A lot had been going on recently. The city was quiet, but there was so much tension in the air. If you walked outside you would feel like you could cut it with a knife and butter it. Everyone was staying inside, shops were closed down temporarily, and people waited, they waited for it to be over. Even the police were staying out of it. They were up in their offices, not too worried about the average crime going on because even those who would commit them were staying in.

Without advertising it, everyone knew that the mob bosses were at war. Some of the shops near where Astrid's families restaurant was had been removed. By removed, as her father put it, those who worked there were now flying with the angels. They were on the wrong side at the wrong time, not that it was their choice.

Peeping through the window, all that moved was last weeks newspaper down the road from the wind. No one had the most recent newspaper because this “war” had been going on for a week and with no “winner” in sight. Slowly turning away and closing the curtain, she took the wet cloth and wiped down the tables for the seventh time. She needed to keep herself busy or her mind was going to explode. They family business was making no money because of this war and soon their “guardians” would be knocking on their door asking for the monthly payment, which they now wouldn't have because of this.

Astrid made her way into the back and placed the cloth into the laundry when she heard the bell on the door ring. Her fathered walked out and informed the guest that they were closed, but before he could finish a very deep voice interrupted him.

She couldn't make out exactly what was being said, but she could sense her father's voice change. He was nervous. Walking to the swinging door, she peeked through the port hole, and saw her father fall to the ground. A single gunshot. Astrid gasped and covered her mouth, she quickly sunk down and crawled over to the safe. Hearing her mother screaming, there was one more gun shot.

Quickly trying to unlock the safe while her whole body was shaking she got it open just in time. Grabbing the gun inside she turned around and fired. The first body dropped, she fired again and the next body fell to the ground, the last guy yelled and she hit him in the leg. He limped out of the store into the car that was parked out front. The wheels squealed and were gone.

The police came out for this, they couldn't ignore a double murder. Astrid sat there and just stared out the window at the newspaper twisting and turning. They kept asking her questions and she answered without feeling. She was trying to keep her composure and not accept the realization that her family was dead. She would probably be dead herself soon for shooting two of their men and injuring a third. As the police nodded and packed up, they patted her shoulder and told her they would take her to a safe house here momentarily.

A young gentleman had been standing outside of the restaurant the whole time, she excepted this was the man who would end her life. He walked in and made his way over to her as the police left to get her ride ready for her. He sat down in the booth near her. Then pulling out a pad of paper he looked up into her eyes.

“I know you're going through a lot and this is a weird request, but would you mind if I draw you? I like to capture real emotions.”

Astrid stared at the man, but nodded. She really didn't care about anything right now. As he sketched, she began to break down inside, until he finished the drawing she never realized that she had been crying. He showed her his work and there she saw the tears that ran down her face. Wiping them off her face she looked away to hide her face. He used his hand to turn her face back to him.

“So what do you plan to do now? Where do you plan to go?”

Those words stood out in all her thoughts. What was she going to do now?

“Do you really think that the safe house they take you to will protect you? You took down two of their men and injured another. I think those talents could be used elsewhere. I wish I could say I had those skills, since art isn't really a good industry right now.”

He stood up and left the drawing on the table, he signed it and left a number on the back of it.

“Should you wish to find a new home, let us know.”

The news rang out and quickly spread into the streets regarding the gruesome murders. A father and mother killed. Two gangsters dead. A young woman distraught and being hounded by the police. The same broad who supposedly shot and killed the gangsters in self defence. A new story. A new headline. Yet also an opportunity for one who was quick on the trigger. It worked both ways.

News travelled quickly around here, especially if it reached the masses through the grape vine. The streets had a way of helping that along. A word here. A whisper there. Eventually if eyes and ears stayed attentive word of mouth stretched everything from city to city. If something hit the streets it was bound to be readily available to those that knew who to ask, and whom to question.

In this case word travelled fast. It was a sad story yet what wasn't in this thing of ours. Sure, there was humour to be had and the odd neutrality of things yet that was always encased in a rain of bullets. Wars spoke loudly, and the lifestyle of a Mafiosi never truly had a quiet down time. It was either a war, or a re-building and training before the next one.

Word reached South Philly and immediately a messenger was sent forth. Business was conducted through these up and comers all the time. Especially if that meant a call from a payphone to a messenger in another city was needed, as who would really jet set all over this country for a simple passing of a message.

Payphones were found on most corners and the home that could afford it had a phone itself, yet that was mainly in the bigger cities. Still, if a quiet word needed to be got to a certain somebody without prying ears, messengers were the way to travel. They allowed secrecy, and also a way for an up and comer to earn the respect and trust to then hopefully move on to bigger and better things.

Today was another one of those days. A sad story, yet an opportunity to reach out and help someone in need. Someone who needed more than a safe house. Someone with a skillset not only to reward a lucky crew or family, yet to be moulded and shaped so she too can have her vendetta.

Who in this thing of ours didn't want to revenge someone. Who hadn't lost a parent? Who hadn't lost loved ones? Sure, families came together for the stacking of dough yet they were much more than that. They were a safe haven. They offered protection. They offered a new family, as many had learnt in this thing of ours.

Some families stood out amongst the masses, and some worked from the depths of the shadows. Some pushed the making of money, and some the building and re-building of entire communities. It was always a decision one had to make, yet there were plenty out there that could fill any need anyone coming up in this thing yearned for.

In this case, The Forest Below felt the protection and opportunity to get revenge against those that set forth that attack, they just couldn't pass by.

Many in this newly founded crew under Don Utopia had come from similar circumstances. The last war saw many without homes, without families. Many of these misfits were coming together in the joint understanding that loyalty and respect to a group of individuals and a city founded in the same values was something more than just getting revenge. They all yearned for it, yet they had found so much more.

A messenger arrived outside the restaurant. He was a young kid, only about twelve or thirteen. An innocent face and demeanour to boot. Most were at this age and he himself still had the loving care of his own mother and father.

He waited awhile till a band of police exited the restaurant for a smoke break before carefully making his way inside. He was small and agile, and a sneaky little fuck. He would probably do well at some point as a hit man.

After entering he noticed Astrid at the booth. Word travelled fast and he was here no later than 15-20minutes since the incident had hit the streets. He took off his scruffy woollen hat and placed it against his chest as he slowly approached and took a seat at the booth.

Without saying anything he removed a small rectangular business card from his pocket, and slid it across the table. His face was one of concern, as he felt the emotions emanating from the poor girl across from him.

"I'm sorry. Give this number a call."

He gave her a slight smile, filled with sorrow for her loss, before getting up and making his way back out through the front door. One of the cops upon re-entering noticed the young lad and tried to detain him, yet he squirmed his way free and paced off into the streets.

Astrid stared at the card, she wasn't sure if this was going to be the end or if there was an angel somewhere watching over her. Yet, she knew if she stayed here she was only counting the seconds until she took a gunshot to the head. The police safe house was hardly a safe house, she read the paper, she knew that anyone who went there and the mafia wanted them dead were found dead not long after. There are crooked police, they are hardly a safe haven.

The cop who re-entered came over to sit across from her. He was trying his best to look like he gave a damn, but he was just doing his job. Another day another dime, another murder another crime. He motioned for her that they were ready to take her to the safe house. He was a man of few words because at a time like this, he didn't know what to say. She had a feeling he was becoming numb to all this pain he saw. He could even be one of the cops they have on their paycheck.

She stood up and slid the card up her sleeve. He put his hand on her lower back to help lead her out, but she stopped right before they met the door.

"Wait! There are some things here I would like to grab before we go."

He nodded understandingly. She walked back to where she had killed the two men. They didn't have time to clean up the blood stained tile and it made her stomach queasy. Stepping over it as if it was like lava she checked to see if they were watching her, they weren't. They had no idea what she was doing or cared, they just thought she was a girl who had her family murdered and was a lost soul.

Taking the card out of her sleeve she picked up the phone and slowly dialed, as to not make much noise. She kept checking the door, but there were so many men, photographers, and newspapers outside waiting. She had no idea who was going to pick up or what they were going to say. She didn't have much more time and she had no idea how she was going to get out of going to the safe house, but the phone was ringing and she was about to find out.

Wondering around the city of Philadelphia as McSteamy often does, he heard about these murders that had just happened in a restaurant. Double murders and there were a whole bunch of cars outside. Taking advantage of his white coat he decides to enter the premises. He puts his hands in his white coat, which was hiding his italian suit under he enters the restaurant nodding at some of the officers abound. Hello officer. I heard there are some bodies inside, I am here to take a look, check on the wounded per say. He keeps wondering inside past the bodies on the floor and the blood all over. One of the officers inside was accompanying a young lady he had spotted. She looked shook, worried and on a phone trying to reach someone. 

Hello officer. Its pretty messy in here today, what happened? McSteamy continues to have a word with the officer pulling him to the side. Who is that girl right there on the phone? She did it! She put these guys down!!! Trying to hide his smirk some what. McSteamy knew this girl had what it takes to join the life he had recently adopted. He was keen to get a word with her but he needed some space. 

Hey Officer, I think there is a lot of people outside that can use your expertise. How about you let me speak to this girl, she looks in a state of shock and let me clean up in here. Gotta get these bodies to the local morgue, but I refuse to go out the front door. McSteamy takes out a roll of cash and hands it the officer. Please step out for a second and let me deal with things inside. 

Once the officer steps outside McSteamy walks over to the girl that was allegedly the murderer...he noticed she was anxiously waiting for a response with a business card in her hands. Steamy grabbed her wrist, which was shivering. Can I help you young lady? Don't let my appearances fool you. What you see on the outside is not what I am on the inside. What you did here today requires some cajones...and not even the biggest of men have that. I could help you get out of this mess. You in need of any assistance? 

As the scene continued to unfold inside, beyond the hungry collection of media personnel waiting outside a black cord 812 was parked a few spaces up and across the road. It looked normal enough yet those in the know would notice a slight portion of green ribbon wound into the passenger window and hanging a little outside the car. It was able to be seen from across the street, yet more importantly from the outside of the restaurant if one were looking for it.

Scriba had two men from his connections in Chicago stationed outside the place. He figured if the messenger did his job right, the girl would need a quick escape route. The young kid phoned back to let Scriba know he had delivered the card and no later than 5minutes had passed the car pulled up and parked itself where it was currently situated.

Scriba was known back in Philly for how he went about organizing things. Not that others didn't go to this extent, yet he seemed to always be looking toward the future a little more than the average Mafioso. Some liked to live in the fast lane. Money. Broads. Drugs. More Money. Yet Scriba liked to play the long con. He enjoyed planning his empire and watching it come to fruition, one transaction and connection at a time.

He had connections from Philly, to New York, and all the way out to Chicago. His swag business made sure of that. His main enterprise was moving stolen goods and in this thing of ours anything that can be snatched up below market value and sold off again  for a nifty profit was always good business. Money didn't just talk around here, it shouted from the roof tops and Scriba liked his name to be amongst it all.

Scriba really felt for Astrid. Not just for the fact she lost her parents, but also for the fact she was now in danger of the men coming after her as no doubt the police would be looking to build a case and use her as a star witness. In these times star witnesses simply disappeared. The mob's connections reached too far and filled too many pockets.

Astrid would be in danger, and maybe more so with police and corrupt officials having their strings pulled by the very men that may just have had her parents popped.

The men in the car waited for Astrid to make her next move.

Astrid was completely caught off guard by the man who stood there after her phone call. He was offering assistance, just like the man on the phone was. She was going to have to make a decision. Who could she trust or who should she trust? One in the same thing, but this could cost a lot, her life being one thing. 

She didn't have long to think things over, she had to make a choice now, but if this guy before her wasn't able to be trusted then she is in a load of trouble. Her thoughts were flying through her mind a mile a minute. She needed to figure out what she was going to do and quickly. During her grieving time she had quite a few souls approach her. Yet, a few of them were from the same...group, if you wanted to call them that. A family is what some would call them in other terms, even if they aren't exactly blood related, their bonds make them a family.

There was a man, Scriba, who had directed her what to do, but how was she going to do it? The police weren't exactly going to let her just leave and this gentleman was either here to kill her or to maybe to help. Contemplating how to handle herself only a minute or so had gone by now. Coming up with somewhat of a plan, she had to attempt to execute it.

"Oh, you must be here from the morgue. I'm sorry for being in the way I was just grabbing a few things and checking in with a relative. The police are probably wondering why I am taking so long."

She gave him a gentle smile and placed her hand on his shoulder thanking him. She then walked through the door and out towards where the cops were waiting. She put her gloomy face back on and let her head droop, but her eyes were looking up and around to see where she could slip through them. Most of them were just talking in a group. This wasn't going to be as hard as she thought.

Her coat was on and she pulled her hood up over her head while holding herself. Her arms would be harder to grab if they were wrapped around her. The door creeped closer and out she went. She didn't want to alarm anyone so she walked at a normal pace, she spotted the car that the man had described and began to head towards it. It took a few moments for the police to realize it was her walking away, but the car had already pulled up to where she stood, opened the door, and when she got in she smiled at the man who had offered to assist her along with the police standing next to him, slightly astonished that they let her leave so easily.

The door closed and the car sped off. Astrid was now heading towards a destination she didn't know, with men she had never met, and left behind another. Closing her eyes she began to pray that she had made the right decision.