The Buick 50 didn't waste any time getting from the Lofts to 228 Race Street. As their car rolled to a halt, another identical looking Buick parked right behind them. Everyone seemed to peel out of the cars except for two in the first. Joe and Ilaria sat in the back as men in black suits took up positions outside the building to their immediate right.

In total there were six well dressed and presented men accompanying the Midas executives. Each one had been recruited specifically to maintain a presence. Their function was simple, be a layer of protection between their employees and any and all forms of danger. The problem was, some that donned the expensive bespoken black suits and fedoras were more than that.

It wasn't hard to develop deeper, more meaningful relationships with people you practically broke bread with every single day. You shared each others space, breathed each others air, learned about each others habits and likes and dislikes. You practically became a part of their story, and they became a part of yours.

So when Joe received word Ray was in trouble, he was there. Their history went back to New York. Back to the days Joe helped run illicit gambling dens for a crew he grew up with. Ray was someone back then who you never thought twice about taking money from. The kind you felt sorry for, for only a split second, before you remembered how much of a degenerate he was. He'd gambled away his mortgage. His life savings. His wife's jewelry. And yet when he stepped in through the main doors with the new password you just knew he was on the same train.

He couldn't catch a break. Not to save his life. And he nearly ended it all before Joe stepped in. Ray was the first on his payroll when they met again in Philly. A chance encounter by the hand of lady luck. Joe ended up saving him from himself, put him to work and got him some purpose to sink his spirit into, something to get him going everyday and hopefully away from the path he was on.

It had worked well overall. No issues, no complaints. He turned up to work everyday and did what was asked of him. Lately though, he seemed off. And Joe figured only one thing could bring him back here again, to where they rekindled their relationship. A knock on the car window was met with Joe's raised forefinger, before he turned back and grabbed Ilaria's hands.

"This ain't a place you can forget easily. I'm not sure what Ray's doing back here, but it's not gonna be good. He seemed well out of it recently. I'd rather you stay here, but I wont stop you from coming in. You know this life better than any. You've seen more than most. Just, I dunno."

Joe seemed different than usual. A little more protective. The kidnapping had his mind in all sorts of knots. He knew Adontoro could survive the worst, but for how long? How many lives did this black cat have left?

Normally, Ilaria would have given him an easy smile and rattled off some quip to relax him. This time, however, staring at what very well could become another action sequence in the story of Adontoro, Ilaria wasn't quite as confident as usual.  In fact, part of her was yea close to telling him she'd be fine staying right where she was; but that wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't how Adontoro worked, no matter what.

But now wasn't the time for Joe to see any uncertainty, and it absolutely wasn't the time to bring up anything terribly stunning. In fact, she was glad she hadn't had time to bring up the subject there at the park. He didn't need the distraction; not now.  

She nodded as he squeezed her hands, and returned a soft smile.

"It'll be fine.  I'll stay close, and help if needed."

Without really knowing what else to say, she took a deep breath and looked past Joe to the ominous looking building behind them.

Joe wasn't sure what he wanted to hear, but he gave her a smile in return and a nod, then lead them out of the vehicle. 

Two men stood staunch near the front entrance that was boarded over. The windows were also a long time shut and rendered obsolete. The whole front spoke of an abandoned and no longer in use building. The surrounding area on the other hand was business as usual. A bar was to the right hand side and more service type eateries followed. To the left, an alleyway cut it off from the rest of Race Street which ran down towards the Pier.

It felt like another life when he was here last. He was a drunk. A womanizer. Ready for any and all opportunities to make him feel alive, which usually came with a back and forth conversation, one where words were exchanged for flying fists. Nowadays he was responsible. Not a drunk, but still drank a fuck ton. Still fucked a lot, but only had his sights on one. Things had changed, and yet he felt a sense of familiarity as he nodded towards one of the suited escorts.

"Two with us. The rest of you make sure no-one comes in." He spoke to no-one in particular as he walked down the cobblestone alleyway that ran down the right side of the building they were here to visit.

Two closest to them simply followed as the rest did what they usually did, stood around looking the part. Some were more motivated than others and took their positions seriously, really looking dangerous, like you wouldn't want to walk on this side of the road while they were here. Some though, like the one who had initially alerted Joe and Ilaria to Ray being in some shit, were a little less eager and a whole lot green.

It was the newer types that had that initial buzz about them. They wanted the world but hadn't yet burnt their fingers to know it wasn't all to be had. They weren't tempered. Like a fine sword, you needed that time in the flames to really bring it all together. It was one thing to have ambition, but another entirely to be able to do something grounded with it.

Ray had one and not the other. He had been burnt so many he'd become numb to it. Even while working for Joe, the things he'd done, the things he'd seen, it didn't phase him. He'd stepped into his rightful place as a lost and damaged soul. Some days Joe even questioned if he had any of it left. Today would answer that.

As Joe pushed open the doors, the stench hit him right away. 'Here we go again', he thought, as he stepped down the steps into the seedy pit that was the gin den.

The place was so dark it had Joe squint as he waved his arm, cutting through the thickened smoke. His eyes weren't so use to these places these days. Once upon a time he'd need to squint when stumbling out into the midday sun. Ilaria was following closely, and his two heavies were in next. All four of them were now standing in the center of the squalor.

The bar was directly ahead and ran across most of the back wall, with bar stools of various styles and heights scattered in front of it. Some overturned, some nowhere near the bar. It seemed these seats only got moved when they were needed to be used.

To to right were some tables with some patrons drinking away their sorrows. To the left, more tables. And one in particular which is where Joe immediately placed his attention. It was the one at the far back left corner, where a card game was underway. Yet, compared to his last visit here, the people playing seemed quite pleasant looking.

Looking around, Ray wasn't anywhere in sight. Joe rubbed at his face, not sure what to make of it. Then, shouting could be heard. It sounded like it was coming from a door at the very back that had a toilet sign on it.

Joe glanced at Ilaria, then began to walk towards it.

As they descended the dank staircase, Ilaria realized she was a bundle of nerves. She wasn't particularly fond of blind situations like this, but she had been around Ray enough to be genuinely concerned for him. 

The moment her feet touched the floor, the pungent odor hit her hard, setting her stomach slightly queasy. For another moment, she considered that she may have made a mistake coming down here. By this, she was frustrated. A large part of her life put her in sketchy situations, and she was always perfectly able to handle even the most distasteful. She really didn't need anything that would make that more difficult.

The sound of yelling grabbed her out of her thoughts, and she looked up in time to see Joe give her a glance then head that way. One of the two guards followed. She almost sent the second, but thought better of it as one of the patrons at the bar gave her a drunken, broken toothed grin. Warily, she stepped nearer to a wall and tried to distract her mind from the smell. The decor of the room seemed like it hadn't been updated after a decade and maybe some water damage. No wonder Joe called it a place hard to forget. That sent her thoughts in a totally new direction as she looked around at the sad souls that dotted the tables and chairs. There was a time, at least to her understanding, that Joe would frequent this place. Maybe it wasn't so bad then, but the whole place just gave off a depressing and empty feeling that physically hurt her to think that Joe ever felt. It made her want to follow him through that door, as if she could somehow keep him from falling into that place again.

The rattling of a pipe hit his eardrums first as he pushed open the door. It were as if the toilet drainage system were having a fit, like it was just done with copping so much shit from this place time and time again. The bathroom wasn't any better than the room he just came in from. The smoke seemed to be even thicker, if it were at all possible. With the flashing single light bulb off in the corner, it gave the haze a new found thickness, like Joe were walking through a cemetery on a night of reckoning.

A body stumbled out of one of the stalls. Joe noticed the man had soaked his pants in piss, the mark noticeable and the smell even more so. Joe grabbed at his nose as he moved to the side, allowing the sorry excuse to feel his way towards the exit. As he did, he was mouthing this or that, words that were incoherent for the most part. Not that Joe was even trying to understand him, as he was more concerned the guy would accidentally touch him with his pissy mitts.

Finally reaching the bathroom door, he fumbled at the metal handle, pushing it a few times and cussing before realizing it were to be pulled open. A kick at it nearly sent him onto his ass, stopped by a somewhat steadying hand on the handle which tugged it open as he fell back. The bathroom bandit slipped through the gap, nearly getting himself caught from the inability to judge the effort required to open the door far enough. With more cusses he was off into the main room, likely for more drinking and self conversation.

Joe shook his head and wiped at his face as he turned towards where he heard the feint sound of some chattering. It was coming from a stall at the far end of the bathroom, the only one that seemed to still have the door properly attached to it. Curious, and nothing else to go by, Joe walked over.

"You're going to want to move away right now, guy."

The guard with Ilaria, named Max, had a rough, gravely voice and a permanent scowl on his face to match.  He had stepped directly in front of her as a rail-thin customer approached with a mind to buy her a drink.  From the looks of him, he preferred powders to liquids. Ilaria noticed as he scratched behind his ear and at his wrists. 

"Aw, I just wanted to offer the broad a drink- that's a fine piece of ass right--"

The sentence was never completed.  Max pulled his pistol from his holster and landed the butt of it hard against the man's skull. It was probably more force than necessary, but it was strategic.  When the tweaker crumpled to the floor in a useless pile, Max looked up and around the room at the other patrons who had turned to see what was happening.  His eyebrows were raised as if in a challenge, daring another person to come near Ilaria Santoro.

Meanwhile, Ilaria had barely taken her eyes off the bathroom door.  One man had stumbled out, looking as if he'd made it just inside the door and decided the rest of the journey to the toilet was just too big of a bother. Ilaria looked down and closed her eyes for a moment; not in prayer so much as just hoping that Joe would find Ray and they could get out of there. Joe would deal with him as needed in the clinic, which Ilaria assumed would be their next stop.

Max looked back at Ilaria.

"You ok, ma'am?  You look a little pale."

Ilaria looked up quickly and nodded.

"I'm fine, really. Just a bit peckish."

Ilaria knew that, eventually, she was going to run out of excuses. 

Max snapped his fingers surprisingly loudly.

"Hey, how about some water over here?"

The sound was unusual. Muffled, but a distinct voice could be made out. One that had a constant chatter to it. The loud shouts he heard earlier and from outside the bathroom were now gone. But there was still something luring him towards this space, and it wasn't just the weird voices that sounded distant. Something was pulling him here, tugging at his curiosity with a swirling of energy in the pit of his stomach.

A solid push on the stall door netted nothing. 'The fuck?' With a hand gripped on top, Joe shook the door this time. Still, no budging. He grunted his disapproval before stepping back and slamming his right foot hard into where he imagined the latch would be. The door crashed open, showing nothing more than an empty area where a toilet should be.

It didn't take long for Joe to recognize the setup. The wall where there would've once been a toilet attached seemed false, like it were instead a doorway to something else. Many speakeasies the country over had similar setups. It kept the FBN on their toes and only the people truly in the know able to get themselves inside the establishment. This, however, was a little odd given the room it was in.

The guard that had initially been ordered to follow Joe, was now right behind him. It seemed he got caught up outside the bathroom, thinking he were to keep guard. Upon hearing the racket he made his way in. Now, standing beside Joe, they were both looking at the interesting little safeguard. What was behind it, they were yet to find out. The chatter beyond it all of a sudden seemed to die down.

Joe and his goon looked at each other. It was one of 'something is about to go down'. With a signal for his man to hold his ground, Adonis moved towards the wall. Putting his head as close to it as possible, he waited and listened in for any further sounds. And just as the moments ticked over into 'hurry the fuck up' a loud collective cheer could be heard cackling from behind the plywood along with stamping and clapping.

Both Ilaria and Max heard muffled sounds coming from the bathroom again, but too jumbled to make out.  Ilaria put down her glass of water and took a step toward the bathroom.  Max put his hand out, shaking his head.

"I don't like this place, ma'am. I really think it's best if you stay out here.  I'll go and check, and I'll be right back.  Anyone touches you, scream at the top of your lungs."

He didn't really give her a chance to acknowledge his instructions, he just stalked toward the bathroom door. As he did, Ilaria looked briefly around and moved to a small, straight back chair.  She sat, hoping to make herself less conspicuous.  A couple of people at the bar got up, paid their tab, and started up the stairs; leaving only Ilaria, the bartender, a waitress who couldn't have any less interest in her job, and another patron seemingly passed out with his head resting on his hand.

In a funny way, it reminded her of the Officer's Club on base back home.  Ilaria could recall the first time she went there after she'd been promoted high enough. She had always thought the O Club would be a buzzing, jovial speak-easy type place with music and drink flowing. To her dismay, it was really nothing more than a dimly lit room with a makeshift bar, a few tables and chairs, and a dusty upright piano that no one ever played.  Even the officers that visited didn't talk much; just drank their whiskey and vodka till the sun went down, or their problems went away. That was when Ilaria had decided that bars probably weren't going to be her "hang out" of choice, and she went back to the hospital and cloistered herself in the lab to read.

"You want some more water, sweetie?"

The waitress had appeared at the tiny table, and startled Ilaria slightly.

"No, thank you."

She gave the waitress a friendly smile as she refused the refill, but the waitress seemed unfazed by anything at all. With a sigh, Ilaria looked back at the bathroom door.

Joe looked back to the guy who was at the entrance to the stall who shrugged his shoulders, then turned to the sound of the main toilet door being kicked open. In busted Max, who seemed like he was on 'not fucking about' time. Joe watched the closest goon's body language for signs of who had just beat the door open. The guy was new to the detail. A no-named suit filler. Maybe after this eventful day he'd turn into something a little more, maybe even with a nickname based on how said events unfolded and how he handled himself. Joe's thoughts were getting away from him though and he realized it, shaking his head, he brought himself back to the moment.

"The fuck you doing?"

"Just checking in."

The two seemed to know each other well enough though, and although Max looked like he'd be able to shot-putt the guy a fair distance, he wasn't the one who was holding court.

"Get the fuck back out there, we got this."

"I.."

Joe couldn't see it as the more assertive of the two had his back to him, but he was pointing towards the door. Notice was taken of how this seemingly nobody commanded the situation. Joe nodded to himself before his security detail turned back around and joined him in the stall.

"Alright, we're going in here. Keep it cool. Only draw if necessary."

A nod as a response let Joe know the man knew what was up. It wasn't just that, the look of determination and focus on his face gave him a sense of strength also. He wasn't just walking into God knows what with a shit kicker of a meat suit copping some led before he hit the deck himself, if that's what was destined for his demise. He knew instantly they'd both go down fighting with courage and a set of big swinging balls.

And with that, both checked their firearms. A colt detective special was pulled from Joe's jacket pocket. He flicked it open, checked the ammo was full, then flicked it closed and slid it back into his pocket. He knew this little beauty would do the job. Maybe not take down a horde, but rightly aimed and properly handed it could get him what he needed, possibly a few less troubles and some time to think of a next move.

The man with him, who was growing more and more in reputation, also pulled out a colt detective special. Joe cocked an eyebrow and titled his head back, watching the guy do something similar with the weapon before tucking it away in the small of his back.

"What? It's easy to carry and packs a good punch." He said as he adjusted his jacket to conceal the weapon.

He was right, which had Joe simply nod before turning towards the plywood wall. With a roll of the shoulders and a deep breath, he was ready. Joe's backup had his hand on his boss' shoulder, ready as well. Without any more delay they both lunged towards the wall, Joe shouldering his way through the thin bit of wood as his bodyguard dived in after him.

Max returned, looking confused.

"Everything ok?"  

Ilaria had noted the look on his face, and while she was relieved he didn't look alarmed, she was now also very confused. Max sort of scratched his head and shrugged.

"They're in there- in a stall.  Just...staring at the pisser.  I- don't really know.  But they seemed alright."

There was a moment of still silence between Ilaria and Max, both looking at each other as if they were waiting for a punchline; but there was none coming.  Finally, Ilaria sat back in her seat, crossing her legs.

"So, Max, do you have any children?"

A sturdy wooden ramp broke their fall and had them both tumbling quickly to a stop. It was angled slightly downwards from the toilet stall and into this room. Joe's first reaction was to glance around at what might be here as he took a stand, dusting himself off. What he saw was quite a sight. He'd never quite seen anything like this. He glanced back towards the entrance, where his bodyguard was now also gathering himself.

The shady entrance connected the two buildings, both of which were otherwise closed off to the public. The one they were now in had no other way of entering, or exiting, but through where they'd brute forced their way in. Joe took a quick note of the broken bricks of the toilet stall wall, some of which were still on the floor in this other building.

He'd also gathered that this wasn't exactly an invite yourself in kind of gathering, based on what was going down. Turning back to what initially caught his attention, and with both hands now in his jacket pockets, he flashed a grin.

"So, I guess we should've maybe knocked?"

Max was telling Ilaria about his two kids, Jenny and Max Jr., when they heard a rumbling from the direction of the bathroom.  Both Ilaria and Max jumped up from their seats, but neither moved.

"What do you think it was?" Ilaria asked, visibly more nervous than she had been five seconds ago.

"Trouble." Max replied.

"Guaio." Ilaria mumbled.

Every part of Ilaria's brain was screaming for her to follow, but she was frozen in place.  There was so much more to think about now.  Besides, her suddenly showing up might make things worse for Joe.  Max wasn't moving either, which told her their best move was to not move at all.  Still, the nerves were getting to her.  She picked up the glass of water again and took a few small, slow sips.  

Max narrowed his eyes a little as he looked at her; then his eyebrows raised with surprise.

"Wait a minute. Miss Santoro...you're..."

"Well, you could've just slid the piece of wood to the side."

Joe glanced back at his fellow gatecrasher, who was glaring at the group who'd suddenly stopped what they were doing. With a casual shrug, Joe turned his attention back to the group as well.

There was a round table setup in the middle of the large space. A lamp was hanging overhead, connected to a chain that was fastened to a rafter above. Around the table were a multitude of not so scrupulous looking individuals. They were a mixed bunch, but all seemed to be the types at the lower spectrum of the food chain, the ones you didn't feed in case you lost an arm in the process.

With closer inspection, Joe noticed money in some of their hands. They were about three rows deep, all around the table. And something was happening in the middle of it, which Joe could kind of see but not really. The one talking was a larger looking fellow, shirtless, tattooed and smoking up a storm, a cigar dangling from his lips.

"I'm not sure that would've made the same kind of entry, you know?"

"Joe?"

"Wait, Ray?"

From the inner part of the table, a man stood up. Now recognizable as his head was peering the some of the shorter stature men huddled together. It was Ray Divine. It looked to Joe that he was blindfolded before taking a stand, as he was pulling a black bit of cloth down around his neck as he turned.

"The fuck you doing here?"

"Me?" Joe huffed, slowly realizing what was looking like the makings of a game of Russian roulette.

"The fuck are you doing here!" The hand that was suppose to be trigger ready was now out of his pocket and pointing at Ray.

Not one to leave his feelings unexpressed, Joe started walking down the ramp towards the group. Some men began to step aside, anticipating a not so friendly confrontation. Joe hadn't sized up the situation fully before his rising fury began getting the better of him, and noticing this, Joe's backup quickly paced down the ramp after him.

"I was just..."

"No, no. Shut the fuck up Ray!" Joe said as he edged closer. He paused a few feet from his long time employee and what he would consider to be his friend, and threw his hands up in the air in frustration. He looked beside himself, shaking his head and biting down on his bottom lip.

"You're coming with me. Now!"

With a flick of his hand, Joe was now pointing back towards the toilet stall. Still looking at Ray, it was obvious he was pissed. And maybe more than pissed. It looked like he wanted to take the gun that was on the table and shove it down his throat.

"After all I've done for you, this is where you end up?!"

"You don't understand, Joe!"

The crowd had now backed away from the table. At the far end, and beyond both Ray and Joe was the same cigar smoking overseer, who had a smarmy smirk on his face and hadn't moved an inch. He was enjoying this. This confrontation could actually turn into something quite useful, he was thinking.

"Oh, I don't? I know what day it is, Ray. You think I don't know?"

His head hung low, his chin hitting his chest. Ray took a breath as he rubbed at his sweaty head. He should've known Joe would remember. It was around the same date they'd met here, one year ago. His ex-wife's anniversary sent him into a downward spiral then, as she left the day prior. And now, it had pulled him back into his depressive state. Joe had given him an alternative back then, but he wasn't exactly in the same compassionate state to do the same again.

The days leading up to it made sense. The date was never far from Ray's mind. But he thought he could handle it. To take it on the chin and walk through to the other side. But his vices were a lot closer to him than he realized. They never truly faded, just took on a new form. Betting on dice using smokes with some of the guys. Betting on what Joe would or wouldn't do given a situation. Harmless, sure. But they kept the fire stoked.

And Joe understood. He was a gambler himself. The difference was he never went into it with an anxious heart. He loved poker. Lady luck, she was his second favorite. He'd play for the game and the skill, and finding out what others were made of. A character shone through at the tables. You saw all of someone in the cards they played. It was never about the money for Joe. Never an escape.

"She's gone. She's not coming back. Killing yourself wont set it right."

In the main room, Ilaria and Max were still standing, standing side-by-side and both facing the bathroom.

"Does the boss know yet?"

Ilaria shook her head.

"I wasn't even sure myself until yesterday."

Max chuckled a bit.

"Man, that's something else."

The lack of sounds coming from the bathroom had Ilaria starting to pace.

"I don't get it, Max.  One moment it sounds like a heard of elephants, the next it's quiet as a church.  What the hell is happening in there?"

"Just go, Joe. It's over."

Ray looked defeated. He looked like he was ready to leave. This world had taken him through the ringer. At least that was his interpretation of it. It was down to his own choices, day in and day out, but he just couldn't see that. Not everyone could. Not everyone had a father like Joe did, who left him with pearls of wisdom to take with him, that would guide him and help him develop into somewhat of a not so fucked up mess.

"It's over, you say?"

Joe pulled his gun out of his jacket, quickly flicked it open and started emptying the bullets.

"JOE!" Shouted his bodyguard, who wasn't liking where this was going.

He'd heard of Ray when he started working with Midas and had a lot of respect for the guy, even though he didn't spend much time working detail with him. Max brought him in. They'd done some night shifts around town together as actual security guards for a shitty wage and even shittier benefits. Once Max joined, it was his friends turn next. They were practically inseparable outside of work, sharing a flat together and getting into all sorts of shit. Max was the brute, his friend the brains.

Whether Joe was gearing up to shoot Ray, or get himself shot by doing something stupid like not thinking his actions through, he wasn't going to let his boss continue with his train of thought.

"JOE GOD DAMMIT!" He shouted again, standing a little ways back. He wasn't going to touch him or force his hand, he was just hoping he could simply bellow some sense into the man. Not that it ever worked, but what else could he do.

Another voice from the back, or wherever the odd sounds were coming from.  This time, the voice was clear, loud, and urgent. 

"JOE GOD DAMMIT!"

Ilaria's eyes shot up from the floor where she'd been pacing wide circles. Max, whose behavior had grown a bit more antsy since their previous conversation, edged closer to her.

"You know, maybe I should take you back to the car.  I got a bad feeling about this, and you really shouldn't be in a place like this."

Ilaria wasn't listening; and even if she had been, she would have refused. Nothing could keep her from Joe's side, not now, not ever.  

"Max, give me your gun."

"What!?"

Ilaria thrust her hand out toward him, expectantly.

"Miss Santoro, I-"

"That's Major Santoro.  Give me the gun."

Nothing was registering. Joe's mind was blank. His blood was boiling, but his mind was clear. His eyes showed a fiery burn as he looked up at Ray after emptying all but one bullet. With a flick of the wrist the cylinder snapped closed on the colt. He gave the chamber an aggressive spin, all the while staring down someone he'd practically pulled out of the depths of hell and given a second chance, who was squandering it, all over some skirt he'd never see again.

It wasn't that Joe didn't care, or couldn't see his side of it. If he lost Ilaria, he'd be a wreck too. If she walked out on him though, that was another thing entirely. He'd mope and groan and break everything in the Loft, but he'd eventually fuck his way out of it again. And eventually, he'd realize she was the fool.

The thing with Ray was, he was the fool. He gambled away their mortgage. Her jewelry. Her love. He set their relationship on fire then pissed on the ashes, and now he wanted to feel sorry for himself? AGAIN?

Joe paced towards the table, the crowd still silent. Unless there was money to be made, they really weren't too concerned for what was happening. Some even looked bored, periodically glancing back at the one who was likely running this whole thing, looking for some kind of clue or guidance as to what they should be doing.

And as Joe passed Ray with a soul shattering glare and kept walking towards the opposite end of the table, the overseer finally got himself involved. He pulled the cigar out of his mouth and held both hands high in the air.

"Place your bets!"

The crowd went into a frenzy, shouted once again, as money started exchanging hands with two main bet takers grabbing at what was being waved about. One was for Ray, the other for Joe. Both who were now taking their seats at opposite ends of the table. Joe slapped the gun down hard onto the table then began rolling his sleeves back with emphasis. He wasn't fucking about, his emotions burning hotter than a kerosene surprise at West dock.

"Max, you're a good man, and great with security, but I have more than a decade in the Italian Armed Services and I can break your arm in six places before you have a chance to scream for your mother.  Hand. Me. The. Gun."

With a look of surprise and a hint of intimidation frozen on his face, Max slowly handed the gun to Ilaria.  She checked the chamber, dropped the magazine and counted her ammo, then slammed the magazine back into place as she started walking forward.  Max took a few steps forward to follow her, but she turned and looked over her shoulder.

"Stay."

Max wasn't stupid enough to argue, but he was smart enough to stay vigilant. 

Ilaria took long strides, the gun drawn and ranged in front of her.  Her steps were silent, despite the fact that she was wearing heels on the poured concrete floor.  As silently as she could, she pushed the bathroom door open, covering herself with the outstretched gun.  At first, she saw nothing, but the sound of laughing and taunting got louder, as did the smell of thick cigar smoke. Her stomach turned again, but she was far too focused at this point to care.  She followed the sound to the last stall, where she saw a different light before she even opened the door.  She pressed herself flat against the stall partition and peeked around.  The hole in the wall led straight into another room- no windows- just bodies, smoke, and chairs. Still silently, she slid along the wall until she was right at the entrance to the hidden room.  The men were so busy throwing money back and forth that no one noticed her at all.  Across the room, she saw Ray.  His face looked like his soul had completely left him, and there was a black blindfold around his neck.  He was staring at Joe, who also sat at the table, his gun laying in front of him.  Someone handed Joe a blindfold.  

For the first time in Ilaria's life, she lost her composure.  Where she was generally soft handed, cool-headed, and cautious, the realization of what was about to happen wrecked every gentle nerve she'd ever had.  Her finger squeezed the trigger, sending a blast over the heads of everyone and putting a hole in the shoddy drywall between Joe and Ray.  The room fell silent and everyone turned to see a well-dressed woman with slightly mussed black hair and fiery eyes standing on the broken board ramp. 

"The first man that draws on me is going to hell."

Without waiting for a reply, she stepped between the bemused crowd.  What was happening here wasn't immediate danger- at least not from the crowd.  They were drunk on gin and cash, and looking for a thrill.  That's what they were getting, whether it was what they were expecting or not. Ilaria walked straight up to Ray, who was clearly pretty stunned at what was happening.  Her free hand reached down and picked up his gun, now having two trained on him. She was furious- not at him- but that he had gotten himself here without asking for help, and gotten Joe here and angry enough to put himself in the opposite chair.  She felt fury simultaneously with heartbreak, and she could barely discern one feeling from the other. Her voice was low, unwavering in tone, and a heavy Italian accent was apparent.

"Get up. There is nothing for you here. I know you feel like you've lost everything- I know what happened; but this isn't where it ends.  And I'll be damned if your foolishness takes my Joe away from me.  Not now."

Her hands just barely started to tremble. She turned her head and looked at Joe, the guns still trained on Ray.

"You, too, get up.  There is light outside of this place.  You have an airline to run.  You're going to make so much of a difference in this world. You...you're going to...be a father."

Joe was ready and willing as the blindfold was handed over. His eyes were trained solely on Ray, yet he could vaguely hear and feel the flapping of money about him, with the background being the condensed white noise of bettors and entertainment enthusiasts.

Even though it was a friend seated across from him, he didn't see him that way. He saw it as a test to his loyalty. To how truly honest he could be in the moment. He feared being seen as someone who was the opposite. He'd spent time with such people. He'd gone to jail for them. Held his tongue, for his childhood friends.

The same guys he'd later find out stitched him up. As the days ticked over behind bars he made a vow to never be seen in the same light, even if it ended up killing him. He spoke it so many times it was a part of the very fabric of his being. Which is why he didn't hesitate to join Ray in his madness. A friend was always there, no matter the cost. No matter the risk. Because the reward was always the same, loyalty.

With the blindfold in his hands, and with Ray ready to slip his back onto his face, the time was now.

Before either could show they were ready to meet death, with the final preparation of cloth over eyes, the sound of a gunshot echoed around the room as the drywall between them copped a bullet. And there she was. A lioness, ready to eat anything in her path for the one she loved.

Joe watched on as she took control of the situation. He placed the blindfold down and slowly moved his hand to his gun, just in case someone in the crowd decided to do something stupid, like maybe jumping into playing a game of Russian roulette with a suicidal friend.

Her words were sharp. Her movements, assertive. He knew she had this in her. He'd seen it before on multiple occasions. The car hit. The bookies hit. The dinner that preceded a romantic late night bath of acid dissolved corpses. And more recently, the Russiv hit. She was as capable in these matters as she was beautiful in or out of uniform. So it didn't surprise him.

His energy was heightened, yet murky with rage. He still wasn't himself. Not until she said one specific word he never thought he'd ever hear when referring to him. Father.

At first, it had him shake his head. 'Did she really just say that?' And with it, he seemed to slowly climb out of the rage, like Ilaria had thrown a rope down into the pit he'd fallen into and was pulling him back out. 'A father?'

Joe scratched at his head then rubbed at his eyes. The crowd was dead silent. They knew she meant business. Nobody was fucking with her. Even the cigar puffing, money loving hustler had a look of concern on his face. People knew, instinctively or not, what a mother would do for her babies. What she'd do to make sure her child still had a father. No-one, was fucking with her.

After a moment of taking it all in, Joe shook his head with a light smile. He took a deep breath as his eyes simmered to show that glint of love he always had when looking at her. And as he looked at her now, he quickly raised the gun, pointed it at Ray and squeezed the trigger. He planned to keep squeezing until the hammer eventually snapped down on the bullet and shot it out of the barrel. He only needed one.

His aim was straight. The gun was pointed at Ray's head, who's body jolted backwards before he face planted onto the table. As blood pooled around his head, Joe tucked his gun into his jacket pocket, kicked the chair out and began walking through the crowd towards Ilaria. His true loyalty was to his family, his honesty revealing itself in the killing of that which would fuck with his famiglia.

Ray was a friend, but that bond only went so far. And if he had to choose between one or the other, it was a simple decision. Family meant the world to Joe, just like it had to his father. Fear didn't grip his gun. It was pure love.

The car door shut behind Ilaria after she was settled into the seat beside Joe. Her hands were still trembling, slightly more than before since watching Joe put Ray out of years of misery. She understood, but it was heavy.

Joe hadn't spoken since they walked out. Ilaria watched his face, especially his eyes. She'd seen the hint of a smile just before the last gunshot, but she wasn't sure where his head was. Slowly, she laid a hand on his. 

"Are you alright, mia amore?" 

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