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Trojan Horse Started by: RunaKatte on Mar 18, '21 16:06

There was a temptation, after the explosion in Illiana Santoro's office had killed one of her employees, to simply find Vincent Karras, kill him, and turn everything he owned into ashes. It wasn't hard for Illiana to discover it had been Karras; he'd left a collection of smashed plates behind him in an attempt to antagonize the woman who'd had him sent to prison years before. By all accounts, the man should have been killed immediately- yet the fact that he'd used explosives had caused certain members of Race Street to hesitate.

Street thugs didn't build sophisticated bombs- who was bankrolling him? Attacking directly might have sent the rats scurrying back into their holes, so a cat was sent instead.

Illiana had quickly assembled an identity for "Rachel Kennedy", young Irish immigrant whose name had been added to a recently landed passenger ship. Runa had spent a night dirtying her skin and damaging her hair. In the morning, wearing borrowed clothes, she blended into the crowd of Irish and "entered" the city of Philadelphia. A couple days at a boarding house had been difficult- she hated sitting around- but necessary to establish the identity. Soon, she was hitting the streets looking for work. 

"The Greek" and his crew had previously leaned on an auto-mechanic to make things difficult for Illiana; the lawyer had managed to track one of those associates back to the Estia Tavern, a Greek restaurant that served as a headquarters for Vinnie and his boys. Illiana arranged for a couple of the current waitresses to get into some legal trouble and a third one to get called onto an extensive trial as a juror. Soon, they were desperate for waitresses, even a Irishwoman. With her quick mind and flirtatious manner, Rachel Kennedy had won them over quickly.

Her first few days at the job, she stayed coy... and she kept her eyes open. Vinnie was there often, occupying a private room in the back. He had four men there regularly: Alexios, Demetrius, Markos, and Philip, along with a few other guards and associates. The crew was a far cry from Race Street, but bigger than Runa would have thought possible to spring up in Jack's territory without getting some help.

It would have looked too suspicious to make a run at Vinnie- not only did he already have a girlfriend, Calista, who had been scowling at Runa since she arrived- but to make a move at all would draw scrutiny. Instead, Runa used everything that Vix had taught her at Velvet's lounge to draw out the other members of Vinnie's crew. Her task became easier when "Rachel" received her own paycheck and Runa could improve her appearance accordingly. Within a few days, she'd not only proven herself as a waitress, but also caught the eye of Markos.

Being Rachel Kennedy was easy: she'd grown up in a poor fishing village, just like Runa had, and she'd crossed on a passenger ship, close enough to Runa's own experience. Though her Irish accent wasn't perfect- a native would have easily seen through her- the men she was trying to fool couldn't tell the difference between a brogue and a burr. 

Runa was patient, inscribing every piece of information to her memory, writing things down in a code that looked like her scribbling down orders from customers in her notepad. 

A few days later, Markos made his move. He wasn't a horrible looking man; he was young, inexperienced, and was desperate for a woman. Runa found herself genuinely smiling as he pinned her up against the wall and kissed her, despite the smell of onions on his breath.

Finally, she was getting somewhere.

*** 

From that point, Runa did her best to attach herself to Markos' hip. He was the money man of the operation; the other three were Vinnie's muscle. She was always around, never really paying attention, always trying to file her nails or resting her head against Markos. Every day, she felt like she unlocked another piece of the puzzle. Over the course of a week since Markos first kissed her, she unraveled the thread piece by piece: Vinnie Karras had wealthy friends who were encouraging his actions against Race Street. 

Runa was feeling the heat; Jack was a man of action, and she had no desire to keep him waiting or to let Illiana down. That day, she visited Markos at his apartment for the first time. Afterwards, when he was in the shower, she rifled through every file in his desk, green eyes devouring names and numbers. One set of initials kept popping up in the income column of Markos' ledger: VS. She'd heard a couple of Vinnie's men mentioning a Viktor; as the water in the shower died, she saw the name leap out from a letter Markos had received from Vinnie, and she felt everything click for her. Viktor Sokolov was a Russian gangster who'd been run out of his homeland, and he was determined to use the wealth he'd escaped with to finance a new criminal empire. Rather than start somewhere and build, he'd decided to make a play for the many established revenue streams that ran through the Race Street Pier. 

As she replaced everything and scurried back to Markos' bed, Runa imagined what she considered the most likely scenario: Vinnie and his Greek boys were the distraction: they show up, make some noise, threaten Jack, and get crushed. Sokolov, who was probably already in the city, would financed the doomed Greeks, but learn how Jack would respond and prepare himself accordingly. 

***

Later that night, Runa stopped into a bathroom in a cafe on her way home from the Estia Tavern. In the arranged place under the toilet of the second stall, she left a note for Illiana or one of her people to find in an hour or so.

CL: Vinnie Karras. Not biggest threat- financed by Russian Viktor Sokolov. Looking to take over Jack's territories. Dangerous.

RHM: Philip Karras. Cousin of V.

LHM: Markos Galanis.

Muscle/Made+: Demetrius ??. Oversees half dozen associates/bodyguards.

I will take out Vinnie tonight, then abandon identity and rendezvous. Philip secondary threat- all others should dissipate. If you don't hear from me by morning, something went wrong.

See you for breakfast- I'll buy the mimosas.

***

As the morning sun climbed higher in the sky, Illiana tried to find the words to tell Jack that Runa was in trouble. 

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Thomas Crown, was getting ready to sit down for his lunch. It had been a long morning, he had a hiccup in the early hours of the twilight with one of his trucks. That required his staff to wake him up in the middle of the night. He never liked that, but business. So he understood. Needless to say, due to the hustle and bustle of the situation. His morning, had not gone to plan. He was big about breakfast and such. This morning though was simply about tea and bagel. However as with all things, by noon he had the situation managed. Things were back in their place and business was rolling seamlessly again. With a few hours to spare now and not much to worry about. Thomas remembered he had a lunch appointment with a friend. 

Shucks! I almost forgot.

Thomas got up out his chair and washed up really quickly. Then putting on his coat swiftly and such. He then asked where the venue was. One of his associates replied. "Mr Crown, this place Estia Tavern. Its a really nice place, you will like it very much". Thomas wasn't surprised. His friend had a taste for some of the finest things around. Never opposed to checking out new places. He always liked to explore new establishments and expand his palate

Go get the car, I don't like to be late. And I am hungry. 

Thomas driver went around the back and got the car ready and pulled up. Thomas hopped in the car and went down to the tavern. Once they pulled up. He jumped out the car. Fixed his hat and tie. And walked into the restaurant. One of his men, held the door open as he made his way in. As he walked in, he looked around to see the place full with some familiar faces. Thomas was too hungry to mingle with anyone. A waiter greeted Thomas "Afternoon sir. Welcome to our establishment. How many folks will be joining you today?" Thomas took his hat off as he relaxed a bit. 

Afternoon young lad. I think a few of us. A table for four to six should suffice. Id prefer it in a corner or something. I like to stay out the limelight. 

The waiter had the tables put together as per Thomas's request. And showed Thomas and his entourage to their table. They all got seated. And started to look thru the menu. 

This menu looks good. I hope the food is just as good. 

Thomas said, to the associate that had talked up the place. As they continued to look at the menu. 

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It had been a day like any other, well... that's a lie... This wasn't a day like any other, if it was a day like that, Nola would be walking around the hallways of the Crows Nest Headquarters. Though instead she had made her way to the city of brotherly love.... Philadelphia. It had been some time now since she had made her way down to Philly. Not cause she didn't want to but because she was more needed to keep her place in New York.

This trip was a needed trip, was good for her to get out of New York for a bit. Plus the reasoning for leaving was a good one. She was doing a favor for a friend out that way, nothing too pressing, just showing face for the most part. With the added bonus of a lunch meeting with one of her own. One that she hadn't had the time recently to sit down with, one of her more influential members, ThomasCrown.

The trip to Philly was always a nice one, was a rather short flight and yes she flew there. No sense in driving, not like the drive is a bad one but why drive when you can fly. Right? On top of that, packing a few big guys onto a plane is much easier than jamming them in a car. Makes her comfort level a easier to deal with.

So that's what she did, flew directly into Philly. Had a car waiting for her and all, which wasn't much of a surprise. The scheduling itself was pretty spot on, by the time they landed and got the car it was close to the meeting time. Her guys knew the location, already had people she knew within Philly scout it out prior. Just in case...

The drive itself was a rather short one, at least it felt like it. As the car stopped, her driver, one of her men. Parked the car across the street, directly across the street. The driver and the guy in the passenger seat, were to stay in the car but Nola was to be accompanied by her number one. Jasper... he went just about everywhere with her and this was such an occasion.

Opening the car door for her, Nola stepped out and followed him across the street. They made it to the front door, which he opened once again, allowing Nola to step in first. Stopping once she got into the doorway, she gave the place a quick scan over. There were a bunch of familiar faces about but that wasn't surprising. With a shrug of her shoulders, she continued to give the place a scan over, when finally locking eyes onto Thomas.

A small smile crept onto her face. Turning her head towards her shoulder, Nola gave Jasper a nod. There were no words needed, he understood her motions. A motion that caused him to go take a seat at a table near the front of the restaurant. A spot giving him the perfect view of the entire place.

Nola, waited a moment before making her way over to where Thomas was seated. She watched as he quickly sprung up from his seat, greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and pulled out a chair for her to be seated. Once seated Thomas sat back down himself. Nola gave him a bit of a smile.

"Been a while huh? Got figure of all places, this is where we meet up."

With a bit of a smirk, the pair got on with their lunch meeting.

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It had been months since Takkar had been to Philly, the city where he grew up and made his bones. He had planned to visit earlier but something or the other always came up and he kept putting it off every week. An invite from an old friend was what finally brought him back to Philly. JackMezzo sounded grave over the telephone and when he stated his reasoning for this impromptu meeting, Takkar understood why. He promised Jack that he would be present at the meeting.

The Estia Tavern, the spot of the rendezvous, came into view as Takkar rounded the corner. To not raise suspicion he was dressed plainly, a white shirt with a dark brown vest draped over it and black pants. Not that anyone around these parts knew who he was, but one could never be too careful. 

After entering the restaurant he subtly scanned the place, taking note of the number of windows and the exits. He did not expect trouble but in case it found him, Takkar was prepared. He set his hat down before taking a seat at an empty table and waved the waiter over. "Bring me a glass of cold water will ya." As the man walked away Takkar's gaze shifted to the front door, waiting for Jack and the rest of the party to arrive.

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Lance looked at the note left by Sweene. 

Try Estia Tavern. You won’t be disappointed.

“You know this place?” he asked Hincapie. Hincapie was Lance’s man about town so the fact that he (a) knew the place and (b) recommended it was just what Lance wanted to hear.

It was a bit on the late side to be cycling over particularly if he fancied a drink afterwards so Hincapie hailed a taxi for himself, Lance and Landis. In the journey over, talk turned to weekend plans. All three contemplated heading out to Lehigh Gorge given that was the closest place to get some hilly runs in...much would depend on the course of the evening.

The taxi pulled up and Lance made sure the driver got a good tip.

”You able to come back in a few hours?”

The taxi driver hummed and hawed thinking he was onto a winner, “A hundred bucks and I’ll stay here...”

Lance sighed. Well known faces like his were ripe for being taken advantage of but some days he couldn’t be bothered arguing. He pulled a roll of ten dollar bills out and counted out ten.

”Just be here later.”

The three went inside and waited for someone to show them to a table. Landis patted his pockets...always the same story with this pair. It would end up being an expensive night.

”Can I get you someth...”

”Three beers and some menus please”, Hincapie was quick off the mark turning to the other two, “the steaks in here are good but the meatloaf is great...trust me”

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Rose knocked on Velvet’s office her demeanour warm as she leaned against the door frame dressed in a blue soft pale summer dress.

Velvet pulled her head up from being buried in paperwork, her gaze drawing to an employee she classed more of a friend awaiting acknowledgement, leaning back into her chair her head cocked confused by Rose wearing a summer dress.

“Don’t you look flattering Miss Rose…What’s the occasion?”

“Fancy a break? You’ve been mulling over those contracts for a few hours now, I know of place called Estia Tavern, been awhile since we had a one on one” a smirk arose on her face shooting her boss a wink.

Genuinely smiling Velvet glanced back down to the pending contracts she shrugged before looking back up her tone warm “You know what… Fuck it let’s go, It’s long overdue” chuckling to herself as she stood up her left arm hooked offering Rose to Hook her arm through hers before the pair walked down through Philly Streets bantering, laughing, stress and worry dissipating.

Upon arrival and entering the Tavern, being met with being rather busy, Velvet smoothed out her high waisted black business skirt along with her white blouse whilst still linked with Rose as she locked eyes with a waitress giving a curt nod as the waitress approached them.

“Table for two please...”  scanning the room to source a desired spot “By the rear window would be swell Hun”.

Taking their seat, they glanced over the menu whilst the waitress patiently waited, Rose excitedly chimed in.

“We’ll have two Mary Pickford’s, Two nips of Port aaaannnnd…” eyeing the food selection as her fingers ran down the list, her demeanour childlike “Two Chicken Pie's with a side of fries” flashing the server a megawatt smile.

Velvet shook her head in amusement “Guess that’ll do my dame…”  

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The door opened with significant force. The man that stood in the opening of the Estia Tavern was a hulking, imposing figure. Elderly but by no means frail, he stepped through with slow, heavy steps and immediately moved to the side. It was an intimidating presence. Silent, analytical, stoic, he surveyed the occupants of the restaurant, the customers, waiting staff, and muscle men lazily enjoying the afternoon. Pulled from retirement from hell knows were, William Bowden was soon joined by Jack Mezzo and Illiana Santoro. The sentry's had been child's play for Ethan and Billy.

The sight of Mezzo stirred something in the heavies on the restaurant payroll, they were too slow though. A fair number of the diners rose to meet them. Those with guns drew them. Only calm, confident expressions were throughout the faces present, Jack and his cohorts stood among numerous bodyguards, associates and men and women of honour all whom remained silent. A standoff was forced between the diners and the outnumbered Greeks.

"I was naturally disturbed when word reached me that my dear companion, Ms. Santoro here, was the target of your... petty efforts," he strode between the standing figures to place himself between the two lines of combatants, "and so naturally, I wanted to get to the bottom of why she lost a good man. Why we were so... inconvenienced."

He voice began to turn, from a calm narration to a restrained growl, delivered through grit teeth, "however, imagine my surprise when I discovered that it was not just Ms. Santoro and her people that you intended to sow discord among, but our... my, entire operation?

"Now, I don't know which of you fuckwits is 'Vincent Karras'," he mocked while looking between them, "and that is because I quite simply do not care. Nor do I care who Viktor Sokolov is when he's at home. Yes, I know you have friends! Well, these are my friends."

The guns drawn behind him remained motionless.

"Look a little closer, Greeks. You will see members of the operation you sought to destroy, but not just them. You will see representation of the eight crews of the entire city of Philadelphia, and not just them. You will see Godfathers of la cosa nostra from the great cities of Detroit and New York, who each command dozens, if not hundreds of soldiers between them. Perhaps if you were not such a small time rabble, backed by such a small time gangbanger, run out of his own country, you would know their faces. You would know what it means to fuck with Race Street."

There was no sound other than Jack's voice, which roared between the walls. 

"So you see! When you fuck with my friends, and you fuck with my family and you fuck with my business!! I. Will. Respond. Because I am Jack fucking Mezzo and this, this is what I do." 

He drew his own gun and raised it to the head of the nearest goomba. He stared down the sight into the eyes of another.

"Now whichever one of you is Vinnie has had the luckiest day of his life. You go back to your Russian. You tell him Race Street is not for sale. You get the hell out of our country or your children's, children's, children will be regretting the move you made today. You will be chased from the entire east coast of this land and drowned in the sea like dogs.

"And someone bring me my fucking daughter!!" 

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Demetrius was doomed not by a lack of observation, but imagination. He noticed that a few important looking men and women seemed to be gathering with each other- not something that usually happened here at lunch. His assumption when he didn't recognize them, however, was that Vinnie or Phil had once again neglected to inform him of an important meeting. Fuming at the perceived slight, he stepped into the back office, where Markos was on the phone with one of their business partners.

"Who is it today, eh Markos?"

Markos simply stared up at Demetrius.

"Who is who?"

"The meeting out there."

"What meeting?"

Demetrius stared at Markos for a moment and saw no sign of deception.

"Call Vinnie, Markos. Ask him if something's going on. If he called a meeting about the girl..."

"He would have told me. Just go do your job, Demetrius."

Scowling, the brawny Greek returned to the floor of the restaurant, scanning the faces. He and his friends had been briefed on some of the movers and shakers in the Old City, particular that part of Philly that Jack Mezzo ran for Godfather Asher. With funding from their Russian patron, the Greeks hoped to carve out a toe hold for themselves. The Russian had briefed them on many of the men and women who might stand in their way in Philadelphia, but he'd seen no need to prepare his men for potential opponents outside of Philly- not yet, at least. A fatal error.

By the time Demetrius realized what was happening, finally placing a couple faces right around the time Velvet ordered a couple drinks and the doors blasted open, it was too late.

One heavyset guard froze with a forkful of bougatsa halfway to his mouth; he stared at Jack Mezzo during the speech until it splattered back on his plate.

All of the men recognized Jack Mezzo. The one who'd been with Vinnie the longest also recognized Illiana Santoro, the woman who'd put their boss away years back. No one knew who the old big guy was, but something about his expression made them unenthusiastic to cross him. 

The guards all thought of the same thing when they saw Jack Mezzo: the Russian's 50 million dollar bounty for the man. But he'd brought too much back up for any of them to make a play.

Some of the civilians had been able to flee, but some were stuck in their chairs, staring at the lines of opposing combatants: one side looked calm, assured, and confident, while the Greeks seemed furtive and half-despairing. 

Demetrius wasn't a strategist, but as he listened to Jack describe his support from Philadelphia, from New York and Detroit, from the six cities.... well, he just felt like the whole thing was unfair. Two Godfathers? Out to defend one slice of the old city? They were supposed to get revenge for Vinnie, then take down one crew... not pick a fight with the criminal underworld of the entire goddamn country. 

In Demetrius's tactical assessment of the situation, they were fucked. He took a deep breath- knowing that he could at least die with honor. The men and women who'd accompanied and stood behind Jack Mezzo were ready to act. And Mezzo, surprisingly, wasn't killing them. Not yet, at least. 

None of it made sense to Demetrius- not until the last line.

His daughter? The girl. 

From his place right next to the back office, Demetrius could hear Markos speaking softly on the phone from behind the closed door, presumably sharing that information with Vinnie.

After thirty seconds or so where Demetrius was considering what to say, Markos emerged with his hands raised, palms facing toward Jack, carrying only a slip of paper.

"Don Mezzo... my name is Markos."

He nodded at Illiana Santoro.

"She knows me. I am a numbers man, an accountant. Not a killer. I told him what you said, and Vinnie would like to speak with you. He is here..."

Markos reached forward, placing the piece of paper on a table.

"... this address. A cabin outside the city. It's where Rache- the girl, your daughter, is. Vinnie told me to tell you..."

The young man's voice faltered.

"... not to bring your friends. Just you..."

He nodded to Illiana.

"... her... no more. If he sees more, then the girl dies- that's what he said. I told him to bring her here, but he... wouldn't."

It was clear that Markos was hoping Jack didn't subscribe to the school of shooting the messenger; he quickly added more information that would hopefully please the dozens of hostile eyes.

"And everyone..."

Markos raised his voice.

"... the crew is officially disbanded. We're done."

Markos glanced back to Jack Mezzo, ignoring the looks from the former members of his crew.

"Can we... can we go now?"

Demetrius watched with interest, curious about Jack's response, as well as the actions of everyone else in the room. He flexed his fingers slightly, just in case.

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The moments of silence that followed were heavy with anxious anticipation of what Jack Mezzo would do next. He was a lion that had just roared his dominance over the restaurant, leaving Markos and Demetrius virtually groveling for their lives. By all accounts, he had the right to end every one of them and leave the place leveled. Most men in his situation would have. Jack Mezzo was not most men. 

Illiana Santoro stepped forward from her position flanking Jack, and locked a piercing gaze with Demetrius for several seconds before turning to address the general gathering. Her voice was clear and commanding. 

"Some of you here are witnessing business that you have no part of. Innocents. You should know that these men have spoiled innocent blood and danced on the place they died. On behalf of Race Street, I apologize that your meal was disturbed in such a harrowing way. Consider today's visit on the house, and be on your way. Now."

There was a flurry of shuffling and moving as bewildered diners scurried for the door. Illiana turned back to Demetrius and Marko, still frozen in their places. She could feel the weight of the gathered power behind her, and pointed at the two men. Her words rang clearly over the movement, keying the attention of the two Greek thugs. 

"You two, and your men, look behind me. These are now the faces of your death. You are marked souls-not just by Race Street, but by these men and women as well. Show your faces in the territories of any of these, and your life is forfeit."

She turned and nodded solemnly and gratefully to the assembled leaders. They rose simultaneously and filled out. When they were gone, Illiana stepped toe-to-toe with Demetrius. Though she was a few inches shorter, she was decidedly looking down on him. 

"I would say that I'll see you in court to answer for Henry's death, but you had better pray that I never see your pathetic faces again."

She held the glare for a few moments, then spat harshly at the feet of the men

"We are leaving. Dare draw a weapon and you will die before your breath is done."

With that, she returned to Jack's side and then turned toward the door, which was opened for them.

Outside, it was like a different world. The sun shone on the sidewalk as passers-by went about their daily business. The hum of the city offered a peaceful familiarity to contrast the angery vengeance laid down in the tavern. Illiana walked beside Jack to the waiting car. The two were silent, but a palpable air of determination and seething rage surrounded them. The job was only half done, and getting Runa back alive was the priority, despite a quiet but growing lust for blood. 

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As the car drives off, Frankie motions to Frank who sat in the car nearby. He left the motor running and stepped out, heading in her direction. Once he was within a few steps of her, she asked him "Are you ready?" before handing over the satchel that contained a variety of explosives, their guns, and spare ammo rounds. She eyed the building up and realized there was no easy entry point unless.. she looked and yes, one window was just open enough. She pointed it out, "That one, it'll open it up enough." she told him before watching as he retrieved one of the grenades, pulled the pin, and then with a throw that one only learns from playing street baseball growing up, Frank pitched it in perfectly. Already with two more in hand, the first explosion sent them both reeling back a step or two, and the people around started screaming and running, but Frankie ignored them, Both Frank and Frankie continuing to throw grenades into the building.  Pull, throw boom, pause, pull, throw, boom. A rhythm of destruction, a song to express anger, bring sorrow and more importantly send a message.

There was a movement by the door, "Whoa..." she said, not realizing people were actually inside. Her stomach clenched but she had a job to do so she pulled the gun out of her bag and raised it up, peering down the sight before squeezing the trigger, and letting the bullets do whatever damage there was left to be had to the building and the people inside it. When the drum magazine was empty, she yelled, "Cover me." before dropping down to pull out another and slam it into place, ensuring the weapon was loaded. She took a second to cross herself, send up a silent prayer, and hoped that if someone was listening to her, they heard it over the gunshots coming from Frank's gun next to her. 

She got back to her feet and resumed shooting, aiming lower on the wall than before to ensure those who may have dropped down weren't missed. It was a grim thought, but this was business. She blinked back tears and took a deep breath, still holding the trigger when one of her bullets hit a grenade that hadn't detonated yet. As the unexpected explosion sent a wave of heat, dust, and debris towards them, the woman gulped, she wasn't going to be the first to back off. Frankie was the eldest, and she'd be damned if she was the one to give in first.

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Francesco parked the black sedan with ease. A few lessons with Mr. Pearson were enough for him to realize that he was a natural driver. It's funny how things happen, too. Those classes came at the perfect time, for they would be of great value in what he was about to do. Nothing happens at random, he thought. Then, he lit a cigarette and leaned forward a little, his chin almost touching the steering wheel, to watch the building a few feet ahead. So, that was the place. 

With displeasure, he noticed that his hands were sweating a little, and he passed them through the jacket he was wearing. That was a natural reaction from his body, common whenever he was about to do something new to him. At that time, though, his hands were sweating a little more than usual, as he was there to carry out a direct order from the boss, Jack Mezzo, the first one he'd had since he joined Race Street. The idea of failing haunted Francesco and he struggled with it for a moment before composing himself again. This was the life he had chosen and it was better to get used to it.

The image of the short meeting he had with Jack was still flashing through his mind when he saw a car pull up in front of his, and a woman get out. It was Frances, and her arrival meant it was time to act. He started the car and opened the door, getting out and throwing the rest of his cigarette on the street.

Walking at a fast pace, he soon reached Frances and just nodded when she asked if he was ready. He grabbed the satchel from her hand and looked at its contents quickly, before passing the strap over his shoulder. When she pointed out to the window, he was already with a grenade on the right hand. After a concentration sigh, he pulled the pin and threw it, just to watch the grenade pass perfectly through the window to his own relief.

The first explosion detonated the window, making their job easier for the next pitches, because there were a lot more pitches. He and Frances started to throw grenades in a coordinated and synchronized way that was even beautiful to see, in a way, were it not for the screams of despair that echoed down the street, from people who didn't even know what was going on.
From people outside and inside the building.

Maybe it's the adrenaline, but in this type of situation, things tend to happen very fast, or at least that is the impression. One moment they were throwing grenades, then Frances started shooting at the building. Following her lead, Francesco grabbed his gun and, when she shouted at him "Cover me!" he was already pointing his pistol to the building and shooting, eyes watching the door and the windows, trying to imagine where there might be people in there. And then...BOOM! again, but this time they hadn't threw any more grenades. There was no time to figure it out though, and Francesco's reaction to that late explosion was to cover his eyes with his arm. When the dust settled enough, he looked at Frances to check her and noticed that she was still shooting at the building and apparently sill in good shape.

Finishing unloading the cartridge from his pistol, Francesco started to retreat towards the car. He quickly jumped on it, throwing the satchel on the passenger seat. There was a loaded piston inside it, and it would be better to have it at the reach of his hand, just in case. In his understanding of the situation, his and Frances's work was more than done. So, in the blink of an eye, the car was stopped behind her, in the middle of the street, in front of the destroyed building, black smoke coming out of the windows.

"Let's go!" he shouted at Frances, who quickly turned around and jumped into the back seat. He quickly checked her in the rearview mirror, to make sure everything was fine and immediately hit the gas, making the car jump ahead and start running. The sound of sirens could already be heard in the surroundings.

Francesco lit a cigarette with one hand, driving the car with the other. As soon as he managed to get out of the building's immediate vicinity, he started driving more prudently and calmly. A police car sped past him, going in the opposite direction, towards the building, and didn't even notice he and Frances.

"Are you ok?" he asked, looking at her through the mirror when they were already far enough from the place of the attack to feel safe.

"Yes. You?" she simply answered.

"Yeah", he replied, looking back at the street.

That was all the talk they had on the way to the shed Jack had directed Francesco. On the shed, there would be a car waiting for each one of them, who would go separately to their destinations and should lay low for some time, according to Jack's instructions. One of Jack's men would take care of the car they have used for the job.

Francesco looked in the rearview mirror again, watching Frances look out the window, lost in thought. He didn't know exactly what she was thinking or feeling, but he had the impression he was feeling the same. A mix of satisfaction and remorse combined with a sense of accomplishment.

That was the life. They had to do what they had to do.

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Markos watched, disbelieving, as the men and women holstered their guns and exited the Estoria Tavern. Demetrius seemed just as shocked, albeit far more skeptical as his hand moved toward his gun.

The civilians in the place were already scattering, most running for the back exit. But Vinnie's crew gathered around Markos and Demetrius. Some were protesting against disbanding- a couple angry members were already shouting about revenge. 

The shouting died, then amplified, as the first grenade rolled into the room. But the voices stopped, when the hissing of the grenade turned into a roar. Demetrius, loyal to the end, through himself on the grenade as it exploded.

The rest of the crew was scattered, knocked backwards and bleeding as more explosions went off in the small restaurant. Markos began to crawl towards the back exit, shouting as a bullet hit his foot. Grimacing, he dragged himself along, until he came face to face with a grenade on the floor. He swallowed, but nothing happened. A dud.

He exhaled, moving forward again, and was just passing it by when a stray bullet struck the grenade and set it off. 

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On any other day, the drive to New Hope, Pennsylvania would have been quite a pleasant outing. On any other day, it would have been a beautiful drive, with picturesque views of the rural counties.

On any other day. 

Jack and Illiana made the trip mostly in an intense, contemplative silence. They were driving toward a lot of unknowns, but didn't care. Every now and then, Illiana would briefly take her eyes off the road and glance over at Jack. The weight of everything showed in his dark gaze. She wanted this to be over for all of them, but especially for Runa and Jack. This had to be absolute torture for him. 

They only made one stop along the way, Jack making a few phone calls while Illiana stayed with the car, engine running. 

They reached the mouth of the gravel road that led to the address given them. With a deep breath, Illiana steered the car onto the road. Her senses were on high alert, and her hands gripoed the wheel tightly as she followed a gentle curve. The cabin came into view, and she slowed down as they both took in the scene. Finding a wider spot in the drive, Illiana made a quick turn so that the nose of the vehicle faced back toward the road. Finally, she came to a stop and parked well away from the cabin, but still in clear view of it. She inhaled slowly and turned to face Jack. Her face was every bit as determined as his, but there was a hint of soft concern in her eyes.

"You're sure this is how you want to play this? I hate the idea of you going in there alone, Jack."

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I felt the hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand as I steadied the wheel in my hand the best I could. I had grown accustomed to rides like this on more than one occasion. It was never pleasant but rather one of those things that needed to be done and someone needed to do it. Duty calls and all that fun stuff.

The difference this time around was I had to listen to the incessant crying and whining from the trunk. And it was a long, long drive to New Hope, Pennsylvania. I had a job to do and that was it, nice and simple. It made no difference that a mother and sister of the Karras family were rattling around in the trunk. At least I tried to slow down around the turns.

Truth be told, this wasn’t exactly something I dipped my toe into usually. But, when the players get involved that are involved now, it’s hard to say no and walk away. Besides, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Pick up two broads and get them from point A to point B. Easy, peasy. No one told me I was going to have to listen to this for the entire ride. Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all, I maybe should have tied those gags a bit tighter. 

No matter, I thought to myself as I leaned forward, turning up the radio. I didn’t really mind the back roads of New York and Pennsylvania, save for one thing, the reception was atrocious. After a moment of fighting with the static, I let out a frustrated sigh and turned it off completely. Figured it would be one of those trips.

I impatiently checked my watched every so often, stuck in the weird time loop where ten minutes felt like two hours, but I eventually found where I was going. It was a good thing too. I wasn’t sure how much more I could listen to them from the trunk. I swear it started to echo at some point.

Putting the car in park, I yawned slightly as I laid my head back against the head rest and shut my eyes for a moment. I forgot how exhausting the drive could be sometimes. There was a reason I stuck to trains and planes these days. I forced myself to get up, straighten my jacket sleeve as I kicked the door shut with the heel of my foot, the keys jangling in my hand as I did.

And now the fun part.

I opened the trunk slowly, only lifting it about halfway, keeping my palms firmly atop it. “Hey, listen, I don’t want to be doing this as much as you don’t want this to happen. Don’t fight. I’ll have to shoot you and then I’ll have to explain why I shot you. No body wants the trouble. I’m going to lift this up, fix your gags and maybe, just maybe, if you can relax, I’ll let you sit in the back. You start putting up a fight or start screaming and you’re stuck cramped in there. Most likely with a fresh hole. Let’s just make this easy, ok?”

After a moment of listening to nothing but whimpering, I let the trunk up the rest of the way, “Thank you, this- this’ll be over soon.” I helped them from the back of the car one at a time, slipping the cloth back over their mouths before leading them into the back seat. Them seemed cold, or maybe they were shivering from fear but, I slipped out of my jacket, laying it across their laps before shutting the door.

Fishing through my pocket, I pulled out a smoke as I leaned against the car, flicking the lighter alive. And now, I wait.

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Jack stepped out, woodland debris breaking underfoot. He eyed the place over again, having given a brief inspection on arrival. Initially satisfied, the man leaned back toward the car and nodded to Illiana, who was in the drivers seat.

"I'm sure." He wanted to say goodbye, and thank you, and probably something sentimental. Assurance was all he managed though. Before he moved away towards the cabin, he nodded a farewell and turned away from the car. On approach, Mezzo made a wide sweep around the building. Finding only a car some distance away, he left it with deflated tires and continued his approach. Jack let his footsteps be heard the closer he grew. He paced up to the door and paused briefly. His gun had been withdrawn from a holster around his midsection and he held it casually at his side. 

Inside was quiet. He moved through the kitchen until finding a door to a living space. Unfortunately his quarry was inside, preventing him from checking the rest of the house. He made sure to step through slowly, closing the door behind him and standing to the side of it. Should it open again from the other side, he would have the door between himself and whoever came through. His gun remained lowered. After a moment of studying the man, he spoke.

"I'm going to be short about this, Vincent," he looked around the room, though didn't let his eyes land on Runa, "and quite generous, I hope you'll agree." He lifted his gun and opened the chamber. Six bullets fell from the weapon and scattered across the floor. The gun followed with a splintering clatter.

"You'll no doubt already be aware that it's only Ms. Santoro and myself here. She's in the car. Should she hear any gunshots, or signs of a struggle, or someone approaches the car... or the wind blows the wrong way, she's gone. Along with any chance for you, your friend," he took another look around, very aware there was still another lurking somewhere, "or your mother and cousin from New York." He made sure to finish loudly. If Vinnie had no affection for his mother, perhaps Phillip did for his sister.

He brought his gaze back to Vinnie, locking eyes and clasping his hands together over his stomach. 

"So, are we prepared to talk?"

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Vincent Karras kept his eyes on Jack Mezzo, even as he kept the gun in his hand trained on Runa. The Greek man was affecting a relaxed posture, leaning back in an armchair, but he wasn't a particularly good actor; he couldn't hide that every muscle was tensed, ready to act to respond to aggression by Jack. 

His left ankle was resting on his right knee, with the gun in his left hand resting on on his left knee. The barrel of the gun was within a couple feet of Runa's head. It shifted slightly sometimes as Karras spoke, but it never left her head or torso.

Runa herself was lying on a couch with her head closer to Karras and her feet closer to Jack. Her hands and ankles were bound, and she was gagged, but she seemed more internally than externally arrested. Vacant, glazed eyes looked at Jack- she was alive, but clearly either in shock, on drugs, or both.

Karras still had a slight Greek accent as he spoke.

"Jack Mezzo. I was expecting to meet you face to face, though not quite like this. You keep surprising me."

Vincent seemed surprised that Jack would empty his gun, but it was clear that he expected a ruse of some sort. If anything, he seemed more tense than he was before. He lowered both his feet to the floor, moving the gun closer to Runa. As Karras shifted in his seat, Jack noticed the bandage on his neck that had been hidden by his previous posture under the collar of his shirt and jacket; Karras's neck on his right side had obviously been wounded relatively recently. 

"What you're saying about my family... obviously, they are people I care about. But I have no reason to trust your word, considering that you incinerated my entire crew earlier after making a deal with them. Nope, don't trust you. No one should trust you."

He kept his voice loud.

"No, I don't trust anything you're saying about my family. Maybe they're out there, maybe they're not. Maybe you say you'll let them live, and maybe you'll say that and kill them once you have what you want. No, I see three ways this ends."

"I walk away from this with one of three people. You pick who that person is. Either I take little miss whatever-her-real-name-is here..."

He gestured with his gun toward Runa, who closed her eyes. 

"... which, frankly, is least desirable to me. She doesn't do anything for me, and I doubt she can walk on her own yet. I'd probably kill her, even if it means me dying, because what do I have to lose?"

"Second best option, you give me Santoro, who ruined my life. You get your daughter, and I get my revenge and get lost."

"My most preferred option would be if you choose to walk out of here with me yourself. Sokolov..."

Karras shifted in his seat again and looked beyond Runa, like Sokolov was hiding behind that couch where Jack couldn't see. Still, despite the fact that that part of the room was shielded by the large back of the couch, there wasn't enough room for a man to be hiding there.

"... he had a 50 million dollar bounty at you. Figured that with you gone, he could roll in and take over your operation, I guess. Anyways, if you walk out of here with me, I leave the girl, and Santoro can take her into a hospital. You and I get a private flight over to Europe, and Sokolov gets you. I'm not even sure he'll kill you. In fact, I'm pretty sure he won't; you get to live in some fucking castle with him, give him the keys to your businesses, you'd get at least a few years living in the lap of luxury. You get to be a king in exile, and I get to be $50 million richer and Sokolov's man here in America."

Karras tensed; his finger on the trigger. Runa's eyes opened again, and Jack saw her hands flex into impotent fists.

"So... who do I get, Jack Mezzo?"

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"Fifty million dollars? Vincent, you're aware this is America? You want someone dead over here, you double that before you get any interest."

He shook his head at the floor, then returned his gaze to Vinnie. The pair exchanged a glare for a moment, Jack chewed the inside of his bottom lip. Either frustration or nerves, it would be difficult to tell from the outside.

"And I thought the Greeks valued family," he raised his voice, "you here that, Phillip? Your cousin Vinnie is gambling on the life of your sister."

The man appeared, Jack managed a token smile, relieved he had responded.

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After a long pause, Philip slowly opens the door behind Jack with a drawn gun. Vinnie sighs. Philip was shorter than Vinnie- neater, with a more reserved demeanor and voice.

”I’ve followed my cousin my whole life, Don Mezzo. He told me that this play would make us rich- make him a real crewleader.” Philip paused. “We’ve both been gamblers our whole life. But... hypothetically. What do you say I take this girl out to your car out there and you let me sister go? You’re still here, as our hostage. You still have a hostage too. And we both remove some possible... collateral damage that we care about from the equation.”

Vinnie hissed, but didn’t say anything out loud. His eyes spoke loud enough.

 “Seems like a fair deal to me, Don Mezzo," Philip continued. "Where I’m from... we usually don’t let women get involved in our business like this.”

Philip’s tone seemed a little harder- aimed both at his cousin and Jack, but his eyes did seem to look with pity on Runa for a moment.

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Addressing the pair, Jack unclasped his hands and made careful gestures as he spoke.

"There are a couple of paths we could walk down here. First let me clarify, I made no such deal with your people in your restaurant. I'm a man of my word." He allowed a moment for silence, then continued, "but I did what I needed to do. I needed to make sure your Russian was paying attention, if it also meant you dropped a few pegs in his good graces, that would be beneficial, too. I don't expect seeing his investment reduced to rubble was very pleasing. 

"What it comes down boys, is this. You're out of your depth. As is Solokov. So I'll give you your options, Vincent. You can kill me, here and now. Illiana drives to the outside of town and your family is murdered. She then spreads word to the rest of the crews in Philadelphia, to the Godfather, that Jack Mezzo is dead. Solokov moves in and, I'm assuming with you pair as his dogs, takes control of my small portion of Philadelphia's old town. It then won't be long before the rest of Philadelphia and whatever support mustered from Detroit and New York swat the entire organization, yourselves included.

"Whatever financing you think he's bringing with him won't get him out of the crosshairs of the several dozen mobsters looking to protect their own investments."

He takes a deep breath, his hands itching to flex. He remained aware of any sudden movements, conscious his last moments might be a bitter melee of tooth and nail. 

"Or, you give me the girl, we leave together. We take you to our colleague on the outside of town and you drive yourselves and your family to wherever the fuck you want to drive them to. Just get out of our city. We will handle Solokov, which in turn removes any heat from yourselves that might be directed your way."

His voice soothed, it was obvious his was his last option, however he was banking on it being Vinnie's, too.

"I get it, you wanted some vengeance, earn yourselves some coin and set up your own business. You've been poorly guided though by a man who thinks it's easy to establish something on my turf. Of all people, me. It is my business to make contacts, to secure my position through relationships. Which is what I demonstrated today and ultimately what caused your endeavor to fail.

"Now, I'm done with death today, it's up to you if it carries on. I appreciate your efforts, your loyalty to each other and your ambition. But it ends here, or we all do."

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Vinnie looked furious, and he slowly got to his feet, ready to snap off a reply, but Phillip shot him a glance and Jack recognized the power dynamic between the cousins. Vinnie was the first one into the fight, the first one to get noticed- the first to go to jail.  Phil was the thinker, the planner quite content to stay hidden.

"He's right, Vinnie. Sokolov's rich, but he's been wrong on this from the beginning. He's planning this move like he's still back home in Moscow or wherever, and things work different here. He was dead wrong about how many other cities would get involved. He might be rich, but there's no use for money if you're dead."

Vinnie sneered, but Phillip just shook his head.

"Don Mezzo," said Phillip. "You killed our crew- some of our best friends. Your girl here tried to kill Vinnie. We planted those bombs in Santoro's office. If you're really done killing... so are we."

Vinnie moved his gun away from Runa, pawing at his neck and blatantly unhappy with this solution. A glare from Phil, caused Vinnie to drop his eyes, and Jack had the impression of a dog getting chastised by its master. He tilted his head towards Vinnie, then the door. "Where's our family, Don Mezzo?"

Leaning forward, Phil spoke just above a whisper. "Sokolov. Phone behind the couch. Not sure how much he's heard, but he's on the line."

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