For weeks now, Franchesca had been making phone calls to what was left of her 'contacts.'. These contacts were individuals who had stuck with her for so long. While many others had abandoned her, especially after Vincent had been sent to the can, this small notebook of pencil scribbled numbers have been with her since her teens.

It had been at least seven months since Vincent was sent off to prison, and within these seven months, Franchesca had been keeping her head down. Selling off old offices that were once filled with her small time backed loan sharks, and collecting any last payments of 'protection.' from any mom and pop establishments that still hadn't heard of her 'severed.' ties. And closing and selling off any 'legitmate.'  businesses that were once a part of her flourishing money laundering scheme that was backed by Vincent "The Shark.". She had to collect what she could and sell off what she could. She'd rather bleed them all out one last time and get rid of them rather then allow them to fall into the hands of other mobsters.  

Within these seven months, her whole world felt itself grow evermore smaller. Associates, 'friends', and contacts once made through Vincent were now turning the back on Franchesca, as if she never existed in the first place. People were walking away from her,  and everything she had gotten; her luxury loft, the muscle and bodyguards she had around her, all of it gained from working with Vincent had all but evaporated. As if she had never acquired them in the first place. She now found herself in a small apartment, on a quiet street, the only two things she had as a past reminescant of the days spent with Vincent, were her silver sidearm and her grey 1930 V16 Cadillac convertaible that she was sure to hide in her small apartment's garage to avoid detection. 

It surely turned her stomach and gave her great frustration, to give up all she had gained and watch it all go down the drain. Eight years of staying loyal to Vincent, now reduced to absolutely nothing. She hated to admit it, but if she hadn't found a new employer within at least three or two years, from now...She'd truly be in a world of regret.

Finally, on a muggy Sunday afternoon she had gotten a letter back from one of her longest and most loyalest contacts. Being awaken from her slumber, she assumed at first the letter was a bill, tempting to almost throw it in the garbage, a faint smirk grew across her lips as she read who had sent it. Flipping open her switchblade she tore open the envelope and found a paper with a labeled address and one 'employer.' name labeled above it  all. The pencil scribbled title reading: "Catnip Industries." 

"Finally." She said to herself, before letting out a sigh of relief. Heading into her bathroom, she took a look at herself in the mirror. Her long brown hair a mess from slumber and stress. "Time to freshen up."