The wind blows cold chills straight through me as I stand on the street. I pull the collar up on my coat, the winter air feels like it has ice in it. It's easy to tell that Christmas is getting near - the days are shorter and the shops have all started selling tacky festive items. I'm really not a fan of Christmas. Not a single fucking part of it excites me. The only part of it I get enjoyment from is when someone slips and falls on the ice. That usually has me laughing for a while, but today is not my fucking day. Even the old lady I saw a few minutes ago who slid about seven feet across the pavement didn't fall.

The next stop is only a couple of streets over, but that's two streets of shops which have windows full of that tacky shit. I still can't believe there are people that buy into that rubbish - it all just seems like overly hyped shit to make people spend more money to me. Whatever makes people happy, I guess. I start walking down the street past quite a few empty shops, the business district has been eerily empty for quite a while even since the introduction of the socialites coffee shop. I glance in one of the windows as I'm walking and see two ladies fighting over a pair of shoes that are on sale. Just a couple of stupid broads with their priorities in all the wrong fucking places. I shake my head in amazement at their behaviour and make my way toward my destination, only taking five minutes or so to get there. I stop just outside to get myself ready.

I breathe warm air into my hands and rub them together while looking around to see if any police are around. The coast looks clear so I head into the shop, the bell ringing as the door opens fully. The guy behind the counter smiles as he looks up, the smile quickly fading as he sees who it is exactly that just walked in. I close the door behind myself and flip the sign around so that it now reads 'Closed'. The man starts to stutter and fall over the words attempting to make their escape from his mouth. I turn back around, my jovial mood now diminished and replaced with thoughts of pure business.

"Jimmy you better not be about to start making excuses. You remember what happened last time you tried to pull a fast one right?" I say before I reach my right hand into my inside jacket pocket and slip my fingers into my solid brass knuckle dusters. I pull my hand back out and crunch my knuckles, making a clear implication as to what will happen if he doesn't pay up.

"Mister Sin, sir, please, it's so close to Christmas - what am I supposed to tell my family when they have nothing on Christmas day?" he replies, even though he knows it won't change anything. He begins to sweat profusely, his bald head now resembling a freshly shined bowling ball.

"We can do this one of two ways Jimmy. You know how this can go. You give me what you owe me, and you're down a few bucks. You don't give me what you owe me - I beat it out of you, you're down a few bucks, and you have to explain to your family why you were half beaten to death. Which one is it gonna be?" I start walking over to him as he begins to break down in front of me. Damn this guy, he always begs. No matter how many times I beat him down within an inch of his life he never learns.

I grab him by the front of his shirt with my left hand and lift him to his feet, pulling my right hand back ready to swing. He suddenly seems to grow a pair of balls from nowhere and spits in my face before trying to push me away. His efforts are futile, my grip is iron and I only pause to wipe the spit from my face. I pull my fist back and slam it into his cheekbone, the knuckledusters making a satisfying crunch sound as they connect. Jimmy's body goes limp, so I drop him to the floor and force the cash register open and take the money. I throw fifty dollars on the floor on the way out of the shop. It isn't much, but it's something.
 

"Happy fuckin' Christmas."

South Philly was bitterly cold that December evening. Just about anything with water in it was frozen solid.

Steam bellowed from a ruptured heating main outside Jimmy Gasco's hardware emporium which masked the events taking place within. A couple of stray dogs were feeding from the bins outside Martha's delicatessen and kids skated along the pavement turning the surface to a glass like icy sheen. The street lamps illuminated a gathering of prohibition “do-gooders”, who sang carols to a non existent or oblivious audience as the night crept in on that most wonderful of cities.

Jimmy was receiving a visit, one of many visits that evening as the family reinforced its position as the provider of protection to every business venture within the city. A well respected Consigliere was busy getting his point across inside Jimmy's place when from nowhere appeared Sergeant Larry McKinney, an overweight officer who owed his disgusting lifestyle to the income he received to turn a blind eye. Tonight was no different, and The_Stig passed over a small envelope as Larry commented “don't let him kill the poor bastard, hahahaha” glancing towards Jimmy's as he stuffed the envelope into his coat pocket. The officer waved nonchalantly as he strode gingerly along the pavement, cuffing a street urchin for just looking at him. The_Stig hated the guy, he despised the guy, but knew he was worth more alive than he would be dead.

He watched further as DeadlySin turned one side of Jimmy's face to something resembling corned beef. He knew that he would leave his mark, but without ruining Jimmy's earning potential. The_Stig was learning much from this guy.

Jimmy's face then appeared pushed against a side window, with a hand firmly clenched around his throat. The guy was crying as blood slowly dripped from one side of his face and a string of snot slowly grew longer from one of his nostrils. The_Stig saw that events were now drawing to a close and he stepped towards a dark coloured, enormous Buick parked outside. He started the engine which created a plume of white smoke from the rear, and turned the heater to full in order to soften the cooling effects of the soft red leather interior.

The passenger door opened, and DeadlySin slid in pulling at the door handle which slammed the door shut.

“Drive”, he said quietly as The_Stig passed him a small white hand towel before driving off.