I sit quietly by a pile of empty lobster pots on number 4 dock after arriving, or should I say surviving one hell of a boat trip to these parts.

From initially stepping foot onto these shores I have been contacted by a number of people offering help in various forms to which I have to say has been a real eye opener. Why you may ask, well I'll tell you, in no uncertain terms;

The professionalism shown in the methods adopted for recruiting such as myself has been nothing short of inspiring, which has given me a real challenge in actually deciding to which city and family I should pledge my allegiance. Its a big decision this one, I've heard its probably the biggest that many will ever make and for that reason its important for me to take a while and consider all of my options. What am I good at? What is it they're after? Is this life really what I want? I reckon the last question there I've already answered to myself by being here but still, its a measure of the importance I give to making this decision.

Its late afternoon in early March, and the wind still retains its icy bite even though the sun remains high in the sky. The dock is all but cleared except for the occasional stray dog scratching what they can from the remains of the days activities and a couple of cops clearing the urchins from beneath the trains. While I sit I open the small engraved leather binder handed to me by my uncle just before I left Sicily which has proved invaluable in its insight and history of this world and I continue to read the accounts of my ancestors. Their high points, and the lows, their friends and associates, the people they stood beside, the people they answered to and the men and women who made them who they were. One such account related to an incident in Chicago during a great war, which saw many people die and a major shift in the balance and the apportioning of such power throughout the cities.

A young wet behind the ears Wise guy had been given a particular job by a family Capo. He would soon be coming up for consideration by the hierarchy and was at the point of being tested.

Having spent much of his time honing his skills he had proved himself financially, but had yet to prove himself in other areas.

He found himself in a small alleyway on the outskirts of Chicago, in broad daylight, with two Made Men from his family. One well dressed man lay motionless on the floor with his hands tied behind his back and a gunshot wound to the back of the head, the second lay on his stomach again with his hands tied behind his back but was still alive. He too had suffered a gunshot wound but to his lower back, and he looked straight into the Wise guys eyes whispering for forgiveness.

One of the Made Men turns to the wise guy and says “Do him, now”

There is a pause as the wise guy continues to stare into the now bloody eyes of the victim whose life was slowly ebbing from virtually every orifice of his body.

“He`s not ready for this, I can see it” replied the other Made Man who removes his gun from inside his jacket, looks at the victim and extends his arm pointing directly at the mans head.

A gunshot rings out, and the man now lies completely motionless.

The Made Man smiles to himself, and slowly turns to face the wise guy, lowering his arm as he does so.

The wise guy stands before him, his arm outstretched with gun in hand and the faint trace of smoke falling from the barrel. He remains transfixed on his victim until the other Made Man walks toward him and places his hand over his forearm, force-ably lowering the wise guys hand for him.

There is a long pause before the Made Man looks into the young wise guys eyes and quietly says............”You have a Demon kid. Treat it with respect, but never anything more.”

My ancestor remembered that event, and more importantly the advice given to him by the Made Man stood before him. He often wrote of that day, and the subsequent meeting with the family heads who did give him his button but more importantly felt the need to remind himself of the man lay before before him. The events obviously didn`t prevent his further advancement within the family judging by his notes of further experiences however.

Is this “Exercising of ones Demons” in whatever form common place I wonder? Or is it maybe the domain of a certain few whose baptism into this thing of ours leaves more than a fading scar?