The entire country was mourning the loss of Generale Santoro.  Businesses and homes had Italian flags hanging in the streets, there were pictures of the General in every town square, and most churches held a special mass in his honor.  The next three days would be full of ceremony, beginning with a viewing in Rome at the Capital, where the body was lying in state. The funeral would be at San Giovanni Cathedral the following day, and then the body would return to Venice by train to be buried on base.

Everyone gathered at the train station at noon for departure. Before boarding, Ilaria had spent some time greeting most of them, chatting casually and thanking them for coming.  For the first time during the trip, she was dressed in her full dress uniform; olive green pencil skirt and starched white shirt and black tie, with a matching green jacket that bore her new ranking patches on the arms and pins on the shoulder.  Her hair was pulled back as she usually wore it, braided and tucked beneath a uniform hat. Not once did she leave Joe's side.  She introduced him to people, and the smile on her face was telling that she was very happy to have him by her side.

Finally, Joe and Ilaria were settled into a comfortable private car on the specially commissioned train bound for Rome.  There were military and government officials from all over the country on board.  Their car looked much like a formal living room, complete with comfortable arm chairs, a couch, a small bar, and a table for dining. The train whistle blasted, and lurched to a slow roll away from the platform for the three hour trip to Rome. 

Lunch was served shortly after, an American style meal of steak medallions and asparagus over smashed potatoes. Ilaria cut into a bite of steak.

"To tell you the truth, i'm kind of glad it's not pasta."

The steak looked like something Joe would fight over back in New York in his earlier days. Meals weren't as easy to come by, so he made do with what he could. Smashing someones face against their outdoor table before legging it with their plate was a shitty but daily luncheon. Joe eyed the untouched meal as he remembered the old days, casually raising the glass to his lips and tasting more of the bourbon.

"They served a mean steak back in New York. They still might. We should try track one down when we get back."

Joe had a choice of drinks from the small bar. Gilbey's Spey Royal, Johnnie Walker Black and Old Taylor Whisky. Being where he was and enjoying the oddly satisfying festivities of it more and more, he decided on something a little different.

The Johnnie Walker Black offered a more refined finish compared to their standard Red Label. Joe liked in particular the smokiness, which he let linger on his tongue as he glanced across the dining table at Ilaria.

"Quite the car we got here."

It was impressive. Nothing quite like Joe had experienced before. Nothing close. He glanced around a moment, then turned his attention back on his lunch date. He decided to represent his own career path on this occasion. His cuff links the only major difference compared to what he wore back home, which was a suit that fit with perfect measurements. He felt good, because he felt he looked good. The bourbon was also helping.

"You look amazing." Joe said with an assertive tone and a nod. A light smile came shortly after but he meant what he said and wanted her to know it.

Ilaria smiled, but shook her head.

"I look like everyone else on this train.  You, my love, stand out.  I've not seen you in that suit before- and you're quite the stunner in it."

She looked at the cuff links on the sleeves, remembering something he'd mentioned before about some cuff links belonging to his father.  

Before she had a chance to ask, there was an earth-shattering sound.  Everything went bright white- then black.

---------

It was a World War I style trip wire, placed on the train tracks earlier that morning. The trip wire was attached to a line of explosives that exactly matched the length of the train commissioned for the trip- an expertly planned and executed assassination attempt.  Once the train rolled over the trip wire, the explosives fired off a millisecond later, blasting the train completely off the tracks and completely destroying the body of most of the cars.  The explosion could be heard and seen for miles around.  Somewhere, atop a hill, a group of men dressed in black cheered, waving a red and black flag.

---------

Before Ilaria could open her eyes, she heard many sounds all mixed together, hard to differentiate.  There was crackling, like the sound of a warm fire on a fall evening- but it was far too hot and not comforting at all.  She could hear voices yelling- calling out in a panic back and forth. Her head pounded, and the sounds were all muffled- she couldn't hear clearly for a painful ringing in her ears.  As she slowly came into her sense more, she felt a terrible weight on her chest, making it hard to take a full breath.  What had happened?  Wasn't she just eating lunch?  She tried to open her eyes, but nothing seemed to be obeying the commands of her brain.  In a shallow breath, she smelled smoke and the stench of burning metal and rubber.

Coughing. The feeling of smoke inhalation from burning bits of the mangled wreck. Joe smelt it before anything else and that was when he wasn't hacking up a lung. He felt the wheezing as quick as he was able to gain his bearings. His new suit, tattered, as he pulled himself up from in front of a large burning train car.

More coughing. And that smell. It had his nose coiling back against itself. He staggered forward, attempting to cover his mouth from the smoke wafting over from the flaming debris. His hands dropped to rest on the knees of his torn slacks as his lungs failed to give him what he desperately needed.

Then, as he lifted his head to look around, he saw her.

"Ilar.." He tried to scream out. His legs wobbled under him, causing him to drop on one knee. He could hear muffled screaming which had his attention for a moment, before it dawned on him. She was down. And the train must've been hit.

"Ilaria." He said under a heavy short breath. His heart was pounding harder. He pushed himself up again.

With cuts on his arms and face, Joe slowly staggered his way over. He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. But his body wouldn't allow it. The explosions had thrown him around. He was lucky to be standing. Then his legs gave way. Falling to his knees, meters away.

As Joe began to crawl his way over, he noticed a fiery stinging in his right leg. Looking down as his arms pulled him along, a piece of glass was showing itself firmly lodged in his thigh. He grit his teeth and focused as best he could. Hearing coughing and more muffled screams off in the background, he pushed aside a piece of metal, finally making it to her side.

Trembling. His body began shaking as he looked down at her, not knowing what to do. Should he touch her? Move her? Maybe it wasn't a good thing to do. Maybe it would make it worse.

"Ilaria!"

He moved closer. Noticing her still breathing, he quickly scooted to her side.

"No.. No.. Not like this.. Come on, mio amore.. Come on bella.. It'll be alright.."

Joe carefully lifted her head and placed his bleeding right hand behind it. He got himself as close as he could without leaning on her. Still shaking, he brushed his other hand across her face.

With eyes welling up, Joe quickly rubbed them clear against his shoulder. How could this be the end? Now? This couldn't be it. They'd only started. Their trouble still had more to give. He just knew it did. It just had to!

"We've walked away from worse.. We'll be alright.. We always are.."

Joe couldn't imagine his world without her. It was no longer her, and him. It was them. Adontoro. Le Strega and Adonis till the end. He couldn't hold it back any longer. With tears cascading down his cheeks, he had to let her know. He hoped she already knew. He tried to show her in every way he possibly could, without actually saying the words. He'd never loved another like her before. She had his heart. His soul. And he'd fight the reaper black and blue to keep her by his side.

"I love you, Ilaria."

His asthma seemed to have subsided. At the very least, he didn't notice it. The pain in his punctured leg was still screaming in the background as the sound of people organizing themselves became more prominent, but he didn't care. He brushed his thumb across her lips, then bent forward and kissed them.

Somewhere beneath the haze and the ringing in her ears, she heard Joe's voice.  Whatever had happened, he was there, so it must be ok.

"We've walked away from worse.  We'll be alright.  We always are."

Ilaria finally forced her eyes open, but only briefly, as she was lying face-up.  The glare from the sunny blue sky was harsh in her eyes and made her head throb even more.  She blinked a few times and struggled to turn her head toward where Joe's voice was coming from. Slowly, his face came into view- blurry at first- but began clearing up.  She could see blood streaming from cuts on his face; and maybe it was the sun, but a glint of what looked like tears in his eyes. 

"I love you, Ilaria."

Something awful had happened.  The sounds of screaming, the burning smell in the air, the way Joe had finally uttered those words to her with the voice of a pleading man- it all began to come together in her mind.  Her medical care instincts raced to her mind, and she tried to sit up.  Instead, a stabbing pain radiated from her right side, causing her to grimace and groan in agony. The sensation nearly took her breath away.

"Are...you...alright?"

She couldn't get out but one word per breath. She reached up and gripped his hand as it brushed her face, her lips tasting the blood from his as he kissed her.  Her brain was starting to panic, and she fought hard not to let that happen.  She closed her eyes again, mentally taking stock of her body and what she could and couldn't feel. It wasn't easy- everything hurt.

"What...do you...see?"

As she finally spoke, his heart kicked over as if skipping a handful of beats. His eyes shot wide open, surprised, but also in an attempt to see through the built up tears.

"What...do you...see?"

Joe looked down at her body, searching for clues of damage. His mind began racing with thoughts of how the fuck she would make it through this. She was alive. Awake. But it didn't look good. He didn't know much about the analyzing or healing side of people's injuries. His expertise was in creating them.

"There's a bit of wood in your back."

He looked back at her face, not knowing what else to do. Then suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"How is she?" The voice said as they kneeled down beside them both. The hand slide off Joe's shoulder and attempted to check her vitals, but with a quick grab of their wrist, Joe held on with a vice like grip.

"You fuckin' hurt her.."

"It's okay. I know what I'm doing. You gotta trust me here."

With a reluctant release of the hold from Joe, the other person then wrestled their hand free.

"We need to save as many as possible." The person said as they checked on Ilaria's status.

"With General Ricci dead..."

Joe's heart sank into his stomach. The somewhat experienced medical aid kept rattling off other names of people who'd already met their maker. But they all faded. He couldn't do much more than be here for her now, but knew how painful this loss would also be for her if she would pull through. So far, she was still somewhat responsive.

Joe moved back a little and grabbed Ilaria's hand in his, gripping it tight as the helper slipped some torn pieces of a shirt under her head.

Back in Venice

Ilaria had been in surgery for more than four hours.  The hospital in Venice was a madhouse.  Some of the wounded had been taken to nearby smaller hospitals, but the most critical had been taken back to Venice.  General Ricci was dead, as were five of his top advisers.  More than 23 other military personnel were killed, and many more wounded.  Word was already spreading like wildfire that it had been an assassination attempt- a successful one- on General Ricci.

It had taken almost an hour for a transport to get to Ilaria and Joe, and by then she'd lost a dangerous amount of blood. She was immediately taken to surgery upon arrival, and another doctor had come to tend to Joe's wounds.  

Evening settled in, and a doctor finally emerged from the operating theater.  He looked around for a moment, then found the only gentleman in the waiting room not dressed in military garb.

"Scuzzi, signore.  I am Dr. Valarti, I have just finished with Miss Santoro.  She came through the surgery well.  The wood came through her kidney, but only punctured one side- not all the way through.  We were able to repair the damage.  We also found several broken ribs.  Other than those and a minor concussion, she is stable and will be alright in a week or so."

The doctor turned and walked back toward the operating room, but was caught by another man in a military uniform.  They exchanged a few words, and the uniformed man nodded.  When the doctor returned to the back, the uniformed man came and took a seat beside Joe. His uniform was different, his right shoulder patch bearing the American flag.

"Mr. Doto, I'm Captain Blake, United States Army.  I've been sent from the US Embassy.  The doctor has filled me in on Major Santoro's condition.  While I'm glad she's going to be alright, there isn't time for her to stay and heal here."

His voice lowered.

"The attack on the train was a direct assassination attempt on the heads of the Italian military.  General Ricci was their main target, but this resistance group was happy to take out as many as they could.  I know that Major Santoro was close to General Ricci, and this presents a significant safety issue for her, and you.  Suspicions are that the assassinations were directed by the Prime Minister himself.  If it's true that Mussolini was behind this, the country is going to sink into a dangerous civil war in a matter of days.  We need to get you and Major Santoro out of Italy immediately.  The embassy has sent me to head your extraction."

Joe was pacing. Not quickly. Not frantically, but just keeping his body moving to keep himself from properly fidgeting. He was down to his shirt, his jacket in the bin early in the waiting process. His arms were crossed. His mind, off in thoughts that came and went without any real meaning or purpose. Things like how business would be back in Philly. How the crew were coming along. How Leo was with Billy. Just a general stream of nothing as he spaced out.

Then the doctor came in. After listening to the professional's words, Joe finally smiled. It'd been a long time since he felt that kind of energy coming back to him. He was still depleted. Would need a hot bath and some copious amounts of whisky, but he was relieved, and his body language showed it. He uncrossed his arms and shook the Doctor's hand enthusiastically.

A heavy, yet weight lifting sigh came next as he finally took a seat. Then a cheeky smirk. Trouble. She was one of a kind, that was for sure.

"Mr. Doto, I'm Captain Blake, United States Army."

What now? Joe thought, not having noticed the uniformed officer take a seat until he began speaking. He let him get out what he needed to, before nodding. Just a simple nod, accompanied by more of the Adonis cheek returning.

"We'll let's make your visit here worthwhile then, no?"

Joe stood and followed the officer. Things were actually starting to look up. Still, dinners; they'd really need to hash out a way to make them work at some point.

Ilaria was awake, though heavily medicated when Officer Blake entered with Joe right behind. She was woozily questioning the poor nurse on her condition, which procedure the doctor had used in surgery, and what gauge surgical thread he'd used to close the wound. She really had no idea what she was saying, and the nurse--who spoke no English - was extremely confused. 

Nearly a minute after he had been standing at her bed side, Ilaria finally realized Joe was there. Her voice changed, sweetened, and she reached a hand for him. 

"Mia core, I missed you. Why are you limping, my love? Do you know where we are? Oh, look at your face. Did you get into another fight?" 

Her eyes wandered to Captain Blake. 

"You're not in the right uniform." 

Then she sneezed.

Perfect. This was good enough for Joe. His hand gripped hers as he moved closer to Ilaria. She seemed, different. Like she had been the one on the delirious end of an anesthetic for once. He smiled and let her continue, not fussed at all. Just happy to see her awake. He'd forgotten all about his leg and even his face until she reminded him.

"Ah, you know me. You should see the other group of guys."

"You're not in the right uniform."

Joe let out a chuckle as he looked at the Captain.

"Guess you better change then."

Captain Blake assessed the situation quickly.

"We have to get to Aviano air base, from there we'll take a US transport to Germany, then see how she's doing. If the trip is too much for her, you can stay in Germany until she's well enough to travel on. I'm going to make a phone call and get things put into motion."

The officer turned and left the room. Ilaria was gazing at nothing in particular, until the door to the room clicked shut. 

​​​​​​"Joe?" 

Her eyes were soft and wandered a little, but she tried to concentrate despite the fuzzy feeling. She spoke slowly, a bit slurred. 

​​​​​​"What happened? I know this is a hospital. And I know they have me morphine. It makes me sneeze."

Her head lolled back against the pillow as she looked at him, a silly, girlish grin on her lips. 

Joe took a seat on the hospital bed, letting his right leg and his feet in general get a break. He could now relax somewhat, but knew with what he was about to say, the feeling of comfort may be short lived.

"There was an explosion. The trains derailed. Lot's of people died."

He didn't want to fuss about. Pull off the band aid with a quick rip was his method.

"Your uncle Ricci, he's dead. An assassination attempt. Mussolini was behind it."

He was being short, sharp and to the point. He found no reason to get into too much detail. She wasn't exactly in a state to have a proper conversation about it, so he wanted to keep it simple.

"Blake fears you're still in danger. So we have to leave quickly."

He held her hand, hoping it would give her some form of comfort.

She nodded, slowly. The words were registering, but the drugs were making everything so hazy. She was growing tired quickly.

"I like it when you hold my hand. Because, if you're with me, things are still OK." 

Captain Blake walked in again, this time with a briefcase. 

"We're ready to start for Aviano. The hospital has agreed to let us use the deliveries exit to lessen the chances of being seen. There is a team at the house in Venice gathering your personal belongings and they will meet us in Germany."

Blake gave Joe a gravely serious look. 

​​​​​​"Mr. Adonis," he began, suddenly using Joe's American name. "I am aware that you have certain skills in...shall we say, 'street combat.' I would advise that you be ready - for anything."

He handed Joe the briefcase, which contained two 45 caliber handguns. 

​​​​​

Joe slid the briefcase onto the bed, then flicked it open. Colt M1911A1's. A little different than his usual love for revolvers, but they were a popular sight back home. His entourage usually had them in holsters under their suit jackets. It made it easier to conceal, and to retrieve when the need arose.

He didn't check them over. He knew they'd be ready, given who had supplied them and the situation they were now becoming more and more entrenched in. It was practically war. The kind that had you back in the States either hitting the lam or arming to the teeth. Joe closed shut the case, nodding. It was obviously the latter.

Till this moment he was focused on Ilaria's well being. Whether she'd live or die. Now, he was beginning to realize they both might still end up with funerals of their own. Her father. Her uncle. Both dead. Possibly never able to be mourned and let go with the proper rites and service. It wasn't something Joe wanted to happen to them. Not while here. Not while he still had two hands able to hold something and squeeze. And this time, he didn't have Ilaria's hand in mind.

Time for sentiments were over. Joe let the briefcase hang at his side.

"The fuck we waiting for then."

Another nurse appeared, followed by an orderly with a bare gurney. The nurse injected Ilaria's IV with something, then after letting the medication cycle through, began taking out the IV.  Blake looked at her, then at Joe.

"This is going to put her under for a few hours.  We can't have her drugged up and awake while we move- it's too dangerous. With this, she'll be able to sleep through this, and hopefully won't feel the pain."

Ilaria's eyes were already fluttering, but she reached out and grabbed Joe's hand before the drugs took hold.

"I dreamed you said it.  I love you, Joe."

A moment later, she was out.  The nurse and the orderly transferred her carefully to the metal gurney, then covered her with a sheet and placed a tag on her big toe.

Blake nodded to Joe.

"Let's get going."

The orderly left the room first, pushing the gurney with the "unknown" body.  Captain Blake and Joe followed, weapons all concealed as they went. They walked down a long, busy corridor full of crying women and children and general chaos.  The further they walked, the quieter it became.  Finally, the orderly led them around a corner and through a set of doors leading into the morgue.  On the other side of the cold, deathly quiet room, there was a door leading outside.  Blake stepped ahead and opened the door.

"There's a US Military med wagon about 200 yards from here."

He gestured in the direction of the street.  It was dark, but the sky was glowing with fires and the darkness split by the sound of yelling and occasional gunfire.  The orderly turned and left quickly, and Blake started pushing the gurney out the door.  They made it a fair bit away from the hospital door before two figures appeared, running at them.

"La figlia di Santoro!" One of them yelled.  Blake cursed and called to Joe.

"Fuck!  We got a leak!"

Thinking as fast as he could, Blake wheeled Ilaria behind a nearby overturned military jeep and pulled out his sidearms.

As Captain Blake bent down beside the back end of the jeep to get some cover, the briefcase Joe was holding was laying on the ground in an uncovered position. He'd already been hovering over it and quickly stood to his feet with his hands holding the colts. Without hesitating, Joe stepped towards the two men, popping off gunshot after gunshot in a slow controlled manner. One after the other, making sure to steady his aim before he squeezed the trigger and adjust where he was pointing the colts based on where the impact may be for the moving targets.

To say Joe was used to this, would be fitting. To say he lived for these moments, words weren't truer. Two shots each and they were on the ground. One felt two bullets hit him in the chest before he collapsed to an imminent date with the reaper. The other felt one hit his leg, and one catch his stomach as he dropped.

Blake had tried calling out to Joe when he'd seen him so out in the open. But he wasn't having any of it. Off in the distance there were people breaking windows, throwing things through them, some that had been ripped out of the street like signs and poles and others that were less man made like rocks and bricks.

The sound of shattering glass a hundred or so yards in front of them caught Joe's attention, and as he neared the second body he'd downed. As he looked toward the distance, to where more people were moving, he aimed the colt at the vigilante beneath him who was coughing up blood, and spewing out a prayer of some sort in Italian.

"Nel nome del Padre, e del Figlio, e dello.." 

A squeeze of the trigger cut the young man's words short. One more to the chest. Joe was still looking off in the distance as he did it, trying to gather information on what might be up ahead, before he stepped over the body and began walking towards the activity.

"Fuck!" Blake said as he hesitated between going after Joe and returning to get Ilaria.

Quickly, the Captain decided to pace back behind the overturned jeep. Wheeling the gurney back out from behind safety, he dropped his sidearm onto the white sheet covering the Major's body. They began picking up some pace as they followed Joe to where he was headed.

The car was now only a little ways in front of them. All around, Joe could hear screaming and shouting. More things being broken. More self-righteous rioters than Adonis could shake a gun at. Three more came at Joe with the same illicit intent as the first two. More shots were fired. The first hit the lead man in the neck, which had him spin off to the side as he fell. Noticing the guns, the other two quickly changed their approach to 'let's get the fuck out of here'.

But it was no use. The quiet rage was already present. It was like a searing hot coal in his stomach. It didn't have any outward signs he was on fire. But he was seething. No-one fucked with his people. He'd die before they'd get to them. Since the hospital room, he'd quickly changed. Back to the action orientated shoot first spit on the corpses later Adonis of old. The man Ilaria hadn't yet fully met. She'd seen glimpses. But she softened his edges, worn them down from a sharp pointed 'fuck you' to a 'let's fuck'. It was possibly a good thing she was out of it. She might not like seeing him so hell bent on writing his place next to the devil with every movement.

The other two having turned to run, meant nothing to Joe. Not right now. Two bullets each, one from each gun, in their backs. One body slid on the asphalt a few feet, his face catching some of the broken glass from a window. The other ended up slamming head first into the door of the US Military med wagon. Both out cold on impact and dead soon enough if not already.

Joe took a breath in as he raised the guns up and behind his head, stretching his shoulders and chest in the process as the sound of Blake rolling Ilaria's sleeping body over caught up to him. Captain Blake stopped next to Joe and grabbed his weapon. He pointed it around at the surrounding environment as people kept floating in and out of various shadowy areas as more rioting mayhem could be heard.

As he flicked his attention from one target to the next, Blake made his thoughts known. Their ride was just there, parked in front of where the last three bodies Joe had added to his gun stats were. They'd not yet got to torching it, but the passenger door was open and glass had been broken inwards from the side window onto the seat.

"You're a fuckin' madman, Adonis!'

Joe looked back at the uniformed officer, who still seemed adamant he'd best keep his gun outstretched and ready for the unexpected. Adonis scratched his forehead with the tip of one of the colts.

"Let's get her into the wagon."

Joe and Captain Blake moved Ilaria from the gurney and into the back of the unmarked military ambulance. Once she was in and secure, Blake got into the driver's seat and put the hammer down. As the vehicle sped toward the main road, he called back to Joe. 

"There's a compartment to your left, under the bed. Additional weapons and ammo, in case we need it."

The drive to Conegliano would usually take about an hour, but they didn't have that kind of time. Captain Blake knew the roads well, and was able to steer the vehicle like a race car through the winding northern roads. As they moved further from the city, there seemed to be less action, but the tension was still palpable. 

Ilaria remained still and quiet. If not for the light movement of her chest, the toe tag would have been pretty convincing. She remained in a deep, dreamless sleep, despite sharp turns and bumpy, rural roads.

About a mile outside of Conegliano, Blake hit the brakes; the car lurching to a much slower pace.

"Shit. It's a road block."

Sure enough, the narrow road ahead was blocked by a group of armed men, standing before a baracade of various crates and farm implements. 

​​​​​​

The car rolled slower and slower forwards before Blake decided to stop it completely. A waving hand from an armed man, surrounded by other armed men, had the US officer on red alert and not wanting to proceed all the way to the checkpoint. It was evident from the moment they saw it, that they were looking for more survivors that were a part of the Ricci assassination.

Word had spread that some had made it alive and were in hiding. Especially his niece. The group behind the atrocity hoped to nab someone leaving Venice, and other major choke points to friendly zones. So far, they hadn't found anyone. But they were searching, and anyone involved was ordered to be shot on sight.

"Fuck." Blake's hands slid down his face then smashed against the steering wheel.

One of the armed men was still waving them forwards, as the wagon was humming yet stationed.

"This isn't good."

"No shit." Joe replied as he tucked his head down and scooted into the back.

"What are you doing?" Blake said with his eyes still focused forwards at the men who seemed to be getting a little more livelier by the second.

Blake knew what Joe was doing, he just wasn't sure it was the best option. After a few moments of Joe messing about in the back, he returned with a set of Tommy Guns. As he slid back into the seat, Joe placed one onto Blake's lap.

"You're gonna need this."

"Are you mad?"

"You already confirmed that a little ways back, no?"

"There's too many of them."

Joe glanced out at the men who were now beginning to move towards the wagon, their guns at the ready. He was right. No amount of gunfire from both of them could ensure they'd get all of the seven or so he had counted, and tried recounting yet got caught up in the realization they might be absolutely at the end of the line.

"Well, if we're gonna go out. I'm swinging. It's not in me to lay down." Joe said as he checked the safety was off and slid back the loading mechanism.

Mad. Blake thought Joe was more than that, but he wouldn't say it. He saw him as the true American soldier. The one who lived and died by a moral code the likes no government agency could stand up to. The people he'd met, his own superiors, were all some form or another of a lying diplomat ready to turn allegiance on a dime to save their own necks. They used the system to meet their own needs. And truth be told, he was over here because he volunteered.

Captain Blake heard of Ilaria Santoro long before the news of Ricci's passing. He'd been keeping tabs on her. She was the daughter of the Generale, and had taken up residence and business in the United States. And the longer he watched and reported, the more he envied her. And Joe, as he came into the picture. His way of life seemed much more noble. Live and die by a code. And adhere to it without wavering. His own people couldn't even do that.

Without warning and in a moment of clarity, Blake grabbed at Joe's gun and tugged it away from him before quickly popping open the door. He looked back with a smile, and as he readied both weapons, sliding them hard into his armpits.

"You get her back to friendly territory, you hear me, Soldato?"

It was a fitting word. It meant more to Joe than just the rank, the first ladder in the pyramid that was La Cosa Nostre. It meant he saw him as one of his own, and he understood the honor within him, within his character. That respect shone through like nothing else. And in returning the favor, Joe smiled and nodded, his admiration confirmed in a like manner.

"You got it, Soldato."

A quick deep breath was inhaled as Blake nodded back as he focused himself. His smile now gone. A look of determination on his face instead, yet one where his mind was already moments in front of him. He was ready for war. It had already come. And he was ready to be another offering to the God's in this deadly affair, which he hoped wouldn't be in vain.

As soon as he was out of the vehicle, Blake steadily sidestepped away from his compatriots with guns pointed forwards and the triggers firmly squeezed. It was his moment. Holding two Chicago typewriters, as gangsters called them back home, in an effort to live and die for more than simple orders. He was living by a code. To protect and serve. The two worlds of gangsters and bureaucracy collided as heavy gunfire and crackling filled the air.

Four men dropped immediately, taken by surprise. Another eventually copped bullets to his torso as Blake was riddled with returning fire. He wasn't going down without making sure the Tommy Guns were still firing as the wagon moved on.

Joe had slid into the drivers seat as Blake exited, knowing too well what he would do if he were in his shoes. They were quite alike. Soldiers, just in different uniforms. The wagon pulled away. Joe ducked his head as two of the three remaining men turned their sights on the moving target, just before Blake had caught his fifth victim.

The Military grade vehicle crashed through a point in the barricade that seemed likely to give, at a point where two wagons met. With gunfire still clacking in the distance behind them, Joe smashed his hand against the steering wheel as he sucked in air. They were through. His eyes searched the side mirror, hoping to spot their hero. But all he saw were two vigilantes fighting and blaming each other.

Ilaria's bare feet ran like lightening over the asphalt of the alley behind the clinic. She didn't know what she was running toward, but she knew there was danger. As she rounded the corner onto the sidewalk, her white cotton night gown rippled like a ghost behind her. Tiny rocks bit into her feet, but she didn't care. 

Then she saw him. A tall, menacing figure draped in shadows slowly lifted a gun toward another figure, knelt on the ground with hands behind him. She ran faster. The kneeling figure looked up, slowly. It was Joe. His lip was bleeding, and there was a gash across his left cheek. He looked past the shadowy figure and up at Ilaria. His eyes were like she'd never seen them- filled with regret and defeat. The sight made Ilaria's heart hurt. She ran full speed toward the unknown assassin as he cocked the pistol in his hand.

"NO!"

She screamed as loud as she could and launched herself at the shooter. Joe's head dropped to his chest. There was an ear splitting crack that shattered the night air. 

Ilaria woke with a start, her own voice waking her as she cried out. But there was no street, no shooter, no smell of gunpowder. Her heart pounded inside her chest, every beat agonizingly painful against broken ribs. She struggled to get a full breath, clawing at the sheets beneath her. Where the hell was she? Where was Joe? Where was the shadowy man with the gun? 

Upon Ilaria slowly coming to, Joe was lightly dozing on the hospital bed beside her. His body was facing towards her, his hands tucked under his head for support. The coming and going of nurses and doctors throughout the time she'd been there didn't deter him. He'd stretch his legs a little and take in some of the rest of the hospital then be back by her side when they'd allowed him.

His eyes blinked open to see she was in a state of fright, which had him sit up and grab her hand. He looked worried. She, looked terrified. But at least she was awake, or making the progress there.

"Hey, It's alright. Ilaria, I'm here."