Got word that someone fucked with my family, and now they are gone. I took the first boat headed to America. Standing in New York I can see why some would choose to come here. The glamor and the excitement are all around. A young son of a bitch, seeing this, could be overwhelmed. I walked to a nearby boardinghouse ignoring the bull shit. I had a job to do. His mother, my sister, made me promise ... I never break a promise. "Faccio quello che faccio per la mia famiglia." is all I repeated to myself as I walked.

I made it to the boardinghouse and got my room. I dropped off my suitcase, grabbed a few things from it and went to look for answers.....

Walking down the side walk I saw all types of people. Those dressed to the nines next to those in rags. Some with friends around them, others alone. Those selling things and those buying them. I study people, learn their nature and habits. I watch peoples faces when I talk with them. I look for eye movement and body posture. All of which are subtle 'tells' everyone has and are a genuine, but not guaranteed, way to know if someone is speaking the truth. My curious study has come in handy from time to time.

I noticed a shoeshine boy up ahead and looked at my own pair of Spectator shoes. They were very unsightly from my trip here. I stopped and sat on the stool he provided. He started quickly with a damp rag to clean the dirt and mud off. He rummaged around in his shine case to find the right color. As he was applying polish I ask him about the people who run these streets. "Sir, I'm just a shine boy." he stated as a matter of fact. I smiled down at him, dug in my pocket, and flipped a nickle to him. He snatched it out of the air and put it in his own pocket. "Oh, you mean Don Jemaine Clement and Don Rafa. They are the two who run New York." the lad told me. I like knowing who is who in any particular city I'm in. With the polish applied, he took another rag, dipped it in a little water and begun to rub the shoepolish into the leather.

I asked the boy if he knew anyone I could talk to about finding someone. "That depends on who your looking for." he said with a inquisitive look on his face. I told him about my nephew. "Oh I'm sorry to hear. You need to talk to my uncle Jacob then. He runs the bar just down the street. He seems to know everything and everyone. He can point you in the right direction. Tell him Patrick sent ya." The polish was rubbed in as much as it could be. The boy got out a soft bristled brush and started to 'shine' my shoes. All told, the lad did a great job in about ten minutes. I got up and took out a five dollar bill and handed it to him, "I don't have change mister. You have anything smaller?" he asked handing the money back. "Keep it." was my reply as I walked away in search of his uncle's bar. "Hey mister!" the boy yelled after me, "Hope you find them basterds." I turned back to him and nodded. Me too lad, me too I thought to myself.

I found the bar, just as the kid said. As I walked in, the stench of old booze and smoke filled my nose. I made my way to the bar and took a stool. The bartender came by asking what I wanted, "Water." I told him. He gave me an awkward look, filled a glass at the sink and handed it to me. "Your not from here are ya?" he asked. "No." was my only reply. He shrugged his shoulder and attended to the few other customers in the bar. I took a drink, the water was refreshing.

After a few moments I waved him over, "Patrick sent me, said you know things." The bartender looked at me for a bit and then laughed, "That damn boy will be the death of me." he laughed, "If Patrick sent ya, then you must need some information." I nodded and thought of my next words carefully, "My nephew was here in America, some people did him wrong. I promised my sister I would fix it." and told him my story ....

"My heart goes out for you sir. Yes, I knew your nephew. Came in here often, a very nice chap." the bartender said. "He hooked up with two no account heels. Got into a tight spot and they took him out to get their asses out of hot water." My blood started to boil, I very calming ask if he knew who they were. "Those two. Yeah, they always hold up on the next street over in a abandoned fish market." he stated. I'm not sure what my face said, but his was one of shock. He stepped away from me a bit and nodded towards the door. I thanked him, put a five spot on the bar and left.

I went over to the next block and looked for unoccupied businesses. Down one side of the street, up the other. I found the building three from the end. The sign said 'Sully's Fish Market' with a notice on the door 'Closed indefinitely'. This was the place. I hurried down the ally to the back door.

I stood and put my ear to the door, I heard voices inside. I tried the door, but it was locked. I reached into my coat and pulled out my pick set. Tension bar and scraper, with in a minute I was inside. I replaced the pick set and grabbed my gat from the holster. I moved to the sound of voices ... "and if we scare them, they'll give us what we ask." I heard one the the goons say from a nearby office, they both laughed. As I crept towards the door I found a length of rope and picket it up. I got to the door and peeked in, they were sitting at a table, each had their backs to me. I took a breath .... standing I entered the room, "Hands up you dumb ass fuckers." I said in my meanest voice. Either my voice or my sudden presence turned them white. I leveled my gun at them. "What the fuck is this shit." one said, "Who the fuck are you?" said the other. I walked up to them and, with gun still aimed, said "On your knees now, or die." Love to give people options.

After tying them up. I took a second to gather my thoughts. "What the fuck is this?" one of them said, I kicked him in the teeth. The other had a few more brains cells, it seemed and asked, "Who are you?" I looked at them both and asked if they knew my nephew, they both agreed that they did. "And what happen to him?" I asked. I should of asked if the Easter Bunny was real, would of got the same response. Their silence was acknowledgement to my question. I grabbed the first guy and hauled him up to his feet, picked him up and hung him on a fish hook used for disembowelment. The sounds of his screams moved me very little. The other piece of shit was still sitting in the chair I put him in his eyes focused on me. I located a ball peen hammer, picked it up, removed his shoes and proceeded to smash all of his toes one after another very slowly. I was not worried about the screams, I was almost done. "Everyone knows what you did and who you did it to. I've made my presence know. They will see this and know what I will do if anyone, ANYONE, fucks with my family." I said with rage in my voice. They cried, screamed, offered forgiveness ..... I shot them both between the eyes.

I left the expired fish market and headed back to the boarding house I was staying at. Not even twenty four hours have past and I fulfilled my promise. I passed a diner, thought about it, and went inside to order a meal. I was famished.

I finished my meal, paid the bill and headed out. I was now finished with my mission. I like this country, I thought to myself. Lets see what happens now.

 @RichardKuklinski in Summerlin, LV got a hold of me. Heard stories of me, offered me a job. What the hell, I thought, Not doing much of anything now. The feeling of satisfaction for keeping my promise had me on cloud nine. So flew to Summerlin, took their offer. Lets see where this goes.

I found a small apartment near downtown. Got settled and then took a walk down the street. I was looking for a nice local bar or restaurant I could always go to. A few mom and pop places and some gin rooms, but nothing worth my time. I should open my own place then, I told myself. I will speak to @Carlo-Gambino about it and see if it is possible. I could bring my niece over to run it. Her cooking is beyond heaven.

I stopped into a diner, ordered a quick meal, then left to speak to Carlo about my idea.

"You already fucked up dumbass. Way to go." I said to myself. Barely a week into my new crew and I done did wrong. My shop was going great, but my other life, not so much. I mentally kicked myself hard. "If you live through this, count your blessings." I thought. I hate it when my brain is right.

When I was younger, I use to have fun and make jokes when I was not raising hell. Did not realize until today what jokes can do. Shit could of happened today and due to my fun I could of hurt a lot of people. I walked down the street thinking about this. I like to make fun, I enjoy making folks laugh, but at what cost? I wanted to hide my head, to go back home, to retire from this life.

As I thought these things, I saw a old man on a piece of board with wheels. He had no legs. With a smile on his face, he was asking for any change folks might have in their pockets. I stopped in front of him and asked, "Why are you smiling?" He gave me a long look before replying, "I am old, I lost my legs in the war. Most of my family are gone. I ask people for any change they have, anything to get through the day." he stated, "No matter what, I've never been disappointed. Those who have nothing to give speak with me. Give me companionship. I don't need much. Why do you ask?" he questioned me.

I told him of what happened today. He replied with, "Is that all? Shit boy, I KNOW you've been through worse. Why is this upsetting you?" he asked. I gave it some thought before answering, "I'm not sure why, maybe because I finally found a place I belong and am unsure how to act? Was just having some fun." I said, "Or, I'm am just destined to be a fuck up." I retorted. The old man threw back his head and laughed. After a few moments he calmed himself, looked at me with a fatherly stare and said, "We are all fuck ups. The questions is, can you fix what you messed up? Can you take accountability?" I looked at him, "I did, but still, I feel bad." Again he chuckled, "Good, keep feeling that." he said, "It will keep you from doing it again." I thought about his words for a bit, then I took all the money I had on me and put it in his tin cup. "Thank you kind sir, I see now what you mean." was all I could reply. I walked away with a different train of thought.

As I was eating my dinner at the local cafe, I thought back to those old man's words. I was so naive back then. I finished my meal, walked up and paid the bill, then my bodyguard Jacob and I headed home. My apartment was above my shop. Normally I go through the front then up the stairs, but tonight I went down the ally to the back door. I wanted to look again at how much room I could expand my business.

I awoke with a painful headache, the light hurt my eyes. It took me a little bit to realize I was tied to a chair. As my mind cleared I saw I was in the back room of my LA pawn shop. Next to me was my unconscious bodyguard Jacob and he was not doing good, his breathing was shallow and blood still ran from the injury to the back of his head. I slowly looked around, two men were tearing the place apart. I just watched them carefully.

One of the men finally looked at me while the other continued to look about, "You alive? Dumbass here hit you in the head with the club so hard I thought we killed ya." he walked over to me. "Tell me where you keep them." he said. I looked at the man with no emotion on my face, "What, exactly, is them?" I asked. He punched me in the jaw, "THE GUNS YOU FUCK!" he yelled, "I know you have them here! People talk, I listen."

Of course, the guns. What else would he be here for? I knew this dance routine, the less I say the more they beat me till I break or just kill me or torture Jacob to make me talk. I glanced at the clock on the wall, 5:30am. What I needed was time, my other bodyguards would be here in an hour, so I tried some white lie common sense, "Look. Yes I do sell guns, but that is in my Las Vegas shop. I just opened this one and have not had time to stock it properly." I told the guy. "BULLSHIT!" he said and hit me again, "Where are they?!"

Well hell, either this one is sharp as a tack or dumb as dirt, I was hoping for sharp. "Do you know who I work for?" I asked, "Are you aware there will be nowhere you can hide?" The man laughed, "I heard some shit about you and that guy you work for Carlo somebody. Don't mean shit to me." he stated, "You foreigner mafia fucks and your fancy suits and cars. Trying to act all dapper. Y'all don't scare me none." Great, I got dirt boy. "Listen son, your in way over your head here. I am willing to let this go. Just untie me and leave." I calmly said.

A couple more punches then, "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO TELL ME ANYTHING!" he screamed. He stepped back from me and pulled out a pistol, "Tell me where the fucking guns are or I kill you and sleeping beauty there." he said as he pointed the gun at me. He buddy came over and took out a gun as well. Now what the hell am I going to do?.......

Trying to make it in America was hard. Nowadays you really had to be a somebody to make it here. Being well connected with the high rolling boys went a long way, and like Eddie's father always told him. It's not about what you know, it's about who you know. That always stuck with Eddie, as far back as he could remember.

Eddie remembered back to his first few weeks in Philly. He barely knew anybody, except for William_Bowden. He had ran into some trouble in his old neighborhood back in Queens, New York, and he had to get out of there some how. His father had given him William's address as the two of them used to be connected to one another back in the day when Eddie's father was a somebody before he got wacked for slinging heroin in the wrong territory. 

He knew exactly how tough it was to make it in America. He knew exactly how tough it was to make it in a new city at least. But he managed to get by with the help of a few friends, and that was what it was all about to survive in this thing of ours. You need some friends you can count on. Everybody needed a little help every now and then.

He had received a tip from a friend, that Orlin_Lang could provide Eddie with a tip off for the track. Eddie was always in the market for the trifecta racket, so anytime he could put a bet on a sure thing; you can bet your fucking ass that was what he would be doing. After all, Eddie was in the money making business over anything else. Right now? Business was excellent.

Eddie got into his car and drove down to Lang's place. He decided to park a little further up the road, to avoid his car being seen as his heat was running a little too high for his liking. He got out of the Cadi, and heading down the street. Stopping outside of Lang's he could hear some shouting. He didn't like the sound of it, and thought the guy might be in trouble. Figuring that nobody was coming to help the fella, Eddie was going to do something about it.

Slowly, he opened the door and crept inside, hiding behind anything that was nearby so he wasn't spotted. He wanted to scope the place out first to see what the fuck was happening in the beyond. As he got further and further inside, he spotted Lang tied to a chair, getting the holy Jesus beat on him. Not good.

Eddie retreats out of Lang's and heads across the street to the nearest phone booth. He dials the number of @ArturoSigliori and waits the for receiver to be picked up on the other end. He starts talking as soon as he picks up the phone.

"Yeah, Arturo? It's Eddie. You remember that fella I was coming to get the trifecta tip off? His place is being done over right now. Go pick up Adonis and get the fuck down here. Let's help the gent out eh?" Eddie says before hanging up the telephone. He steps outside of the phone booth, and lights up a cigarette while he waited for the boys to come down with backup.

Business or pleasure? Arturo was surely in town for business, but perhaps some pleasure had mixed in along the way. Arturo was staying in some shabby motel, staying on the low key. Sorting out dealings and throwing down the gauntlet on hoodlums, and so forth. However, that didn't stop him from visiting the various delis and bakeries that populated the cultural landscape. Arturo already had scouts circling the globe for new recipes, but sometimes he preferred to get hands on, himself. The west coast had some new infusions of talent from east Asia, along with the famed veteran businesses that already had captivated the populace. 

Surprisingly, he was actually in his room when Eddie called. He had decided to catch up on rest in between jobs and was enjoying the soft pillows of his shabby bed. He answered the phone and listened, grabbing his pistol and car keys from the night table, figuring Eddie needed someone else rolled. "Yeah no prob, I'll go pick him up." Arturo placed a quick call to Adonis before heading out the door. 

The pair drove up behind Eddie's car and rolled into place two feet from his back bumper. They quietly opened the car doors and headed out back to the trunk to prepare. It had only been a couple days since the firefight at the distribution, so conflict was still fresh in all of their minds. Arturo and Joe approached Eddie's car and the three stopped briefly to plan out what would happen next.

With little time left, I planned a Hail Mary pass to buy time, "Fine. Fucking fine. I'll show you where the gun are if you let me get my bodyguard to the hospital." I stated. Dirt boy paused at this, he looked at his friend and nodded, they both put their guns in their waistbands as dirt boy untied my bonds......

Things had faded to some sort of normality quite quickly after the warehouse fiasco at Stobart's Distribution. But nothing a little Stobart's Finest couldn't fix. It kind of fixed everything, if you listened to old wives tales and the current ones from types you'd find in rickety old houses off the beaten track, the kinds who slapped you with tarot cards and promises of knights in shiny white Cadillac Roadster's.

It was a gem of a drink, and Joe was making the most of a healing session as the call came through from Arturo. Although climbing through the ranks like he were ascending Jacob's ladder, reaching out to the palaces in the sky, as if he were the mortal that fucked with the God's himself, Adonis was moving up in the world, but still made it a point to follow protocol. When you got a call from one of the big boys, you dropped what you're doing and legged it.

"Fuck. Now? You got it, boss. Yeah, at the pool hall. Okay. Okay."

After clanking the phone back onto its holder, Joe tossed his present company off of his lap. He was in the back at Hot Shots. No time to waste. He slipped his jacket on as he moved about as quickly as he could, making sure to not fuck up the work a certain someone in Philly had done on him. Just the work, though, as the nurse was one you'd call on to have shit like that mended. A run in with a bullet, that kind of shit. As long as you didn't jump at it head first.

He winced a little as he slid his jacket over his arm, then turned to leave. The scantily clad women before him knew the deal. She handed him the bottle of Stobart's before fixing the collar of his white button down shirt, making it sit plushly inside the collar of his jacket.

"You might be needing that, by the sound of the conversation." She said as she fucked about a little too much with the fabric.

"You ain't wrong."

...

The two arrived and pulled up, Joe in the passenger seat. He'd had a few more swigs of the liquor as they raced over. He wasn't totally fucked. But enough that he should've probably stayed out of this one. But, what were you gonna do when duty called? Grab a Winchester 97 and ride shotgun, that's what, right into the thick of it, glassy eyed half-tanked grin and all.

Adonis left the bottle more or less under the seat as he followed Arturo's lead and joined Eddie at the meeting point. He brought the same piece of hardware that he'd used back at the warehouse, for a little bit of luck. They got through that one relatively fine. Maybe the pump action had some sort of superstition about it. At least, that's how Joe was approaching this one, hoping lady luck was with them once more. He awaited instructions.

My hands were free. I rubbed my wrist for a bit, "Hurry the fuck up!" the man yelled. I stood and looked down at Jacob ... his breathing was slow but normal. I felt a twinge of relief, but my anger doubled. I looked at the two goons, remembering their faces. If I make it out of this there is going to be hell to pay.

When I remodeled my shop I had two secret rooms put in. The first is my main showroom for my "other" items and the second storage. I chose to open the storage for them. It held a few guns and vest, but nowhere near as many in the main room. I was taking a huge risk, but I needed more time. I walked over to the wall a pushed on what looked like a knot in the wood paneling, the 'door' clicked open. I pulled it open the rest of the way and step aside.

The morons looked at each other in disbelief, then hurried over to peek inside. I looked at the clock, 6:10, still twenty minutes till anybody shows up. Shit. Live or die, time for another risky move. I slowly edged my way to the other secret room, if I timed this right I might be able to open it and grab a gun ..... or get killed trying ....

With Winchester in hand, it was go time. No more fucking about. This was what it was all about. You pumped that shotty and got moving, hoping to live to die another day. Joe made quick work of the distance between himself and the shop front. He slid himself against a wall and drew the gun back against his shoulder, pointing it skywards.

There weren't any people out except an old man doing the usual walk the neighborhood with hands behind the back, shuffling along, because he had fuck all else to do. Joe eyed him and sent an upward nod in his direction. The shuffling picked up, the hands began pumping at his sides as he made himself scarce.

With a quick peep in the window, Joe noticed nothing out of the ordinary. The back of the back through said window changed all that. He flicked the extended shotgun about through the pane of glass till he could reach inside and pop the lock. Sliding in, he knew hat would've attracted some attention. Maybe a good thing. Maybe not. In any case, he stayed low and made the backs of furniture his new friend. Hello couch. Greetings table. After a moment, he noticed he light flight on shining at the bottom of the staircase.

His entry was a bust. As he kept low behind an array of shelves, he could see and hear someone making their way down the staircase. No voice accompanied the movements, but he was there. Joe hoped he was armed. It wouldn't be right filling him with buckshot if he was only down for a glass of milk and some cookies.

Helll i found this pretty interesting but , i cant even light my cigarette, to many dubshnifers, anyone can help my lungs get his smokey?

I was almost there, "Hey! Sit your ass down." Shit, busted. I looked at the two guys watching me, then walked over and sat in the chair. "What were you going for?" he asked as my hands were quickly tied again. "That candle stick, on the shelf, so I can knock you the hell out." I lied. He chuckled at that.

He came out of the room after looking in more boxes, "There's not much in here except a few guns. Where's the fucking rest?" the man asked. I didn't even bother to look at him, "I told you ... new business. What's there is what I have." He grumbled something then went to look in the room again, as he did we heard a sound come from somewhere in the building, "What the fuck was that?" we all waited for the sound again "Chuck, go check it out." The other man looked at his buddy then nodded. He pulled out his pistol and went out the door. I could hear him walking slowly down the stairs.

As the shadow grew larger, Joe waited. He waited till the right moment to strike. He didn't want to give the guy the time required to possibly end his first trip into Lang's pawn shop on account of it being also his last. As soon as he saw the gun poke out, he raised his shotgun and pointed it towards the bottom of the stairs.

With a few more steps, there was now an arm attached to the gun. A few more, and the makings of a face and the beginnings of the front of a body. Still, he waited. The Winchester 97 was primed. Ready to go. And as the legs pushed the body out and into the open, the trigger was squeezed.

One shot. A spray of bullets caught the wall off to the side of the target. A shot back. The cash register next to where Joe was huddled sprang open as money flew out, notes and coins. Two shots. Joe blew the back out of a wooden shelf in front of where the mark was now running to get cover behind. Second shot back from an awkward angel as he dived, and Joe also had to throw his body off to the side, as the return fire smashed throw the front shop window, shattering the glass as it streamed down like a waterfall.

Joe gathered himself and got back to his feet quickly, anticipating his foe would try and get some time to regroup. With a strong slide along the carpet towards the opposite end of the shelving, Adonis pumped the gun then shot off another spray of buckshot. Three shots. The aim was true, causing the body of the intended target to fly back into the wall.

Things never quite went exactly as you planned them. Not in this life. Joe took a moment. He was already on the ground, so lay all the way back. He let the shotgun rest on his chest. Looking at the roof, he blinked. Adonis let out a relieving sigh just as the man he was in a fire fight with experienced is last breath.

Shots rang out quickly, I was stunned, did one of my goons show up early? Did a cop hear the ruckus? All I could do was wait.

The low life who stayed with me ran to the door at the top of the steps, "CHUCK! ..... HEY CHUCK! ..... WHATS GOING ON??" he screamed as he was trying to pull the gun from his belt line. Movement next to me caught my attention, it was Jacob, he was staring holes in the back of the man's head. Before I could even register that he was conscious, he stood, chair and all and ran towards the loud mouth at the door. The guy had no chance, Jacob hit him hard in a sideways spin, using the chair on his back as much as possible. The collision did two things, smash the chair enough to let Jacob free himself and send the loud unlucky bastard tumbling down the stairs.

Jacob quickly came over and undid my bonds, I rushed to the other wall, opened the hidden door and ducked inside. I came out seconds later with a Tommy gun and a Colt 1911. I tossed the Colt to Jacob. I took a flashlight from a shelf near me and we headed down the stairs. The light showed me the chaos of dirt boy's travel, broken railing on one side and holes knocked in the wall on the other. His body lay on the floor. As I neared, I heard him moan a bit. I put a bullet in the back of his head. A little further into the store I saw the second man's body. The scatter gun almost taking him in half. I shined the light around the shop looking for the one who saved my ass.

I saw feet sticking out from behind a display case and carefully walked over.

A stranger lay on the floor with a shotgun resting across him. He was calmly looking at the ceiling. I stepped closer with the flashlight to have a look at the man. Now I never met Don Adonis personally, but knew who he was. I lowered the gun and moved the light from his face. I truly had no idea how or why he was here. With a slight chuckle I held out my hand to help the man up, "Welcome to Lang's pawn shop. What can I do for you today?" with a laugh of his own he took my hand and I helped him to his feet.