Cesare and Nikki exited the train in Las Vegas with their new comrade, Thomas, who just minutes before had been trying to kill them. Funny how the world works sometimes.

Rodrigo Giordano had been his brother's most trusted bodyguard. He'd sold him out and accompanied the hit squad to the shooting and in return he was given his own personal fiefdom in the middle of the Strip. He'd known who Cesare was, but only when he was a back alley hood with no power. He never dreamed that one day the head of the Dead Poets would come knocking on his door... which is exactly what Cesare planned to do.

The plan, formulated on the cab ride into the Strip, was relatively straight forward. Thomas was going to lead them to their den, a billiard hall by the sound of it, and introduce them under assumed names promising to be business connections for smuggling. Hopefully, this would be enough to get them into a back room to discuss business, at which point, Cesare would be at his leisure to dispose of him. The exit would be the trickiest part. If there was no door out from the room they were in, a fight back out the front door would be warranted. Luckily Cesare would have cabs waiting outside... he still had old connections in Vegas.

As they veered across the Strip, he regarded Nikki in the seat next to him. It was under these lights, in this town, he'd first met her...

As the cab passed the casino that they'd knocked over, a smile crept to her lips and Nikki turned to find Cesare already looking at her. They'd had incredible luck in their lives...more than anyone deserved, anyway...but they needed to push it just a bit further to finally put this ordeal to rest. Cesare wouldn't have it any other way.

A few sidestreets later, and they were deposited not far down the block from the pool hall. Two or three other cabs showed up within minutes, parking up and down the block in a seemingly haphazard configuration. The drivers all got out, as did the trio, and as Cesare stepped over to speak to his former cohorts, Nikki regarded Tommy a moment, then spoke.

"He did everything possible to help you out of that situation, Tommy. Everything. I hope you understand love and loyalty when you see it," she said quietly, her eyes shifting from Cesare to the young man next to her. 

"You say you didn't know. So you get a pass. But if you ever do anything to fuck over my husband again, I'll gut you and hang your intestines from every tacky, garish sign on the Strip. Twenty eight feet goes a long way, Tommy. Do we understand each other?" 

Without waiting for a reply, she pulled out each of her two handguns, systematically chambered rounds and removed the safeties, then moved forward to meet Cesare at the hall's entrance. Tommy looked after her for a moment with his mouth hanging open, then quietly followed. 

Thomas approached the door to the pool hall and waited for Nikki and Cesare to assemble behind him before pushing it open. The mingled smell of tobacco and alcohol permeated the air inside. Dim lights hung over green felt tables surrounded by all manner of men. Everything seemed to stop for a moment as the trio entered as the entire hall paused to inspect the new arrivals. Thomas took nervous steps inside as the atmosphere returned to normal, and Cesare passed an anxious glance to Nikki, who was conspicuously the only woman in the whole building. A couple cat calls came from various figures in the dark room, setting Cesare's blood boiling. If not for Nikki's reassuring grasp on his arm, he may have kicked things off right then.

As they cautiously passed a couple tables, it was clear they were only allowed in because of their proximity to Thomas. Cesare quickly counted fifteen men in the main hall as they made their way to a back office door. Thomas was stopped by a large bouncer-type in front of the entrance.

"What do you want Tommy?" the man huffed patronizingly to the young man, "Mr. Giordano doesn't have time for your bullshit today."

Thomas seemed to shrink away for a moment. Cesare gave him a rough shove in the small of his back as encouragement, causing him to take an awkward step forward.

"W-Well, I just finished a very important job for Mr. Giordana, a fucking hit, Ricky, and these two are here to talk business, so are you gonna tell Mr. Giordano that you wouldn't let me introduce him to a new business partner?"

The large man looked over Cesare and Nikki before returning his gaze to Thomas suspiciously, "Fine."

He turned the handle on the door and the door swung open. Just then a voice came from the crowd behind them,

"Hey Ricky! Make the broad wait with us! We could use the company!" a chorus of jeers and whistles emanated from the hall behind them, as Cesare's muscles tensed beneath Nikki's hand...

"No thank you, I've seen circle jerks before; kinda leaves a girl empty," Nikki replied loudly. There was a pause, then the entire room erupted into laughter as the three made their way inside the office. Nikki's eyes surveiled the room quickly. No doors.

But there was a window.

The three came to a stop in front of Giordano's desk. The man himself stood slowly, as did his two hands; he knew what this was immediately, as the family resemblence was uncanny. His gaze shifted to Tommy, who had just brought a fox into his henhouse.

He never paid Nikki any attention at all. That would be the last mistake he made. Her hands were wrapped around her midsection in a posture that radiated 'cowed woman'. In a flash, both guns were out and firing simultaneously from a cross-draw, dropping the goons to either side of him. Cesare had his pistol out and pointed at Giordano's head before the bodies finished hitting the floor. Tommy had stepped backwards, deadbolting the office door mere seconds before the men outside began pounding to get in. He stood watch in front of it as Cesare let Giordano's final moments on earth spin hazardously down the barrel of his gun.

BANG!

Cesare sent a slug straight into Rodrigo's brain. The smoking barrel of his gun peering into an empty cavern of skull and a smattering of brain on the floor behind. The man slumped back into the chair he was raising up from, flanked by the bodies of his bodyguards. As he spun around he spotted Tommy fervently pressed against the door.

"What's the plan? It's only a matter of time before they realize bullets can go through wood!"

As if by some prophecy, shots began to ring out from the hall as small cylindrical holes punched through the door. The office felt as if a hive of bees had been let loose among them. Tommy let off the door as Cesare pushed towards the back window of the office and broke it with the handle of his gun. It was then that the plan went fully into action. The rapid firing of automatic weapons echoed above the small arms inside the hall, bullets were piercing drywall all around them as Tommy ran over to the window and, unprompted, began to assist Nikki's mounting of the window with his hands. He then gave Cesare a leg up. teetering on the window, Cesare reached back to help Tommy up and saw the distinct spray of blood explode from the young man's thigh.

"SHIIIIT!" He cried as Cesare struggled to hoist him through the window. Nikki grabbed and arm on the other side and dragged him through, leaving torn cloth and flesh on the broken glass behind him.

In the alley, Cesare had arranged for a cab to be waiting; one of his old boys. As they deposited Tommy in the back, Cesare rounded to the passenger's seat as Nikki began working on Tommy's leg. Waiting for him in the front was a beautiful Thompson machine gun, an old Chicago Typewriter...

"Here, Nikki!" He said as he passed the weapon back to her, "All those boys in there wanted to have some fun, show them how fun we can be." They shared a knowing grin as their taxi pressed the brakes in front of the building...

Tearing a healthy strip from Tommy's already ruined shirt, Nikki tied a tight tourniquet around his thigh and grinned down into his face before delivering a playful slap on his cheek.

"You done good, Kid. Hang in there," she said, then wrapped her hand around the other Tommy while rolling down the rear window. As the taxi jerked to a stop, she slipped halfway out the window, balanced her hip on the edge of it, and began spraying bullets across the front of the pool hall in a graceful arc of teeth-rattling cacophony. The sub-machine gun grew warmer in her hands as she continued the back and forth sway of the barrel; window glass, brick, and mortar chunks flew, pinged, and showered the sidewalk in a seemingly endless barrage of destruction until the tell-tale clicking of emptiness was the only sound left. Nikki ducked back through the window and winked at Cesare in the front seat, her cheeks flushed from the thrill that few things in life can bring...one of them being serious firepower.

"I'm just a regular good-time gal!" She panted as the taxi sped down the street and out of sight.

John dove behind a trashcan as the tell-tale sound of a Thompson rattled off and echoed throughout the alley. His feet scrambled across the ground as he scrunched himself into a small, huddled ball (a feat for a decently large man). His hand had instinctively gripped the 1911 harnessed beneath his jacket, and with it drawn he peeked around the trashcan as the Thompson faded. "Someone's gonna be reight maddie about t'is..."

A taxi sped down the connecting street as he looked and he hopped up, running out into the street and looked both ways; one at the carnage and the other at the taxi speeding off. He slipped the 1911 into it's harness quickly and took off in the opposite direction of the taxi on foot. "Bloody 'ell, mate... Someone pissed in t'wrong bog. I would pick t'is week t'be in t'city of sin." He hustled passed quickly and got the heck out of Dodge...well, Vegas. Next flight out please!