"Much to cast down, much to build, much to restore."

-T.S. Elliot

A cool breeze enveloped Romeo as he walked along the road lost in thought. The pale moonlight cast ghastly hues on his face. He walked with a sense of purpose, ignoring the pain in his leg. The sound of the violent tide smashing against the rocks echoed in his ears. He stepped off the road and onto the sand. 

He paused and knelt, running his fingers through the dry beach sand, a bittersweet smile on his face. He had never really enjoyed spending time on beaches for the majority of his life, but now that he was in the twilight of it, alone, he could see the charm. The melancholic longing of the vast, volatile , violet sea was something he identified with. Perhaps this would not be such a bad idea after all.

Standing back up he wiped the sand off his knees and with a sigh he looked off into the distance. Near the bedazzling beach side lounges inviting stragglers like himself into their hearth, lay a dilapidated shack. His dilapidated shack as per his meeting with the new boss. As he walked towards it , parts of what he had read about the place flashed through his mind. 

A once great export business headquarter used for trading goods across the pacific, now lay in disrepair, commandeered by victims of the white poison and the devils they had sold their souls to. The drug peddlers had paid a constant fees to the family and so there unsavory activities had been ignored. But now, the money had begun drying up and the violence flooding the place had brought a poor reputation to the joint. The fact that the place was legally owned by the family could cause some discomfort if a serious police investigation was ever conducted. 

With the recent activity in the streets and the relative peace that Seattle had found itself in, it was only natural that some of the houses of ill-repute be replaced by places of class and comfort. The responsibility for this place had fallen on him and he was eager to show his worth to his new family. He knew the first thing he would have to do was encourage the current inhabitants to vacate the place. With his newfound unwillingness to directly involve himself in potentially violent situations, he was looking forward to making full use of his Sicilian charm. But he did have a backup plan, although he hoped it would not come to that.

As he neared the place he noticed the solid foundations that had survived the superficial cosmetic damage. This place , worthless though it may seem had a lot of potential hiding beneath the bullet holes and the blood stains. A burly guard saw him approaching and pulled out his gun, pointing it at Romeo, not recognizing the strange grey bearded man that was limping towards the place. With a calm smile, Romeo raised his hands above his head as he continued walking till he was standing a few inches away from the gun, before he said "Ah Signor, no need to get anxious I come in peace." His eyes darted across the man's body. His instincts screamed in his ear, begging him to find a suitable opportunity to disarm this gorilla as soon as he was distracted. He knew he could do it too. Although this was a large man, he had fought off bigger ones before with little effort. The pain in his leg shot up again, as if to remind him all that had changed since his last brawl. He was older now, wounded, heartbroken, and lacked the desire or the hunger for violence.

"The fuck do you want old man. Get out of here before you bust a hip." The thug growled. "Soldati such as you, who drive away potential customers must be well loved by the boss, no?" Romeo chuckled before he sighed and said "Call your boss, tell him time is up. All the unwanted attention this place has gathered has not gone unnoticed. Tell him... No, just tell him an associate of La Familia Absolution has come to discuss business, capice?" It was better to call him outside away from the drug riddled lost souls inside, away from prying ears. At the mention of the family name, the thug changed his demeanor, dropping his gun. With a polite nod and a request to wait, he hurried inside.

As he waited, Romeo looked at the buildings nearby. A couple of bars close by attracted all sorts of customers while a bistro, some way off catered to the elite. Competing with all of them would be a problem. While he was considering the renovations necessary, the thug returned with a smug look on his face. 

"You! Yeah you! Think you're so tough? The boss isn't scared of you. He says if the family only sends an unarmed old cripple when he's been lagging on his payments, maybe he doesn't need to pay anymore, maybe he will send the next guy back in a bodybag. So get out of here and remember who it was that was merciful to you. Careful don't bust a hip on your way out." He said before bursting into a loud round of laughter.
Smiling to the thug he said "Grazie Signor. Por favore, know that whatever happens next young soldati, brings me , Rudolf Riviera, no pleasure." With a parting nod he turned around and left towards the post office.

Romeo sighed for he knew non-violence was no longer an option. But he did not have the heart to slaughter and maim anymore, he would have to offer a job. Someone out of town, someone who could keep their mouth shut and get the job done without too much trouble. Someone who could not be linked to the family and could not run up the chain to the boss telling her he had needed help with something so small. He knew just who he wanted. As he entered, he found a quiet corner, pulled out his pen and scribble a quick note.
 

Signora Pistolero,
    If you ache for a bit of adventure, I have a job I could use your help with. You will find the dettagli attached with this letter along with tickets for a boat journey to Seattle and back. I only ask that there be no death and minimo properieta damage.
I look forward to sharing some forte whiskey upon your successful completion.
Signor Romeo Mustachio
 

Then, knowing he had made the right decision, he mailed it to KateLogan .

Kate was leaning against the scarred, chipped wood of the bar in her new place. It was empty, just the way she liked it. It was more of a residence than a business, and since she had no payments required for it, she had no concerns about the total lack of patrons.

So when someone unknown started opening the door, her hand dropped to her gun in a flash and she'd almost drawn before she realized it was the mailman, who looked supremely intimidated. She accepted the letter with a scowl and the man briskly exited. Refilling her drink, she sat down to read her letter.

She'd met Rudolf_Romeo_Riviera at a bar in Vegas, and he'd invited her out to Seattle- a trip she'd not yet been able to make. Business here in Vegas had kept her too occupied. But if the man she'd dubbed "Signor Mustachio" was hoping to hire her, she was sure that he'd make the trip worth her while. Not that Briya didn't pay her enough, but she still had principles. Of a sort.

If she was reading this correctly, she had to displace a several assholes from a shack on the beach. Didn't seem so bad. And if he needed someone out of town to keep things quiet... well, that was his business. She laughed slightly at "no death" and "minimo properieta damage"... not always in her control, but who knows. 

She'd head over to Briya's immediately and arrange things. The boat from LA to Seattle shouldn't take too long. She'd be gone a few days at most. Hopefully boats didn't have the same sort of effect on her than planes did.

Throwing a handful of things into a satchel, she rested her hat on her head and left her new dive bar, flipping the sign to "Closed" as she made her way out. 

**********

Kate had not adapted well to most forms of transportation. She'd ridden in the back of trucks every now and then growing up but, for the most part, she'd been walking or on a horse for the first twenty years of her life. So bombing around with Briya in a fast car had made her supremely uncomfortable. Flying had been one of the worst five experiences of her life, usually leaving whatever she'd eaten for breakfast in a bag between her feet. Or, the first time, on the back of the chair in front of her. The boat, however, was... pleasant. She got used to the gentle rocking of the waves in a way that simply hadn't happened with her other transportation endeavors. 

It was with a small amount of regret that she walked down the gangway onto the port. Her green eyes glanced around for her contact. If she knew Rivieria, he'd either be here himself or have someone ready to meet her. 

Romeo, sat on a bench near the port patiently scratching his beard. He noticed the smoke disappear past the rising sun before he saw the hull of the steamer come to a rest slowly. Pulling out his engraved pocketwatch he realized the boat was on time. Anxious to see if she had accepted the job, he watched the passengers step onto the port. His eyes searched for the trademark hat jutting out above the heads of the masses and sure enough he spotted it. He stood up slowly, clenching his teeth at the pain in his leg. He briefly wondered if it was time to invest in a cane. 

As she walked up to him slinging her satchel and tipped her hat he forced a smile and asked "Better than flying metallic cages, isn't it ?"He offered his hand as he greeted her "Buonasera Signora Pistolero, welcome to Seattle. I am glad you could make it" Gesturing towards the beach next to them he invited her to walk with him.

The lights on the seaside properties had started going out, people were ready to start their days basking in the warm glow of a rare sunny morning. The sandy beach was isolated save for a few fishermen coming back from the morning's catch. Romeo put his hand back into his hip pocket and pulled out a flask. He opened it up and took a long swig, trying to dull the pain in his leg with booze. The long nights had become more and more common now, he seldom caught more than a few hours of sleep. Business haunted his days and ghosts of his past haunted his nights. 

Shaking his head, he handed her the flask wordlessly as they neared the place. He stopped some distance away and gazed at the battered old building , wondering what stories its walls could tell if they had tongues.  "You see that edifico malconcio?" He asked, pointing to the building. "That is the place I need cleared out Signora. Scusami for not sticking around to join in on the fun. Though it is tempting, there is only so much of Romeo to go around, and right now la familia needs him elsewhere." He lied with his ever present sly smile.

"I do not care how you go about it, but I would prefer if the place was still standing when you're done. As an incentivo, I will add 2 crates of some bene Canadian Whiskey to the second half of your payment." He said as he handed her a roll of notes in advance. With a last look into her piercing green eyes, he wondered just what was it about her that had intrigued him so when they had first met and what was it about her that captivated him now. Reluctantly tearing his gaze away from her he turned around and said "Come find me once you're done Signora, the first round is on me." as he walked away.

Kate had seen the ocean before. Once a trip west with Briya, and again when they traveled to New York and Philadelphia. But her recent boat ride was her first extended experience with the sea, and she found herself glancing at it again and again as they walked. She wished, for a moment, that the sun was setting so she could see it sink beneath the waves. However long that business took, she'd have to be sure to cross that off her to do list before leaving. 

She had greeted Rudolf_Romeo_Riviera with a smirk and a "Senor Mustachio", but she walked in silence for a while considering her answer before responding.

"I suppose the ship felt... natural... in a way that planes don't. It felt more... right. If that makes sense."

She let her thoughts hang in the air as they approached the seaside properties, noting Romeo's drinking without comment. She'd been there, and she took a long, quenching draft from the flask when it was offered to her. She nodded as he explained that he needed to get away, although he sounded somewhat regretful. 

He handed her money, looking at her intently, and turned to walk away. She nodded, letting him go. Normally, at this point in the job, she'd have questions. The layout of the building, the number of people... but Romeo had included that in the details of his original message: anywhere from 4 to 6 people could be expected, and it was impossible to verify further. At least six was the maximum... seven people tended to be more complicated when one only had six bullets. 

She stood with her hands in her back pockets, stretching her back, staring out at the ocean, and putting herself in the right mental state. A job like this was about speed. This early, she'd be dealing with one or two people awake, at most. For the rest, it was simply a question of quickly moving through the building and taking them down before they could respond. 

Kate visualized the building in her head, tracing out rudimentary shapes in the sand with the toe of her boot.

First room in the door: kitchen, table, bathroom. She'd go in, take out anyone outside, then clear the kitchen. Then she'd go left, clear the single room off that side of the kitchen, before going back through the kitchen to the two rooms on the right. She'd have to pass through the first room on the right to get to the second one. After that, place was clear. 

She took a deep breath, then turned toward the building in question. It was old, and she was sincerely curious about why Romeo was so insistent that the building itself was looked after. If it was up to her, she would have lit it on fire and shot the occupants as they ran out. But a job's a job. 

Kate approached the building at a slight jog. She assumed it would be locked, and picking the lock would perhaps draw attention. For this, she needed surprise. At the end of her jog, she planted her left foot on the ground and drove her right foot into the door, just to the right of the doorknob. Most people kicking a door down aimed for the center, and they more often than not accomplished nothing or got their foot stuck inside the door itself. John had taught her that one wasn't kicking through the door, but kicking the door (and it's lock), through the wood behind it. She wasn't surprised when the door crashed open; most buildings as old as this had simple locks- and soft wood. 

There were two men at the table, one small and one big, and they froze with their breakfast halfway to their mouth as she lined up easy headshots from a few feet away. She moved quickly to the room on the left of the kitchen and, seeing only a vague lump under the sheets, pumped two shots into it. She could hear shouting from the other rooms now, and decided that reloading would let them create too much of a plan. She flew back through the kitchen into the room on a right, hitting a man in the chest as he reached for the gun on his nightstand. The man in the last room had time to get a couple shots off, but they were aimed high, probably due to the panic of the shooter. Kate quickly sent her last bullet into the man's gut, then sprinted and kicked him down before moving to the gun he'd dropped. She put two more rounds into him with the borrowed snub nosed .38, and put two more into the man in the bed, just to be safe. 

She listened, hearing nothing, as she quickly reloaded her revolver. The house was dead quiet as she made her way back into the kitchen to check on the man in the other room, when she noticed the bathroom door was slightly ajar. She dropped like a rock right before the shotgun blasts started tearing through the bathroom door, the repeated booming nearly deafening, and took her best guesses at the angle of the shooter as she quickly emptied her gun into the door, scrambling out of the way as soon as she finished shooting.

Kate reloaded again, but didn't hear anything. After a couple dozen seconds, she cautiously approached the door and pushed it open, gun at the ready. A man was slumped against the wall- a shot to his head ensured he was gone. A single shot more ensured the man to the room on the right was gone as well. 

She hit the beach immediately, grabbing her satchel and pulling her long coat around her to hide her gunbelt, and walked briskly despite the discomfort in her side to put some distance between her and the old building, but not so briskly that it was suspicious. It was only after she'd walked for several minutes and was completely alone that she allowed herself to acknowledge she'd been hurt. She was surprised to see the amount of blood on her shirt when she opened her jacket; it was a large spot on her left side, just above the hip. 

Kate stared for a moment. Surely she hadn't been shot? It had never happened to her before, and she'd never seen someone unaware of so serious a wound.

It was only when she pulled up her shirt to check the skin beneath when she realized what had happened: the shotgun blasts had splintered the kitchen tile, sending small, sharp pieces spraying up at her. There was one gash in particular that would leave a scar, but there was nothing below the surface level. 

She walked off to find Romeo. He'd said to meet her at a bar... and it must be a place he had a connection with if it was open this early. 

When she walked in, he already had a whisky poured for her. She approached and grabbed the glass with the hand already holding her satchel, as she excused herself to the bathroom and locked the door. Standing over the sink, she raised her shirt and dug out the only piece of tile she could see, occasionally gasping in discomfort and pain. Making a thorough examination of the wound with both the mirror and her finger, she determined that all the pieces were out. Clenching her teeth with an open mouth, she poured the whisky over the wound, disinfecting it. She tossed her bloody shirt in the trash and dug through her bag. She tied one spare white shirt around her waist like a belt, covering the gash, and put another shirt on over it. Looking normal once again, with a slightly more rounded midriff, she unlocked the door and walked slowly back to Romeo, where she sat and placed her empty glass.

"I'm going to need one of those to actually drink... job's done. People are confirmed gone, building is standing."

As he ordered her another drink, and then another after that, she filled him in on everything that had happened. 

"And then I came back here and cleaned up. Don't need a doctor. Don't want the attention and I don't mind the scar. Just a scratch, anyways. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to lay low for a bit, then stick around and catch a boat back when I can see the sun set out there."

Romeo limped into the bar slowly. He saw the barman wiping off the tables and sweeping away broken bottles. Brawls had become common in the joint and it seemed a little collateral damage was nothing new. Nodding to the barman he walked up to a corner table and sat down. A bottle of Canadian whiskey soon arrived with two glasses. His odd hours and his inability to sleep had meant he needed some place to hide himself in most nights . For the last week or so this place had been his refuge and the barman had lost his reluctance to serve at odd hours when Romeo had tossed him a wad of cash the first time he came in.

As he sat down, Romeo buried his face in his hands. Three years in prison had dulled his appetite for adventure or perhaps his age had finally caught up with him. Either way the exhaustion had gotten to him. With a sigh he poured himself a drink, wondering how long would he be able to satiate his thirst for answers and vengeance with booze and meaningless jobs. He hoped it would be long enough to let him have a few years in peace but he knew he was only fooling himself. Lifting the glass up for a toast, he closed his eyes. The ghosts of his past took that as a sign to come out from their slumber and chose that moment to haunt him again. His feet felt damp with snow, his brow dripped with sweat, the wound in his leg trickled blood below and the scar in his chest throbbed with a phantom ache as he saw her face. The grin that had tugged at his heart when he first saw her, the grin he had fallen in love with, the grin that had never left her face even as she had stabbed him and left him for dead, now brought a single tear from his eye as he gulped the whiskey.

As the minutes passed, the whiskey flowed and his pain numbed. He had gotten used to the routine now, seldom leaving before he convinced himself he could forget about her, and yet he found himself here every night. Today was different though for he could not lose his love in liquor. Today, he had to bear the pain lest he be too far gone by the time the job was done. So he slowed down, took his time with the whiskey. Felt the familiar taste as he swirled his tongue . Felt the familiar burn as he gulped. Felt the glass lay dormant in his hands as he waited. The barman peaked a few times, perhaps intrigued by the change, but not brave enough to inquire what brought it on. As fate would have it , he would get his answer soon for KateLogan walked in soon enough and tipped her hat.

He handed her a whiskey and pointed out the bathroom so she could get out of her blood stained clothes. Romeo was surprised by just how quickly she had got the job done and he vowed to use her again if something came up. When she came back out he had the rest of her payment along with 2 cases of Canadian whiskey waiting for her. She sat down and told him the details while he poured her drink after another after another. His dark eyes were lost in her emerald ones as she talked. Yet again, he was struck by a sense of intrigue. This woman held more behind them than he could guess. 

But he knew he could not find out what it was, atleast not today. "Grazie Signora Logan, you have helped me out of a tough spot. Scusami, for I can not stay and celebrate today. I must ensure the place is renovated for commerciale purposes soon." he said with a smile. As he stood up he continued "You'll find a culla upstairs, cot si? And while it may not have been built for reali, it should be sufficient for a few days of safe slumber should you choose to stay for long Signora Pistolero." If it could give him some semblance of solace after his usual drunken mornings, it could serve as a place where she could lay low. 

With a last nod in her direction he headed for the door, trying to steady himself and shake away the intoxication as he did. The walk to the location was short, but he enjoyed the warm glow of the sun on his face nonetheless. As he neared he saw a crowd of junkies all around the building waiting for their morning fix. Anxious, he nudged past them and entered. The smell of blood and gunpowder greeted him as he stepped in through the broken door. The sight infront of him sobered Romeo up quickly. Guts and brains stained the floors, numerous opiates lay scattered about, bullet holes decorated the walls and the roof lay charred with smoke. Half a dozen bodies lay strewn about all over the place. Seeing the thug from earlier he knelt down next to him. The poor guy had a toast in his mouth and his eyes lay open in shock. They never saw it coming, they never saw ...her coming.

With a sigh he closed the man's eyes and walked out. Shooing away the junkies was easy, a revolver borrowed from the thug, the same one he was on the opposite end of not too long ago, did the trick. Wiping it clean with his kerchief he tossed the gun back to the floor and stepped out towards the post office yet again. He knew he needed a cleanup crew, someone efficient, someone who could keep things quiet, someone who get rid of all the evidence that this was a drug den or that there had been a massacre here. He'd heard of someone who could do just that.

Anxious to get things cleaned up he sent a wire to Hope_

Well, Hope had been alerted to a possible job that likely would have a nice payout.  At the end of the day, that seemed to be the bottom line and she was eager to see what this one would bring her.  She had met a man who spoke of a business venture.  Now those were always quite exciting, and he had spoken of possibly needing some aid.  Well Hope had never been one to shy away from a job, and to help out fellow mobsters was typically a good idea.  It was second only to kissing babies when it came to building up your own reputation.  To be someone who would offer to help someone...  That definitely looked good for you.  As it were, Hope had offered that to this man.  She knew some people who could get a site cleaned up quickly and quietly...  And who could keep the details under their hats afterward.  She herself was among those people.

She had just recently gotten word from the man she had met.  Her heart raced with the excitement of the unknown.  She didn't know this man, and was sure that it would have likely been more intelligent to send an Associate to talk out business...  But the Right Hand Disciple felt that it would be best if she handled it herself.  So, dressed in a simple black skirt and red top, she would smooth the wrinkles and her nervousness right out of it before heading to their rendezvous point.  All sorts of curiosities to be explored, but for now, she would help and do what she was asked without asking too many questions.  But later perhaps those questions would be satisfied.  It took her very little time to find the man who would employ her services and she made her way over.  "Good evening.  I hear you're in need of a cleanup...  And one dealt with by ones willing to show...  Discretion."  She greeted him with a small smile playing at the corners of her lips as she chose her words semi-carefully.  

As was typical, her curiosity overrode her good sense.  She usually only did business, or lined up business for those she knew.  But this man, she had only met once, and even then only briefly and here she was getting ready to work for him.  One might call her brash...  But hey, as it was visited early on in her thoughts, it would likely have a nice payout, and money was certainly a good commodity and could be very convincing indeed.

Romeo saw the woman walk over to him and was pleasentlly surprised . He had expected someone much lower on the totem pole but the fact that she had shown up herself was worthy of appreciation. Still , considering this was his first forray into business for the new crew he couldn't help but be nervous. Watching her sly smile and hearing her cautious words he was nonetheless intrigued . 

"Buonasera @Signora Hope_ . If I had known you were coming yourself I would have prepared a feast." he replied with a smile of his own. "I shall have a humble spread worthy of that dress and la bella donna wrapped in it, prepared nevertheless. We can regale each other with tales of simplice times over some good vino once this brutta business is dealt with." At the mention of the job , his smile faded and a sombre expression appeared on his face. Stroking his beard, he wondered if she really was here for the job or if she had ulterior motives. All his years had taught him that things were seldom as simple as they appeared, everyone masqueraded, everyone put up facades to hide ghosts in their past and skeletons in their closet. The pain in the old bullet wound shot up as if to remind him he was no different. His own past haunted him more than he showed. He knew it did not matter if this woman held other intentions as long as the job was done. Everything else would just be dust in the wind.

"Scusami Signora for I must rush you now." He said gesturing towards the building infront of them asking her to enter. As she stepped through the door he paused to let her take it all in, before entering himself . Her simple clean attire stood out against the blood stained, bullet ridden, dust cloaked decor and yet there was no disgust on her face. As he saw the blank look in her eyes hiding a hint of intrigue, he wondered just how many times had she been in places so disheveled that she was now almost numb to them. Yet that concealed curiosity suggested that she had not been in one for some time. 

Romeo could tell her why the place was in such shape. He could tell her how it used to be a drug dealer's den of debauchery. He could tell her which of the stains were older and which ones recently acquired. He could tell her which bullet holes were created by KateLogan and which always existed. He could tell her what the piles of rotting flesh had done to deserve such defilement. But he didn't. Better to let her figure out what she wanted to know rather than trust her with the details. 

She looked at him and he wondered if she thought he did all of this, if she thought he was capable of all of this, if she cared. In the end she said nothing and his guesses were all the insight he would have into her mind. "Whiskey and weapons don't mix well with worthless thugs betting too much wealth in poker Signora." He lied with a smile, wondering if she would ask for more, unsure if he would confess and blame it on his on demons in the bottle or ghosts from the past . 

"Your money will be wired to you by the morning Signora. If there is nothing else, I suppose I should go prepare that feast in case you choose to stay." He said.

'And help me forget that winter night and the woman who haunts my dreams'  The words never left his throat. Instead with a nod he walked out looking to drown the memory in a drunken haze yet again.