"Look, Buddy. I ain't got the dough. What I do got is my dick in your wife's ass. Fuck you..." Charlie was taking a beating from a few members of the local gang out in Queens, New York. He'd been fucking the wife of Buddy Torelli for a number of months now, and he was told to pay him five million bucks in compensation or he was going to get wacked. Jesus, Charlie didn't have that kind of money.

A couple of days later, and he found himself on the flight out to Philly. He had a few friends out there, and knew that he could keep his heat down a little and also keep above ground. He ended up getting in big time with a guy called William Bowden who had recommended he changed his name. Thinking on this for a few days while he hid out in Bowden's place, Charlie decided that the guy was right. He couldn't use that name anymore. Least not until he became a part of this thing of ours.

That's when he decided the name Charlie, and started being known as Eddie Stobart. That's how people knew him these days. Good ol' Eddie, Mr Stobart. But now that he was actually a somebody? He didn't give a fuck who knew his name. Those pricks who wanted him dead were small time assholes anyway, and Eddie would soon be calling a hit on them.

He was down at Stobart's Distribution when a few people had come into the place with guns looking for him. Eddie was there along with William_Bowden, Joe Adonis, Henry_Cooke and ArturoStrigliori who knew what was going on. They knew that Eddie's real name was Charlie, and they knew what had been going on. So they was ready to blast these fucking cocksuckers all the way back to Queens. Eddie could have gotten in touch with one of the bosses from New York, but he wanted to have this handled in house instead.

"Boys, when these cockroaches show up let's fucking clip em. I ain't got time for this shit no more. So let's make it a fucking massacre, send a real message that you don't mess with Charlie Stobart." He says with a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. He cocked his pistol, and went out to meet his pursuers head on.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

... Later ...

It was silent as a fuckin' church. At least to Joe, as things seemed to slow in general. He copped a bullet in the shoulder and hit the deck. The same limb that he knocked out of the socket during that meet and blast with the white hooded and skinned fucks from Missouri.

This had kind of started out the same way. A peaceful gathering, where all met on time at Stobart's as instructed. Kind of...

... Earlier ...

The driver was polishing off a nice baguette he'd gotten from Breads and Spreads, on The Pier. Arturo's joint was notorious for anything bread-like. The smell alone slapped you around the chops and yanked you inside by the groaning in your gut. Today, the luncheon was to go.

He'd parked the taxi down an alleyway, just a stones throw from The Pier, off Race Street. An old building was on the corner. Kind of condemned. Kind of not. Adonis found himself there on occasion, playing poker with some of the local riff raff. The same place he met Ray, once upon a time.

Del Rossi munched down another bite as he glanced around, noticing a lady moving by him rather quickly. She clutched her purse to her chest and picked up the pace as she noticed the guy posted up on the corner. The lettuce stuck in his teeth, as he gave her as friendly a smile as he could, didn't help. She almost took off running as a response.

He was keeping watch on the corner of Race Street and the alleyway that run upside building number 228, the desolate joint Adonis had just crawled out of after winning a decent pocketful of dough. And with a broad, who had her hand stuffed into his other pocket.

The driver turned back towards where he heard Joe's voice, glancing over his shoulder. He only needed a moment to figure out Joe's next move. The back of the taxi, parked just a few doors further down the alleyway.

"Doll, the fuck is this?!" Joe said as he reached in between her legs. She was straddling his waist, in the back of the once upon a time Yellow cab.

"What do you think it is?" The gold-digger said with a wry smirk.

Joe pulled out the snub-nosed revolver that she had tucked away into the upper part of her stocking, under her skirt.

"What ya think ya doin' with this?"

The Race Street captain gave it a once over, glancing at the condition, then checked its status. It was primed and ready to take someone's name to the obits, if need be.

"A girl's gotta be careful roun' these parts, ya know?"

He did know. The place wasn't exactly seventh heaven. He did wonder what she was doing inside the shitty gin den to begin with. Maybe had the idea to roll a guy for his winnings. Maybe, it should've been him.

"No. I don't know." Adonis said with a stern look as he tossed the handgun into the front of the cab, over the seat. He knew. He also knew he didn't know her. And he didn't trust a dame that he didn't give a damn about. Which was all of them. None he slept with, or planned to, anyway.

She pouted and moved closer, trying to grab his attention again. His mind was off somewhere else as he looked out the side window, still with a serious expression on his face. He felt like he had forgotten something. Like something was amiss, and not just the hard piece he'd pulled out of the flirt's skirt.

"Joe!"

It was his driver, pounding on the other window. He'd tossed the rest of his baguette away before he came sprinting down the alleyway. Not a good sign. He'd usually kill for one of those. And once, he ended up doing just that.

"JOE!!" Del Rossi said with a few more hard thumps, then popped open the door. He was intruding, but it was obviously important.

"What is it?"

The broad was now practically an afterthought. Although still on his lap, her knees around his waist and facing him, her head was also now gawking at Joe's driver along with her intended mark's.

"Stobart's! Remember?! We're suppose to be there already!"

"FUCK!"

Joe tossed the woman off his lap and out the open door of the vehicle. He helped her along with a slap on the behind as she fumbled her way out.

The faint sound of the broad yelling out "PRICK!" was quickly muffled by the engine being put to work, as the car sped off down the alleyway and back onto Race Street.

They were late to the meeting. Joe, was late to the meeting. It wasn't like him, but more and more this life was jerking him about. Pulling him in, further and further into its seedy underbelly. As if the devil had him by the balls. He enjoyed the pleasures though. All of them. It helped him feel alive, in between feeling like shit.

Finally arriving at Stobart's Distribution was a car sliding in through the front entrance. The guy manning the gate almost didn't get it open in time, as it skidded in, denting part of the front right fender as it bounced over the section where the street met the curb.

He was the last to arrive, yet made it before anything had officially kicked off. He saluted Stobart and the others with a wink in their general direction as he strolled in. He was holding a Winchester 97 in his right hand and had a strap of extra ammunition dangling over his left shoulder.

... Currently ...

"Boys, when these cockroaches show up let's fucking clip em. I ain't got time for this shit no more. So let's make it a fucking massacre, send a real message that you don't mess with Charlie Stobart."

Joe couldn't help but feel a surge of energy jolt through his body, as Eddie rallied the troops. Nothing like it. Having your boss stick some gravel in your spine and arch it straight the fuck up. He pumped a round into the shotgun and marched out as his fearless leader lead the charge.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

Shots began flying as soon as they left the back office. If he remembered it correctly, Joe believed that Eddie was the first to begin emptying his weapon. It all happened so fast, though. And before he knew it, his shotgun was pumping buckshot's out as well.

At the time, he didn't know how many there were, but it seemed like a bunch. No more than you'd count on one hand, but no less than a stroll in the park. The kind that got you thinking there might be casualties on both sides before the dust settled.

Joe immediately noticed one guy off to his right. Adonis was in go mode before his feet left the safety of the taxi, and didn't hesitate to point the barrel directly at the stranger and squeeze tight on the trigger. He felt the recoil dig into his armpit as the 12 gauge smoked a cartridge out, and into the guy's chest.

The cocksuckers seemed to be taken by surprise. Maybe they weren't expecting Charlie to be as well prepared as he was, or for him to burst out like that. All Joe knew, was before his guy could fully lift his rifle and aim the thing, he was sent off his feet, flying into a crate of Stobart's finest with a chest full of 'I aint makin' it home for dinner'.

The action continued to unfold around Adonis as he pumped another cartridge into the six shooter shotgun...

Arturo Strigliori was a busy man. That did not mean he wouldn't take time to clear his schedule for a meeting with his friends and compatriots, however. As always, he came packing heat. Philly can get rather cold at night, so a little extra warmth didn't hurt anything. The meeting itself was like the usual, strictly confidential information that had best stay within house. They had been joking about various things and laughing by the time their quarry screeched up outside with their cars. 

The cold pump of the handful of procured shotguns echoed through the large space and the cluster of men approached the exit. Arturo was taken a bit aback when Eddie walked straight out the door and started firing, giving both groups little warning after such an abrupt ending to his little pep talk. Arturo shrugged and followed closely behind Eddie and Adonis as they left the building. He trained his shotgun on one wannabe gangster before someone else's lead shot filled his gut. Arturo rapidly swung his barrel around to take out another that was just about to peek up over one of the cars. The spray of pellets shattered half of the window and red mist appeared on the cracks on the glass.

Arturo continued to cock his shotgun and fire at any enemies that dared show themselves. 

"Joe Adonis"

The first shot had been fired. Joe had taken a hit to the shoulder. What a fucking guy. Having someone to take a bullet for you, to show that kind of respect for you was a great feeling. It spurred you on, and made you want to back the guy up. Eddie knew what kind of man that Joe was, and that's why he liked him so much. The guy had so much ambition and talent, that it practically fucking screamed out of him.

"Arturo Strigliori"

Arturo was the first to hear them coming in. Soon as he had saw the first cocksucker pointing his glock at Eddie, Arturo was the guy who kicked Eddie down to the ground and shot back. What fucking passion to try and save a life to someone you knew so well. Eddie wanted to do exactly the fucking same for that guy.

"Charlie Stobart"

He'd been shot at. He'd been knocked to the ground. Heck, he thought he'd lost a fucking tooth. But Eddie wasn't going down without a fight. His boys was fighting hard for him, and he'd do the same for them. As Arturo had knocked his ass to the ground, Eddie fell against a crate that had a few weapons stashed inside of it. Noticing one of the Tommy gun's that had slid across the ground as the crate had been toppling on it's side, he picked it up and unleashed hell. The rain of used bullet cases that was now coming down hard onto the floor sounded off like metal rain hammering down onto the sidewalk outside.

Eddie kept firing with everything he had. Clipping six of their guys, he'd noticed that his associate Phillip Morelli had taken a meat cleaver to his leg. Eddie shot the fucker who did it in the neck, causing him to fall. He wasn't gonna shoot him again. He'd let the bastard bleed out, suffer more.

"Joey... Arturo... You boy's still breathing?" Eddie calls out when the shooting had stopped. The bastards now taking shelter behind one of the trucks from the warehouse.

"Fuck those cockroaches!" Joe yelled back as he lifted the shotgun and leaned it against his shoulder, the end of it pointed skywards.

He had his back up against the back of a crate. So much for being foreman of the month. He wondered how long it would take to clean this shit up, noticing bodies scattered around the joint. One in particular caught his eye. The guy had his hand on his throat and was coughing up blood.

"Art, you wanna show these crumbs what it means to fuck with Race Street?!" Adonis called out, hoping to get Arturo's attention.

This was what it was all about. The life of a fucking gangster. Wounded or not, Joe was willing to go out on his shield. He lived for this shit. All of it. The guts. The glory. The scars to come. If it were a broad, he was playing more than just the tip. He was all the fucking way in.

Joe glanced his head out of cover and took a quick look towards where the others had scattered. He noticed too that they had retreated behind a truck, and were popping out from behind it and simultaneously letting loose some live'ners their way.

A few bullets fired in his direction had Adonis' head back behind the crate. He awaited further instructions. Maybe ArturoStrigliori or Stobart would make another move. And when they did, he'd be ready to back them up.

Arturo decided to creep out back, circling around outside the warehouse over to the front. He primed his shotgun and rattled off a couple blasts before taking cover once again. It worked as a distraction enough for his compatriots to once again rally against their enemy. A few minutes and dozens of shell casings rattling onto the floor later, the opposing gangsters were all dead. "I suppose that settles it," Arturo announced to his friends, while kicking away the rifle from one of the lifeless bodies. He didn't have much to say, he was only knee deep into the conflict, whereas Eddie probably had some commentary for their gang. 

Arturo looked toward Eddie_Stobart and waited for him to say something within the pep talk or congratulatory category. What he was going to say, Arturo could only guess.

"Alright boys, looks like those fucking pricks are falling back. Meet me out back, and someone pick up Henry. He's gone down but doesn't seem to be shot." Eddie says to the other two.

He wanted this over and done with as soon as possible, but he didn't want to go straight after the boys from New York just yet. He wanted them to go back to Joe Massio with the message that he was alive and kicking, and more than willing to clip anyone who came looking for him. Charlie fucking Stobart wasn't going to go down without a fight.

So Eddie makes his way out back, holding onto his shoulder which was giving him a lot of trouble. It was maybe dislocated but he'd visit the hospital in a few hours if he didn't get wacked anytime before that.

Eddie found himself standing out back of Stobart's, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, still holding onto his shoulder. He was waiting for Joe and Arturo to follow him to the back.

Joe didn't fuck about. Even with a graved shoulder, he was up and moving with Eddie's orders. The part he hated though, was the ripped fibers the damage had done. Not to his body, but to his jacket. It was a favorite of his. Beige. He wore it like he was stepping right out of a drive-in movie screen.

As he moved through the warehouse, Adonis felt worse and worse, as he looked about at all the carnage. Being the foreman of this operation, he'd have to be part of the clean-up crew. Unless Eddie had someone else in mind for the job, that was. Maybe a crew that specifically did such things. Like, maybe also someone or a group of someone's from out of town. He nodded at his own thoughts as he stepped over a body with blood pooling around it.

On making his way out back with ArturoStrigliori, both helping Henry along with them, he stopped and helped the baguette king lean their Irish butcher pal up against the nearest solid object. Adonis checked his shoulder, and after noticing it was simply a graze, he went about lighting up a cigarette.

"Alright, first things first..." Eddie says to Joe as he makes his way out the back to where Eddie was stood smoking a cigarette.

"Give Rosaleen a call, think she's out in Las Vegas at the minute. I've spoken with her before about getting some waste disposal sorted and she seemed to be game for this. If she can get some people out here to Philly to clean this shit up, then we are fucking aces."

Eddie inhaled some of the smoke from the cigarette, and he looked at Joe's shoulder.

"You hurt bad, or can you still get something else done for me eh?" Eddie asks Joe, slightly concerned for the guy. He didn't want one of his most trusted associates needing the hospital while they had a job to do.

Rosaleen caught a quick fight out of Las Vegas to check out one of the staged locations.  When she arrived there was a message from  Eddie_Stobart.

She called him back.  She waited a few minutes and another gentleman came the phone. He said Eddie told him to take the message.  

Tell Eddie I  have the manpower in Philly. Let me know the location,  Tell him I need to know how bad are the scene and the number of causalities?  Are we completely cleaning or just sending a message?   Tell him if we are just sending a message, we will deliver closure to the next of kin. This way I will know how much manpower I will need.  I will do I need to do and he agrees to pay what it takes.  Let him I need this ASAP to get the job done right. 

He told Rosaleen they would be right back to her.

The word had gotten to Eddie that Rosaleen could have some guys over in a couple of hours to take care of this mess down at Stobart's. He knew that he could count on her expertise to get this job done.

Joe had informed Eddie of Rosaleen's message. "Alright, so the waste disposal can be taken care of tonight. That's good news. I'll go give Rosaleen another call. But boys, be ready. We are heading on over to New York tonight to hit them back."

Eddie goes over to the phone on the desk in his office and he dials the number of Rosaleen.

"Yeah, it's Stobart. Listen, I need some of your goons to come help us with a little problem I'm having. I'll make it worth your while. To be honest, your presence would be a great help and would mean something to me. Come on over to Philly on the next flight, and I'll explain everything when you get here eh?"

He hangs up the telephone and goes back outside.

Damn,  Eddie_Stobart hung up so fast.

Rosaleen dialed back and  Joe answered the phone. 

Hello Joe, this is Rosaleen again.   Sorry I need you to get another message to Eddie.  Tell him I am in the vicinity of Philly. Tell him I didn't quite understand what he was saying.   Unless the job he needs requires more than cleaning I ’m rarely noticeable at the scene.  My men are ready and all they will need to know is the place, the magnitude of the situation and they will be in and out.  However, if it details something more complicated, I can meet him in Philly when he is ready.

It had been a long bit of action, and Joe just needed a drink. He'd been shot, but nothing a little whisky couldn't fix. After he'd been tossed back and forth into answering the phone, he left the last conversation with a little emphasis. He broke the hand piece against the body of the telephone, smashing it enough times that he wouldn't be able to pick it up or answer it again, before heading back outside.

"Eddie, I gotta get this looked at before we go guns blazing again, pal." He said with a casual tone, his previous outburst well behind him. He'd have to likely bring a new phone when in next as foreman, though.

"I'll be at the pool hall." He said as he picked up the shotgun and headed towards the front of the depot.

Joe left the scene as he came. In a Yellow taxi. His driver gave a slight look of concern at him as he slid into the back. Not on account of his facial expression, as he pretty much had a deadpan look regardless of what was or wasn't happening, as he handled the steering wheel. A simple check in the rear view mirror was all Adonis needed, to know the guy jetting him around Philly and New York wasn't completely a silhouette of another life.

The vehicle left a lot less recklessly than it arrived. He'd need to see a nurse about this wound. Someone in the life, but not exactly knee deep in the shit they seemed to always find themselves in. Race Street was like that. Action packed. All you needed to do was hit The Pier and quickly find yourself sucked into the activity that seemed to never sleep.

First, a nurse. Second, Stobart's Finest.

Maybe Eddie was beginning to act a little rashly. He had lost his cool in the heat of the moment and returned to being the classy, laid back businessman that he always was. It took a lot to get Eddie to lose his shit, but these small time fucks had really pushed his buttons coming all the way out to Philly to try and clip him. He just wasn't doing this cat and mouse bullshit anymore.

He watched as Joe left, then he turned his attention to Arturo. He had noticed that his associate was also injured from the shootout, which made him begin to question his morals. Had he decided to say fuck his friends to exact a little revenge? Jesus, things really was beginning to get a little too much out of hand.

Realizing that Joe had smashed his telephone in the heat of the moment, Eddie had to cross the street to use the nearest payphone. First he made a call to Rosaleen. 

"Rosa, don't worry about coming to New York with us. Can you have someone stop by Stobart's in Old City, Philly, and clean the place up? You'll find quite a mess in there though I'm not gonna lie to you." He hangs up the receiver after a brief conversation with her, then he picks it back up again and dials Joe's number down at Hot Shots.

"Joe, sorry about that before. I think I'm losing my fucking mind, but more losing my fucking patience over this thing. Let's regroup later on, maybe tomorrow morning, with a new plan... A more collected, organised plan."