First word: Childhood. Last word: Ethics. If this is the last post then the last word is: 48 Hours.

Naive since childhood, you would have thought that years on the streets would have taught her better.  Or at least, that this time she should have known; when the sirens hit loud and clear, when the men in blue started flying past her safe place tucked away in the secret, darkened, dirty alley way in their department's best standard issue vehicles that something... something had gone horribly terribly wrong.  Yet nothing could.  Harris had never planned a heist to less than perfection; they had never failed.  Turkey had never failed to pick up the best weaponry; Lynch and Keme knew most of the contacts for supplies in the South Side better than they knew their own mommies and daddies.  And so it was easy, really, understandable, that Katniss would think nothing of a few odd patrol cars sweeping by on a busy street, during a crowded afternoon in one of the most populated districts in the Windy City.

Then the sound of bullets started.

Her chest wrenched in horror, the hairs stood up on her body.  Pushing away from the brick wall she was leaning against she narrowed her eyes slightly toward the opening of the alleyway, as if staring into the distance could tell her what was actually happening.  It couldn't of course.  This wasn't right.  None of this was right.  This couldn't be, could it?  Could it be related to what she and her family had going on?  Surely it couldn't.  No, she was being silly.  Taking another drag from cigarette she gave a heavy sigh.  Everything was  alright.  Everything was okay.

Then Toby came staggering down the alleyway at a snail's pace, clutching his stomach as red blossomed underneath his hand like a twisted, demented design upon his button down shirt.  The girl's eyes widened in horror as she scrambled first toward the Don, then toward the driver's side door of the van as he climbed inside.

"W-what happened?!" she stuttered, pulling the keys out of the pocket of her coat and fumbling with them for a few moments before getting them into the ignition and starting the van.  She wished it didn't roar so loudly upon coming to life at this moment in time.

"Set up," Toby groaned, laying back against the passenger side seat, closing his eyes weakly.

"What do you mean set up?!  Where are the others?!  Sammy, Jace..." she started to say, glancing over her shoulder out the back window to see if anyone else was coming.

"God damnit Katniss, just DRIVE!" Toby yelled.

With her stomach in knots Katniss nodded, blinking back tears that threatened to spill out of her eyes and onto her cheeks.  As she took her foot off the break and eased the van forward, a stream of cops came around the corner and stalled her progress.

"Oh... for the love of cake," was all the girl said as the blood in her veins turned an icy cold temperature.  This was it, this was the end.

"Get us out of here, Kat!" Toby growled.

"Hang on!" was all Katniss yelled as she threw the van in reverse and hit the gas.  Turning over her shoulder she watched as she inexpertly navigated the length of the alleyway, hitting the brick walls of the buildings on either side of them, and toppling into the occasional dumpster.  Pinging- the sound of bullets ricocheting off of the front of the van's grille and the sound of shattering headlight glass accompanied her get-away as the cops opened fire on the vehicle.  With a squeal she turned the wheel hard to the left, careening the van around at a breakneck speed, her knuckles gripping the steering wheel with every last bit of strength she possessed.  Toby leaned forward and shifted the gear into 'drive' before collapsing into his seat once more.

Once the coast was clear she relaxed her speed, attempting to blend in with surrounding traffic on small, cozy side streets- avoiding open roads with multiple patrol cars as often as possible.

"What do you mean we were set up?" she asked of Toby, her voice tight, glancing briefly at him to see him semi-dozing off next to her.

"Turkey," Toby groaned, adjusting his position in the seat.  "He took off and left us."

"Turkey," Katniss whispered in repetition, her blood boiling.

He had screwed them over.  He had betrayed the family.  And if she ever laid eyes on him again, he would not have more than three breaths in her presence before she ended him.  Her thoughts strayed to her friends, her associates.  Were they lost?  Would they be at the agreed destination?

The drive to the warehouse, their safehouse for after the crime had been committed, was uneventful aside from the narrow escape in the alleyway.  It was all dead silent.  Neither man or girl had spoken a word since she had learned what became of WildTurkey's obvious betrayal.  After parking next to the decrepit looking building, it became clear that no one else had made it out.  Katniss quickly made Toby as comfortable as possible, lamenting the betrayal that had befallen the entire upper structure of Chicago, before WildTurkey walked into the building.  Without even a hint of regret she killed him.  Shot him in the face.  Even relished the feeling.  But Toby was fading, and fast.

“We only have a few more minutes before they get here, I’m gonna try and move you," she said, picking up her gun from the warehouse floor to tuck it back into her pants waistband.

“Don’t bother. I’m done. Just go," the man spluttered in response, trying to wave her off.

"No, we can make it, you and me Toby, we can lay low, figure out what happened-" she continued before getting cut short by one slow, lone, mournful wail of a police siren.

For the millionth time that day, her blood turned cold.  "Oh Jesus," she muttered, trying to stand up quickly, grabbing Toby's arm and attempting to pull him up gently.

"Leave me Kat," he hissed, clutching at his stomach.

"WE ARE ARMED, AND WE ARE ENTERING THE BUILDING!" the scream from outside sounded.

"No," gasped Katniss, laying Toby back onto the coveralls and turning toward the door, just as it was kicked in for the second time that day.

A swarm of men entered at a rapid, frenetic pace.  The men in blue immediately had their guns trained on her, their faces frozen hard into grimaces of distaste and malice.  They didn't like her.  And she... she didn't like them.

"PUT THE GUN DOWN!" a young copper in front barked at her.

She felt dead inside.  Everyone was dead.  Toby was dying.  And she would, what, return to Chicago's crime underworld alone?  No one to work for?  No one to work with?  Her family was everything she had when she came to this world.  It had been taken from her in a blink of an eye.  There was nothing for her here anymore.  Nothing to live for.  The last thing she could do was hurt the men that had torn apart her world.  With a deep breath to steady her resolve, she slowly drew her gun upward and aimed it at the screaming police officer in the front of the crowd.

"FIRE!" they yelled as she pulled the trigger.

With a twitch of delight etched upon her face, she watched as her own bullet tore through the young cop's neck- a spray of crimson hitting the two men stationed directly behind him.  A bullet of their own tore through her left shoulder, the impact jerking her upper body slightly backward.  It tingled.  It hurt.  Her cheek soon followed suit as the metal grazed her porcelain skin, then her arm, her knee.  Everywhere.  All over.  Bullets taking up every inch of her space.

As she dropped to her knees she turned her head slightly.  Blood and tears crowded and swam in her line of vision as she looked at Toby.  She smiled at him.

"Tobs," she said quietly before collapsing in a heap.

It was quiet.  It was freeing.  She was floating.  No longer did she have to care about appearances.  No longer did she have to care about living a life of secrecy or lies.  No longer did she have to care about the ethics of the business... and it felt nice.

First word: Ethics. Last word: Detective. If this is the last post then the last word is: 48 Hours.

"We have ethics! That's why we can't just let him die. Get him some oxygen.” My body didn’t hurt anymore, no more pains or aches. Just relaxed. After the gunshots ended, I thought I saw a light, but who knows. It shouldn’t be too long now anyways. “He’s coming back. Shock him again. I have a heartbeat. You’re going to be okay.”

Everything was still dim and blurry. I couldn't see any faces, only shapes and figures. I could hear them talking, but could barely stand to listen. “We need to get him into surgery right away. Get a room ready for him.” The world slowly began to drift back into total darkness, and then it was silent.

It wasn’t until the sun filled the room that Toby finally woke back up. Still groggy and vision blurred he tried to remember what had happened to him. ‘Was everything a dream? Is he just hung-over from around all night bender on the town?’ Placing his hand over his stomach where there was once a hole, his entire world came crashing down around him. It wasn’t a dream. This is a hospital. They got you. Toby’s mind flew into a panic. ‘Fuck! You really did it now Toby. You said you wouldn’t get caught; you wouldn’t go back to jail. FUCK!’ Toby slams his hand down on his hospital bed. ‘How did this all get so fucked up?!’ Looking around the room, Toby tried to piece together where exactly he was. ‘Private room, probably in a locked wing of the hospital,’ he said to himself.

His eyesight was finally returning and he was able to see more clearly than before. As he turned his head to look out the window, the door opened and the Chief of Police walked in followed by two officers and a doctor. The man in front pulled a chair from the table in the corner of the room and slide it up to the side of the bed and took a seat. “Don Toby is it? Nice to finally meet you, we’ve been following your activity for quite some time, and it looks like your lucky streak has come to an end. You see, after the higher ups caught wind of Cpt-Harris’ operation it was only a matter of time until you all got caught.” He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his shirt pocket and offered one to Toby. “Smoke?” Placing the cigarette in Toby’s mouth, he struck a match and lit the cigarettes. “Can’t say you aren’t entirely unlucky. A few more minutes and you’d have been dead at the scene. Can’t say the same for the rest of your team.”

Toby felt a twinge of anger build up in him, as he balled his hand into a fist. “You know Tobs. You don’t mind if I call you that do you?” Toby swelled with anger. “We knew about your plan from the beginning, to make it as far as you did was impressive, but you never had a chance of getting away with it. This is my world now, I run Chicago now. Not the gangs, not the mob, but the police. I will return order and peace to these streets; I’ll be the one to correct everything you and your organization has ruined!”

The room fell silent as Toby laid his head back onto the hospital pillows. As the cigarette burned closer to his lips, he turns his head so the officer can take it. The man stands up and leans over the bed talking down over Toby. “You’re gonna spend the rest of your life in a jail cell. Hope you like it.”

“I’d rather die than go to jail.” Toby reaches for the shoulder holster of the Chief standing over him, and rips his revolver out. In what seemed like slow motion Toby fires the revolver shooting the Chief at point-blank range. The doctor’s scream resonates throughout the room, as the two officers draw their guns. Toby points and fires, killing one of the officers as the second takes aim and puts a bullet into the side of his head.

Jail was never in the cards for Toby. Once the sirens began screaming he only had two options, escape or die trying. The last thing he remembered before it went dark was his mother telling him, “You should have been a detective.”

First word: Detective. Last word: Ashamed. If this is the last post then the last word is: 48 Hours.

Sammy kept his head low, and his hat tipped down, to try and hide his face from any potential pursuing officers or detectives. It had been less than an hour since he had made his escape, and now, here he was, at Chicago International.

"Ding Dong. Flight UA734 to Sicily is now boarding, will all passengers please make their way to Gate 4, I repeat, will all passengers of Flight UA734 to Sicily make their way to Gate 4, the flight is now boarding. Thank you"

The sound of the female's voice on the tannoy was music to Sammy's ears. He could finally get back to his homeland, and with a rather nice gift to give back to the generations of his family that he has missed while being in America. He had never expected to join the mafia, he sort of, fell into it really. Money was tight, and crime was the only way to make a fast buck. It quickly escalated from stealing from those Post Offices though, that's for sure.

As he stood up out of his chair, he began to reminisce of his time in the country. It had been a bumpy ride, with him fearing for his life on multiple occasions. He owed where he was today to the city he had built up from the ground, and it's upper structure in particular. An upper structure that now lay dead in a morgue he didn't even know the location of. Was it right of him to slap them in the face after all they had done for him? He didn't care if it was right, he was richer than he had ever been, and his real family would benefit from it too.

Sammy picked up the two briefcases he had placed either side of his chair, and started making his way to the gate. Nobody in this airport had a clue. Not a single clue about what had gone down mere hours ago. How there were tens of people now dead, and more importantly, how Sammy was still alive, with millions of dollars stashed in his briefcases. They were none the wiser, and Sammy loved it.

As he neared the gate, he placed one of his briefcases on the floor, reached into his right side inner jacket pocket, and pulled out his Boarding Pass. Picking the briefcase back up, he walked over to the desk located just infront of the main gate entrance.

"Boarding pass please, Sir."

Sammy smiled, and nodded, handing the hostess his Boarding Pass. She smiled back, tearing off a corner and handing the pass back to Sammy. He nodded once more, and walked down the gate into the plane. Scouting for his seat, it made him chuckle how all these people were just going about their lives, like it was any other day. He couldn't get over the fact. He found his seat, and placed his briefcases in the overhead compartment, before sitting down and buckling himself in.

It was going to be a eleven hour flight, so Sammy put his head back, and tried to drift off to sleep, thinking about the events of the day he had just had...

Several Hours Earlier

While the rest of the gang had gone off to scout out the building, it was Sammy's turn to do something. He was to visit City Hall and 'grease some palms' with the local police he had on his payroll. A task easy enough to pull off, with no difficulty whatsoever. However, Sammy had other ideas.

He walked down the long streets of Chicago, before arriving at the Police Station. He smirked to himself, and walked through the front doors. He was met with nothing he hadn't expected; stares of disbelief as the criminal Godfather of Chicago had literally just walked through the front doors of a police station.

Were the officers scared, or just dumbfounded? Either way nobody approached Sammy, instead, they just watched as he walked up the front desk.

"Good morning. I'd like to speak to the Captain."

The clerk had not looked up at Sammy yet, as she was doing some paperwork.

"You'd do better to learn some manners, boy."

As she finished her sentence, she averted her eyes from her desk, and looked up at Sammy.

"Oh my. Apologies, sir. The Captain is available. Go on through to his office."

Sammy smirked again, and nodded, making his way down the corridor to the aforementioned office. He knocked one, solo knock on the door, before swinging it open, and walking into The Police Captain's office.

The Captain looked just as dumbfounded as the other officers, if not more so. "Understandable really." Sammy thought to himself as he moved nearer to the man.

"I have some, well, some information for you today Captain."

The Captain shook off his initial shock, and waved for Sammy to take a seat, as he did so himself.

"I have been led to believe, that a specialist group of criminals have successfully plotted, and plan to, pull off a bank heist later today."

The Captain looked at Sammy, in disbelief.

"Why are you coming to me with this information. The criminal world in Chicago is literally YOUR world."

Sammy laughed, before straightening his face again.

"Let's just say, it's very beneficial if the people that have planned this heist, don't get away with it."

The Captain nodded, taking out a piece of paper and a pen.

"I need details."

Sammy nodded in return, leaning forward in his chair, clapping his hands together.

"Around mid-day. Today. I need you there after it's happened. You want to catch them in the act, right?"

Sammy knew the real reason he needed the police there after the heist had been performed. He needed that money for himself.

"Yes, of course. I'll let the department know closer to the time."

Sammy stood up out of his chair. Turning his back on the Captain and walking out of the police station, back onto the Chicago streets.

"Excellent." He thought. "The guys will be tied up fighting the police, and all the police in the city will be at that bank. This couldn't have gone better."

A Few Hours Later

The heist had just gone down, the bank knew nothing yet, the money was in the bags, and Sammy was more than pleased with the whole job. He smiled to himself as he knew what was no doubt coming next.

The silence that had succeeded the very slight muffling of money being put into bags, was suddenly broken. Police sirens echoed around the bank as police cars could be seen streaming onto the street directly outside.

"Shit!" Sammy screamed at Toby, Lynch and RedForman. "All of you! Get out to the lobby. Jace and Keme will need all the help they can get against those police."

As the three of them ran into the lobby. Sammy turned to the two district Godfathers of Chicago, Cpt-Harris and WildTurkey.

"My friends. You need to get out of here. You're the future of this city. Here, take the bags, go back to the warehouse."

Cpt-Harris and WildTurkey looked at each other, and then back to Sammy. He could tell they wanted to argue, but they knew it was no use.

The two of them followed their orders, after all, they had no reason not to at this point. After they had ran out of the door, Sammy smirked, and walked back into the vault, pulling two more bags out. The bags he had given Cpt-Harris and WildTurkey were fakes. There was no money in them whatsoever.

Sammy walked to the corner of the corridor, and looked around it. The lobby was now in panic. Keme, Jace, Lynch, Toby, and RedForman were trying to get a grip of the situation. Sammy looked back at the real bags of money that had been packed, and the already unlocked back door out of the bank. He owed these people one last thing, one last hoorah.

He ran out into the lobby, firing off a single round into the ceiling.

"ALRIGHT! THIS IS HOW THIS IS GOING TO GO! ALL OF YOU, UP AGAINST THAT WALL, RIGHT NOW!"

The hostages obliged, and lined themselves up against the wall, after which, Sammy walked over to the rest of his gang.

"You have to establish hostages it's rule number one when dealing with the police. Get over there, point your guns at them, intimidate them. Hell, shoot one of them if they try to be a hero."

The gang nodded, and ran over to the hostages, putting the pressure on them, and in turn, the police.

"You have to demand things from the police. It's the only way. Take the hostages, and put them in between you and the police. They won't shoot an innocent bystander."

The gang showed their approval, and each grabbed a hostage.

"Ok. Wait for me here, I'm going to go grab the bags."

Sammy jolted off back down the hallway. Placing his hands on the bags, and without even a thought, opened the back door and walked out of it, locking it behind him. Why hadn't the guys thought about the backdoor? Sammy laughed, he had obviously made the right choice if they skipped over this. He walked around the corner of the bank, and to the front of it, peering around the corner to see to horde of cops. Katniss had got stuck in the middle of them in the getaway van. That had been the hardest decision he'd had to make, letting her take the fall for him.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he turned around, getting into the car he had arranged earlier, and made his way to the airport, never to look back at Chicago again.

Hours Later

The plane had landed in Sicily, and Sammy had awoken from his plane slumber. He got up out of his seat, collected his briefcases, and made his way off the plane. He stepped into a taxi, and ordered it directions to his hometown village of Geraci-Siculo. He got out of the taxi, and looked up at the buildings. It was like he had never left, this place was in a timewarp, somehow never escaping from a time that Sammy had thought he'd forgotten.

He made his way around the village, looking for a phone booth and in turn, a directory. Finally finding one, he flicks open the pages of the directory to 'G'.

"Garcini. Garcini. Garcini!"

His family was still in the village, after all these years, he couldn't quite believe his luck. He noted the address down, and made his way over there. He knocked on the door, and waited. A young man opened the door, and looked Sammy up and down.

"Sì, Ciao?"

It had been so long since he had heard Italian spoken to him like this. It was such a breath of fresh air.

"You, speak English?"

It appeared to Sammy, that it had indeed been so long, that he had forgotten most of the language himself, something he was going to have to fix.

"Yes."

"Good. You are Garcini, right?"

"Frederic Garcini, yes. Why?"

"My name is Sammy. I used to live in this very village. I'm a Garcini too."

The young man jumped backwards, running through the house.

"Madre! Madre! Madre!"

A few seconds later, the young man returned, with what Sammy assumed was his Mother, and coincidentally, his very own cousin.

"Oh Sammy! What are you doing back here? It's been so long!"

"Can we talk later Alessandra?"

"Yes, of course. You need to rest."

A couple of days passed, and Sammy had gathered the family around the kitchen table. Getting their attention.

"I have a, gift, for us. Please don't ask questions on where it came from, or what I'm doing with it. I've left that life behind, this is my new life, and my retirement life."

The family nodded, as Sammy turned both of the briefcases around to face his family, opening them, and revealing the money inside.

"Oh my lord. Sammy."

"This is for the family. We are going to live the right way from now on."

It had been 48 hours since Sammy returned to Italy- he already loved it so much, and knew it was the right decision.