It was a late night, chilly, with a slow heavy rain blowing in. The kind of rain that has your knees hurting and soaking wet in hours. Killa said to himself as he leaned up against the putrid smelling dumpster in the dark back alley..

“I knew it… Just another wanna be big shot selling over priced dreams.” 

Killa began to walk casually up the street as he passed a couple of tired prostitutes.

"Hey Suga, you looking for a date on this damp night? I haven’t seen you around these parts.”

The high heeled vixen looked as if she just came out of some hobo’s wet dream.

“Im ok sweetie.. maybe some other time.”

Checking his pocket watch then walking a little further he thought to himself. If she only knew he was on the run from a string of murders back home in Trinidad, and was only in the states seeking refuge. Maybe she wouldn’t see him as appealing and more so of the monster that he really his.. Killa chuckled at the thought of the monster he was inside yet so smooth and pleasing to eye on the outside. As he continue to contemplate the situation as creeping vehicle tip toed right on the curb alongside him. The cigar smoke was soothing, rolling into his nostrils as the window lowered.

“Get in.”

It was Scarfo. Killa accompanied him in the back seat of heavily armored car, and began to feel that maybe his purse snatching days was coming to an end. 

At the mouth of dark alley, while it's pissing rain outside, Vandlgat searches the sidewalk and ground of his immediate area. He seems to have lost something.

While looking for his object, he notices Cambeno_Killa_Gotti across the street, talking to a couple hookers.

"Hey Suga, you looking for a date on this damp night?," the prostitute says to Killa.

Listening to this, Vandlgat thinks to himself,"Oh, she don't know who shes talking to...."

--

After a few minutes, Vandlgat watches Killa get into mob'd out vehicle that crept through the streets like smoke from a burning building. The vehicle drives off.

Vandlgat decides that the object that he'd lost was not that important enough to keep standing in the freezing rain. 

He hailed a cab, went to a spa house, and bought drug price information off of a cocaine user who lives under some stairs.............

Gliding through the streets of Philly, Killa seemed to sink into the fine leather seats. They were pecan brown with not so much as a faintly scratch on it. Spacious...very spacious....so spacious that sitting across from them were two beautiful women ten times more alluring than the hookers he just left. It was a 1935 Stout Scarab, big and dark...and from the sound of the engine...fast.

"Cigar"

He handed me a a cigar box which seem to be made out of excellent wood in shape of a house. This was all too much for Killa, just a few hours ago he was trying to con some poor soul out of fifty bucks. He grabbed the box, took a cigar and one of the delightful women poured him a drink. 

"I was beginning to think you were full of shit...If you would have been any more behind schedule I believe the guy across the street would have taken a shot at me...or at least tried to."

Killa was referring to Vandlgat. He seen the "I think I misplace something" game too many times and too many times somebody ends up murdered. But that was just him being suspicious in a new town he guessed. Inhaling the smoke he began to feel untroubled, and that was hard to do sitting next to a guy that had a colt peacemaker saying "Hi" to him every time Scarfo takes a puff from his cylinder of tobacco. Scarfo passed him a piece of paper with the name Nighthawk_ and a number. The car stopped and the bodyguard/driver opened the door. Killa was blocks away from his apartment and the rain seemed to know he was on foot spilling onto his tailored suit...his only tailored suit at that. There was no room to complain...this was his new start and there was plenty more suits to come in the future.......