Well, hello there. Name's Aldo Trapani, the Don of New York. After my father Johnny died when I was around 12, I would be 21 years old when I kicked some Barzini butt out of New York City in 1945 because they murdered him for their own interests. You're in an alternate timeline where I survived the sniper shot on my neck in Havana, Cuba during the Castro revolution, and I'm about to declare independence from the USA to be friends with the Soviets, though we ain't commies. What do you need?