Vito Scaletta
 | This page is a work in progress |
| |
|---|---|
 Scaletta in 1951 | |
| Born |
|
| Other names | Vito |
| Occupation | boss |
| Known for | Uknown number of murders, soldato of Falcone crime family, mobster |
Vittorio Antonio Scaletta, a man whose name sounds as solid as an ingredient in the recipe for perfect Italian lasagna, was born in May 1925 in Sicily. It’s said that his undeniable charm and knack for solving problems “the Italian way” come from his Sicilian roots. Cynics claim that his existence is nothing more than a figment of the imagination of the creators of the Mafia game series, but Vito would simply respond to such slander with a smile, a glance from under the brim of his hat, and perhaps a slight adjustment to the situation according to his own rules.
Childhood[edit | edit source]
Vito Scaletta was born in a picturesque, though somewhat impoverished, Sicilian village. From an early age, he was known for his curiosity, which often got him into trouble—whether it was sneaking tastes of his mother’s Sunday ragù or daring adventures beyond the village’s olive groves. However, his life took a different turn in 1932. Along with his parents, he emigrated to the United States, specifically to New York, a city that promised to be a gold mine for every immigrant. The reality, however, proved harsher than Sicily’s rocky cliffs.
The Scaletta family settled in a poor Italian neighborhood full of other immigrants, where Vito quickly learned that survival depended on quick feet, a sharp mind, and strong fists. While his father toiled away at the local docks for a pittance (only to drink it all away and squander it like an idiot), Vito and his older sister Francesca faced the harsh reality of the American dream.
Though Francesca remained faithful to her beliefs and family values, Vito had different ambitions. His first steps toward a "better future" led to petty theft and small-time trouble—practically a rite of passage in a neighborhood where the law was only followed when it was convenient. It was during this time that he met a certain Joe Barbaro (born November 23, 1924), who not only helped him in his misadventures but also taught him the very vices that would have dire consequences later on.
Shit with Joe and Enlistment[edit | edit source]
It was an ordinary night in 1943 when Vito and Joe, his best friend and criminal partner, came up with the brilliant idea to rob a neighborhood store. Joe, who could have been the mascot for a local bakery—given his extreme bulk—might not have looked like a sprinter, but in critical moments, he could muster surprising speed. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Vito. Though he was a sturdy young man and a baseball player, the sight of a police flashlight turned his legs to lead. Joe vanished into the narrow alleys of the city like steam over a pot, while Vito was caught and escorted to the station.
There, he was presented with a simple choice. He could either spend the next few years in prison picking up soap—a scenario that didn’t particularly appeal to him—or he could don a uniform and collect bullets on a battlefield overseas. After a brief and very one-sided deliberation, Vito was officially enlisted in the U.S. Army.
During World War II, he was assigned to the 504th Parachute Infantry Regiment, which took part in the campaign in Sicily. The irony wasn’t lost on him: he was sent back to his homeland to help liberate it from fascist rule. And, well, he was a bit of a klutz. At one town hall, he killed a bunch of Italians and Germans, eventually seizing an MG42 machine gun on the balcony to mow down even more enemies. However, a Wespe self-propelled howitzer rolled into the square and destroyed the town hall. Vito narrowly escaped death when Don Calo arrived on the scene, speaking through a megaphone mounted on an M4A1 Sherman tank.
Vito remained in Europe for a while longer, but in 1944, he was shot by some Nazi. Nevertheless, for his service to his country, he received several medals from General Patton himself.
Back in country and Clemente era[edit | edit source]
.jpg)
When Vito Scaletta returned to New York in 1945, he found a city that had changed—or perhaps it was he who saw things differently. His family was still poor, his father had died in a tragic accident at the docks, and a pile of debts loomed over the household, debts his sister Francesca and mother couldn’t handle on their own. Vito, a war veteran with battlefield experience, knew honest work wouldn’t cut it. So, being the pragmatist he was, he turned to the fast-money opportunities on the wrong side of the law. First, Vito and Joe got hold of some discharge papers from the army—naturally forged ones—but that wasn’t their biggest misstep. At a parking lot, they spotted a white Lincoln Continental, a large, luxurious V12 car, which happened to be Vito’s dream vehicle. The bright idea to steal it came naturally to the duo. Unfortunately, they were caught in the act by a cop. They managed to lose him, swapped the plates, and drove to Mike Bruski’s junkyard, hoping for a job.
Bruski, the junkyard owner, had a task: he needed a Willys Americar but wasn’t sure where to find one. Joe, ever the charmer, called him an idiot for not knowing and pointed him to one parked near the Lonestar Bar in Hunters, a predominantly Black neighborhood. Joe dropped Vito off, leaving him to fend for himself among the local hoodlums. Vito fought them off, stole the Willys, and delivered it to Bruski.
The next day, Joe introduced Vito to Henry Tomasino, a man who looked strikingly like Gregory Peck. Henry offered Vito a new job: breaking into a federal building to steal gas ration stamps. Vito pulled it off, but there was a problem—the stamps had an expiration date, which happened to be the same day. Vito spent the rest of the day delivering them to gas stations all over the city. The day after, Vito and Joe robbed a jewelry store, where they encountered Brian O’Neill, an Irish moron with an IQ as low as the average Irishman’s—essentially zero. The money was flowing in, and soon after, they met Luca Gurino, an underboss in the Clemente family, where Henry Tomasino also worked. Luca offered them membership in the family—for $5,000. Their next task was to eliminate a certain fat bastard running a distillery across the river. The target was so large that Henry arranged for an MG42 machine gun to handle the job. Vito picked it up from another veteran, Harry, and after some small talk, headed out. On Sand Island, they took down the fat man, but not without complications—he managed to shoot Henry before going down. Vito rushed Henry to El Greco, a doctor (and not the damn painter). Henry later gave Vito $2,000 as thanks, putting Vito in the money.
With cash in hand, Vito visited Francesca to give her the money she so desperately needed.
Prison[edit | edit source]
The next day, Vito is arrested. His boss, Clemente, gets him a lawyer. While Vito was in deep trouble, at least he had some support. However, after three months, he was sentenced to 10 years in federal prison. Shortly after his arrival, Vito is confronted by Brian O’Neill, who is serving time for a failed robbery at the West Side Mall—a botched job for which he blames Vito. After a brutal brawl, with no other options for protection, Vito turns to Leo Galante, consigliere of the Vinci crime family, who is serving a five-year sentence for fixing fights. Leo, recognizing Vito’s potential, takes him under his wing and begins teaching him the art of boxing. Eventually, Vito settles the score with O’Neill during a fight in the prison gym, killing the Irishman with his own knife (O’Neill had a clear skill issue). With O’Neill out of the picture, Vito finally gains some peace and spends most of his time in Leo’s cell. Under Leo’s mentorship, Vito not only hones his boxing skills but also learns the finer details of how the Mafia operates in New York. This close bond with Leo proves invaluable when the consigliere arranges for Vito’s early release from prison in April 1951.
Releasement[edit | edit source]
Vito Scaletta gets out of the slammer four years early, thanks to Leo Galante, a retired mobster with influence in both heaven and hell. The world has changed beyond recognition during his time inside—cars are bigger, women shorter, and beer more expensive. Vito feels like he’s landed on Mars. His first stop? Joe Barbaro’s place. Joe hands him the keys to a new apartment in Uptown, which Vito describes as "a den of luxury—if luxury smelled like rats." After unpacking his socks and pistol, he heads back to Joe, who introduces him to Eddie Scarpa, the underboss of the Falcone family. The trio heads out for a night of debauchery at the Garden of Eden, a joint where you can buy sin by the pound. During the conversation, Eddie muses aloud, "Why’d you even get into this business?" Vito, with his usual charm, replies, "Because I don’t want to end up like my old man." A few whiskies in, Eddie decides to offer Vito a job. Vito accepts, knowing that turning down a mafia boss in a place called Eden sounds like a fast track to hell. After some shenanigans, Eddie snaps at one of the girls, saying, "Go fuck yourself, you pile of overused meat," when she tries to correct him. By the time Joe and Eddie are both drunk off their asses, they pile into the car to head home. However, there’s an unpleasant stench in the air. Joe assumes Eddie puked, but the truth is much darker. Eddie indignantly declares that he’s no amateur and wouldn’t vomit in his own car, revealing instead that there’s a dead fed in the trunk. He admits it as casually as if he were confessing to forgetting to return a library book. Vito, now seriously reconsidering whether prison might have been the better option, is left to deal with the situation. They stop at an old observatory, where Vito embarks on a foul-smelling adventure. Eddie and Joe, too drunk to function, leave the entire burial to him. As Vito buries Frankie, he wonders how this little soirée is going to affect his karmic balance.
Back in NY[edit | edit source]
After a botched welcome party where Vito ended up playing undertaker for some rotten Feds, he and Joey decided to start their own business. They were peddling stolen cigarettes until some rich assholes torched their stash. Naturally, they shot the bastards—because the honor of the cigarette cartel is sacred. Then came a promotion: Falcone introduced Vito to the season's hottest trend—"Build Your Own Mafioso." First job? Take out a boss who had a thing for slaughterhouses. Vito saved Falcone’s guys at the meat plant, and Luca Gurino ended up as canned goods. Literally. After that little masterpiece, Vito got officially made. Now no one could whack him without the commission's blessing. Next up, Clemente had to go. Joe brought along some backup: Marty, a kid barely old enough to shave. The trio rolled up to a hotel where Clemente was holding a meeting. Marty stayed in the car while Vito and Joe played janitors. They cleaned the conference room, planted a bomb, and boom! But Clemente survived. A firefight broke out in the hotel, and in the parking garage, they found Marty—dead as hell. The chase continued until Clemente’s limo was wrecked, and Joe turned him into Swiss cheese. A few days later, Henry, now unemployed thanks to Clemente’s death, showed up at Vito's Brooklyn villa. Henry wanted Vito to vouch for him. Vito agreed and took him to the Maltese Falcon, where Eddie was ranting about a potential war with the Vinci family. Henry got a job: kill Leo Galante, much to Vito's dismay. Instead, Vito saved Leo, sneaking him off to Chicago. That night, Irish thugs torched Vito’s house, but he and Joe made sure those micks didn’t live to brag about it. The next day, Henry pitched them a deal: drugs. If Carlo could do it, why couldn’t they? He explained Clemente died because he sold drugs and cut into Falcone’s business. Vito initially refused but eventually agreed. They borrowed $35,000 from a Jewish loan shark, promising to return $55,000 in a week. They picked up the goods from the Triads in Chinatown, and for a few days, the drug racket was a gold mine. But then Henry got butchered in Central Park, hacked apart in some ancient Triad ritual for traitors. They also stole his drug money. Furious, Vito and Joe tracked the killers to their restaurant and turned it into a war zone. After slaughtering everyone inside, they confronted Wong, the Triad boss, who told them Henry was a Fed. That set Joe off, and he put a bullet in Wong’s head. The next day, desperate to pay back the loan shark, they went on a killing spree for cash. They whacked Thomas Angello, and Vito avenged his father’s murder by killing Derek Pappalardo and his goons at the docks. With Derek's stash, they scraped together enough to pay back Bruno. Vito personally delivered the money. The day after, Eddie sent Vito to the observatory to meet with Don Falcone. But on the way, Leo’s limo intercepted him. Leo chewed him out for starting a war and letting a Fed infiltrate the family. Still, he gave Vito a shot at redemption: kill Falcone. Reluctantly, Vito accepted. At the observatory, he mowed down Falcone’s men until he reached Carlo. To his shock, Joe was there, gun to Vito’s head. Carlo had promised Joe a promotion if he pulled the trigger. Carlo sneered at Vito, calling him a rat who brought a Fed into the family. But Joe turned on Carlo’s men instead, and together they wiped out the room. Finally, Vito faced Carlo. He emptied his Colt M1911A1 into him, putting the last bullet in Carlo’s head. “Fucking bastard,” Vito muttered before leaving with Joe. Outside, two cars waited: a Cadillac Series 75 and a Cadillac Sixty Special. Leo and his men stood by the bigger car; Vinci’s guys waited by the other. Vito got into Leo’s limo while Joe took the smaller car. As they drove, Vito asked Leo what was going on. The convoy split, Joe’s car heading off into the unknown. Leo simply said, “Sorry, kid. Joe wasn’t part of the deal.” Vito assumed Joe was being taken to his execution. In reality, Leo spared him, making Joe his personal driver and bodyguard, with one condition: Joe was never to see Vito again.
New Orleans[edit | edit source]
After the shitshow in New York, which Vito had to clean up by taking out Don Carlo Falcone in full Rambo mode (because hey, he’s a war vet after all), the Commission kicked his ass out of town. All he left New York with was a suitcase full of bad decisions and a raging hangover. He eventually ended up in New Orleans, where his only option was to hook up with the Marcanos—a crime syndicate so corrupt even the city rats had their own union. Sal Marcano, the don of this circus of assholes, didn’t trust Vito to pay a parking ticket. “A goddamn spy for the Commission!” he’d yell while shoving yet another chunk of the city budget into his pocket. To keep Vito busy, Marcano handed him River Row—a neighborhood worse than Vito’s first shithole apartment back in New York. The "Scaletta Gang" was a joke: two drunks and three confused teenagers who couldn’t tell a gun from a goddamn hairdryer. And to top it off, Vito’s direct boss was Michael Grecco, Marcano’s insufferable 22-year-old nephew who looked at Vito like he was a piece of stepped-on dog shit. By 1968, Grecco had enough of Vito’s "arrogant mug" and decided to get rid of him. Vito found himself locked in a freezer, but instead of popsicles, he got the kind of torture that makes death feel like a warm hug. The situation seemed as hopeless as a nun in a brothel, until Lincoln Clay showed up—a chocolate bear of vengeance, black punisher and Marcanos’ worst nightmare. Lincoln popped open the freezer, took out the guards like they were made of paper, and offered Vito a second chance—on one condition: they’d work together. Vito, still full of his trademark swagger despite being one step away from a meat locker grave, agreed. With Lincoln’s help, Vito took over River Row, and as a thank-you, personally executed Michael Grecco in the kind of bloody spectacle that would make Quentin Tarantino weep with pride. From that point on, Vito and Lincoln became business partners. Clay let Vito run several districts, and Vito milked those neighborhoods so hard even the IRS would’ve given him a thumbs-up.
Vito himself[edit | edit source]
Vito Scaletta is a man of iron will and even steelier nerves. He speaks only when necessary—like when ordering coffee or deciding where to stash a body. His reserved nature makes him come off as an introvert, but in reality, it’s just his way of saving time for the things he truly cares about: money and reputation. This quiet demeanor perfectly complements his partner, Joe Barbaro, a man who can spit out more words in a minute than a full-volume radio. Joe talks, and Vito acts—a partnership so efficient that any advertising agency would kill to hire them. Vito has his principles. Killing, in his eyes, is wrong—unless, of course, it’s over something critical, like someone stepping on his shoes or owing him money. His bosses admire his tenacity, though it’s probably more because he’s willing to resolve “critical matters” with a gun in hand. Vito could easily become a Don if he wanted to, but he knows it would mean buying more expensive suits and saying words like “respect” and “family” with a straight face. So, he’s perfectly content where he is—with a solid reputation and a wallet fat enough to afford lunch at a fancy restaurant. Despite his tough exterior, Vito has a sensitive side. Friendship means everything to him, and anyone who’s ever done him a favor earns a lifelong gold star in his book. Betraying a guy like him? Forget it. If you’re his friend, he’ll walk through fire for you—or over a pile of bodies, though they’ll be someone else’s, not yours.
Trivia[edit | edit source]
He loves his family[edit | edit source]
Vito Scaletta was always a family man – he cherished quiet dinners, the laughter of his sister, and the sweet scent of revenge when someone hurt his loved ones. So when he came home one evening and found his sister Francesca crying on the stairs like a character in an Italian soap opera, he knew someone was about to get their ass handed to them. Between sobs, Francesca told him that her husband Eric was cheating on her and occasionally used her as a punching bag. Vito nodded – because what wouldn’t he do for his sister? A few hours later, Vito was at Eric’s apartment, where a party of debauchery was in full swing. The "guests" included drunks, lowlifes, and probably a few people who’d already been living under bridges. Vito found Eric in the living room, enjoying himself with a woman who was very much not Francesca. Seeing this? A complete red card for Vito. “Hey, Eric!” Vito shouted. Eric turned around – and that was the end of it. Vito skipped the heartfelt talk and went straight to a free boxing lesson. After a few minutes, Eric’s face looked like an abstract painting, and Vito calmly informed him: “Consider this your warning. If you lay a hand on my sister again, I’ll kill you. From now on, you’ll stay home, stay sober, and make her happy. If I hear she’s not happy, I’ll find you, and it’ll be over for you. Got it, you piece of shit?” The beaten Eric agreed because he had no other choice. Vito then turned to the room and announced, “Alright, alright, party’s over, and there won’t be any more parties with this guy. Got it? Or I’ll come back and personally work over every one of you.” After this heroic performance, Vito went home, ready for some well-earned rest. But just as he lay down, the phone rang. Francesca was on the line, furious. Vito tried to play innocent, but when that didn’t work, he admitted that if Eric hurt her again, he’d kill him. That was the last straw. Francesca, who had always thought of her brother as a good guy, was shocked. She hung up, and Vito just stared at the phone. Lying back down, his head swirled with a thousand thoughts, most of them along the lines of: “Damn, when will this family learn I do this out of love?”
Also...
Vito decided it was time to make some honest mafia money (he had a drug debt to pay), so he went down to the docks to see Derek "The Jolly Fat Murderous Uncle" Pappalardo. Derek greeted him with an overly cheerful grin and explained that all his goons were busy acting as bodyguards at a “big mafia meeting” (translation: a competition over who has the bigger pile of cash). The only job left was dealing with a workers' strike. The dockworkers refused to budge unless Derek rehired a guy he’d fired because the poor sap had broken his hands and couldn’t work. Derek had a simple response: “This isn’t a charity, so tough luck.” When the workers heard Vito’s name, one old-timer pointed at him and said, “You’re Scaletta’s kid, right? Your dad always talked about you. You’re just like him! But why the hell are you working for this scumbag after what he did to your old man?” Vito’s interest was piqued, and the shotgun he’d been given was no longer pointed at the workers but at Derek. Steve Coyne, Derek’s loyal lapdog, immediately started yelling for the guy to shut up and cocked his Tommy Gun. Derek tried to laugh it off, claiming the old man was full of it. But another worker, a younger guy named Vinnie, stepped forward and blurted out that Steve had left with Antonio one day and came back alone. Derek denied everything and asked Vito who he was going to believe – him or a bunch of unemployed losers. Vito hesitated for a moment, then asked Steve why he’d come back soaking wet and if he’d tried to save Antonio. “Because the idiot didn’t want to drown alone!” Steve finally admitted, realizing the game was up. Vito made up his mind. Derek tried to scold him for his betrayal, but Vito kept his cool and moved straight to action. Fighting through the docks with the determination of a tsunami, Vito took down anyone in his way – whether they worked for Derek or just happened to be standing too close. After an explosive showdown where Derek hurled Molotovs at him, Vito finally killed him. In Derek’s office, Vito found a stash of cash and decided to help himself.
He's still learning[edit | edit source]
In May 1951, Vito Scaletta was handed a task by Eddie Scarpa that sounded straightforward: find three missing men. These weren’t just any men; one was a Falcone accountant, and the other two were supposed to be his muscle. They hadn’t shown up where they were needed, and Eddie, in his infinite cynicism, suspected they’d been snatched by Luca Gurino. Luca, a scrawny little prick and underboss of the Clemente family, had a reputation for turning inconvenience into a bloodbath. Eddie’s hunch was correct. The trail led Vito to Clemente’s slaughterhouse, a grim monument to meat processing and organized crime. Getting in wasn’t exactly a red-carpet affair. Vito had to crawl through a sewer, where he was greeted by an aromatic cocktail of excrement and God knows what else. Midway through, the universe decided to give him an extra helping of misery as someone flushed a torrent of sewage that streamed directly onto his hat. By the time Vito reached the slaughterhouse, he smelled like death warmed over – and not the intimidating kind. Inside, he stumbled upon Luca mid-performance. The accountant was tied up like a pig for slaughter, and Luca, in all his rat-faced glory, was fiddling with a meat grinder like a kid unwrapping a shiny new toy. But whatever dramatic execution Luca had planned didn’t pan out. Vito, reeking of the sewers and vengeance, crashed the party. Two of the three men were lucky enough to make it out alive. As for the third? Let’s just say he became intimately familiar with the grinder. And so did Luca – courtesy of one of the surviving men, who decided that poetic justice was the best justice. Luca’s skinny frame turned into mincemeat faster than you could say "spaghetti bolognese." The events at the slaughterhouse stuck with Vito. Fast forward to 1968, and those memories resurfaced when dealing with Michael Grecco, a slimy bastard who had the misfortune of crossing paths with Vito and Lincoln Clay. Grecco, who probably thought himself untouchable, was taken to slaughterhouse. Vito, now older, meaner, and with zero tolerance for bullshit, decided it was time to channel his inner artist. Together with Lincoln – the towering, muscle-bound chocolate teddy bearish black punisher of a man – Vito turned Michael into his personal stress-relief project. The session started with fists, as Vito delivered a symphony of punches that left Michael unrecognizable. Then came the tools: pliers, specifically chosen for their finger-breaking capabilities. Between screams and whimpers, Michael spilled the beans about Sal Marcano’s casino project and had the audacity to call Vito a “carpet bagger.” Big mistake. Fueled by rage and wounded pride, Vito grabbed a wrench and swung it at Michael’s neck with enough force to crack a tree trunk. The blow snapped Michael’s spine like a twig. But death was too merciful for someone like Michael. Drawing inspiration from Luca Gurino’s demise, Vito turned his focus to the meat grinder. He fed what remained of Michael into the machine, ensuring no part of him went to waste. The resulting pulp was dumped into the water, a buffet for the fish that unknowingly dined on the remains of a man who should have known better. And so, another chapter was added to Vito’s career in unconventional problem-solving – a journey defined by blood, guts, and a flair for the dramatic.
