Tommy stared at the gun in his hands, a Colt Model 1903 chambered in 32. ACP, and wondered when he would have the chance to fire it, who might be it's first victim. Reminding himself of the task at and placed it back into his shoulder-holster, and then proceeded to pull the set of brass knuckles from out of his coat pocket and flex his right hand while wearing them to get a feel for them. Taking a few punches against the empty air, he placed his hands back in his coat pockets, satisfied that he was ready to use them. He looked over at his accomplice, Peter “The Bear” Krasinski, who was twirling the baseball bat he had around in his hands, swinging it a couple of times before resting it on his shoulder. Tommy hoped that bringing his Russian friend in on this job might make sure things run smoothly, especially given Peter's love of a good brawl. 

Peter looked a mad man, an evil-looking smile hanging on his face as he snickered in excited. In spite of the trust he had in the young Russian's physical abilities, Tommy found himself acutely aware of just how unstable the kid was. He was about to speak up in attempt to balance out the anxiety only for the sound of a distant bit of laughter to draw the attention of the both of them to the alleyway. He peered through the wooden slats that served as barricade for the smashed windows all around him; clearly the abandoned building in which he stood wasn't in the best of shape. As the voices came closer, he began to make the shapes of four men, three of average height and one freakishly tall, and he realized that his marks had finally arrived.

"So he says to me 'You take up too much space in the air', and I'm thinking, what the fuck does that mean? What the fuck does air have to do with this shit?" The leader, presumably, spoke as he led the pack of men towards the building.

"Fucking Wops, always gotta act superior...What did you say back to him Rob? Did you tell him off?" Rob turned back around to look, apparently frustrated as he replied.

"What could I say to him? I mouth off and he'd probably cut my fucking tongue out...I mean, come on, Gerald, we step out of line and these guys would have our asses".

"Hey...Robbie...where is...this guy? I want to...hurry this up...so I can...get...a bite to...eat" The tallest of them finally spoke, his speech slow and plodding, Tommy wondered if he was touched in the head the way he was talking. In response to this Rob checked his watch and looked around.

"I don't know, he should have been here by now, come on let's wait inside" He inclined he head and started towards building. Feeling the time come to make his point Tommy looked over at Peter and they shared one more silent nod of the head as they both readied themselves for the coming fight. Walking into the dark room, the quartet of thugs oblivious to the men hiding in the shadows, they looked around as one of them kicked a broken beer bottle over to the corner that Peter was hiding in.

“If he isn't here soon I say we just leave, Arthur's talk of food is making me really damn hungry...” As the fourth member was about to finish his sentence Peter slipped out of hiding and smashed him in the head with his bat, laughing as he fell into a crumpled heap, blood flowing freely from the wound.

“Collin! You fucking bastard! I'll kill you for that!” Gerald turned to lunge at Peter only to be stopped short as Tommy's brass knuckles caught him in the stomach with a vicious bolo punch, causing him to double over in pain as he lost his breath, raising his head up again only to be beaten back down once again with a swift left to the right side of his face before throwing him into one of the steel support beams, knocking him out cold.

Meanwhile, the scuffle escalated as the giant named Arthur picked Tommy up by throat and proceeded to pummel with blows that landed like sledgehammers while also trying to choke the life out of him,  and seeing the predicament he was in Peter stopped kicking Collin in the stomach and attempted to come to his friends aid. He ran up behind Arthur, bat poised to make another devastating hit only to knocked aside effortlessly with a single swing from the giant's free arm, granting a brief respite to Tommy. Turning his attention back to his hapless victim, he roared mightily and began to use both hands to try and choke the life out of the young Italian man. A slow, chortle of a laugh came out of his mouth as he enjoyed the pain he was putting Tommy in, only for it to come to a sudden stop as he eyes opened in a shocked stare and his grip on him loosened completely. Falling down to the ground, the body of Arthur lifelessly slumping down next to Tommy as he fought to gain back his breath, looking up to see the triumphant smile of Peter, a bloody switchblade in hand.

Tommy was about to thank him but was shocked senseless to see the snub-nosed barrel of a revolver come into view and put a hole in his friends head. Hescreamed out in misery, watching helplessly as Rob, the leader of the little gang they were supposed to teach a lesson to, continued to put two more rounds into Peter's back. Sneering like an animal, the thug turned his attention to him, menacingly walking towards him as Tommy scrambled away from him and back to the corner Peter was hiding in originally. Rob bent down to pick him up, gloating about his victory all the while.

“What? You thought you could jump us? Thought you could kill us all? Well, too bad for you, you didn't ge- urggh!” he stopped mid-sentence as Tommy stuck the broken piece of bottle into his jugular, a gurgling sound emanating from him as he choked on his own blood, A horrified look in his eyes as he slunk down of top of him, the life leaving him slowly.

Catching his breath, Tommy pushed the body off the top of him, grabbing the revolver out of the dead man's hand and sticking it into the back of his waistband as he wiped the blood off his face. He caught a look at himself in the remnants of a shattered mirror on the wall, and he realized that he barely recognized himself, as beaten down as he was and bloodied as he was. He surveyed all the dead bodies around him and proceeded to search them all for weapons and valuables, stuffing cash, jewelry, and a small assortment of handguns and knifes into every available pocket, all while his eyes continuously darted back to Peter's lifeless body. As crazy and violent of a guy he had been, he was still a close friend and Tommy now deeply regretted getting him involved with this. As he came to the one named Gerald, he realized he was still alive, albeit heavily bruised and knocked unconscious. Deciding that it might be helpful to bring him back him for questioning, he slung him over his left shoulder and began to walk outside to where had hidden the car earlier, but as he started walking he heard a new voice call out.

“Hey! Where the hell are you numb-skulls? You should know better than to make me wait!” A fat, greasy looking man dressed in a gaudy red suit came into view, his cheeks puffy and even redder than his suit. He looked around and saw all of the bodies on the ground, and gasped as he locked eyes with Tommy, before breaking into what could only be described as a laughable attempt at running. Before he made it back out through the open doorway, Tommy pulled the revolver from out of his waistband and leveled it at him, shooting him in the lower thigh twice before the hammer struck on an empty chamber.  The fat man screamed dramatically as he was hit, indignantly crying out as he hit the floor, clutching his thigh as blood streamed out of the hole in his leg.

“Oh, would you look at that, it's like you knew you were going to get shot today, wearing all red like that” he said as he walked closer, tucking the empty revolver back into his waistband and readjusting the unconscious body on his shoulder to put into the back seat of his car, taking the time to bound his wrists and ankles together with some rope he had in his trunk. Finishing that, he turned back around to see the pitiful sight of the fat man trying to drag himself away, eliciting a short laugh from Tommy. As he came over and checked him for weapons, surprised to find he wasn't carrying any (how shortsighted, he thought!) Tommy got a good look at him and had a feeling he had seen him before, but couldn't place a name to the face.

“Well, today is your lucky day, my pudgy friend, you're going to take a ride with me and Gerald, you've met Gerald, right?” He took the remainder of the rope he had and proceeded to tie him up the same way he did with the aforementioned Gerald, before dragging him screaming and flopping around like a fish back to the car. When he finally picked him, which took much more effort than he thought it would, he gave him a quick punch to the face to knock him out and end his incessant screeching.

“Now,” he huffed with the effort of all of this work, “time to grab Peter...” he added solemnly.

After arriving back at the family's bar, the same bar that had been trashed just a couple of days ago by the same gang of street-toughs that he and Peter had jumped, he pulled the car around to the alley way behind the bar and parked up. It took him a couple of trips to move both of his captives down to the basement, and one more, with much more quiet-reverence than the first two trips, to move the body of friend down there as well. Tucking the two live captives into an empty closet and then barring it off with A heavy cask of rum, he walked back upstairs. Moving into the main room, he picked up the telephone beneath the bar's counter. Dialing his number, he hastily wiped the sweat away from his forehead.

“Operator, how may I direct your call?” a chirpy, feminine voice answered on the other line.

“Put me through to the Ivory Tower in Summerlin, please.”

“Connecting you now, sir, one moment...”

The line rang a few times before he heard A familiar voice on the other end of the line.

“Yeah...yeah, I took care of it, but I uhh...I got a little wrinkle here...” the other voice asked him what he meant.

“You need come down to Charlie's bar...I've got some guys tied up in the basement, I think you might want to meet them” He waited for an angry response and was surprised to hear a quick, almost casual one in response.

“Alright, see you soon.” As he hung up, he looked around the empty bar and realized just how badly he needed a drink, and after searching the bar all he could find was a small, fancy-looking bottle of Amaretto hidden underneath the counter next to where the phone had been, smiling as he lifted it up to examine it.

“Huh, guess I get some sugar with my medicine...”

The Vegas nights were deceptively cool.  All day the sun beat down on the sand and the cement streets and you'd THINK they'd be unbearably hot into the evening as well... but they weren't.  It was as if the sun leaving, abandoned the world into a dark and frigid reality that was probably more truthful than the bright sunny face the tourists enjoyed all day.

Summerlin, unlike The Strip, had a feel of a community to it.  Where as the neon lights of the casinos drew in the tourists like moths to flame, the streets of her town were quiet after dark.  This gave a feeling of peace to it's suburban areas and a shadowy menace to the urban sprawl.  Frankie liked this.  It clearly delineated the places that good people should not go.  It showed those areas in which, only men and women of honor went to deal with lesser forms of filth when required to do so.  This way the people under her protection could sleep peacefully every night, never knowing what really went on in the halls of power and the smoke filled bars of Sin City - the places where the true deals which made and broke men, were made.

When someone took it upon themselves to break the places and things belonging to the people under her protection, Don DiCaprio did not take it lightly.  Her Grandfather was a man of honor back in Sicily and if someone ever did wrong by those who he protected - compensation of an appropriate measure was always extracted in a timely fashion.  She only hoped that this particular instance warranted whatever level of compensation Tommy might have, in his eagerness to prove himself, chosen to take out.

Frankie's car pulled up around the back of Charlie's bar.  In several other cars, members of The Ivory Tower had come along as her personal protection.  She waited in the back seat of her car for the door to be opened by an associate and only then stepped out, holding tight to Uffa's leash as she did.  Uffa, was perhaps the most pleasant surprise of this last week.  Tony had gifted the tiny goat to her after they'd reunited, a nod to an old friend of hers and one of the most loving things Tony had ever done for her to this very day.  As such, she'd decided the miniature goat would come with her everywhere and would lead a much happier and more spoiled life than her previous namesake.

Her high heels took long strides walking towards the door, surrounded by men and women with guns at the ready.  Uffa's little hooves clicking along side her quickly.  She let the associates open the door and go in first to secure the room before finally entering behind them.  Taking in the site of it all, her eyes locked on the Amaretto longingly and then she forced herself to look away to the person who had made it necessary for her to come out tonight instead of staying in with her husband for more... enjoyable pursuits.

"Tommy?"  She called out, waiting for the young associate to step out from where he was.  As soon as he appeared, she asked,  "Why don't you explain what's happened here... from the beginning."

Tommy was experiencing a rush of emotions as he waited, anger at the pieces of shit who wrecked the bar and put poor Charlie in the hospital, guilt at the death of a close friend and the knowledge that he had caused it, and anxiety at the thought of what happens next. Most of all however, he felt a perverse, curious feeling of emptiness underlying all of it, his mind might have been racing with questions but his heart-beat was steady, his hands stable. In spite of his body's calm, almost-relaxed nature, Tommy's eyes scanned the room around him every few seconds as if he expected for more enemies to materialize out of the woodwork while he sat waiting, and with each passing moment the insignificant sounds around him, wooden planks shifting under the weight of the rats scurrying around in the ceiling, the drip of the leaky faucet in the bathroom, all of it made his ear twitch with a nervous energy. Hearing the sounds of the front door unlocking and opening, Tommy hopped down from the counter-top of the kitchen and strode out to the front, hearing Frankie's voice calling out his name. When she finally saw him he could see her eyes stealing glances at the half-empty bottle of Amaretto as she asked him what was going on.

"Hey Boss...so, uh, yeah...I went ahead and asked around about the name you gave me, the folks around here had a lot to say about Robbie Dietrich, and after greasing a few palms I got good, solid info that they liked to hang-out at the abandoned warehouse over in Paradise, so I called up my friend Peter, he's a...he was a damn good fighter, real dependable kind of guy..." Tommy trailed off as his mind lingered on what had transpired just a couple of hours ago, only to snap back out of it as he remembered who he was talking to.

"Anyways, we hid out in one of the buildings and waited for them to come by, I had figured we would just be throwing a beating to a couple of wannabe-punks, but when they finally show up and we jump them, things went to shit. Peter goes and bashes one guy's skull in with a bat while I start in on another one of them only for him to get knocked out pretty quick, but just before I can move to the other two, this fucking giant, must've been 7 feet tall, grabs me by the throat and proceeds to kick the shit out of me while he's strangling me" he stopped for a moment, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the heavy bruising on his chest and neck, noticing that Frankie's protection team had settled into a comfortable position outside of the conversation, merely observing.

"This guy got a hold of me, I thought I was a goner, but then Peter comes and shanks the guy with his knife, but before I can even say thank you, asshole number 4, who I think was the leader of their ragtag little shit-show, he pulls out a revolver and puts 3 shots in Peter, dead before he hit the ground. After he did a little boasting but before he had a chance to get me too, I stuck him with a broken bottle...I checked them all for ID, cash, jewelry, weapons, anything valuable, but just as I finish that up and start dragging the one I knocked out back to the car, this fat fuck in a flashy red suit shows up and starts shouting for these guys, but then he sees me and tries to run away so I put a couple of rounds in his leg. After that, I put fatso and the other guy in the car, along with my friend's body, and came back here. The two of them are tied up and locked in that empty closet in the basement, I haven't figured out yet what to do with Peter..." He sighed and rubbed the back of neck, a reflex of his when he was tired. Looking up, he saw that everybody else was thinking the same thing: but why bring them here?

"Look, Boss, I know I took some liberties here, but I did this for a reason, the Fat man down there...I don't know, I just can't shake the feeling that I've seen him somewhere before...somewhere important. Anyways, come on, I'll introduce you, maybe they'll shit their pants, maybe they'll talk, who knows?" He spoke as he lackadaisically turned around started walking towards the back, grabbing the Amaretto bottle and taking another long swig. 

She followed Tommy to where the man was tied up.  Handing Uffa's leash off to another one of her men.  She looked at him intently.  She couldn't say she knew him and yet, his manner - the way he was even while tied up, suggested much about him. 

"Sembra che tu abbia avuto qualche problema con uno dei miei associati." She said to the man coolly, walking around him watching his reactions with all the care of a predatory animal considering her prey.

"Il tuo socio idiota mi mette le mani addosso Donna Messina, sono un uomo fatto e chiedo un risarcimento!"  He said, his nose flaring wide with an audible sniff of arrogance that many made men were guilty of.

Francesca faked being impressed and nodded thoughtfully. "Allora ... sai chi sono e ancora, non ti conosco. Quanto strano un Don non conoscerebbe uno dei suoi amici nella sua città, ma Summerlin appartiene al mio amato Padrino Tony Castelli quindi forse è per questo che non lo faccio ti conosco."  She arched an eyebrow, "Dimmi, se lo chiamo ora, il Padrino mi dirà che sei nostro amico? "

The man, who had defiantly held her gaze this entire time, looked away.  He said nothing. 

She nodded, stopping in front of him.  "What is your name?"

"You will not speak to me in the tongue of the Old Country now?"  He chuckled as if this were a great joke.

"Your men came into territory that is not yours.  They busted up a business that was not yours to touch.  You came here to check in on their handy work and I have not heard an apology for that; instead you sit here mewing at me like a hungry kitten calling for his mother.  Going on about the injustice of your situation."  She shook her head.  "I see no reason to continue in a tongue that speaks with honor and integrity, when you have proven yourself to possess neither; despite your claims of being a Made Man."

The man turned then and spit a huge wad of snot onto Frankie's dress.  She took hold of the fabric of her dress and looked at the mucus running down it.  Beside her she could hear Tony moving fast.  She didn't look up, she just shook her head at the mucus, damn, the dress would need professional cleaning now.

Tony was already irritated that his private time with his wife continues to decrease in quality and length he was with her and her damn goat that now tends to go everywhere.  He thought of shooting the dam thing but he knows how much she loves goats.  Sitting there while she spoke to the captured gangster he wanted to be anywhere but there.   Then the straw that broke the camels back was when the man spit on her.

Tony had to look at it then the man then at his wife's face he had enough he lost his cool then he moved around her pulling out his 38 revolver facing the man he put the business end mere inches for his forehead.  The man smiled and said do it Tony thought abut it for all of five seconds shaking his head left to right as he thought on it he pulled the trigger killing him with a shot dead center of his forehead.  Just as quickly as he pulled his pistol he holstered it.  Tony looked at Tommy then his wife as she gave him that look which said why the fuck did you do that?  Tony looking at her simply said.

What you wanted to shoot him?  Don't tell me you where going to have that billy goat eat his clothes off him?   I know, I know your my Capo first but damn it your also my wife and I had every right to do that.  Now what? 

Tony walked over to the chair he was sitting in avoiding looking at the goat. 

Frankie drew a breath and looked at the brain spatter on the floor.  "Well, I guess we won't be getting anything out of him now - regrettable considering we don't know who he worked for or if they will be sending more runs into Summerlin."  She shook her head and looked to Tony.

"Never apologize for being my husband again."  She didn't make a threat or promise to go along with it.  Just a simple request.  "You shoot any son of a bitch you feel it necessary to shoot in order to defend my name and honor.  That's your right."  She smiled at him the way she use to when they were kids and he'd beat up another boy for looking at her sideways.  She then let her business face return, "Just the same the body needs cleaning up and I want him searched for anything that might give us a clue to who he works for or with."

She looks to Tommy, "You got lucky that this asshole decided to spit on me tonight.  Putting your hands on a Made Man... damn Tommy, he was right.  By rights, even invading our territory as they did and fucking with our shit, you didn't give us rights to shoot a Made Man.  Fortunately, this mess," She looked at the spit in disgust.  "...relieved us of that difficult position."

"So for the mistake, I want you to help Tony with clean up this place.  It'll give him a chance to teach you something about how we get rid of messes like this so the FBN doesn't come down on us.  It might come in handy again in the future.  Listen to what he has to teach.  He's been Made in Sicily for a long while now - he's got a lot of wisdom to share."  She looked at Tony with a bit of pride.

"When you get home,"  She said to Tony, "I'll be waiting with your punishment for this premature discharge..."  The threat seemed more flirtatious than sinister.  "...and with a gift for being such a good husband.  Don't keep me waiting too long though or I may fall asleep with Uffa in our bed."  She winked at him. 

"Gentlemen..."  she said to her bodyguards, "Let's leave these guys to their work.  Take me back home and let's swing by the ice cream parlor - I have a craving for a scoop of chocolate."

Tommy was unfazed as he watched Tony put one between the fat man's eyes, only feeling a modicum of annoyance at not being able to pull the trigger himself, but despite himself he laughed a little as he saw the body fall right into the lap of the still unconscious punk that was tied up in the corner of the closet, quieting himself as he was shot a disapproving stare by Frankie and saw a murderous look in Tony's eyes. Tucking at his collar, he wiped the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve, silently paying attention to his boss' words as he she instructed him on what to do next, doing his best to not listen to closely as she discussed personal matters with her husband. Finishing her instructions, she began to turn around and leave as Tommy realized that she hadn't mentioned what to do with other guy.

"Boss, what do you want me to do with the other guy?" he looked over to the see the aforementioned captive stirring slightly, a groggy look in his eyes as he groaned and tried to shift his weight, growing scared as he found his arms immobile.

Frankie looked back.  How had she missed that guy sitting there?  Wow, she really did need to eat something today or she might pass out.  "Well, looks like you got someone to question after all.  See what he's got to say.  Maybe he'll feel talkative since he knows my husband is on the clock to get home to his weary wife.  I'd hate to keep Tony waiting after what he just did to that guy."  She gave a smile to the other guy and looked back to Tommy.

"Let's see if you got it in you to make a man talk when you gotta.  Get him to answer you and then, if his answers are okay, send him back to his boss with the message to stay the hell out of Summerlin.  Send along our regrets that we had to shoot his man for having a moment of temporary insanity and forgetting his place in this thing of ours."

"Impress me in getting information from him Tommy, and there might be a bright future for you with The Ivory Tower.  If he won't talk... make sure he and his friend end the night together.  Understood?"

Nodding his head in response, he watched her leave and looked over to Tony.

"Hey, you mind if I take care of this guy first. Tony?" gesturing to the young man tied up in the corner, only for Tony to shrug indifferently as he leaned back against one of the wooden support beams. 

"Okay then, let's get this done so you and the wife can get your alone time" Tommy rolled up his sleeves and moved over to Gerald, hauling him to his feet and roughly placing him into the chair directly underneath the light hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. As the young thug started to come around a bit and become more aware of his surroundings, Tommy pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, offering one to Tony as well, and after taking a few deep inhales he walked back over to Gerald and lightly slapped his face a few times to fully wake him up.

"Alright, kid, I don't want to be here, Tony doesn't want to be here, and I can only guess that you don't want to be here either, so, let me make this very clear: you tell me what I want to know, and you have my word that you will walk out of here." Hearing this, Gerald spat in his face, an act which Tommy didn't find amusing in the slightest as he wiped it away with a rag from a nearby table. Once he was done with that he put it back down and grabbed the switchblade he taken off of Peter's remains, opening it swiftly and proceeding to drag the point of the blade slowly across Gerald's face, eliciting blood and screams as he did.

"I hope you realize, you little wannabe, that it doesn't make a difference to me whether we're hauling one body out of here or two, and after what your pal did to my friend Peter, you can bet your ass that you'll be praying for death after what I have planned for you" Tommy grabbed him by the hair and held the blade to his throat, Gerald breathing heavily and gritting his teeth against the pain.

"What's the name of the guy in the red suit?..." he let go of his head and instead held the knife to Gerald's crotch, a fearful look crossing the eyes of the two-bit thug "What...was his name? Tell me! Tell me you piece of shit!"

"Agrh! Massimo! Massimo Calzaretta!" Gerald screamed out rapidly, clearly fearing for his manhood. Tommy Arched his eyebrows as he looked back at Tony, who's full attention he now seemed to have.

"Big Red? From L.A.?" Gerald nodded his head so fast it looked like he would break his own neck doing so.

"That's the first question out of the way, then...what deal did he have with your gang?" Tommy grabbed the rag again and used it to clean the blade, staring at Gerald the whole time.

"The deal was, me and the boys would trash a bunch of places around Vegas: bars, casinos, restaurants, whatever places Calzaretta wanted smashed, he would send us in to cause trouble...look, we didn't know who we were hitting, it was never anything personal, just business!" Gerald screamed out as Tommy walked behind him with the blade, begging for his life all the while.

"Okay, one last question, answer this and you can go home: was all of this sanctioned by Dragna or was Calzaretta a lone wolf?"

"I don't know, I swear, all I know is what he paid us to do! Please, you gotta believe me!" Gerald broke into a fit of sobbing, snot bubbling up in his nose as he blubbered. Sighing, Tommy reached down and cut the ropes holding him, gesturing towards the stairs.

"That's all I needed to hear...so, do me a favor, go spread the word around town that Messina businesses are off-limits to anybody looking to start trouble, and if anybody has a problem with that, tell them to come find me." The moment he had been cut loose, Gerald made a bee-line for the stairs, only stopping to hear Tommy's request before running out. Looking back over to Tony, who still looked very vexed with the events of the night, he pointed towards the body.

"So, we burying this guy out in the desert or is this a chop-job?"