Time Period: Five Months before the Fall of Detroit
 

"SHIT...shit shit shit SHIT...."

Emily dodged a garbage can sitting in the middle of the Detroit alleyway she was tearing down. She could taste the metallic tang of the blood from her lip. How the fuck had they found her in Corktown, Detroit? She was thousands of miles from Las Vegas, and had been as careful about covering her tracks as she could imagine being. Still, they somehow managed to ambush her as she came out of a little bodega on 12th street shortly after midnight. Two burly agents had each grabbed her arm, causing her to drop the half dozen eggs and bottle of milk she'd just purchased. They immediately identified themselves as FBI, and informed her that she was under arrest for treason against the US government. In answer, Emily planted the heel of her stiletto shoe into the top of one of their feet. He screamed and let go of her, crumpling to the ground. She tried to jerk away from the other, but he held fast to her arm and took a wild swing, connecting hard with her face and splitting her lip wide open. The blow left her dazed, but only for a moment before she smashed her knee directly into the family jewels. The agent let out a breathy groan and stumbled back. Emily bolted like lightening away from them, across the street and into the alley. She had no idea where she was going, but she had to keep running. 

"EMILY RENFROE! STOP OR WE WILL SHOOT!"

She didn't even hesitate, knowing what they were carrying and that she was well out of range. She made it to the other side of the alley, glancing to each side before deciding to take a left toward a row of warehouses. By this time, she had run completely out of her shoes. Gravel would bury into the bottoms of her feet, but she didn't dare slow down. 

"GODDAMMIT EMILY! STOP!"

The voice of the agent sounded angry, and much closer. How could they have gained on her so fast. She picked up speed, focused on a warehouse door that was slightly cracked open just ahead of her. 

The sound of a government-issued Colt 1911 rang out in the night. Emily immediately dropped to the pavement, writhing in pain from a bullet that seemed to have lodged itself into her back. She could hear the sound of footsteps running toward her. Groaning, she tried to push herself up, but every muscle in her body was weak and shook with any strain. She was just ten feet from the door. If she could just pull herself inside...

Billy peaked out the back door of the Cigar factory after hearing a gunshot and watched as a man in a black suit walked past. He still had his gun held out as Billy looked down the alleyway and saw a young woman on the ground. It was more than enough, Billy stepped outside fully and yelled.

"HEY!"

The man spun and turned his gun on Billy, but before he could get a word in edge-wise Billy socked him, square in his jaw. The guy looked up and reached into his jacket, still holding his gun. Billy didn't know what the hell he was reaching for, but he lowered his shoulder and charged, knocking the gun from the man and slamming the guy backward against the wall. Billy heard a thud before he felt the guy elbow him in the back, he then turned and looked to the other door nodding.

"Get inside, I got this fucking punk."

The guy looked at Billy.

"You're Don Mastrosimone, and I'm the punk? Oh they're gonna promote the shit out of me when I drag your ass i..."

Billy struck the man again, this time with an uppercut. Just as the man was staggering to his feet properly again Billy saw another man round the corner and start to draw a gun. Billy reached out and grabbed the lid of the garbage can near him, throwing it at the guy. He hit him in the gut and watched as the gun clattered to the ground. Billy reached his leg out and kicked it away, but left his guard down enough for the first guy to punch him right in the temple. His vision flooded with color for a second and he heard the guy.

"Ignore the big guy. I got him, you get the girl."

With every ounce of energy she could muster through searing pain radiating from her back, Emily inched herself toward the open door of the dark warehouse. She wasn't making much progress, but she refused to give up. Behind her, she heard more commotion, and a third male voice. Great, they got back up. Glancing back, she saw a figure reach down and grab her foot to drag her backwards. 

"N-no..."

She mumbled and kicked as hard as she could, hearing a crunch her foot hit hard enough to break a bone in the wrist trying to capture her. 

"Help!"

Her voice didn't carry far, but she had very little other choice. Blood was pouring from her back, and she was starting to feel cold. Fear was beginning to sink in. Was this really it?

Finally close enough to reach the door frame, she reached out and took hold to try and pull herself further in, away from the agent nearest to her. Just a little further.

And then everything went dark.

Billy heard the sickening crunch of a skull being slammed into the wall as the man in front of him went down. He had a nasty head wound now, but he would live. He turned then and looked to the man who got past him.

He did not like the look of any man standing over a woman. He really hated the fact that the woman was unconscious.

It was enough.

Billy ran at the guy and grabbed him by the torso, throwing him bodily to the ground. He kicked, once, as hard at he could at the man's head and hear the sound of clattering as teeth rolled across the pavement of the alley. The man, for all he was worth against the girl, lay there still and unconscious.

Billy made his way to the young woman, still lying there in the door frame, still unconscious. He leaned down and picked her up, feeling the wet sticky sensation he realized why she had passed out now, and instead of going in to the Cigar Factory, Billy ran for the HQ to get Eva.

Two vehicles with sirens were screaming down the street toward the row of warehouses. A search light flashed along the front, and a booming voice came from a bullhorn.

"YOU THERE! STOP AND PUT THE WOMAN DOWN. THIS IS A FEDERAL MATTER"

Emily was jolted awake from a shooting pain, and though disoriented, realized that she was above the ground. She opened her eyes slowly and tried hard to focus her eyes on the face above her. She managed a few words.

"Hide... me... please. No time..."

Another crackling came from the cars that seemed to be approaching quickly.

"SIR, RELEASE THE SUSPECT NOW!"

Billy shook his head. This was going to cost a pretty penny. Of course it wasn't his fault that neither of the guys in the alley had identified themselves, but the feds were not going to see it that way.

"CAN'T BOYS, SORRY."

He held up one hand so the searchlight could see the blood on his hands.

"YOU WANT YOUR SUSPECT TO DIE? I GOT A DOCTOR RIGHT THE FUCK HERE. COME GET HER TOMORROW, SHE AIN'T LEAVIN."

That should buy him time to pay off the right folks. So, without hesitation he headed into the gate of his HQ. If the feds tried to follow him in here, they would be gunned down faster than they knew what hit em. Not only that but that whole car would be stripped down for parts in a matter of a couple hours and nobody would have any idea where to look for those boys. They knew better.

"Someone find Eva, this girl is gonna bleed out if you don't."

Two of Billy's men leaped up from underneath a half-stripped car when Billy came bursting through the metal doors into the main warehouse. 

"Boss, uh...Doc Hadley and Ms. Integra...they ain't back from England yet. Supposed to be here in two more days."

At this point, Emily was regularly drifting in and out of consciousness, but was able to make out that whoever had her wasn't running anymore. She lifted a hand as best she could, then let it fall on the broad shoulder she laid against. Her brain could hold on longer than her consciousness would let her.

"Just need...to stop...bleeding. I'm...a nur..."

Her head lolled to one side again, eyes fluttering.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me!"

He made his way upstairs then and into Eva's office. He laid the girl down on the floor on her stomach. Clearly the bullet hadn't gone through her or else she would be bleeding from both sides. Doctors always took the bullet out first.

"Charlie, fucking get in here, find the doc's bag and help me. I know you were in the war, you had to have seen some fucking shit, let's go old man."

He knelt down next to the girl then and gently touched at her shoulder.

"Hey, miss, you want to wake up? I don't normally do this, I promise, but I think I'm gonna have to take some of your clothes off here."

Billy reached into his jacket and flicked open a switchblade. Reaching down to separate her clothes from her body in a smooth, but gentle motion. He exposed her back, trying to keep her as modest as possible. He would have to buy her a new turtleneck when this was all over.

He watched as Charlie made his way through the bag. As Charlie pulled out a pair of what looked like tweezers, Billy grabbed a bunch of cloth from around the office to soak up the blood.

"You know what you're doing Charlie."

The man shrugged and half-nodded. Billy reached out and took the tweezers.

"Gimme that shit then. I don't know either, but at least if she dies I can take the blame."

With that he shoved the rags to Charlie and the man started to clean the wound a bit.

"Whiskey man, alcohol. Don't you know anything? Jeeze."

He watched as Oscar came into the room holding the bottle of vodka.

"There was more in this one than the whiskey."

Billy sighed.

"Fine. Give it here."

He poured just a bit onto the wound and let Charlie soak some up before he made his way toward the woman with the tweezers. He held them closed and felt around very gently, very slowly at first, just trying to scrape them along some metal. He did, after what seemed like a few minutes, and then he slowly opened them until he could feel them give way. It was strange how much of this was a feeling more than anything. He knew how to pick a lock, and it was all by sound and feel, this really wasn't much different. As the thought crossed his mind he felt the tweezers seize around the bullet and he pulled, still gently, but forcefully enough to get the damned thing out.

"Now what? How do we stop the bleeding?"

When the bullet came free, it felt like a white-hot fire poker slicing through her. The feeling shocked her into a more heightened state of consciousness, accompanied by a painful cry that she tried to muffle. Once she had a little better handle on herself, she breathed heavily a few times and tuned into what one of the men was saying.

"The vodka. Flush it with...the vodka."

Picking up her head slightly, she saw a black doc kit. No shit- someone knew what they were doing, at least. As the alcohol was poured over the wound, she gritted her teeth and reached out for the bag, managing to knock it over on it's side and spill out the contents. She rifled through the pile with one hand until she found exactly what she was looking for. Using her fingers, she knocked a small package of butterfly bandages toward the younger man.

"Stick these to one side of the hole, pull tight, then put down the other side. Then...aagghh...more vodka to..clean."

She paused as a wave of nausea hit her, but she made a point to look squarely into the eyes of the younger man, who seemed quite flustered.

"You're doing good."

Emily blinked a few times, then laid it back down, clenching her eyes shut for the next wave of burning.

Billy took off his belt, and folded it over once first, putting it in front of the woman's mouth so she had something to bite down on.

"I've had it done before, and it's gonna be a bitch."

He then proceeded to do as he was told, put the bandages on, and poured more vodka onto the wound. He reached out and grabbed a rag to dab to make the area dry and then started to wrap it in the gauze that was now out of the bag.

"So, um, guys, I need you to leave the room for a minute. I'm sure the young lady wants some privacy for this, and one set of eyes is enough huh?"

Oscar grumbled something about married life being no fun anymore, but Charlie ushered him out and shut the door.

"Before I lift you up, do you think you can wrap this on your own? Cause I would like to not get a look at you myself if at all possible miss. Not that you're not pretty but, I got a girlfriend and all."

That comment made Emily chuckle weakly. Both of her careers, as a nurse and as a call girl, had caused her to lose a great deal of her shyness about her body. Or anyone else's, for that matter.

"I don't think I can reach behind me, but we can manage. I'll keep my back to you."

It wasn't without great soreness that he managed to get her up and then seated on the edge of a chair near a large, wooden desk. For the first time, she got a good look around at what appeared to be an office of some kind. Still wearing her brassiere, she took the roll of bandages and began wrapping it around herself, while the peculiarly shy gentleman passed it back to her from behind. She made sure to keep it tight, anchoring it over the opposite shoulder as she went.

"Thank you, by the way, for plucking me out of the way of those morons. My name is Emily. What's yours?"

Billy smiled to her back. She couldn't see him, but that didn't matter so much.

"I'm Billy. Also, I wouldn't call those guys morons, they did almost manage to kill you, and arrest both of us. Almost."

He gave her a wink and then handed her the last string of bandage to tuck away and keep tight.

"You're not bleeding too bad back here in case you were wondering. You'll probably have to change those tomorrow to be sure, but you might make it through the night without."

He made his way to the door of the office.

"Hey Oscar, can you run and grab one of uh...."

He looked back at the woman.

"...yeah, one of Integra's blouses. A dark one. It might be a bit tight, but it should fit. And grab one of my shirts too just in case it doesn't."

He closed the door then and did not look at the woman.

"I am getting you a shirt so you can cover up before you head back out. Mind if I ask you what that was all about though? I mean, if I'm going to be an accessory, I'd really appreciate knowing what I helped you to do Em. Mind if I call you Em?"

"Billy, you can call me anything you like. I owe you a lot more than that for helping me."

She sighed at the mess on the floor, wishing she could at least offer to help clean up; but at the moment, she could barely move without wincing.

"I don't want to give you too much information, because I don't want you in danger either. In fact, if the agents come by later trying to find me, you should tell them I died of the wounds. If you can make them believe that, you'd be doing both of us a huge favor."

One of the other men returned with a shirt, which Billy tossed back to her over his shoulder. It was a dark purple blouse- a color Emily wouldn't normally choose for herself, but in the situation, she wasn't fussed at all with color. She slipped it on and buttoned it. It was a touch tight around the bust, but not so much that it wouldn't get her to her next hiding place- wherever that might be. 

"There, everything is well hidden."

Gingerly, she slid off the chair and stood, holding the back of the chair for support.

"I am...well...was an escort in Vegas. Long story short, I happened to come across some photos of their boss doing worse than a call girl. Unfortunately, giving them the information back isn't good enough. What I've seen makes me a liability. They don't want me alive."

Wincing a bit, she sighed.

"And this is the second time they've almost succeeded." 

Billy listened, his wheels turning at the sound.

"You know Em. It's easy to tell folks that you died, no problems there. I even have a doctor who use to work at a hospital who can sign a death certificate probably. Fun part though is that you've got lots of fun info there huh?"

He gestured to the chair.

"Relax, take a load off. I'm not gonna hurt you. You want something to eat or drink?"

Shaking her head, Emily carefully lowered herself into the seat, trying not to disturb the bandages much. 

"Thank you, no. I don't think my stomach could handle anything right now."

Before she could continue, something from earlier came to her mind--words she'd heard between stages of consciousness and unconsciousness. 

"Billy...you're Billy Mastrosimone, the Don of Corktown and dicer that can kill a casino. I've heard of you."

Her eyes softened a little. 

"I'm really sorry about your sister."

Billy puffed up his chest at first. The ability to bankrupt a small dice game, or a hastily build underground game was a point of pride for him. Then she mentioned Kenzi. He went to speak, but he shut his mouth with a bit of a growl first. He needed to not be angry. He needed to be calm and nice to the woman. After all, he had just saved her life, no point now in snapping at her.

"Yeah, you might have heard of me, but you really don't know me that well. I don't really do well, Miss Emily, with being reminded of my family that passed. Thank you though, I'm sure you meant well."

He took a breath and then sat down himself.

"You're right. I am who you say I am, and you are sitting in front of me asking me for a favor. Help make you disappear. You didn't ask in so many words, sure, but you did say if the cops asked I should tell them you died of your wounds. So if you know me half as well as you think, let's talk business. I can make you disappear, but I want to know what I'm getting in return here. I doubt you're going to stick around right?"

With a bit of a shrug, Emily sighed. 

"To be perfectly honest with you, Don Mastrosimone, I'm not in much of a position to be asking anyone for favors. My intelligence isn't what it used to be. I had to sever a lot of connections when I went on the run. And running is what I'm going to have to do until I figure out how to deal with all this."

There was a brief pause in her train of thought, where she began to think about her own brother, and she immediately regretted bringing up Billy's loss. 

​​​​​​"No, I think the most I could ask of you tonight would be to let me sleep on a floor somewhere before I try to get to Las Vegas. There's a man there who specializes in spook kind of stuff like this, and he's not mob connected. Doesn't seem like he has much to lose at all, really."

Billy shook his head.

"Floor my ass, I have a guest apartment one floor below my own. You'll sleep in a bed tonight and maybe, if you're interested, we can discuss business. You said you're from and going to Las Vegas right? I've got some extra money I'd be interested in throwing out that way if you have any ideas on how to run something."

He paused a moment to let that sink in before standing from the desk.

"In the mean time, let's get you safely home."

He went to the door.

"Rebecca, can you watch over our friend Emily here for the night, Oscar Charlie, get the car ready we're headed home."

More than an hour had passed by the time Emily arrived with Don Mastrosimone to his apartment building. The guards were kind enough to help her up the stairs to the guest apartment. It was quite nicely furnished, with a bedroom, bathroom, and living/kitchen area. On a small beverage cart, there was an assortment of crystal decanters with various liquors inside. Being that she was safe for the night, Emily helped herself to a glass of whiskey before easing herself down on the comfortable couch. She let her shoes fall to the floor and let out a heavy sigh. The feeling of being out of harms way was a rarity lately, so she wasn't about to take that for granted. 

The whiskey glass was half empty when there was a knock on the door. She looked over, remembering there were guards outside.

"Yes? Come in."

Billy entered the apartment and called out.

"Em? You in here?"

He noticed the light on in the other room and so he headed in that direction.

"Hey, I came to see how you were settling in, and to see if you were interested in talking business at all."

He then pointed to the glass of whiskey in her hand.

"That's a good year too, good choice. I can come back in the morning if you'd like."