Hours had come and gone since Joe and Ilaria found their way home from the blazing dockside battle with the Russian assassins. They had both showered and had a few stiff drinks, and eventually found their way into bed.  For a long time, they lay face-to-face, staring at one another in a heavy but grateful silence; grateful to see each other through open eyes, grateful to hear each other breathing.

Ilaria held Joe's bandaged hand gently, and watched as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Her fingers gently touched his face, then played through his hair as he slept. He needed the rest, as he was scheduled to be on a flight to Chicago late the next morning. For a few moments, she thought she might cry as her mind played through the events of the night- how close they came again to losing one another.  As the hours went on, however, the sting of tears became overwhelmed by a burning feeling of anger. The face of the leader, Russiv, was etched into her mind- the way she saw him run like a cowardly bitch when Joe's ax took the first blow at Boris. Two down, one in the wind. No.  That couldn't be the way this ended.

Sleep did not come to Ilaria.  Not at all.  In fact, she had far too much raging energy to remain lying down. Doing her best not to wake him, she slipped out of bed and wandered through the bedroom, down the hallway to the kitchen where she sat collapsed frustrated into a chair at the new table, still wrapped in brown paper.  Staring at nothing, she kept thinking about Russiv; about the gang of assassins that took her from him; that would have taken him from her.  It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last time their lives were in danger- that was the nature of their business.  No, it wasn't the last time, but it would be Russiv's last time.  The anger in her chest burned, and she thought it must be how Joe felt as he destroyed the face of that big oaf Boris.  Ilaria looked down at her hands; her slender fingers made so delicately- to heal.  She hadn't the strength to punch a sack of flour into submission. Oh, but she had the power to destroy nonetheless.  As if the sun had begun to rise, Ilaria had an idea.  She stood and found a pencil among the unpacked boxes and bags, then returned to the paper-covered table and began scribbling formulas and equations. Within twenty minutes, the table was covered in letters, numbers, and symbols.  Finally, she sat down and looked over her work.  This would end him; now she just had to find him.  Before that plan could come together, however, Ilaria drifted off to sleep, her head resting on her folded arms over the table.

The sound of ticking was faint at first. A trickling of water down pipes came next. His eyes slowly blinked open. The day before had been arduous. The kind of physically taxing day that had Joe just want to be as he was for a moment. He could instantly feel the silky sheet against his naked body. And as his empty mind just sat in silence, his now more awakened eyes realized the space on the bed next to him was empty.

The ticking sound was close, and now even more noticeable. The arm he was resting his head against still had his wrist watch attached to it. A deep breath in, and he was suddenly sitting upright with his hands rubbing at his face. The sheet dropped down and was pushed aside as he slid his feet out of bed, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Meeting the carpet beneath them, the warmth underfoot reminded him of the main difference he'd noticed between this place and his other at the Dockside Inn.

The loft had a different comfort about it. A luxurious kind you'd find in a hotel, or some swanky pad, less the romanticism the Race Street Pier offered. And being Ilaria wasn't in bed with him upon waking, that added to the different feel also. As he stretched his arms wide, a yawn did the same to his mouth. A taxing day prior, it had been, which was slowly being replaced by an appreciation for it not taking more from him. It was eventful, without a doubt. He just hoped it wasn't too much for his other half.

A slow walk out of the bedroom and he almost had to double take. Ilaria was asleep at the table. His eyes then scanned the open, spacious living room that contained the kitchen and dining areas. It was their first night staying here. Properly, staying here. As he walked towards the dining table he scratched an itch on his naked behind.

Taking Ilaria in his arms, he made his way back to the bedroom. He needed to be on a private plane soon. After tucking her in, he sat on the bed next to her for a moment. His hand brushed at her hair. It felt a little dry which had him smirk, remembering the near fatal call of yesterday. He'd done enough fuming. He probably couldn't get angry right now even if he wanted to. It was all out of his system, which left him currently with an opening to appreciate the women who'd come through it again with him. How did they do it, he thought. Lady luck really had a thing for them, it seemed.

After a long shower that alerted Joe to just how much damage he'd done to his hands, Adonis got dressed into a simple black suit with a gold colored tie. Before leaving the room, he gave Leo a pat on the head, who'd made himself comfortable at the end of their bed.

One last look at the sleeping beauty, then Joe left. He made sure to take his set of Midas HQ keys and the hip flask Ilaria had given him after another emotionally fueled outburst of his. The plane trip would be long. Well, in Joe's terms, long enough to get re-acquainted with his old friend, hard liquor.

Angels and demons. Good and evil. Light and dark. War and peace. Life and death. 

Ilaria woke with a start from a dream laced with dualities and difficult choices. The sun shone brightly through the big, picture window in the loft bedroom. She took a deep breath and rolled over, feeling somewhat sluggish and not at all remembering having gone to bed. What time was it? Realizing that Joe was already up and the apartment was quiet, she knew it had to be after 9 a.m. at least, as that's what time he needed to leave for the day trip to Chicago. 

Down beside her feet, a warm lump wiggled and shuffled. Sleepily, Ilaria grinned at the sweet companionship of their loyal Leo. He truly was growing into a lion. He'd proven his courage the night before. Maybe she'd get him a treat. Something special from the butcher. There was something she had to do first, though.

A little more than an hour later, Ilaria was in a cab heading toward the clinic. In her purse, an oddly folded piece of wrapping paper. Now that she was rested, her thoughts were more calm; but her heart was still set on revenge. The scrap of paper in her purse was how she'd get it. 

It was Thursday, and she wasn't even scheduled to be at the clinic at all. Cecily was surprised to see her walk through the front door. 

"Just here to work on a side project, dear. I won't be seeing any patients. But, can you please call Mr. Del Rossi and ask him to come to the clinic in an hour or so?" 

The young woman nodded, and Ilaria went off toward the storage room. She locked the door behind her and bolted the three security locks. Her eyes scanned the room as she took the paper from her purse. Looking over the formulas, she felt a rush of excitement. Without wasting another moment, she went to her lab area and set to work. 

There she was. Her skin glistening in the natural colors dawn was throwing around. Her body, smooth to touch. He'd done so before. Her figure had all the right curves, in all the right places. She was as sexy as they came. And all he wanted to do was rescue her. To take her away from the piece of shit that seemed to neglect her at every turn. Every time he'd see her, she looked less happy. Less like herself, like how she was supposed to look. How she was suppose to shine. She was a majestic piece of art, and it was just wrong how she was being treated.

Del Rossi sat behind the newspaper as the target once again approached the eatery with the lady he'd been fantasizing over the past week. He couldn't get her off his mind. She held his attention something fierce, even when not in his sights. The way she moved through the world. The way her body responded to the strumming, the gentle prodding to get her moving. And here she was again, with him, as he left her a moment to enter the cafe for his morning cup of Joe.

Without hesitation, Del Rossi flicked closed the newspaper and pushed himself up off the park bench. The paper was folded then tossed into the cylindrical trash collector, falling on top of a half eaten bagel and empty food wrappings from a sub shop that had gravy as the condiment of choice.

His movements were slow. The early morning sun mixed with a little bit of fog that escaped his lips as he breathed out a controlled breath. It was a nice balance, he thought, as he slipped on a pair of gloves. Tightening the straps around his wrists, he stopped in front of the cafe. His eyes hadn't escaped her. He couldn't not look at her. And although the mark was in close proximity, he'd played this moment over time and time again.

Louis left nothing to chance. Everything was timed, on point. He knew the routes in and out of the area. The shortcuts. The little nooks to pull a car into in case he needed to gain some space and time from whoever may be in pursuit. He took one more deep breath, then looked down at his wrist watch. With a tug of the pin, he set the minute hand forward five minutes. It was now go time.

As he stepped off the sidewalk and onto the asphalt of the car park, his heart began racing. This was what he lived for. These moments of feeling absolutely indescribably alive. This was what it all came down to. He let the leather of his right glove wipe across the dusty hood of the Auburn 851 Speedster.

When was the last time she'd been truly cared for? When had she been truly appreciated for the beauty she was? His thoughts reminded him of why it was he did what he did, week after week. Someone needed to teach these pricks a lesson. And he was just the crazy insomniac to do just that.

Removing a flat longish piece of metal from his pants, Del Rossi went to work. With a slight jiggle, the hook on the end of his instrument latched onto something within the inside of the door. A firm upward tug and the lock popped open. Del Rossi glanced back at the large window of the cafe, noticing her owner handing over some bills for the coffee that had just been placed on the counter in front of him. There and then he made a conscious choice to keep his emotions in check, beyond the adrenaline pumping through his system as he slid into the car, all the while still looking at what was transpiring inside the coffee shop.

His head ducked slightly so he could get himself inside without touching the beige soft top, the door pulled closed firmly behind him. After tossing the slim door jack onto the passenger seat, another instrument was removed, this time from his jacket pocket. Into the steering column it went, and with a hard palm against it, it cracked open.

The owner was now outside, his head down as he fumbled the change he'd received into his pocket. As he raised his head, standing there in front of his year old Auburn, their eyes met. It took him a slight second to click, and by that time Del Rossi was already smirking back at him. Adonis' driver was never one for showing his emotions. But this, this was what he loved, when he was able to feel some slither of it after the liquor and barbiturates had worn off.

Still glaring at the man who's car he was in the driver's seat of, Del Rossi twisted two wires together and pumped his foot lightly on the accelerator before letting it off again. The roar she gave sent a tingle down his spine and into his crutch. She knew just how to push his buttons, as he fondled hers. A quick maneuver of the gear stick and another firmer press of his dusty brown boot and the car was moving backwards at speed, the tires screeching.

The owner had by this point dropped his morning pick me up and was pacing towards the moving vehicle. He'd left it too late. Not just his efforts to retain his vehicle, but his overall attempt to care for her. He wasn't getting her back. Not ever. Del Rossi would make sure of it. As the car's backside slid its sexiness out into the street, Del Rossi tugged hard on the steering wheel, sending them both sliding into traffic.

A quick shove of the gear stick and another pump of the accelerator and the car was now skidding itself into a forward motion. An oncoming Ford Pickup hit the brakes hard which sent the tires smoking. Just enough of a gap to allow the Speedster and Louis' driving to pace around it. A quick glance in the rear view mirror and another gear change and they were on the way to being home free. Next stop, the open highway. She needed to know she was wanted. Needed. Appreciated. And Del Rossi was going to show her exactly what that felt like.

---

After dropping Adonis off at the airport in the newly acquired ride, Louis had made his way over to Hot Shots. When not in motion, this is where he spent most of his time. He enjoyed the atmosphere, the grittiness the patrons and the collective energy offered. On any given day someone was throwing down. Some fisticuffs to show they weren't without their manhood. Most were liquor and pride fueled. Losing a high betting game on a technicality didn't go down too well with the hot heads of the billiards parlor.

Angel was in as per usual. She strutted her stuff less and less these days. The long nights riding a customer's requests and then some in the bordello were a lifetime ago. Joe made sure of it, and these days she was more respected than any other on Joe's payroll that worked there. Her ability to see the needs of the men and women that entered and to attend to them showed time and time again just how invaluable she was. Joe guessed that came with the territory of her prior job.

Del Rossi guessed it was just her personality. He believed in that kind of stuff. The stars and the planets and how it altered someone's energy. He just figured she was a little more insightful than most, due to what gifts she was given at birth. He'd done his fair share of people watching, which also felt like a lifetime ago. Before Joe, he was a car thief that hardly slept. Who spent most of his time analyzing jobs and people that came with them. He felt it allowed him to see what people were, or could be, and if they were worth the headaches that naturally followed.

As he read over the days paper, which mostly consisted of political based headlines regarding the recent strikes in the taxi industry, Angel came over. She was wiping at a glass with a slightly damp bit of cloth. Her hair was tied back, showing her light blue eyes. They seemed like the clear waters of an ocean, which caught Louis' attention every time, and reminded him of a nice paint job on a sleek looking car.

"You're needed at the clinic."

He didn't need any more details. And lucky for Angel, she had none to give. He gave her a nod before making his way out of the pool hall. He didn't speak much. Some had never even heard him utter a word. Angel was one of those. She just gave instructions, mainly from people on Adonis' payroll, and Del Rossi would get to it. In his past life, he had rules. They were simple, yet they made what he did precise and controlled. He didn't mind the way Adonis handled his employment. In fact, he rather enjoyed it.

---

Once parked, Del Rossi creaked open the Yellow taxi door. He took a moment before he exited, making sure to remove his gloves and place them over the steering wheel. The door was slammed shut before he made his way towards the Pier entrance. As he usually did, he decided to take the emergency entrance in the alley behind Famiglia Medico Cura. He actually delivered things here on occasion, mainly the loving sentiments of his employer, so the sign that read 'Deliveries' was for the most part on the money given his appearances here.

Today though, he was rather curious as to what he was doing here. His boss was in Chicago and didn't send him. If he did, he would've given him some kind of package to take or a request as to where he wanted Ilaria chauffeured. Today was different. He sensed it. But then again, sometimes his lack of sleep had him a little delirious, so he didn't jump on every little thought or feeling that entered his experience.

Del Rossi tapped the back of his knuckles on the door and waited.

A familiar cadence of knuckles on the back door almost startled Ilaria, but really it only temporarily drew her from deep focus on the bottle, beakers, and other instruments on her desk. One large  glass beaker was suspended in a metal stand over an open gas flame and gently simmering. 

Ilaria pulled her lab glasses down to let them hang from a cord around her neck. She wiped her hands on her apron and walked quickly to the door. There was a moment of hesitation. Maybe this was all a really bad idea. Ilaria didn't like asking Del Rossi for any more than he was instructed by Joe. After all, he didn't work for her, and she knew there was something about her that he just didn't seem to be ok with. Still, she needed him if she was going to pull this off. With a deep breath, she opened the door.

"Hi. Thank you for coming by. I really appreciate it, and I hope I'm not keeping you from anything."

Ilaria moved aside so he could come inside, then closed and locked the door behind him.

"If you're busy, I completely understand, I promise I won't keep you long. I just...have some questions."

She went to the lab desk and cleared some papers and notebooks out of a nearby chair for him. 

"Do you want some coffee? I can have Cecily make some, no problem." 

If Ilaria wasn't coming off as being slightly nervous, it would be a miracle. She had a tendency to talk a lot when she was anxious, and she knew it. 

​​​​​​

​​​​​​

She seemed nervous. Which in his time seeing and interacting with her, was different. Del Rossi entered anyway. She was Joe's women. His boss' other half. The women who had his heart. Those were Joe's words, of course. His were rather blunt and to the point. Joe Adonis' distraction.

As he moved past her, he glanced around briefly, before turning to face her. His curiosity before now already had him eager to know what was up. Now with her less than easy energy and the words she was using, it had him even more adamant to find out what this was all about. He just hoped it wouldn't involve him returning the car he'd jacked this morning. It was currently parked in a warehouse he rented with the money Joe paid him. His only thoughts as to what this was about, were tied into the car. Beyond that, he had no idea what the hell was going on.

Still not wanting to speak, he motioned his hand in an effort to have Ilaria continue speaking. He wasn't a coffee drinker. Cocaine, they went a little ways back. Getting high with his employer's girlfriend probably wouldn't be a good idea though. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, awaiting Ilaria to expand on what it was that was on her mind.

Ilaria nodded, shifting uncomfortably. Maybe the faster she could get through this, the better. Besides, all she needed was information. The rest would be easy. 

"Right. OK. I need to know anything you know about those Russians that kidnapped me. Two of them are dead, and that's great, but the brains of the operation got away; and I just can't abide that."

She nodded toward the bubbling concoction on her desk. 

​​​​​​"Like I said, I don't want to take up your time, all I need is anything you might know about where Russiv might hang out, or hide out. I can handle the rest."

Slowly, but surely, things started to piece together. The Russians. The kidnapping. And now what he was looking at with a furrowed brow. Something seemed to be cooking, and it wasn't just via the chemistry set.

​​​​​​"Like I said, I don't want to take up your time, all I need is anything you might know about where Russiv might hang out, or hide out. I can handle the rest."

Del Rossi was now over at the desk. His hands were placed upon it, his eyes looking over the various items. The flame simmering below a large beaker now held his attention. It looked exactly like the sort of trouble Joe would get himself into now and then. The difference being, his fire was internal and less calculated than this. He was more reaction. Ilaria seemed to be more proactive in her approach.

Del Rossi dropped his head and closed his eyes. The sound of the flame was the background to his moment of decisiveness. Like it was also cooking up the thoughts and feelings that would lead to the important choice of whether he would help this women or not. The fact was, after the kidnapping, his view on Ilaria had already changed. The heartfelt thank you she gave him, he'd never experienced anything like it before.

Joe never gave his appreciation. And honestly, he never minded it. He was a side kick to the man at the best of times and a driver and stand in bodyguard at the worst, which was much better than his life before they met. He knew Joe valued him and not just because of the money he'd pay him weekly, which came out to be more than he'd pay any of his other employees. Not even Angel received a higher wage. 

Their relationship was built on a brotherly bond. An unspoken respect and admiration. Yet as yesterdays inferno raged and Ilaria spoke those words, he knew instantly what Joe saw in her. No women he'd seen his boss with had that kind of heart about her. That kind of ability to pierce you. They were more or less far gone. Their souls wrenched to the pits of the underworld. Ilaria shone brightly. And brighter than any who'd shared the backseat of the Yellow taxi with Adonis.

He already knew his answer well before she asked it. As he lifted his gaze he let out a deep sigh. She was going to go through with whatever it was she had planned anyway. Joe would kill him if anything happened to her, with his involvement or without it. Louis was thinking he may as well stick his neck out for Ilaria in the same way he did for his boss.

"Alright." Del Rossi finally said, and with a very thick foreign accent.

"What do we need?"

The response surprised Ilaria a bit - not only in his affirmative answer, but in the familiar accent and determination with which it was delivered. Until now, Ilaria couldn't recall having ever heard the man speak. She found herself a bit delighted at his native Italian accent. 

Without further delaying, Ilaria began to explain her idea. 

"All we need is opportunity.  I've developed this substance based on a toxin derived from a pufferfish, and when it's finished it will be applicable to any porous surface and deliver a highly concentrated dose that will cause almost immediate death. I've been thinking about a cigar, or cigarettes maybe. The moment he touches his lips to the end of it, the toxin will enter his blood stream."

Her expression changed a bit, a coldness in her eyes. 

​​​​​​"He'll lose control of his muscles, paralyzed as his organs virtually liquify inside his body. It will be an agonizingly slow death for him, though it will really only take minutes."

She turned away from the desk and looked at Del Rossi with that same, chilling look in her eyes.

"I'm tired of people trying to take us from one another. Joe Adonis will not be trifled with like this; not by anyone. I'll not be the maiden in distress by his side. It's time to be Le Strega."

As she spoke true, he let his head hang low. He listened intently, nodding at intervals subconsciously as he simply agreed with her statements and at others more consciously to let her know he was listening. She spoke of how they'd administer the toxin, which sounded simple enough. It also sounded like the right plan given their need to not be seen. The Russian crew leader knew their faces. Maybe not Del Rossi's, but definitely Ilaria's. So the idea to have something tampered with was an immediate relief. 

As he continued to listen, his appreciation for her began to grow. He even smiled a little. Not too much. He wasn't so use to the expression but hearing this other side of her, and seeing it in her eyes as he'd glance at her now and then, it was a very welcome insight into who she may really be beyond the saving the world shtick.

Her energy, although cold, seemed to also draw Del Rossi in. He'd lived a life as an outcast for the most part. Cars were his only true love. People annoyed him. He did as much as he could to not be around them before meeting Joe. Now, he had to. He was just glad the types that associated with his boss weren't the average mundane run-of-the-mill types. They had quirks. Real personalities that weren't hidden away behind a facade in the hopes of not offending another or quietly bribing a like and acceptance out of them.

All who worked with Joe seemed to be readily in their own shoes. Maybe it was because of the way he himself was this way. He didn't hold back. Not with his emotions or what he valued and deemed to be true. His honesty was sometimes a little forward of the mark. But this allowed people to know where he stood with them, and in turn that they were fine to be themselves, as he really didn't give a fuck for putting on airs. That's the first thing Del Rossi noticed when he met him, in a rare moment of truth. And it had stuck ever since.

So in a moment of pause after Ilaria had finished speaking, Louis knew she was the right fit. He had only really seen her as arm candy till last night. And even then, it was her soul that pierced through and spoke to him. Now, it wasn't that goodness that captured him. It was her willingness to be the devil incarnate. And as he pondered his next move, he figured maybe this was why Joe was so madly in love with her. It was beginning to all make sense.

"Alright. You cook. I find Russian."

It was a simple response. His grasp of the English language probably played a major role in it being so. With one last look at what was before him, he nodded, before pushing himself into a standing position. As he walked towards the same door he had entered through, he gave Ilaria a wry smile. He wasn't use to needing or even wanting to show his appreciation. He did however feel right now that he wanted her to know he approved. Not just of her, but of her willingness to go out on a limb for Joe. The type of smile could use some work though.

Del Rossi slightly glanced back over his shoulder as he pushed the door open.

"Two hours."

And without another word, he left the clinic. He'd also left Ilaria to her own devices to continue doing what she had planned and seemed to have made some good progress with. As Del Rossi walked back to his Taxi, the sight of the laboratory she'd set up flashed in his minds eye. Maybe this Le Strega was a little more wild than even himself. And maybe, even Joe.

When Del Rossi was gone, Ilaria stood motionless in front of her lab desk for a while. The plan was solid. It must be if a calculating man like Del Rossi had so easily gone along with it. She had no doubt that the poison would work, so long as the delivery method was properly applied. The only part that made her feel even the slightest bit of worry was doing this without Joe knowing. That wasn't her intention at all; it was sheer coincidence that he was scheduled to be in Chicago. Perhaps it was just that she hadn't ever done anything like this without him. 

A timer let off a shrill ding, letting her know that the brew in her little cauldron was ready. The substance needed to set and then be crushed. That would take about 30 minutes in the ice box, which was just enough time for Ilaria to make a trip down the Pier to a local cigar shop.

There was really only one thing that Del Rossi was good at and somewhat still known for. And it had nothing to do with finding people, especially when time was of the essence. But that wouldn't stop him. But the one thing, that something that made him who he was, it could still be useful. As Ilaria was cooking up whatever the hell it was that would be used to strike the final blow to the Magnolia Assassins, a thought was also brewing within the mind of Adonis' driver.

What he knew was cars. Inside and out. The makes and models of any and all that passed him, wherever he was. Whether driving, sitting at a corner shop getting something to eat, walking down Columbus Boulevard towards Race Street Pier, or down Race Street itself. Any people mover that caught his eye he knew not only what it was, but also how to boost it.

And when in the business of 'borrowing' other people's vehicles with the intention of not giving them back, you had to have a fence of some sort. Someone to be able to buy said automobile with the intention of moving it on again. That's where Louis made his money when not working for Joe Adonis. It was a simple job given his skill set. One he thoroughly enjoyed. And one that could hopefully help him track down a certain wanted Russian.

---

Del Rossi pulled up outside the secluded lot in the Auburn Speedster. He rolled it towards the front gates and although daylight he gave his high beams a few quick flashes. It seemed someone caught the subtle knock as the solid metal double gate was wheeled open. Without needing to stop, Del Rossi guided the car through the entrance. As soon as the car's behind was far enough in, the barrier was closed again.

The crunching sound of rocks under wheels filled most of the silence as the car kept rolling down the open path. Off in the distance was a large warehouse, almost looking like a barn. The difference being the roof was less pointed and the structure itself was a lot wide than your typical farmyard shelter. It did have two large pull out or push out doors though, the way it opened depending on which side of them you were on.

After parking the car and turning off the engine Louis exited the vehicle. If you were to judge the area based on what was happening within this lot up to this point, you could easily say it was quiet as a church. His was the only car visible parked or otherwise. And besides the two men manning the front gate no-one else was about. The only thing here was the large warehouse which showing no outward signs of activity. Not until Del Rossi knocked three times on the shorter, man sized door to the left of the massive entrance.

A wooden slot was pulled back, showing a set of squinted eyes, before it was slid closed again. A few latches sounded like they were being undone before the door was pulled inwardly open. A man stood with his hand against the door, awaiting Del Rossi to enter. As by silent invitation, Louis slowly moved inside the large structure. The hum of activity inside was a complete contrast to where he'd just come from.

Moving further in revealed the workings of an automobile chop shop. It was a place you'd come to deliver a stolen vehicle, to either be stripped for parts or modified enough to be sold on to a waiting buyer. Those that did purchase vehicles here weren't your regular Joe types. Not ones looking for a family vehicle or something they could hold onto for an extended period of time. You'd only find one and done job specific modes of transportation that couldn't be traced back to you if the effort was being made.

A larger than life Russian native approached once he quickly recognized who was entering. With his arm around his shoulder, the two walked through the warehouse together, the larger framed and weighted man guiding their direction.

"Good to see you back so soon! You got another baby for me?"

"I might."

"Oh? You might? You either do or you don't, there is none of this, what you call, might."

"Depends."

Stopping them near a car that was being pulled apart, the Russian turned to face Louis, letting out a hearty laugh.

"Look how cute you is. You know I only deal in what is real. And I know your rules. You don't have time for these games. And me too. Spill it."

Louis nodded as he stalled. He didn't know how this was going to go over. But he needed the location. If this plan was to work they needed to know where Russiv was or where he might possibly be. It was a long shot, but that's all he currently had.

"Russiv."

"Hmmm. What about him?"

"You know he is good as dead."

"Do I? Last I heard he was alive and someone let him go."

"So you know where is he then?"

The two were standing squared off towards each other, a few feet between them. Del Rossi had his arms hanging at his sides, in quite a comfortable pose. Artem on the other hand looked less relaxed. With arms crossed, he was looking down at his shorter conversation partner. He shook his head.

"You don't just get information like this."

Without hesitating, Louis slipped his hand into his pocket and removed a set of keys. With a swift flick of the wrist they were tossed towards Artem.

Catching them with a clean swipe, Artem then glanced down at what was now in his right hand. The word Ford was hand written on the plastic tag attached to the key ring.

"What's this for?"

"Ford pickup."

The Russian broke out into laughter. The balls of this guy tapped on his funny bone. He glanced around the shop, noticing a few people were now looking over at him.

"The balls on this guy!"

"Auburn 851 Speedster."

And with the mention of that car, the somewhat sarcastically joyous moment was pulled out from underneath him.

"What's with the riddles. Speak true."

Del Rossi rolled his eyes before turning and walking back towards the door. As he got to where he'd initially entered, he turned back to notice the Russian hadn't moved an inch. He was still trying to figure out just what the hell was going on here.

"Coming?"

Once outside, Del Rossi leaned up against the back panel of the Auburn, awaiting the Russian who seemed reluctant to exit. Eventually, and with two others making their way through the side door first, he exited. As he did, he looked straight at Del Rossi. He didn't need to give the car a once over. He kind of caught onto what he was saying inside, yet given his love for this car and Louis' understanding of it, he figured it couldn't be true.

But it was, and a large smile returned to the usually Jovial Russian's face. He waved his right index finger at the Italian car expert, who mostly brought in everyday automobiles. Every once in a while he'd find himself paying for a unicorn. But those visits had become somewhat of a miracle themselves these days. The glory days of Del Rossi had passed on. He wasn't as known street side as he once was. But this, this was bringing good memories and even better times flooding back to Artem.

"You zly dog."

"Russiv."

The Russian shook his head again. But this time it was with a delightfully cheeky grin and was followed up with a vigorous stroking of his chin.

"He gets his daily shave at Adelphia."

---

He'd taken a lot less time than he anticipated. He left himself an extra hour to drive past some known local Russian hangouts in case his first idea didn't pan out. With half an hour to spare, Del Rossi returned. This time he was in a red Ford pickup, courtesy of Artem's sense of humor.

With a similar style knock as earlier, Louis rapped the back of his knuckles on the delivery door.

At the sound of the door, Ilaria looked over the box one more time. Everything seemed perfect; but the down side of poisons is that you can't really test it. Standing, she pushed her chair back and made her way quickly to the door.  Del Rossi's expression lent neither an affirmation or negative on the status of the information.  That was one of the most interesting things about him- he was as stoic as they came.  In fact, Ilaria had gotten something of a chuckle out of wondering who might have won a grousing contest between Del Rossi and Generale Santoro.

Ilaria stepped aside to let him him, simultaneously leading him to the now cleared lab table. Off to the side, the beakers and jars were drying upside down beside a deep, metal sink.  The gas burners were off and cold, and all that remained on the desk was a cigar box.  She opened the box, revealing three expensive Cuban cigars- still wrapped in plastic- and two boxes of cigarettes, also appearing to be sealed. 

"Here's the selection.  All three cigars have a heavy dose of the concentrated toxin starting just above the general area where most men cut their cigars.  The cigarettes are fully dipped, one box of filtered, one box not.  And let me tell you, those boxes are hard as hell to reseal.  Anyway, whatever he takes, he'll be dead before he finishes the smoke."

She closed the box and latched it, then sighed anxiously.

"Oh- and this is really important- absolutely do not touch them without your gloves on.  I don't want to run any risk of you getting the toxin on your skin.  It wouldn't kill you, but you'd be feeling like shit for a while."

Ilaria had changed clothes.  She was now wearing black women's slacks, black boots, and a dark red blouse with a black duster jacket.

"How did things go on your end?"

Del Rossi gave slow blinking, straight faced nods at intervals when Ilaria explained what she'd done. He may have seemed a little too relaxed given what was before him and what was being explained to him. The fact of the matter was, he'd thrown his compassionate side out with the trash many many moons ago. It just wasn't in his nature to get too heart felt with things. In other words, he was as cold as they came and things of this nature were more familiar to him than the latest fashion trends were to a smooth criminal.

"..absolutely do not touch them without your gloves on."

One more nod and this time he kept his head at its lowest point for an extended period, to let her know he understood this part more than anything else she had said.

By now he had an idea with how it would play out but given it wasn't his show here, he kept his thoughts to himself.

"How did things go on your end?"

"Molto fottutamente buono." Del Rossi said with some more pronounced nods and a somewhat passionate look on his face, the kind someone may have when listening to a moving piece of opera.

"The guy, he goes to barber shop Adelphia. We hit him there."

Ilaria nodded once.

"Alright, perfect.  I'm coming along.  I know Russiv knows my face, but I've got that figured out."

She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the set of keys to her motorcycle.

"What I don't have figured out, exactly, is how you're going to get him to take either of these things. I've tried to think of how it would work, but this is really where my expertise runs out."

Now in moments like this, Del Rossi found it hard to use words. It was that way with him in general. English wasn't his first language. Italian, he kind of despised due to not using it for so long. He was a man of action. When dealing with clients a lifetime ago, he didn't need words, just the ability to outrun whatever it was that he was getting paid to.

He had the idea. It was golden, in his mind. It seemed simple enough. But he really didn't feel the need to explain it. Either it would work or it wouldn't. And either she trusted him to make it work, or she didn't.

"We will find out."

Del Rossi nodded as he looked at Ilaria, then took the box with the cigars and cigarettes from her with a slow reach. With case in hand, he nodded his head towards the door.

"I follow."

On the way out to her bike, Ilaria fastened the jacket and tied the sash around her waist. Her hair disappeared under a simple leather hat, and she pulled riding goggles over her eyes.  She wouldn't normally ride with so much gear on, but it was imperative that she not be recognized.  Still, she felt it important that she see the whole thing through.  Besides, if anything were to happen to Del Rossi, she couldn't forgive herself.

Her gloved hands turned the key, and she brought the Chief to life.  Adelphia was only three streets over, and happened to be across from a cafe that Joe had taken her to a few times.  She guided the bike out onto the street, then glanced in her rear-view mirror to see Del Rossi fall in behind her in a pick up truck.  That was unexpected, but he had a plan, so she wasn't going to question anything.  Her job was to stay out of sight.

Ilaria had been on a bike many times before.  In the Army, she had to ride to make deliveries around the base, and even used one for a time in nursing school. She loved the freedom that she felt on the back of the motorcycle.  The gift from Joe was more perfect than he realized, and she smiled every time she looked at the tank. She didn't have to be in the air to fly- not with the Chief.  She picked up speed a bit and leaned into a gentle curve.  

Ten minutes later, Ilaria was seated inside the cafe, at a table right beside the window facing the street.  She could see the barber shop, and a few bodies inside.  Sipping a cup of coffee, she watched carefully until a black vehicle pulled up.  Sure enough, the door opened and Russiv stepped out.  Her stomach flip-flopped, and she took a deep breath.  It was up to Del Rossi now. 

Closing a door gently behind him, the barber stepped out from the back area. He made sure to jiggle the handle as he noticed it seemed to have a light latch. It had already come undone moments earlier, and he wanted to make sure it would stay shut this time. The woolen vest he'd just slipped on still needed the buttons done up. He had a client coming any minute now and had just taken some time to freshen up and make himself more presentable.

The client was a well known figure head of an assassin fraternity and was a frequenter here at Adelphia. Bob Hope was one of the biggest names in the Philly scene for what he did. Men of honor, and some not so lucky, would come in to have their daily routine performed by the best. Why would you make the effort at home when you could squeeze time out of your schedule to get a touch up and flap gums with a man like Bob.

His stories were legendary. He seemed to know what was what the country over. From sports, to politics, to the criminal world, he seemed to always be in the know to what was going on. And not just that, the stuff he said were as if he were privy to things others weren't. The details used. The names given, that were always preempted with 'just between us'. He was the best in the business at widening eyes and perking ears and had everyone seeking his service from musicians, to celebrities, and most of all those names that just seemed to attract attention all on their own, mob figures.

After the top button of the checkered vest was secured into its corresponding slot, their was a chime at the door. Looking up and straightening his bow tie, a smirk was given as the initial greeting to a Russian looking individual who had two men walk in with him. A casual salute followed as he approached the front of the shop, walking through the mid section that had barber chairs and stations set up either side.

A curious look was returned, the Russian mob figure pausing near the counter and just before the barber who also seemed to stop his forward movement at about the same time. Both men had unusual looks on their faces compared to what was normal for them. The Russian spoke first.

"Where's Bob?"

A waitress came by and refilled Ilaria's coffee cup without her even realizing it. Nor did she realize that she'd already finished the entire cup before the action even started.

"Do you want anything to eat Miss?"

Ilaria quickly turned, nearly knocking the coffee cup off the table, but caught it just in time as a bit of the fresh coffee splashed onto her hand.  She grimaced and shook her head, sheepishly.

"No, thank you.  I'm fine.  Maybe I should lay off the coffee after this cup, hm?"

The waitress gave a polite chuckle, then walked off to the next table.  Ilaria sat and looked at the coffee cup, chewing lightly on her bottom lip.  She couldn't help but think of Joe; wondering where he was and what he was doing.  It had been a long time since Ilaria prayed, but she'd been talking to any god that would listen since she started up her bike.  This had to go smoothly.  At least, smoothly enough that they got the job done with minimal damage to themselves.  

Her gaze moved back through the window and across the street. She could just barely make out Del Rossi approaching the counter, and smirked a bit at how posh Del Rossi looked in that barber's vest.  She'd have to remember to tell him that later.  For a moment, she averted her eyes back to the coffee cup, picking it up for a sip.  In that moment, a city bus pulled up to a stop right in front of the window.  A few passengers trickled off, then the driver got out and lit a smoke.

"Ahh fuck!"

Ilaria grumbled, a little louder than she meant to.

"Where's Bob?"

The backroom. Tied up and gagged, with one of his socks in his mouth and the other used to keep the matching pair from slipping out. That wobbly latch was what Del Rossi busted when he kicked his way through, after Bob realized he wasn't here to get a hair cut or a close shave, and definitely not even for the warm towels afterwards on the face and neck.

When he and two others initially entered everyone was told to leave. There were two in chairs, one being attended to by Bob and another awaiting his turn next. Another was waiting, seated in a chair that had its back against the shopfront window, as that's where all those who walked in wanting something done sat until they could be slotted in, after all bookings had been seen to first.

The two goons accompanying Del Rossi made sure to fuck off everyone who wasn't Bob Hope. The one waiting in the chair, as all bookings did, thought it wise to be stubborn and offer an alternative, which was for them to fuck off. Ah, fools rush in. He copped a solid response, via way of a comb cup to the side of the face, before being dragged to the backroom. Bob wasn't the only one back there.

"Sick." Del Rossi responded, still shining a smile Adonis would be proud of.

"Please."  He said as he pointed to the closest barber station.

"This guy is better than Bob. But shhh, don't tell the old guy I said that!" Was what someone seated in another of the barber chairs said.

"Better than Hope? There's no such thing. In the same league, definitely." Was what another chimed in with, one who was seated in the walk in area, flicking through a men's fashion magazine.

The two goons had replaced the two real clients. With themselves and Del Rossi all taking on live action roles, you'd think Adonis would do well to see Kuklinski about these guys moonlighting on some of his Hollywood projects.