Philadelphia, The City of Brotherly Love, so they said...

It was early morning and the Sun was just barely peaking over the horizon, casting it's golden rays over the city's infrastructure. A few early birds stirred; factory workers driving quickly to their jobs, shop owners along the strips flipping the lights on as they started preparing to open, some of the more entrepreneurial youth were up and hustling for their daily cash, drunks and bums wandered aimlessly as the bars closed their doors and sent them home... Then there was Aidan.

Coming from Belfast, Ireland, Aidan had learned to fight early on in the streets, sometimes for his very life. Between the IRA and Britain's Black and Tans, there were plenty of scuffles to keep someone busy and experienced in a street fight.

When he moved to Boston, the fights were fewer and further in between. He and his brother @Peadar_OConnor began attending sponsored fights and boxing tournaments, both becoming intrigued by the scene. The women, the fame, the glory...the prizes. Everything looked good to the two boys, and they already knew how to scrap pretty well (so they thought).

With urging from Peadar, Aidan joined "Ole Greg's" Gym just down the road from their home. The training was hard and rigorous, but with enough time, Aidan was ready for his first unofficial match. A scratch between him and the gym's amateur champion. To the amazement of all, Aidan lasted through all of the three designated rounds. He'd gotten his ass handed to him, but he hadn't been knocked out or given up. To top it off, he'd bloodied the other fighter rather well. They would both be black and blue for days. He'd gotten his first glimpse of the glory of the ring, however, and his thirst was now insatiable.

Aidan spent years under the tutelage of "Ole Greg", and went on to win many of his amateur fights. He and Peadar got involved in the inner working of the gym and eventually became partners with Greg. When Greg finally retired and moved home to New York, Aidan bought their old trainer and business partner out.

A few years of struggling to make the gym work, left Aidan and Peadar struggling to make ends meet. With crippling debt, Aidan turned to underground fights and illegal betting. That was, up until the two were caught and charged with running an illegal betting and fighting organization. Receiving a reduced two years and a hefty fine (essentially breaking the brothers), the two landed themselves in jail.

Aidan was sent to a prison away from his brother, and no one ever told him where Peadar had gone. One year passed slowly, but Aidan was released on "good behavior". That behavior just happened to be making the prison guards extra money by setting up and fixing fights so the right guards made money.

Free from prison, Aidan made his way back home to Boston and immediately sold his belongings, including the gym. With the earnings, he hopped on a train to Philly and never looked back. The first few weeks had him searching for a place to live, feeling out the city, and attempting to find a new gym, or even a building where he could open one himself. He'd found a place to rent in Bella Vista, over an auto garage; a single bedroom, single bath loft that was perfect for just him. Now, he needed a new gym. It was time he got himself back into a ring, underground or professional, so he hit the streets in search...

Sweat dripped from Aidan's brows and covered his body as he jogged down the city's streets, taking it in and exploring the inner areas of the district he'd decided to call home. As he rounded a corner, he ran in to a group of thugs, knocking one of them over and tumbling in the process himself.

"Oi, fock me!" he yelped as he rolled himself and got back to his feet.

"Yeh alright, boyo?" Aidan offered his hand as he asked the man who'd been knocked over. Two other fellas with him were already laughing at their friend, which of course made him mad. He slapped Aidan's hand away and jumped up, getting in the red head's face.

"Watch where ya fuckin' goin', you filthy Mick!" He shoved Aidan with all his might and sent him reeling back over one of his friend's boots, putting his ass on the concrete again.

"Aye, aye, sorry lad. Ah'll watch me fockin' steps nex' time, do'nae yeh worry 'bout et none."

Aidan pushed himself back to his feet and took a calming breath before looking up just in time to see a fist aimed for his head. With a trained step, he dipped low and countered his assailant's attack with a sharp jab to his stomach. The man doubled over and fell to his knees.

"Maybe yeh aught ta t'ink twice 'fore taken a shot at sommun' yeh do'nae know, lad... Yeh could get yerself hurt somet'in' fierce."

Aidan was quick, both in reaction and in thinking. He was already backing away from the group to make sure the two others were not behind him, as he spoke. Perfect too, since they wanted to jump in knowing the fight was unfair one on one... Not that three on one was fair either. The scuffle started out pretty one sided for Aidan as the three started to attack. Easily dodging, dipping, ducking, diving, and dodging out of the way of hits, as well as simply blocking and countering. He did his best to not attack the boys, knowing he could seriously injure them, but it seemed they wouldn't stop with their onslaught. Finally, giving in to the building tension and want to actually be in the ring again, Aidan took a hard swing and laid one of the boys out flat, sleeping like a comatose baby before he even hit the floor. One hell of a right hook.

Now two on one, Aidan relaxed into a grove, trading blows with the other two a few times before he caught one in the nose and sent him staggering backward. Aidan focused his attention to the one thug left and blocked a kick before ducking under a wild swing. Set perfectly, Aidan came swinging with an uppercut that would have taken the man off his feet. Instead, he found himself in the air and then swiftly on the ground, his breath immediately knocked from his body as the bloody nosed man tackled him and slammed him down.

His head cracked against the concrete hard and he saw stars. His ears rang so loudly that even as he balled up to protect himself and covered his face with his arms, he could barely hear the two men yelling obscenities and insults at him.

"Welcome to Philly, 'arsehole'" they mocked his accent and dialect as they pummeled him further into the ground.

After what felt like forever, he dreamed about the bell ringing in a fight. At least he thought it was a dream, but quickly approaching was a loud ringing sound... Or perhaps it was someone's voice? He felt the attacks subside and as he opened his eyes he could barely see a foggy person chasing his assailants away from him, waving something in their hand.

Aidan pushed himself up slowly, groaning as he did so. Bloody nose, busted lip, bloody knuckles, tattered pants, and a swelling eye had him looking worse for wear... But there was still one of his attackers laid out cold on the concrete. He knelt and checked the man's vitals before standing and looking around, seeing his savior approaching slowly.

With a cough, he spat blood out on the ground and spoke.

"'Ello... T'ank yeh fa t'at."

Aidan extended his hand, waiting for them to take it...

It wasn't a bell that rang out, but a shot... ricocheting off the nearby streetlight as Fiona's slight form squared off with the remaining two fighters, now retreating against the brilliant silhouette of the dawning sun smoldering over the Eastern horizon.  "Tha's righ'! Bugger off yeh lousy sack a mince jobby! Awa'n chew a banger,"  The raven-haired woman hollered down the road after the men, .380 still held level with the rising sun for good measure. When it was clear that they'd no intention of returning, Fi carefully tucked the small pistol back into her bra and turned to give Aidan a hand. 

Much to her surprise, he was already up on his feet and lucid enough to check the other guy's vitals. " Huh..." Fiona mused with a curious-but-approving hmph. Circling slightly with an appraising gleam in her eye she approached him slowly, like a feral cat approaching someone with food in their hand. Her brow perked and a flickering hint of a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth as he spoke. Something almost familiar echoed in his voice. 

"Na'er yeh mind. Ye'd do the same fer me, I reckon. Maybe mar so from the looksa et, yeh fockin' weapon. Been aroun' the block a few times, I take et?" Fiona inclined her head slightly, a quizzical expression tickling her nose and lips as she took the man's hand. "Oh... 'alo, den. Fiona Belfry, at yer service." As Aidan's blue gaze fell over her - just as appraising as her own - Fiona's running mouth fell silent, her lips treading worried water as she looked over his injuries. "Yeh should really ge' those seenta 'fore they se'tle in too badly," she suggested flatly, moving to check the other brute's pockets before he woke up. 

"I gotta flat a few blocks from here," she grunted, wresting a gold signet from the unconscious man's finger,  "Iffin yeh wan', I'll take ye up an' take care o'yer face real quick-like." She smiled at him over her shoulder as she stooped to remove a necklace from beneath the man's shirt, slinging it over her dark waves with a wicked grin. "There'sa drug store jesta li'tle ways up the door 'ere," she tossed her head, indicating 'up the road'. "Ets owner owes me a kindness er dhá. So's we kin pick up a few messages fer yeh on th'way. Ye ken?" 

Reaching under the man, Fiona grunted heavily as she searched his waistband. None to her surprise, he was packing. The man's body lurched as she pulled the piece unceremoniously from its snug position. The movement was just enough to make him stir slightly, a pained groan escaping his lips as he weakly rolled to one side.  "Oh nae yeh don'," Fiona muttered, kicking him squarely in the back of his head. A sickening thud echoed down the street as the man's head slammed back into the cold concrete. "'Ere, boyo," she pressed the loaded pistol into Aidan's palm, "Yer handy enough wit' dem fisty cuffs, but I ken yer gonna be needin' one a these iffin yer plannin' on hangin' aroun'." 

Turning toward the direction she'd indicated, she didn't wait for him to follow. "Iffin yeh gonna, dauner on, Red," she called over her shoulder, motioning for him to hurry up or get left. 

Leaving him standing in the street, half beat to death and staring after her, she sauntered off. What a strange little bird... 

Aidan had stopped and was staring before she took his hand, shaking it firmly; especially for a woman. His lips curled upward as she spoke and circled him, recognizing a hauntingly familiar lilt in her voice as well. He watched as she picked over the thug lying on the ground, and then kicked the back of his head, letting him take a longer nap. He stifled a chuckle as he quickly turned around, scanning the immediate area for cops or onlookers seeing as she'd fired her gun, and now placed one in his hand. People were opening doors and windows, venturing outside and approaching the scene slowly. This was -great- for his reputation. He could see his chances at opening a successful gym slipping away as quickly as he hadn't noticed Fiona leaving him behind. Maybe the other side of town would be better? 

He turned back in time to see her cut into an alleyway about a block down from him.

"Fock me..." he whispered quietly, stuffing the piece into his waistband. With one last glance over his shoulder, he got a hopping start in her direction before turning and breaking in to a sprint to catch up. He rounded the corner and blew past her at full speed, skidding and sliding to a stop and looking at her behind him now.

"T'ree t'ings... One... me name's Aidan O'Connor, an' et be me deepest o' pleasures ta meet yeh."

He smiled and gave her a nod...

"Dó..." he held up two fingers. "T'ere be many a person comin' an' wherevah et be yeh takin' me, we should crack on. An' t'ree..." He looked up a bit, and shook his head.

"Ní hea, nae important right t'is moment... We need ta crack. Lead on, lass!" He smiled at her before following as they quickly weaved throughout the city's alleys and streets. His lungs ached from the lack of oxygen and he was wheezing slightly as she finally slowed down to a walk. Lack of training, and the physical fatigue of jogging, fighting, and running, was finally catching up. Slowing down with her, he placed his hands on his knees and rested a bit.

"We at yer drug store?" he panted out, raising his eyes to meet her gaze.

Aidan might've been quick on his feet, but Fi was light. She tackled Philadelphia's back alleys with an ease and grace that Aidan likely hadn't seen since his days in Belfast. Over dumpsters and fences, across crates and car hoods, she skipped and slid; even going so far as to double-bar off a fire escape once. it was quite a sight to see, and a damn hard act to follow as Aidan wheezed to a belated halt behind her. 

"Aye, lad," Fiona chuckled and lightly ruffled his tousled red locks; her breath and words coming with surprising ease after their expedition. Hands on his knees, Aidan blinked up at her as she slid a crate away from the wall; unceremoniously shoving beneath his upturned backside. "Why doncha jes' take a mickle while I crack inside? Yer lookin' a wee bit peely-wally." She patted his shoulder lightly before slipping around the corner and out of sight. From his perch on the crate, Aidan would hear the heavy grating of steel on concrete as Fiona slipped inside the loading bay of... whatever building this was. It didn't take her long to return - face smudged and hair sprinkled with dust, a burlap sack over one shoulder and the necklace she'd pinched earlier conspicuously missing. "C'mon, boyo. S'not far from 'ere. An' we can trot from 'ere," she smiled over her shoulder as she tugged him along, away from the store, at a brisk walk. 

A few blocks and a handful of twisty turns, lead them to the stoop of a dilapidated landing sandwiched between an abandoned mechanic bay and a shady looking pawn shop. The rickety steps led up to the second floor of the little corner strip, and opened to a surprisingly spacious efficiency with wide windows and a panoramic view of the deteriorating city around them. Sheer drapes framed the panes, with baubles, bottles, and windchimes hanging in many of the windows. All of which made a kaleidoscope mosaic of the rising sun as it played across the bare wood floors in bright prismacolour. "I ken ets nae much,"  Fiona smiled sheepishly, gesturing at her menagerie of upcycled furniture and decor,  "But it's home... at least until someone buys out the place downstairs." She chuckled lightly, tossing the bag of supplies onto the bar that separated the kitchen and bathroom form the rest of the "house". " 'Ave a sit. Or a lie," she said, gesturing to the overstuffed armchair leaking stuffing into one corner and to the opposite side of the building where heavy drapery cordoned off a little round pallet stacked with brightly embroidered pillows. "I'm jest gonna wash up a wee mickle 'fore I go fixin' up yer mug," she continued, hoping unceremoniously over the bar. "Make yerself a' home. Sink's go' hot water iffin yeh need a mickle wash... but I don' promise tha' I won' peek."  She smirked wickedly before rounding the door to the tiny lavatory. "There's a fresh shirt in the bag. I'll jes' be a wee shake o' a rabbit's foot." 

With a soft, lurching squeal the door shut behind her, leaving Aidan in peace and privacy to ponder the rabbit hole he'd some how fallen into this morning. 

As the door shut quietly, but firmly, Aidan began to wander around the small hovel. He reached up and tapped one of the make shift wind chimes, the bump making it break free from the string that held it and plummet toward the floor. Lurching for the glass bauble, he fumbled with it until he snagged hold of it tightly, repeatedly slicing his hand open in the process on it's sharp edges.

"Fock!" he hissed out quietly as his blood ran free from his clenched fist. He opened his palm slowly to see that it had punctured directly into the center of his hand.

"T'at's gonna leave a lit'le mark," Aidan huffed out with a sigh. He set the piece of glass on the counter top and made his way to the sink, washing his hands before tugging his shirt over his head to inspect himself in the small mirror there. Cupping his hands, he scooped the water up and splashed his face before running his hands through his hair. She'd said there was a new shirt, so he ripped his and wrapped his hand to help stop the bleeding.

Taking one more look around, he finally made his way to the armchair and plopped down, groaning as a spring stabbed his lower back. "FOCK!" he exclaimed a little more frustrated. "T'is nae me deh." He groaned and settled back in to the chair slowly.

Finally slightly relaxed, he called out to Fiona, "T'is a nice place yeh go' 'ere, Fi..."

Aidan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The pain in his lungs and his sides had subsided, but there was still a tinge of discomfort where he'd taken the brunt of the kicks. He looked at his right side, busted blood vessels making the bruising appear worse. He closed his eyes and rolled his head around a few times, flexing his muscles as he stretched.

Once he opened his eyes, he noticed Fiona staring blankly at him, having stopped just as she walked back through the door.

"Teh fock yeh lookin' at? Me boat t'at mingin' lass?" he chuckled at her before smiling. "Ah know, Ah know. Ah look a fockin' wreck. Ah swar. One, maybeh two, Ah coulda handled nae problem, hi? But t'ree's a fockin' dose."

He leaned his head back on the tall chair and stared back at Fiona.

Fiona giggled, sliding the bag of supplies from the counter, "Oh. Et's no' as bad as all tha'." She smiled up at him sweetly as she knelt beside the chair, slowly fishing things from the knapsack and arranging them carefully around her. "I mean, yer buggered all ta hell a' tha moment, but underneath... I mean, et might tek a wee while... but a lass might could get used ta yer goofy mug." She winked and clicked her tongue playfully, but the flush that rose to her cheeks belied her joking airs. 

With pursed lips, she carefully cleaned the remaining blood and dirt from his face, paying careful attention to split in his lip and above his eye. The alcohol was cold. And it stung like pins and prickles. But it would get the job done.  "Ah, lad... yer gonna be righ' puffed for a while yet, I'm afraid. Took a good hard molly-whoppin, ye did." Tenderly she applied ointment to all the crapes, splits, and lacerations, before moving on to ice and bandage his ribs. "This'll help fer now,"  she assured him, pulling the wrappings tight, "But ye'll need ta loosen em up after a bit. Ot'erwise, et'll get hard fer ye ta breathe... an' ta heal. Ye ken?" 

"Iffin they bruise too badly, jes' come find me an' I'll work some homeland mojo on yeh. I think I 'ave the righ' herbs around 'ere some'eres," she continued, placing a small, washcloth-wrapped bag of ice into his palms. It was a little damp, but still plenty cold. "Put tha' where it hurts worst,"  she chuckled before noticing the scarps of shirt wrapped around his palm. With a soft and disapproving huff, she took his hand in hers and unwrapped the wound, sighing heavily at it's angry, jagged edges. "Oh darlin,"  she trailed off, fishing out the last of the gauze and alcohol, "Are yeh always this clumsy, or do I jest make ye nervous?"  She smiled playfully as she cleaned the cut, wiping smears of dried blood away with the moistened gauze. 

Clicking her tongue softly, she glanced around at the mess of old fabric and used gauze around her. Her eyes softened, as her thoughts trailed away. She'd need something to wrap it with... at least until it sealed over. Her bare feet padded softly against the hardwood floor as she fetched a gossamer silk scarf from near the bed. "This'll do nicely," she mused to herself, kneeling back down to carefully wrap it around his palm and tucking the edges snugly. It looked a little frilly, but she was right. It worked quite well. And felt nice on his sore skin to boot. 

Her fingers traced soft circles on the back of his hand as she surveyed her work, before nodding with finality. That same soft whispering tickled his ears as she stood approached the pantry, producing a bottle of dark whiskey and a single glass. A wicked smirk played across her lips as she sat back down at his feet, pouring him a glass and taking a long swig from the bottle. Her crass attempt and apparent fail at having manners was almost comical... until one realized that she likely only owned ONE glass. "So... Aodhán ó Conchúir,"  she smiled wide as the Gaelic name rolled smoothly off her tongue, "What was number three?" 

Aidan smiled as Fiona cared for him. Something about the way she acted made him think of home; the way his ma would care for him when he came home after a scuffle. "W'at was t'ree, hi?" He chuckled and shifted himself, pressing the ice to his side more.

"T'ree was trut'fulleh, onleh, w'at teh fock?" He laughed, then cringed, grabbing his side some and rubbing the ice along his bruised ribs.

"Seriousleh, w'at teh fock? Yeh come around teh corner, fire yer piece at teh lads beatin' teh shite outta me, an' t'en yeh fockin' run off aftah robbin' teh thick bastard. Lastleh, yeh bring me home ta yer..." he paused and looked around, waving his hand. "Yer flat, t'at is reilleh kinna... It makes me feel like home, yeh know? Comfortable."

He shifted again, finally taking the glass of whiskey and tossing it back. His face puckered and his eyes squinted tightly as he sucked his teeth.

"T'at's good shite, lass..." he hissed. "Mind if Ah 'ave anot'er?" He held the glass out, hopeful.

"So yeh said t'is place es fer sale? W'a's teh bot'om look like? Er, can we takes a look at et?"

Fi chuckled, "Yer new aroun 'ere, arencha?"  Taking a quick swig from the bottle, she poured him another glass; full to the brim.  "Well, I didn't so much come aroun' tha corner, hi? I saws ye getten buggered from down tha alley, and figured iffin ye did nae han'le yerself by tha time I go' there then ye migh' could use some 'elp. Mos' people in this city do. Especially when it comes ta blokes like 'em... what work wit' them shite stains outta Delaware." 

She blushed a little as she glanced around her little hideaway, "As fer tha rest... I had te pay fer ye bandages some'ow. And... this is tha safest place I know of. So et onleh made sense ta come 'ere afore settin' ta work on ye. Yer pre'y bad off. So I though' even iff ye did try te pull any under 'anded shite, I could prolly hold my own well enough. What wit' ye ribs an' all." She winked playfully, poling at him lightly. 

Using his knee to push herself from the floor, she straightened, her feet making the same susurrant patter as she crossed the floor. Pulling the curtains back from around her makeshift bedroom, revealing a heavily shrouded door with several locks haphazardly added around the main deadbolt. "I'm glad you like it," she admitted at length, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder. "I do nae bring otha people aroun' very ofte... na'er in one place long enough, usually." Her cheeks flushed he caught her eyes, and she used the deadbolts as an excuse to hastily break his gaze, "The downstairs mostleh be empty. Jes' a large open space... some windows... an' a couple o' rollin' doors 'round back. Nae much ta speak of. But we can 'ave a look, iffin yeh want." 

With an atrocious squeal, the door hinged open; dust cascading from around the frame like a late spring snow as she smiled at him with beckoning palms. "Come on then, iffin ye are." 

Aidan nodded, "Tá. Be relleh knew. Been 'ere less t'an a mont'. 'Bout two weeks." He perked his brow and nodded... "Outta Delaware, hi? T'em fuckin' Durden's boys? Ah know of 'em... Or t'ere be some new bloke in charge? Ah assume et's Durden. Wanker fock..."

Shaking his head, Aidan leaned forward. "'Tween you an' me? If'n Ah'd 'ave known... Ah'd 'ave started off swingin' at teh rumbly stooks... Take teh piss from 'em, hi?" He leaned back again with a chuckle. "Glad yeh come along Ah am. Weren't fer ya, Ah'd prolly be laid out in teh coffers by now."

As she opened the door, he squinted. The noise was loud and obnoxious, but it was quick. Aidan hopped up as she beckoned him over and down the stairs they went, dodging boxes and small crates everywhere as they did. "Yeh've go' t'is rat'er blockered off, hi?" he chuckled as he turned sideways to squeeze himself through a pair of boxes.

At the bottom, there was another door, barred and locked. He shook his head, but Fiona had the door open in a second and it swung wide, revealing a small office who's door led into an empty room with a high vaulted ceiling. Truthfully, the building was probably one and a half stories tall, considering the upstairs was a full size level.

"Teh fock was t'is place? A warehouse of sorts?" He chuckled looking around. "An' et's for sale yeh said?"

Aidan wandered through the building, checking the doors and everything around. There were two communal restrooms, the main office, and the entrance was located on the corner of the building, facing the intersection of eighth and South. Through the office there was the stairwell from which they had come, and another door. He assumed it was the garage bay she had mentioned prior, but opened it to check anyway. Surely enough, assumptions were right and he smiled.

"T'is is a pret'y nice place 'ere..." He turned back to Fiona who'd been following him as we walked through, much like a silent realtor who was letting the client work shit out for themselves.

"Yeh wouldn' 'appen ta know wha' ta owner be lookin' ta get for et, wouldyeh now?" The grin upon his face would relay that he had a plan, whatever it may be...