Joseph stood on tiptoe, looking over the many heads in front of him which made up a huge line down the sidewalk, in front of the Paxton Brothers Warehouse, in Bella Vista. As soon as the news spread that the warehouse was going to hire some labor, the place was filled with unemployed men, all of them anxious for a job. Many of these men had families to support and the situation in the country was hopeless for them. Joseph rubbed his hands and adjusted his coat, suffering the Philadelphia winter. He was just another number in the crowd. At home, in the small apartment that he had managed to rent, his wife and young son were waiting for him, without much hope.  

Joseph sighed, discouraged. And to think that he had come to America in search of a better life. Because, in fact, Joseph was not his real name, but merely an adaptation that he had made of the real one, Giuseppe, once he landed in the United States. Giuseppe Fratianno, born and raised in the province of Trapani, Sicily, was an ambitious man and it was just such an ambition that made him cross the ocean in search of the much praised America, land of opportunities, when he was very young, accompanied by his girlfriend, both around seventeen at the time. They were both now twenty, and had a two-year-old son.  He was lost in thoughts of what his life had been like until then, when two men talking behind him caught his attention. 

"This is bullshit, look at the size of this line" said one of them. Judging by the voice, he appeared to be a slight man. Joseph didn't bother to look back. 

"You aren't kidding. And they'll probably just call one or two guys. I'm getting sick of this", said the other one.

"Aye, I feel you mate. Name is Lorenzo, by the way."

"You can call me Frank."

Joseph straightened his coat collar once more. The two men behind, Frank and Lorenzo, continued to talk. Joseph couldn't help but listen, but he certainly wasn't paying much attention anymore. The small talk continued till one part caught Joseph's attention again. 

"...and things are not going to improve anytime soon, man. Not for us, normal people. But let me tell you something, there are some folks in town making some decent money. REAL money. You know what I'm saying?" said the Lorenzo guy.

"Not really", Frank replied.

Lorenzo lowered his voice a bit.

"Smugglers. Drug dealers. Don't be silly, don't you read the newspaper? Crime is too high" he said.

"Oh yeah, yeah. Of course it gives money, but it is dirty money. Easy come, easy go" Frank replied.

Lorenzo lowered his voice even more now. Joseph turned his head slightly, in disguise, to hear better.

"My brother-in-law has a friend who was working to a man, here in Bella Vista...what's his fucking name again. Shit. Uh...Javier. Javier, that's it. Bella Vista's newst connected guy, so they say. I heard he was recruiting some guys around here. They are doing pretty good, apparently, doing God knows what in the docks. But as you said, easy come, easy go. It's a dangerous life, heh" Lorenzo finished.

Their conversation took another path towards boredom and Joseph was deep in his thoughts again. A few minutes later, a short, fat old man came out of the warehouse again.

"We have no more vacancies" he shouted. "Thank you all for your time! We have no more vacancies!" he kept repeating.

The crowd began to disperse, murmuring insults and words of curse, all obviously upset. Joseph, though, silently lit a cigarette and made his way home. It was already getting dark.

"I'm home!", Joseph announced loudly upon entering in his extremely humble apartment to be received by his wife and son, both still awake. 

The son crawled on the carpet, playing with a wooden cart that Joseph himself had carved for him. The wife was at the stove, cooking potato soup and watching the little son. The apartment's front door offered a perfect view of the kitchen, so Joseph caught a glimpse of them for a brief moment.

"How did it go, my love?" the wife asked, glancing at him.

"It went really well, actually, honey. They asked me to return tomorrow morning for a test." he said, forcing a smile. It was an outright lie.

The wife's eyes widened, dropping the spoon she was using to stir the soup on the pan. She practically ran, moving with speed towards her husband and throwing herself into his arms. The son observed it with a curious look.

"That's wonderful, my love! Wonderful!" she said, touched.

"I know baby, I know. I have a good feeling about this." he said, stroking her hair. He held her in a tight hug for a few more moments until she interrupted him.

"Now go get ready for dinner! You need to be strong for tomorrow!"

He kissed her on the forehead and nodded, smiling.

"Of course, my dear."

He released her. On the way to the bedroom, he bent down, picking up his son from the floor and lifting him over his head. The boy smiled happily and the father kissed him on the forehead before putting him down .

"My boy..." he said, watching the son get distracted with the wooden cart.

Joseph went to the bedroom and sat on the bed, staring at the wall in silence. Ever since he heard those men talking in the job line about how some men were making money, there was a debate inside him. He had a decision to make. He had always been an honest man in America. In Sicily, he had tried to be, as far as possible, but the country was already too corrupt for anyone to survive being totally pure.

The name Javier still echoed in his head.

Joseph took off his shoes, grabbed his casual clothes, and headed for the bathroom for a quick, cold shower.

As if Philadelphia's winter wasn't enough...

The next day Joseph woke up early in the morning, made a thin coffee and put on his shabby clothes: a white shirt, black pants and a thick coat to keep him warm. On the head, a gray cap. He kissed his sleeping wife and son and went out onto the Bella Vista streets, where the traffic of people was already high, despite the hour. Those who were blessed to have a job went to their respective workplaces. The less fortunate were looking for one, knocking on the doors of each establishment.

Joseph walked a few blocks to the address he had been given the day before. Before going home, he had done a little investigation into Javier's operations and got an address. Upon arriving at the scene, he came across a truck parked in front. Some men carried boxes and furniture from the inside to the truck. They were obviously moving, and a man supervised them. He observed the man for a moment. If the descriptions he had obtained the day before were accurate, that should be Javier.

He approached the man.

"Javier?" Joseph asked.

"Si. How can I help you?" Javier responded in a Latin accent as he measured Joseph from head to toe.

"I heard you are offering work." Joseph replied, looking the man in the eyes.

Javier looked at him for a few seconds, in silence. Joseph held his gaze, trying to show confidence to the man.

"Indeed. Report to the docks with this and tell them I sent you. Harbor 13." Javier finally replied, handing Joseph a business card.

Joseph took the card and looked at it for a moment before nodding in understanding.

He immediately put the card in his coat pocket and turned around, heading to the docks. All the way, Joseph was uneasy. What would be expecting for him at Harbor 13? He continued to walk quickly, not knowing if anyone was watching him along the way. He avoided looking back, anyway...

After a long walk, Joseph finally reached the bustling docks. He had no trouble finding the harbor 13, but in that specific harbor there was no one at that time. He looked around, looking for someone or something, but found nothing. Determined to wait, he glimpsed at the river for a moment. The morning sun was beginning to reflect in the water, leaving it in a beautiful greenish tone.

Joseph was ripped from his moment of appreciation by a hoarse voice behind him.

"Hey, you. Who are you?" a man said. 

Joseph turned to see who it was, startled. The owner of the voice was a man of medium height but quite burly. The skin was of a dark complexion, accentuated by the sun. Judging by the accent, that man was also hispanic, just like Javier. To say the least, he was not an apparently friendly man. With this first impression in mind, Joseph hurried to reach into his coat pocket, taking Javier's business card and giving it to the man.

"My name is Joseph, sir. Javier sent me."

The man took the card from Joseph's hand and gave it a good look. Then, he nodded, cracking a smile, which brought a little softness to his threatening face.

"Good. It's about time someone came by. Come here, kid." He turned, walking over to a pile of wooden boxes behind him. Moving one of them, he revealed a dark brown briefcase, which he handed to Joseph straight away. "Take this bag back to Javier. You'll find him in the 3rd Street, at the Old City district. I'm sure you noticed he's moving."

"Of course." Joseph nodded.

"Ok, so what are you waiting for? A kiss goodbye? Get moving, kid." the man said harshly.

Joseph immediately turned around, figuring out the new address he was supposed to go to and holding the briefcase firmly.

"And you better watch out for that briefcase, boy!" he heard the man shouting behind him.

Without looking back, Joseph began the long journey to OCD, walking with firm steps, although he was extremely apprehensive. He just hoped to arrive soon and intact to his destination, and safely deliver whatever the hell was in that briefcase. Something illegal, most likely, that was for sure.

Stopping in front of the new OCD building where Javier's HQ would settle Joseph noticed an improvement. The place was apparently better protected and also better looking than the Bella Vista building. It had been a couple of hours since Joseph picked up his briefcase at the docks and he had no problem getting it to the current address. With his briefcase in hand, he approached the entrance door. There was a man standing there, whom he did not know. Joseph approached him.

"I'm looking for Javier." he said, bluntly.

"Who is looking?" the man answered immediately, alternating his gaze between Joseph and the briefcase he carried.

"Oh...my name is Joseph. Joseph Fratianno." 

"Hey, Joseph. My name is Revan, but most people just call me Your Highness to my face. I won't go into detail on what they say behind it, but it is safe to say that I am a proud member of Medellin and Javier's most trusted advisor. Any business you deal with him, you can deal with me as well." At Joseph's dubious look, KingRevan added. "Please, come inside."

After saying this, he turned and entered the building. Joseph followed, passing by a man much larger than he or Revan, whom he had not yet noticed, who stood guard at the door.

Revan took him to what appeared to be his private office. The place was still messy, the furniture awkwardly scattered around the room and some boxes huddled on the floor in a corner. But there was a table in the center and two opposite chairs. Revan sat in the largest and most comfortable of them and indicated for Joseph to sit in the other, in front of him. Joseph sat down, but did not drop the briefcase. He put it on his lap.

Leaning back in his long chair, Revan resumed the conversation.

"As you can see, our operation is expanding. We needed a bigger and more well located place. Still a lot of work to do around here, though. Probably a few days until we get everything perfect. Can I get you something to drink, Joseph? Or a cigar, maybe?"

"No, sir, thank you. I just want to finish my delivery." Joseph responded respectfully. 

KingRevan took a cigar from the box on his desk and lit it.

"Oh yeah, the briefcase from the docks. Did you have any problem getting it here? Did someone follow you?" Revan asked, with an inquisitive look.

Joseph shook his head.

"No, no problem at all. I made sure I was not being followed, too.

KingRevan nodded.

"Good. Pass it to me." He leaned over the table, extending his hand to grab the case.

At this point, it was obvious to Joseph that KingRevan was indeed someone important in the structure of Javier's organization. He had no option but to trust the man, so he handed him the briefcase.

"Did you take a look at what's in here?" Revan asked Joseph.

"No."

"Good, good." KingRevan left the briefcase on his desk and got up. From the inside of his jacket, he pulled out a wad of bills, separated a few and handed them to Joseph. "Good job. The moving truck should be arriving at any moment. Stick around if you want to make an extra, we are going to need some helping hands. I know the situation out there is tough, to say the least."

Joseph took the cash from KingRevan and counted quickly, before stuffing it in his pocket. It was a very decent amount for such an easy job. He reached out to shake Revan's hand, gratefully.

"Thank you, Your Highness." Joseph said, in a good-humored way, with a smile on his face. "I will definitely stay around!"

"Sounds good!" KingRevan shook hands with him, smiling back. "We will always have something here to a man willing to work."

Joseph thanked him again and left his office, feeling extremely well. Finally he was seeing the color of money again, that damn piece of paper that controlled everyone's life. He went outside and lit a cigarette, leaning against the wall that faced the sidewalk, to wait for the moving truck. Apparently he had a job now, and he wasn't going to waste any chances.