Runa and Francesco had taken a cab out to the suburbs, then hoofed it around a bit so they wouldn't be too suspicious. They were out there to rob a house; Runa had gotten information about a recluse: a man about thirty who'd inherited a lot of money, but almost never left his home. His only human contact was a weekly visit from a prostitute- one of the girls from a local bordello, depending on who was available. Runa had heard about the guy from one of them, which had got her mind turning. 

Her plan was to pose as the skirt herself to get inside the house. Maybe she'd be able to take the guy out herself, maybe not, but Francesco was there to back her up. Ideally, she'd be able to open a window or something to get Francesco inside, where he could root around for some cash.

Mostly, it depended on what they found; Runa had brought her clothes to change into in a bag, but they had a few hours to scout out the house before they were supposed to arrive. 

They'd walked out to the address and found a spot in a wooded area where they could scout out the front, back, and left side of the house in question.

"So what do you see out there, Frank? Guy's paranoid, so I doubt there's anything too open, but do you see any way I could help you get in? Or is it just the front door for us?"

Francesco studied the house for a moment.

It was a tall, two-story house, an old building - definitely too big for a man to live alone. But it was not hard to believe, because its exterior really showed a certain slouch. The lawn around it was obviously poorly maintained - thin, in an unsightly whitish green. The building was imposing, there was no doubt that it had once been a beautiful house in older times. A short flight of wooden stairs led to a large balcony at the front of the house, where there was nothing but a rocking chair. Just behind this chair was the main door, a large wooden door with glass panes that did not allow to observe the interior, as it was blinded by dark curtains. There was also two windows, one at each side of the door, both also blinded by curtains and, the most curious, metal grids, which were obviously installed at some point after the construction of the house, as signs of installation were visible, impairing the finishing.

On the second floor, there were two more windows, aligned with those on the floor below and following the same style - blinded and locked with the metal grids. Francesco glanced at Runa, noticing that she observed the same points as him.

"A bit paranoid, you said, uh" he joked, but in a very serious tone.

After a sigh from Runa, they both looked back at the house.

There were six more windows on the side of the house, all perfectly aligned and following the same line as the front windows, although Francesco couldn't help but notice, two of the upper windows had the curtains open. Perhaps one of those was from the man's bedroom, he thought. Some kind of climbing plant hung by the side grey-brick walls of the house, almost reaching the windows on the second floor, not in a beautiful way, but instead giving the house a strong air of abandonment, that were crowned by worn roofs. Looking at the top, it was possible to notice the tip of a fireplace, which gave off a thin smoke from the typical almost-dead fire.

Francesco silently moved a little to the side to get a better view of the back of the house. A short flight of stairs - stone stairs, this time - that led directly to a wooden door. This door was not central and had no glass panes. It was a solid wooden door, located further to the left of the building. In that part of the house, there were only three of those same depressing windows, two upstairs and only one below, at the same level of the door.

The boy scratched his chin for a moment, a little apprehensively, as he got back to Runa.

"Eh...front door it is, I think", he commented, staring at her.

Runa had already looked at the house; now she was curious to see what Francesco saw there as well. She could see his mind turning, noticing the details. Good. 

The house was a relic, not touched since the man's parents had died. This wasn't a home anymore; it was a fortress.

"Alright. Front door it is. I have to go up alone- no way he opens the door if I've got another guy with me. Give me like ten, fifteen minutes to talk to him. Hopefully he's not the type to get straight to business, but if he is I can spin him a yarn and start getting emotional or something. I'll try to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water or something and unlock the front door, though it could be tricky. If you can't get through the front door, try the back door. If I can get either of those, I will."

She furrowed her brow.

"I might be able to fight the guy on my own, but whether I can or not... well, my focus will be unlocking that front door. Even if I need to sprint to the door, unlock it, and fight to hold him off, you should just need a couple seconds to get inside. But if he re-locks it before you get in, I'm on my own... so make sure you're in position. Part of me would rather try it with the back door, but if the guy is that paranoid he might have it blocked up."

Runa glanced at Francesco.

"What do you think? Any questions? Ideas?"

Francesco nodded as Runa spoke, focused on everything she said. It was going to be an easy job - the first job since he became an associate of the Race Street outfit - he was mentally trying to convince himself. Despite so much supposed confidence, Francesco noticed that his hands were sweaty.

"Ten minutes" he said, his voice lower than normal. "If things get out of hand before that, scream, give me a sign."

The boy's eyes widened a little, as if he suddenly remembed something, and then he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, an old retractable pocket knife with a reddish handle that he carried with him since the old days, when he was still working as a newsboy in the streets. He had never actually used it, but it had always served him as a deterrent in his past gang fights.

"Do you wanna take this with you? You know, just in case. And Runa...", he immediately amended, placing his free hand on her shoulder in an almost brotherly manner, "please, be careful."

Francesco was worried about her. That was a nice sign, thought Runa; he was her back-up, after all. 

"I'll be fine, Frank. Won't be any trouble."

She shook her head at the offer pocket knife, then dug into her bag, removing a switchblade of her own.

"I've already got one, thanks. Although..."

She dug back into the bag, removing a black Colt M1911 pistol, which she handed to Francesco.

"Look, this thing isn't even loaded."

Runa handed him the ammunition, which he slipped into his pocket.

"Not sure you know how to use one. I found this in a desk during  job I was doing for Scarfo. I've never used it, myself, but it could come in handy to intimidate the guy if you need to. Now turn around and stare at that house I'm going to shank you."

Francesco dutifully looked at the house as he heard Runa rustling around behind him. When she approached him again, she was wearing a low cut blouse, a short skirt, and irrationally tall stiletto heels.

"Alright. Get close enough to hear me yell, but wait 'til I'm inside to move. Ten minutes- then check the door."

With that, she walked off towards the front door of the house, growing more steady on the heels as she went. Francesco saw her knock on the door and have a brief conversation within someone inside the darkened interior- then she walked inside and the door slammed closed behind her. 

Francesco sighed as he saw Runa turn around and walk to the front door of the house. The Colt M1911 was still is his hand and he looked at it for a moment. God, he hoped he didn't get to use it that night. He knew how to handle a gun, although in a very poorly way, but killing a person was something entirely different. The memory of him and his friends from the old borgata shooting cans at the junkyard, with the old pistol that his friend Paulie had stolen from his father, suddenly came to his mind. Ah, the old days.

He stuck the gun in his belt, and walked away a few steps, hiding behind a tree. Runa had just knocked on the door, that didn't take long to open. Francesco narrowed his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the man inside, but he couldn't see anything. Hell, why hadn't it occurred to him earlier that maybe it would be a good idea for him to sneak up on the side of the house jump on the man right there, along with Runa? Before he could even act, the door slammed behind Runa. 

Feeling a bit stupid, Francesco ran a hand over his forehead and hair and bit his lower lip nervously. Stay calm, he started thinking to himself, trying to control his breathing. Runa was inside the house with that man and he should stick to their plan, that was all he could do. After a few seconds, he started walking towards the house, silently, his eyes scanning all the windows, fearing to be seen.

He stopped at the side of the house, leaning against one of the walls, near the balcony and one of the side windows. Nothing but silence. He checked his pocket watch, one of the few things he had inherited in his life. There was still a lot of time left for the minute hand to go through. 

His lungs were begging for a cigarette and the feeling was that time had suddenly stopped.

It wasn't hard for Runa to play the part of the overwhelmed hooker on one of her first jobs; after all, she was overwhelmed, and it was one of her first jobs, albeit very different from what her target expected. By flashing a deer in the headlights look and sniffling, she'd been able to talk the man, who's name was Harold, into getting her a glass of water. They sat and talked for a few minutes as he reassured her. Runa was so convincing that, when she broke the glass as a distraction and quickly popped into the hallway when Harold was cleaning it up, she was back before he noticed she'd stepped out of the kitchen. 

Door unlocked- now Francesco would come in, and they'd... well, tie Harold up in a chair or lock him in a closet or something. Then they'd have plenty of time to search the house for the cash. 

Francesco heard the door open and, from where he was, peered across the balcony. Runa's face emerged, searching for him outside. Nimble as a cat, in a quick leap Francesco was on the porch and quickly reached the door. Runa motioned for him to enter quickly, and he did so, not sure of what to expect inside. Runa silently closed the door behind them.

They walked down the hall in silence, Runa guiding him. She just glanced at him and, with a nod, indicated that the man was in the next room.

"Everything alright there, dear?" Francesco heard a middle-aged male voice utter, along with the sounds of a broom sweeping the floor.

They reached the living room. The man had his back to them, apparently unconcerned, gathering the glass pieces scattered on the floor with his broom. He had no idea of what was happening there. One of the wooden floors creaked when Francesco and Runa stopped on the large threshold and the man turned to them. To Francesco, he didn't look dangerous at all, a bald man with pale skin and a thin mustache that looked almost comical in his fat face.

"What the hell..." the man said, incredulous, looking directly at Runa.

Not that it was necessary, but Francesco's first impulse was to draw the empty gun - of course he forgot to load it - and put on his most threatening expression in his face.

Well, at least getting in had been easy. Runa removed the switchblade that she'd strapped to her thigh and flicked it open, guiding Harold back into one of the kitchen chairs. She forced him to sit down, then stuck a paper bag over his head. Harold had already seen their faces, but no need to make it tougher for them. Someone as paranoid as Harold wasn't likely to call the cops, which is one of the reasons he was an attractive target in the first place. 

Francesco kept the gun on him while Runa hunted around for something to tie him up. She pulled the ropes attached to the heavy curtains, then tied Harold's wrists and ankles securely to the chair.

"So what do you think? He's got a cashbox somewhere with a decent payday. Want to help us and just tell us where it is, Harold? Does my friend need to persuade you?"

She glanced at Francesco.

"Or we could just look around ourselves, take everything valuable. We should have plenty of time now. What do you think?"

Seeing the man so vulnerable, tied to the chair and unable to move anything but the muscles of his face, gave Francesco a lot of confidence. He immediately stepped forward, heading towards the man.

"I'm sure Mr. Harold is going to tell us exactly where the money is" he said, pressing the barrel of the pistol against the man's neck. Then, he got his mouth close to the man's ear. "Right, Mr. Harold?" The man let out a grunt and nothing more. Francesco looked at Runa anxiously. Would that pathetic-looking man play the tough guy?

Francesco stepped away from the man, and approached Runa, taking her by the arm and pulling her gently to the corner of the room. He started to whisper so only she could hear, his wide eyes staring at her.

"Look, since we're here and the hard part is over...I want it all, Runa. The money and whatever we can carry from this house. What do you think, Runa? Maybe you can search the house and I'll get this piece of shit to talk. W-what do you think?"

Runa dropped her voice. 

"Sounds good. Just give me a second..."

A few minutes later, she returned with a key ring. 

"We can take his car. Probably doesn't use it much anyway."

She glanced around the room.

"We can take more stuff, but let's not get too crazy here. I'm not expecting any trouble, but the longer we're here, the more something could go wrong. Talk to our friend there- get him to tell you where the cashbox is. I'll try to look around and grab some stuff that should be easy to sell, if it's small and easy to carry. Let me know when he tells you where the money is."

Runa dropped her voice.

"Don't hurt him too bad, Francesco. He's so stuck in this house that he's not a risk to us. If we don't hurt him too bad, then I expect he'll just sleep this off and move on. But if we take too much that has sentimental value- or if you hurt him too bad- well, I dunno. Do what you need to."

She turned and left the room, off to hunt for valuables. 

"Don't worry", Francesco said as Runa turned around.

He looked at the man sitting across from him, his head covered with a paper bag looking at the floor. He was feeling calmer now, he noted with relief. Taking another chair, he sat down, facing Harold.

"Mr. Harold, I will be very frank with you now. The only thing I want is to know where you keep your money. That's it. You tell me that and we will be out of your house very fast and for good. You don't, and then...well, you can imagine it. You don't have to make this difficult for us."

The man raised his head, as if looking at Francesco. He was not stupid, he knew there was no use shouting or anything like that, because the nearest house would never hear and in that area, passersby were unusual. Everything was in favor of Francesco and Runa and everyone knew it. 
Francesco ran a hand through his hair and pressed the gun against the man's thigh.

"So, where's it?" he asked in a very calm voice. Harold didn't say anything, but Francesco noticed, with some satisfaction, that he was shaking a bit. "Alright then."

Francesco stood up so quickly that his leg pushed the chair back, knocking it over. He immediately tucked the gun in his waistband and threw a strong punch in the man's belly. Harold groaned, breathless, but remained silent. Francesco did not wait and threw another punch in the same place.

The torture continued for less than a minute. Harold was more of a paranoid guy than a tough one. After taking the first punch to the head, he let out a cry of pain and begged Francesco to stop, which he did, while waving his hand in the air, for he had delivered a poorly calculated punch and hit the bony part of Harold's face.

"Stop, stop, please!" Harold whimpered. "The money is on the second floor...arghh...in the guest room. First door to the left. There is a false bottom on the left side of the wardrobe. The box is there...now leave me alone!"

Francesco immediately turned, leaving the man there and heading towards the stairs, where he found Runa.

"First door to the left. Fake bottom in the wardrobe", he repeated to her, with a half smile on his face.

Then he followed her, up the stairs.

Runa had dug in the closets of the master bedroom- wherever Harold slept, he'd left his parents' rooms untouched- until she found a suitcase. She traveled around the upstairs bedrooms, looking in drawers and taking portable valuables, mostly jewelry from Harold's deceased mother, but also a few other shiny things that caught her eye. She pocketed a golden billfold that she planned to give to Francesco, then she heard the noise coming from downstairs. 

She smiled as she met Francesco on the way up, then moved back into Harold's room and went down on her knees, removing the fake bottom in the wardrobe to find the lockbox. When she opened it up, she whistled appreciatively, then dumped it into the suitcase. It may not have impressed Jack Mezzo too much, but it was a good score for a pair of young associates on the rise. 

"What do you think? Want to look around up here some more? Or get out now?"

Runa smirked, handing Francesco the golden billfold.

"Oh- this is for you."

Francesco's eyes shone as he took the billfold from Runa's hands. It was a very beautiful piece, and he shook it in the air a few times in silent thanks. Then, he carefully tucked it into his pants pocket.

"We should get the hell outta here" he said, as he started walking towards the stairs. "I guess we have more than enough for such a short time of work, heh."

They reached the first floor, and then the kitchen. There was Harold, his head down, sniffling. Francesco stopped and looked at him for a few seconds. Something that was bothering him was the fact that Harold had seen both their faces, which was never a good thing. Should they just leave the house and hope that the man would just accept what happened and move on? But what other alternatives were there? Kill the man? Francesco felt his stomach churn.

Killing a person was something else entirely. He looked back at Runa.

"So, what about our friend over there?"

Harold raised his head, suddenly getting a little agitated.

Runa glanced at FrancescoBagarella, then dropped her voice so Harold couldn't overhear her.

"I doubt he'll talk to the cops. Hasn't let anyone in his house or seen anyone other than a skirt in a decade. Can't imagine him giving a statement to a detective. So I'm pretty sure we'd be good. I know he's got even more money stashed in a bank account. We got a lot here, but it's not like he'd be broke. He can just get back to his normal life. I feel comfortable leaving him here, but I don't want to make that call for you."

She glanced at the door.

"Look, you do what you think is best. But we can't leave him tied to a chair. He'd die a long, slow death that way. The way I see it, we've got three options."

Runa ticked them off on her fingers as she counted.

"First, we could cut him loose and just run without saying a word. Second, you could try to threaten him, warn him what'll happen if he makes trouble, then cut him loose. Or third, you could kill him."

She paused; it was obvious she didn't think Harold needed to die, but if that's what Francesco needed to do to feel safe, she wasn't going to fight to stop him.

"Look, I'll grab the bag and head out to get that car running- hopefully it still runs. You handle things here, then meet me in the driveway. But don't take too long. If anyone sees me walk out of here and start the car, they'll be suspicious. And even more suspicious when they see you."

RunaKatte had a couple of good points there that set Francesco's mind at ease. He watched her leave the house, then he looked back at Harold. He pulled out his retractable pocket knife and approached the man, standing in front of him.

"Ah, Mr. Harold, Mr. Harold...you are a lucky man. If it wasn't for my friend, I'd be putting a bullet between your eyes right now."

What a big fucking bluff. Francesco was very pleased that he did not have to kill that man. He didn't want that at all. In fact, he had tried to pass the responsibility for that decision to Runa and, luckily, she had made him much calmer before passing the responsibility back to him. Francesco pressed the pocket knife's button, making the blade jump out.

"You should be greatful to her, you know?" he said, as he bent down to cut the ropes that tied Harold's feet. "You will get out of this unscathed."

He cut the ropes and quickly stood up, circling the chair and standing behind Harold, as the man's arms were tied to the back of the chair. Francesco bent to cut the strings and brought his mouth close to Harold's ear.

"But if you try anything funny, if you talk with anyone about this, Mr. Harold, I'll be back, and she won't be able to help you."

He cut the ropes that tied the man's arms, freeing him completely. Harold only started massaging his wrists, he didn't even tried to get up. The bag was still on his head and the only noise he made was wheezing and a few grunts. The man was clearly terrified. 

"We'll be watching you!" he said out loud before leaving the kitchen.

Feeling some kind of sadistic pleasure - to his own amazement - Francesco left the house, to meet Runa in the driveway.

Runa tossed the valuables in the trunk and quickly moved to the driver's seat. She had to try to start the car a couple times, pumping the gas to finally help the engine roar to life. She nodded to FrancescoBagarella as he jumped in the passenger seat, reading his face to know that he'd left Harold alive. The right choice, she thought. 

She hit the gas, and the car shot out into the street. Turning, she bounced off a mailbox and took off down the street.

"I know..." winced Runa. "I'm a horrible driver. I've only had about one lesson... but I just didn't want to split the job up anymore. It'll be fine."

The ride back into Philadelphia was, frankly, terrifying. Runa drove with white knuckles, horns blared around them, but she started to relax as they entered the city limits. 

"First thing on my list of new skills... I'm going to see Mickey Pearson at his garage. Get some real lessons. I promise."

But as they careened through an intersection, they heard a siren behind them. Cursing, Runa looked behind her to find a police car.

"Fuck."

She was quiet for a while.

"Look... I can handle this. I'm going to stop short near the side of the road. You take the loot and run down an alley; I'll spin a story about how a scary man stole my husband's car... you just get away with the stuff, and I'll meet you back at the Cat and Phoenix within an hour."

Runa shot him a look.

"Trust me. I'm a shit driver, but I'm good with people."

Without waiting for an answer, she awkwardly jerked the car to a stop near the mouth of an alley.

Francesco's heart started to beat faster when he heard the police siren behind them. However, he tried to watch them in the rearview mirror and sit quietly on his seat, instead of despairing. Then, he heard RunaKatte 's instructions and, before he could even say anything, she stopped the car abruptly. He was ready for it and, before the car stopped completely, he was already out, going for the trunk.

The police car was getting closer and Francesco had just enough time to open the trunk and grab the bag of valuables. He didn't know if they had seen him get out of the car or just open the trunk and he didn't know how Runa was going to get out of that situation. It didn't matter at that point, he trusted Runa and her skills. He had to do his part.

With light feet, Francesco launched himself into the alley, throwing the bag handle over his shoulders as he ran. He also had to keep Runa's gun from jumping from his waistband. Even if a little clumsy, the young man was quick and his footsteps echoed more and more distantly.

Jimmy O'Callaghan had already had too long of a damn shift when the old Ford barreled through an intersection and narrowly averted killing a handful of people. He flipped his siren on immediately and pulled out after the black car, which bounced off a curb and kept going. The driver should have pulled over by now, and Jimmy found himself unbuckling the cover of his holster where he kept his revolver. This one would be trouble.

Soon after, the car lurched to a stop with Jimmy's cruiser slamming on the brakes behind them to avoid a collision. Before the policeman could exit his car, he saw a man sprint out the passenger seat. Well, he could still catch the driver, at least. 

But when Jimmy approached the car with his gun drawn, a beautiful young woman emerged who was hysterically crying.

"OH my gawwwwwwd, Officer. You've got to help me."

Jimmy immediately moved his gun away from the lass, who'd thrown her arms around him, crying into his shoulder.

"He went that way! THAT way! You've got to get him! Please!"

"Miss- I- Miss, you've got- you've got to let me go if you want me to catch him. Are you hurt?"

She sniffed. "No, but he took my grandmother's ring. Oh please- look, there he is!"

The young woman finally disentangled herself from him, and Jimmy went charging off down the alley she'd indicated. He tried for a few minutes, but the crook must have had too much of a head start. Panting heavily, Jimmy returned to the scene of crime, where he found the crashed car, a crowd of onlookers... and no young woman.

Sighing, Jimmy thought of all the paperwork he'd have to fill out.