she hadn't wanted. Nor were they the only ones. Andre snickered at it, and Henri told her it wasn't all that bad, really. P.R. is P.R., he said. She had sneered at him. She hadn't wanted to become a celebrity...but she was, now. And there was no more fighting it.<br/><br/>She gave a wave at the crowd before hurrying into the limo, Andre trailing her and closing the door behind them. In the silence of the vehicle she finally sighed, and considered. She couldn't show weakness. Not this early. Mercy was not appreciated by the other Bosses. To them, she had to be just as ruthless. Just as dangerous. If not more so. Her plan to simply pay them all off had mostly worked. She provided them with actual business investments, legitimate ways of making money...more money than crime would make them. And in return, they slowly started turning criminal elements over to her. She was simply buying her power. But some families...some Bosses...could not be bought. To those Bosses...she had to be bloody, and harsh, and hard towards.<br/><br/>Detonni was one of them.<br/><br/>"We should kill him," Andre said, finally.<br/><br/>"Andre...is there someone under you that you trust completely? Someone you'd trust your life to?"<br/><br/>Without waiting a second, her cousin nodded firmly. "Yes."<br/><br/>It only made her sigh again, sadder than before. "The wiser answer would have been no, cousin."<br/><br/>The man stared at her. There were times when Andre forgot the capacity in which she operated. When Andre thought of her as the Boss, as the Don, and not as the genius with the fanatical drive. And then she would say something...something full of the sort of wisdom that cut straight through the world he saw all around him, and straight to the hard reality of the world that actually was around him. She loved her cousin, she truly did. She'd like to see him survive, if it all possible. "Kill Detonni and one of those sons will simply take over for him. Detonni isn't old and grey. He has many years in him, still. But if we execute one of those sons in front of him, and make him know he cannot do anything about it...then we send him a message. One he is unlikely forget for the rest of his life. And maybe, just maybe, a lesson that will teach him to reign those sons of his in a little bit."<br/><br/>Andre nodded, and this time, he did so with a new sort of smile on his lips. One of satisfaction.