Killing a man was supposed to break something inside of you. Tara had read accounts of men who'd killed, who had felt something pure within them indeliby stained even through the act of a righteous killing. She'd read a lot on the subject in the last week, in fact, and had made her peace with it. If she was being entirely honest, Tara Byrne still had her reservations about killing a man. But killing a monster? That she could do.

Gavin, her twin brother, had seemingly made his peace with the matter in the time it took to shrug. He'd killed hundreds of animals. What was the difference?

Perhaps that was one reason why Tara, in a rare occasion, took a back seat to her brother when it came to planning. 

If the Byrne twins were going to make an impact in Philadelphia, they needed to start building up their income. For now, that meant the docks. They'd already approached the current dockmaster, a stubborn Irishman who was already "owned" by another unaffiliated bunch of gangsters. Tara and Gavin had caught him alone in his office, but he'd thrown them out without even listening to them, leaving both twins red in the cheeks with embarrassment and anger. His second in command was much more amenable to their overtures, and so the plan was to instigate a regime change.

Most people assumed that "hits" were hard to plan. For some well defended targets, extensive planning was required, but the killing of most men simply required two things: getting close to the target with a clear line of sight and having an easy escape plan. 

Gavin sat on the fire escape, rubbing his hands in anticipation and feeling the weight of the pistol in his jacket pocket. Tara was standing below him, scowling with her arms folded across her chest- which was largely exposed to the evening air. She paced, obviously unhappy, as Gavin talked to her from a dozen feet above.

"Listen, you said that this was my job to plan, so this is my fucking plan. What is going to make a pig like Harvey stroll into an abandoned alley? A bunch of lost puppies? He'd probably eat them. The only thing that would get me to take that sort of walk would be a woman. As much as I hate this, you're currently the only woman we've got on the team. In the future, when we're rolling in dough, we can hire strumpets for this sort of thing. For now? Get over there, because you're the bait."

Tara, wordlessly, dropped her hands to her side and headed near the edge of the alley. A few minutes later, Gavin heard her voice- ridiculously full of emotion.

"Sir! Sir! Please help me! I beg you! Sir! A young ruffian has stolen my purse! He went this way!"

Gavin checked his pistol, wondering who the hell has said "ruffian" in the last century. Thirty seconds later, he saw his sister and Harvey appear in the alley underneath him. As soon as Harvey stepped into the ideal position, Tara took off running to put as much distance between her and the scene of the crime as possible. It took the target a short while to notice she was leaving, but as soon as he did Gavin pulled the trigger. Twice. Three times. Harvey dropped to the sidewalk.

Gavin ignored the ringing in his ears caused by the gunshots in the alley's close walls as he put one more into the man's head. Better safe than sorry. When he was done, he threw the pistol into the sewer; it was a basic gun from an untraceable merchant, but it wasn't worth the risk of keeping it in his pocket. He walked briskly away, turning several times before emerging a block away.

Tara would be waiting back at the small flat they were renting several blocks away. She may have bitched about being the bait, but the plan had worked to perfection. Soon, they'd own a piece of all the money coming into the docks in return for their own protection. The men who'd owned the previous dockmaster might need taking care of, but that was a problem for another day.