The city of Boston stretched out under the morning sun and the Charles River wound its way through Kates' hometown as the woman paced back and forth like a caged panther in front of her window at the Copley Square Hotel. 

Sighing, she sat down and penned a brief letter. Kates knew someone who'd deliver it, and the recipient would get it by lunch. If he left immediately, he could be in Boston by dinner. If not... well, she wasn't going to spend more than a day cooped up in a hotel room. As she wrote it, she read it aloud to check for errors, cursing her inelegant handwriting. Lucy had usually written things for her, but Lucy was still knocked out by whatever illness she had.

Dear Jack,

Fuck.

The page was crumpled into the wastebasket. 

Jack,

I'm in Boston. There's a few people here I need to kill, but I need someone to 

Another page hit the basket.

Jack,

I'm in Boston. There are people here who need to die, and if you're bored it would not be bad to have someone else around. Especially since you are good at planning things. I am in Room 629 of the Copley Square Hotel. There is also a hotel bar that I could be at.

I don't have money but if you help me kill my people I will help kill yours?

Kates

Not satisfied but too aggravated to write another, Kates slammed the letter into an envelope. It was soon on its way to Philadelphia. 

Copley Square Hotel

He checked the address again, though there was no real need to. He had already filed the information into the sprawling database of his mind. His mind was efficient at remembering information which was important to him, less so when it came to trivial entries. These tended to slip right out. He looked up from the letter to the building in front of him. 'Copley Square Hotel'.

Jack was dressed in a grey suit. Tight fitting and matched with deep brown brogues. He had opted not to wear a jacket though, activities with Kates tended to get a little wild. He preferred to limit the restriction to his motions. His ribs had healed up from the previous excursion. Nights spent bent over betting sheets had not proven to be the most therapeutic method of restoration, but he had an obligation, and desire, to work. He took another glance up and down the street, dropped his cigarette into a trash can and stepped swiftly into the lobby.

The man on the desk pointed him toward the bar and Jack was there in moments. He requested a toothpick and a short whiskey. The toothpick was put to work on the chicken he ate at the station, and the whiskey embraced him with that warm, welcoming bite.

Kates was wearing her usual form-fitting black slacks and blouse, but she had a heavier brown coat on to help against the November chill exacerbated by being close to the water. She'd positioned herself across the street from the bar in a coffee shop, and the predatory grin that she'd flashed when she first caught sight of JackMezzo hadn't fully faded yet. 

Her hair, though still back in a ponytail, seemed smoother and sleeker than usual. Not usually one to focus on personal hygiene, Kates had tried to make the time go by quicker by sleeping and bathing. When Jack had last seen Kates at the West Cat, the woman had been content, relaxed even. Now, she seemed as tightly wound as a spring. 

Kates trailed a hand along his shoulders as she walked past Jack and slid onto the stool next to him.

"So... shall we exhange some pleasantries here? Or did you want to head up to my room and get right to businesses?"

The eavesdropping bartender laughed, and Kates flashed him an angry look; she looked like she want to reach across the bar and grab the man's tie.

"Shut the fuck up, Marty," she growled. 

He was pleasantly surprised to find Kates had more than one look that just her roguish tearaway getup. Jack turned on his stool to face her and, while she was talking, took a moment to admire her. In that moment, the bartender appeared to have inserted his foot firmly into his mouth, which produced a small chuckle from Mezzo. The man quickly shuffled away down the bar, in quick retreat from the daggers fired by Kates. In the silence, Jack attempted to progress the conversation.

"I thought you might at least let me buy you a drink, first. Or are we moving with some urgency?"

Jack wasn't swayed either way, time to prepare was always wise, however he also found a higher success rate from just winging it. He'd approach a situation with a vague understanding of the circumstance and expect no other outcome than the one he'd assumed.

He swigged from his drink again, as if conscious it needed to be sunk.

"The matter sounded important in your communication, so it's up to you."

Now that the bartender was gone, no one could overhear him. Still, Kates spoke quietly to be sure.

"No urgency. I don't know what the hell I should do first- that's why I called you out here. I think I told you what happened to my dad- he was an enforcer and his own family took him out."

If she hadn't mentioned it before, she acknowledged it perfunctorily now and moved on, not wanting to dwell on it.

"I've got four men who were responsible for it, either directly or indirectly. I'm trying to figure out the... the strategy. But I'm more of an acter than a thinker. Lucy's still under the weather, so I was hoping you could help me make a decision. You're good with the thinking side of things, or better than me at least. Will you help me?"

Kates' brown eyes studied Jack curiously. Restless, she tapped a foot against the side of the bar.

Jack studied her as she spoke, beginning to become familiar with her expressions and the emotional attachment she had to whatever it was being discussed at the time. This was clearly important and he wanted to avoid putting his foot in his mouth at all costs. As expected, the conversation requirement was to result in the timely deaths of some deserving individuals. It seemed Jack just needed to support in the execution of the endeavor.

There was a pause, his mind had already started moving, after a few seconds he figured he should break the silence and put her at ease.

"Of course, yes, I'll help you. I'm going to need to know what you already know though."

He took another small swig, now slowing the rate of consumption to let his brain work. He wouldn't consider himself a cold blooded killer, and if there was a better way to get things done, he would avoid murder. Occasionally though the most efficient, profitable or practical method was to go straight through someone to get the job done. Rodrigo, for example. He met his end in LA as he was both a threat and his death served a point. That was how his mind worked. It found the most logical and necessary solution, no matter the cost.

"I take it we want these people dead, though. Just to be clear."

Kates audibly exhaled when @JackMezzo agreed to help her. She didn't need anyone, or at least that's what she told herself. But it felt too big to try to handle on her own. The fact that there was planning involved made her even more relieved. Kates was comfortable in a fight to the death; living one dodge at a time like she had in LA was nothing. But having to think about the future was a weight and a pressure of a different sort. You couldn't stab away stress for something happening a week in the future. How the hell did you even deal with something about that? Now, she just trusted Jack. 

"No, not dead."

Jack seemed at least a little surprised- until Kates continued speaking.

"A quick death is too good for them."

She leaned forward more, and the black pupils at the center of her eyes seemed to smolder like coals threatening to ignite.

"These four men... they're not just assholes crashing in a bar we want."

Kates took a deep breath, exhaling as she scanned the room.

"My father was a boxer. He was good enough that a local 'businessman' Raphael Vanzetti, hired him as an enforcer. Nothing too crazy. Rough up people who need money, fight every so often to protect the family. Well my father was a good fighter, and he became a loyal soldato. Vanzetti was old school: tough, but honorable as hell. Just like my dad. The RHM of the family, Giuseppe Marano... well, he wanted to "expand the business." Start bringing in harder drugs to the community, start recruiting local girls to act as whores... and when the Don rebuked him, Marano made a move to take over. He and the other traitors hit the Don and his most trusted men, including my father."

The restless tapping of her foot continued as she scanned the bar. Most people had emptied out by now, and Jack and Kates still had their quiet corner to talk. The bartender hadn't returned since Kates had yelled at him.

"Four to six men showed up to kill my dad; only three of them walked out. I got one of them that night. The other two need to die. So does Marano and his new RHM, who orchestrated and ordered the hit. I had Lucy reach out to some old information brokers she knew and I was able to get an idea about where the targets are. Marano runs Boston- or at least the North End. Irish are causing him problems, I guess. Tony Balducci was the former RHM for Marano... he's living on some Caribbean island now. Retired, I guess. The two men who directly killed my dad... well, one of them is a big shot here in Boston under Marano- name's Alberto Ferrarri. Other guy is Freddie Russo; he fell out of favor and is working as an associate down in New Orleans. I came up here to confirm that information, and everything seems to be right."

Kates sighed.

"But here's where I need a thinker. Do I go hit Russo in New Orleans and hope word doesn't get back to Boston? Do I go to the island and get Balducci? Do I start here in Boston? Going straight after Marano could be tough... does it make more sense to do that so he doesn't line up more defenses if he know I'm coming? On the other hand, if Marano drops then major waves happen, and the other three are way more likely to know something's up. It's just fucking complicated, Jackie, and I could really use that brain of yours. I feel better doing things in whatever order you think is best."

It was the most she'd ever talked. Realizing it, she reached behind the bar and grabbed a bottle, daring the bartender to stop her.

A problem was always welcome, something to mull over, something to solve. Life got boring if it was easy, Jack liked a challenge. The man remained hunched on his elbows, one hand subconsciously strumming his fingers on the table top. It was a physical indicator that his brain was stoking up to meet the task head on. As the bottle was produced, he sat back sharply and pushed his glass towards Katherine, suddenly very aware of the social necessities he should be observing.

"Sorry about your father."

He lifted the newly filled glass and saluted the late soldato. He curled his lip between his teeth to remove the residue of his swig, then returned the glass to the table.

"Sounds like we need more people. If we were going to do it efficiently. Synchronize the hits, wrap up by the end of the week and you're good."

He watched her, anticipating the reaction.

"Except that was is boring, and robs you of the satisfaction to watch them suffer. So, we're going to do the opposite. We're going to make as much noise as we can. We're going to go one by one up the chain, almost ensuring that word gets out you're on a warpath. It'll be only you that's seen, nobody else. Not me, not Lucy just you."

He took another drink, excitement building as his mind rolled out the plan.

"That way you become more than a grieving daughter, more than just a woman. You become unstoppable in their eyes. Nothing they can do will save them. You'll be on their minds from the first kill to the last. Marano will take some prep work, but so long as we find a way to him in advance, there's no where he'll be able to hide."

Kates watched JackMezzo intently, almost enviously. She could see his mind working and she was simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the act of planning. 

Kates shrugged off Jack's condolences about her father and drank from the glass he had given her. There wasn't much to say. She missed him every day, and she'd long ago stopped questioning if it was right or wrong that she felt closest to her father when she was hurting someone else. 

As Jack laid out his plan of bringing in more people, her eyes flashed with anger and protest. She needed to do this herself, and she opened her mouth to demand it as her right when Jack kept talking, explaining his plan to her. More than a grieving daughter. More than just a woman. Kates grew more excited with every word. At some point during Jack's speech, she'd reached out and grabbed his hand.

"That's fucking perfect, Jackie. Yes. Okay. So Marano last. Probably Russo in New Orleans first, right? He should be the easiest one. Balducci is retired, but has way more money and connections. Russo is the only one I can get without even trying. So... New Orleans, then? Want to come with me? Should be an easy one, so I don't need the help..."

She leaned back and released Jack's hand.

"... but I wouldn't mind the company."

There it was, that delighted, murderous lust. He watched her eyes as she unraveled further details of the plan and couldn't help but smile. 

"I'm sure you can take care of this one yourself, however if we're going to make them feel like you're an unstoppable force, we need to plot out even the most simplest jobs. I think three of us can tackle this one. There's a guy I know who could tag along with us. He's not a yes man but is keen to help a good cause. James Russo is the name."

He anticipated a question and jumped in.

"No relation, I'm sure.

"OK, listen to this for a plan..."

---

New Orleans, easy going and ripe for plundering. Jack had no interest or drive to muscle in here, though. He was here on another type of business. The plan seemed pretty straightforward, for all his concern back in Boston. The location they'd find Freddie Russo at was the house of one of the associates higher ups. He was on guard detail, probably wasn't expecting to need protection himself. This was the first hit and they needed to make as significant an impact as possible for word to travel, and for fear to grow. Fear was the key factor. There were a number of objectives at play and it depended mostly on coordination.

First, Freddie Russo needed to die. It didn't really matter how, that was up to Kates.

Second, there needed to be some survivors. To spread the word and stoke the fire that was coming for the others.

Third, anyone left alive had to have seen Kates, and only Kates. This had to look like a one man job. A terrifying, bloody one man job.

Jack had a simple but effective disguise. A hat and shades. He didn't look out of place in this town and was doing his best to follow Kates through the market without appearing associated. James Russo would be out there somewhere, doing the same thing. The market was bustling. The smell of fish assaulted the senses, bloody knifes flourished from stall to stall as the daily catch was gutted for sale. Kates had been instructed to ruffle some feathers, ask around about the Caporegime, Marcello Maio, that Freddie was working for, even though they knew everything they needed to already. By the time word got back to Maio that some woman was looking for him, she was already at his front door.

It was up to Kates now to make her entrance, Jack had to thread confusion and disorder among their ranks.

The house was detached from the rest of the symmetrical buildings on the block. It had a small compound and brown, dusty sandstone walls. It certainly looked like a place you'd expect to find a capo, a small palace. Commotion erupted inside, Jack was already scaling the perimeter wall. He moved swiftly over the small outer wall, then dropped into the house through a shuttered window. Inside , he was on the first story. There was a balcony that encircled a large open living space below, where Kates would be operating. He continued on, anyone he came across that saw him fell on his knife. It had to be knife wounds they found, just as it had to be Kates' dripping blade they saw. He reached a corridor they knew to be the location of a safe room. All he needed to do was keep Marcello and whatever his personal guard consisted of in there while Kates operated below.

He peered over the balcony, keeping one eye on Kates as she made her entrance to the waiting guards. And Freddie Russo.

---

"...question is, do you think you can handle that much heat by yourself? I can jump in if necessary, but we need that Capo and his men to stay put so they don't see us."

He pointed across the table at her.

"And you need to only maim some of them, enough so that they can testify you were alone. I'm talking capped knees and shoulder wounds. Jimmy and I can keep you from getting too overwhelmed, but it's up to you to make the story stick."

He sat back, swigging from his drink. An aroma of oaken wood and earth followed the glass.

"So, when you open that door, what's your plan?"

New Orleans was a fun city. Kates could tell that even before the plane hit the ground. She practically bounced down the exit ramp, but when her feet touched ground in New Orleans her demeanor cooled considerably. She'd been waiting for this a long, long time. Kates glanced over at Jack and smiled at him. She was glad he was here. 

Kates couldn't see behind Jack's shades, but she thought she caught a smile at the corner of his mouth as they parted so she could move through the market.

She was wearing all black for this one: jacket, blouse, pants, and boots. If there was blood, it wouldn't stand out as much. And black also seemed appropriately funereal, both for Freddie Russo and the memory of her father. She had a knife hidden each calf, one at her right forearm, and her father's stiletto at her back. She had her revolver and extra ammo in her pockets as well. 

"Ruffle some feathers", Jack had said. That was the appetizer, roughing up a couple Italian fishmongers and dropping Maio's name. Now it was time for the main course. 

The house, at least, seemed mostly private. She could hear her heart beating as she walked up the steps and took a deep breath outside the door.

Jack had asked what her plan would be, and she'd smiled. There were a few things she'd considered. Pop a couple buttons and pretend to be a hooker who'd got sent over? Pretend to be hurt? Pretend to be someone's sister?

Kates was tired of pretending; maybe she'd have to do that for the tougher targets, but for Freddie? Her plan was to open up the basement door and unleash six years of pain and grief. And if she died avenging her father? Well, that'd be just fine with her.

She took out her stiletto and the dagger on her left calf, then focused her muscular frame and kicked the door through the lock, pouncing inside with both knives ready. 

The room had four men. 

The first one died with a confused look  as the stiletto pierced his heart.

The second one died with an angry look as he reached for his gun.

Kates stabbed the third one in the shoulder and used him as leverage, sprinting around him and kicking the fourth man back over the couch. She then turned her attention back to the third one and stabbed him as many times as she could risk.

With an inhuman shriek of rage and pain and joy, Kates took a few running steps, planted her foot on the couch, and launched herself forward with both blades in the air. 

Freddie Russo, the fourth man, saw her falling towards him as if in slow motion. Perhaps he saw the blades enter his chest as well as she landed on him. His eyes still seemed to have life in them as Kates got close enough to spray him with spittle.

"Matteo Sparato was my father."

Then she stabbed him, and she didn't stop until her arms started to get tired. She didn't notice the door open on the other side of the room, as another four men cautiously approached to see what the commotion was. 

He lit a cigarette and sat back, listening to the tale of bloodshed and laughter. It was fine, more than acceptable to let her get it all out. Hearing about what she was 'most likely to do' was exactly what he expected her to do. There was more to this than just making the kill though. They had to pull it off perfectly, and that's what she needed to understand. Jack was committed now, he was almost as invested in the plot as she was the motivation. This had to run perfectly.

"-OK, ok, I get it." He cut her off "You murder four, maybe five men as soon as you enter, brutalize Freddie and paint your face with his gore. When that back-up arrives, you're going to be exhausted. Stabbing around like that is going to take a toll. You need to be ready to shoot."

He drew from his smoke, inhaled, then let the fumes lick at his lips as he spoke. He had a wry smile and devilish look in his eye.

"Or, they need to believe you are."

---

The rope bit into his hands and resisted being pulled any tighter. Jackie wanted to be certain it would hold, though. He lashed it around the door knob one final time, then secured it to the opposing door handle. Inside the room, commotion was brewing. Shouts and cries from different parts of the house. Telephone calls and alarms. Then screams. Satisfied the door couldn't be opened from the other side, Mezzo split to check on Kates. 

A flurry of movement in the corridor ahead made him shy away in a doorway, though he had to risk a glance immediately after. They were heading her way. Another suddenly burst from a door to his right, Jack engaged straight away. Cold and decisive, the drew the blade from belly to neck, then stabbed with precision at the neck. Once, to shock. Twice, to sever the artery. Three times,... to be sure. By the time he reached the edge of the balcony, the troop had already blundered into the scene of havoc Kates had brought down. Jack drew his gun.

"Come on Kates... remember..."

He watched them survey the scene. Kates wasn't ready.

"Come. On."

They drew their guns. Sweat beaded on Jack's brow.

---

He stubbed out the cigarette.

"In the moment, they're not going to know where the shots came from. You just need to draw your gun, flash it around in their direction, and James and I will take the shots while in cover. Typical security detail is four or five guys. If we leave one alive, what's this guy going to think?"

He lit another smoke.

"Four of his buddies slain by this she-devil with a blade, then she flourishes her piece at us and puts another four of us down in as many shots. That guy ain't going to hang around, he's your witness that you're a woman scorned. A hellcat that cannot be stopped by no man."

A column of smoke jettisoned itself towards the ceiling, Jack curled his lips and nodded, expecting she understood.

"That's your witness, Sparato, he runs screaming to the hills you're unstoppable. All you need do is go scare the living shit out of the Capo upstairs, then we take our leave.

"Just, remember to get your gun out, that'll be our signal to shoot."

Kates blinked back into conscious thought as her arms started getting tired and the voice of JackMezzo seemed to appear in her head. She stabbed one last time for good measure, then pushed herself to her feet. Kates had left her "other" knife- not her father's- in Russo's eye socket. Sheathing her bloody stiletto, she drew her revolver.

What had Jack said? Showmanship? Theater? Terror? 

As the men approached her, Kates raised her gun, made a show of closing her eyes, then started firing blind.

Hopefully Jack and his friend were in position.

When her eyes opened, five men were on the ground in front of her. A couple were still moving around, obviously in pain. Kates finished them off with her stiletto and moved upstairs to confront the Capo.

---

Kates leaned back at the table as Jack smoked and planned.

"Sounds good so far, assuming you and your new friend are decent shots. But what can you tell me about Maio? Any information on him? I'm assuming he's the one who will pass on my message? Is it as simple as telling the other ones I'm coming for them?"

Jack nodded and smiled. 

"As simple as that. He needs to see the mess you've made, so pull him from whatever safe room he's in and made sure he gets a good look at the scene. You'll have to get inventive if it's far away, we can't be heard talking to each other. Once the building's clear, we'll get out and let you finish up."

He thought for a moment longer.

"Just don't go blundering in, he won't be alone..."

---

As quick as it all unfolded, it was silent again. There were some blood strangled groans and the macabre metronome of blood dropping from a neck wound onto the glossy tiles. Otherwise, all that was audible was Kates' panting. Then, a muffled discussion. Jack appeared in the entrance to the stairwell. He indicated she should follow, and with some haste. At the top of the stairs, the pair were looking down on the aftermath of the rampage, over the grand balcony circling the room. The browns and yellows were stained with crimson. Dripping, splattered, pooling.

Mezzo got her attention, pointed at the room restraining the Capo, then down onto the scene below. His hand made an 'over the top' gesture. Before they could mutually agree, the quiet whispering from the room turned into disgruntled yelling. Whatever force was on the other side of the door had begun to pull on the door handle. The rope preventing it from opening strained, holding tight on the opposite anchor.

A pat on the back and a wink was all he could offer her now. Jack vanished back up the second floor stairwell onto the roof, where he would exit back out onto the rooftops over the market.

---

He put out the cigarette. The plan wasn't without risk, without fault, and riddled with assumptions. It was often how he operated though. They would of course stake the place out, first. Determine the best time to approach and how. Thinking on your feet though wasn't just a skill, it was an advantage.

"So, you up for it?"