That was the day when Johnny backed the truck into the river. The day I became a gangster's hatchet-man. My friend was keen to meet a strange man with a limp. For the man who lived in Puddlesbury, had seen his share of things. Beauregard they said he was, but no one knew for sure.

Johnny and I like any old day were on the town, making the rounds selling bootleg smokes off our turf, cuz thats what he did then. We were young and money hungry. Johnny was never meant for this life. He grew up well enough, a family with means and a chance to go places. Never a man who felt above it all, just a man who could've been if he went that way. Not a smooth type per se, but smooth enough for some. Parents born in Luxembourg, educated, boarding school at a young age. Sometimes Johnny's father even took to restoring his old boat.

No Johnny boy was a different sort. One day he happened into a butcher shop and no sooner found himself running errands for the Suited ones. You know the ones i mean. He never seemed to mind. It was something to do. He liked the people well enough and it kept him interested. I used to think it was to spite his folks. A rebel yell. But in the end i just think Johnny chose to do it just because. That was it. Nothing poetic about it really. Just because. For me it was the varied nature of crows; that wondrous thing that imprisons the casual observer. That's how Johnny pulled me in. It's also how we found the river. Fucking Johnny...

So about town we went, selling the smokes, and telling some jokes. Dreadful sense of humor we both had. Nothings changed there though.

Johnny heard tell of a man in Puddlesbury who might be able to get himself a good score. Maybe a steady connection a bit higher up the food chain. He'd been at it for a while and sure he knew his way around so he had no qualms about running down the lead. Ever sthe stickler for the innovator though, Johnny thought he'd take out a few of those crows with the same stone. He'd sell ciggs that didnt belong to him, on turf he didnt operate, with a truck that he didn't buy. I wouldn't call him a fool. But he just moved on through the motions. I couldnt help but watch.

So Johnny aimed for Puddlesbury. New place, new people and maybe a new gig. Sure he could wind up three timbers deep in a river somewhere, but he figured this "Bo" he heard about might appreciate a man with gumption and just a touch of brusque in his demeanor. Johnny was a bit ahead of himself though. He hit the docks for the last stop before heading up top Puddlesbury.

As these things happen from time to time he was bringing the truck around. He saw a spaniel in a skirt and took his eye of the ball. He wasn't really one for machismo, at least no more than most. But he did appreciate a favored view from time to time. and who wouldn't. She wasn't all bad, i'll give him that. The varied nature of crows; she was shiny. He tried to look closer. haha. But his shift in attention saw him miss the edge of the loading bay entire, and before he realized it, the guys on the ground were shouting and laughing, while i'm flailing my arms to brake and Johnnys still sorting out whats going on. Right back into the river we went. The smokes were all but gone by then so no love loss there. But dumping a truck in a river? Thats something they dont let go at the pub. We fished it out easy enough before too long and Johnny with a laugh, albeit a redder face then before loaded us up and we were on the way.

I think back to that day Johnny happened into the butchers for a choice cut of beef. I dont recall what we celebrated that day, or if it was just a weekend of brews and barbecues. He couldve just as well stopped out for a pizza for subs. Wouldve changed everything. Funny how that happens...Those Gents in Suits were always on the lookout for runners though. Point a to point b, with a package or a message. Maybe both. They didnt much care for investments at that level. If you got pinched, they'd find some other mook. They took a peek at Johnny boy when he strolled in and asked him, if we was up to make a cecil or two. Who couldnt use a hundred bucks. Of course Johnny was in. Take the box, drop it off on the way back home, and that was it. Johnny did well a few times over and they started giving him a bit more here and there.

I never got into the Suits with Johnny though at least not until The River...fucking johnny... but even back then i had been known to fracture an occasional law or two. Sure, who wouldnt want to buy a thing here, sell a thing there. Sometimes trucks had things that fell off. Sometimes the day needed some honest work outta me. It varied as it did then. I didnt think the Suits werent worth the time. Just never thought about it much before was all.

"They call him Beauregard" Johnny said to me. He's a bit of an odd duck though. Back in the day they called him The Mad Hatter. I guess he's seen some stuff in his time and he's served with the biggest families out there. There's a story behind the limp too. Best not to ask though.

I was on my way to meet The Mad Hatter, with Johnny the river trucker, because i had nothing better to do? I mean i guess there are worse ways to spend a Saturday morning right? At least if i get greased I wont have to worry about being late on the rent. heh. Fuck that prick landlord. I need to get outta there one day...

Johnny finally found the joint. Big place on a hill. No surprise there. That connected, may as well have a Vegas Marquee saying mobster here, dont shoot. The fuzz probably knew better though. And anyone else wise enough to know the house, oughtta be wise enough to stay the fuck out. 

By the time we left Johnny had a job and needed a second. The strange man with the limp took a look at me, thought i'd be fit for the job and i didnt mind what i heard. This is how it started... a casual observer investigating the shiny thing.

What came next seemed simple enough but in the end was anything but.

The old Bleghtborn Mill. Converted in apartments, now a rundown slum at the edge of the city. 

That is where i was, the day i became the gangster's hatchet-man...

I was good with a tire iron and not bad in a scrap. Johnny and I trusted one another, so when he heard the job, he wanted a second, just in case things got dicey. I never much sought a fight but that didnt stop them from finding me over the years... 

So there we were, Johnny and I having left the house on the hill and The Man from Puddlesbury. Our aim was simple enough. We needed to head down the Old Bleghtborn Mill. Dodgy place if ever there was one. The score was this old runner named Malley turned up again and he didnt walk out on the best of terms. He owed a bit something back to the business and he never fit to color up on his way out.

"This simply wouldn't do" The man on the hill.

Johnny headed toward the other end of town in the big old lunk of a truck that he dumped in the river only hours before. Word was Malley had recently come into some trinkets. Several bobbles, little odds and ends. A fair few of them held some unique, historic, even intrinsic value.

..The first day i saw Johnny was a scrap near Red Hook down in Brooklyn. Some tosser trying to impress the local muscle thought he'd have a go at me. When i wouldnt play his games he decided to get rough about it. Of course as is their way a few pals decided they'd join in. Enter Johnny, who wasnt paying much mind, but didnt care for the 4 on 1 odds. Ever so casually, he sort of accidentally backed his truck into a stack of crates, toppling 1 fellow over clean.

In the end, i got a few licks in on him and his pals. The fellah who started the fight, well, let's just say he never tuned a piano again. I bolted before the cops showed up and went to find a cut of meat for the lump on my noggin. A few days later i saw the same guy from the truck in a Deli near Crown Heights. Sitting down having a cup of java and reading a paper i see this face walk in. He was the guy from the truck at the docks. He stood at the counter a few minutes, grabbed a drink and placed the order he wanted then strolled by my table in the corner.

"Johnny." He said to me. "The names Johnny.""And i'll tell you one thing kid. You got brass."

Over the next hour or so Johnny told me how those guys werent much more than wannabe goons, but the guy i tuned up did know a couple of people who may want to cause some noise. I wasnt too worried about it in the end. Johnny wasnt either. Thigns happen around here. You either stand up for yourself. or get walked all over. I wasnt fit to be a pair of shoes, so if it's all the same, i'd rather stand up for myself.

"Trinkets & Bobbles eh Johnny" I said as we neared the other side of town. "Sounds to me like someone got a score they shouldnt of and now someone else wants it."

Johnny agreed. Figured someone stuck their hands into a cookie jar and talked a bit too much about it afterward. Malley did owe quite a sum though. Johnny figured the easiest grab'd be to go right up into the Apartment where Malley was, try and talk him into reason and grab the stuff clean.

"May as well hold on to them for him then." I said laughing. "We'll give em a proper home anyway. That dump isnt fit for scrap that nice"

A bit later we arrived at The Old Mill and rolled inside. Place seemed quiet enough but run down as it was, there was very often shady deals going on in and around this whole joint.

"Plenty of people packing heat around here Johnny."I cautioned him as we moved down the hallway. "Best we dont make too much noise eh?"

We found Malleys place and knocked at the door. A skittish voice through the door asked who it was. He sounded lanky almost. Life hadnt been kind to Malley. We told the voice we were in from Puddlesbury. We heard some murmuring and swearing. Talking to himself again. He unlocked the door and opened it.

"What? What is it? I know! I know you guys still. I came ba-back to pay it! Honest" Malley stammered out. "I just havent made it over there yet is all. Can you give me a day or two?"

Johnny was pretty up front with Malley. He told him why we were here. He knew we'd seen him in town for a couple days. The only way to square up was stop lying to him and making excuses and hand over the stuff.

"Bu-but if, if i do that, the-these guys'll kill me too.", Malley said with a shake in his voice. "They t-told me that if i didnt have these b-back before the weekend I'll be in the harbor before Monday."

Johnny told the guy quite simply that we're there now and it'd get just as bad, if Puddlsbury Beauregard found out he'd been stiffed again.

Just as Johnny was explaining this, i heard a creek behind me. The door was opening. I started to to say Johnny/Malley "Are we expecting company?". As i turned to see who or what the hell it was opening the door to Malleys place, i get a massive Thud right on my head and it knocks me out clean, voices shouting in the distance and i fade out...