Rooer was sitting on the bed in his apartment tying up his black dress shoes. He quietly cursed to himself on why his boss decided that he wanted his chief of security to dress so smartly. It was so impractical. It was then he heard the sound of something being pushed underneath his apartment door and footsteps walking away.

Rooer reached for his 1911 resting on his bedside counter and made his way towards the door. He spied the letter underneath the door, unbolted it, stepped out and looked down each way of the hallway. Nothing. Rooer retreated into his apartment and pulled out a note from the envelope. It read: 

Hi Jacob,

I see you've made yourself quiet the life out here. I hope you haven't forgotten where you've come from now.
It's be a real shame to forget old aquaintances like that, daresay even family.
Let's have a reunion shall we? I'll meet you at this address at 8 in a weeks time.
Come Alone.
Don't be a disappointment now.

Rooer felt a lump appear in his throat and a distinct feeling of dread appear at the back of his mind. He had spent so long on the streets, he'd figure had been lost to time. He hadn't a clue which ghost had left him this note, there were many in his life. Rooer added one more thing to his list today. He'd need a chat with his boss about this. 

Rooer finished getting dressed and slid his 1911 into his belt. Straightened himself out and continued to his jobs that day. 

Rooer stepped out into the chilly LA streets from the warmth of the nightclub. His boss had permitted him but made him take some back-up. Something about he didn't want his chief of security going MIA because of a strange note that had been slid under his door. Rooer thought he could probably handle this on his own, but alas, you don't defy your boss. 

Rooer turned round to see IL_Duce walk out behind him. One of the club's fresher made shield brothers or that's what Baldr liked to call them anyway. "I'll drive, You're shotgun" Rooer told Duce as they both made their way into his black 1955 ford thunderbird. "I'll explain on the way"

Rooer slid his key into the ignition and twisted it, the car roared to life. Rooer looked over at IL_Duce "You're packing something right? I don't know what I'm walking into here" He slid IL_Duce a note "I received this a week ago, but I don't like it. I'd have gone alone but the boss wasn't going to have any of that" Rooer slid the car into drive and started to make his way towards the location listed on the note

"The plan is simple, I'm going to walk in alone. You're going to keep the car running. If you see anything dodgy. If you hear anything dodgy. If the building fucking blows up, I don't know" Rooer stressed "You don't come in after me, You go straight to the boss" For the first time in a long time, Rooer felt the concern start to etch across to his face. That ball in his throat starting to feel like a Tennis ball. 

They pulled up in a free parking space, and the factory ahead of them looked derelict. No other cars were there. No sign of any other life. The car hummed underneath them. He looked at IL_Duce again and then exited the car. Polished himself off and made his way towards the entrance of the factory. 

IL_Duce smirked lightly at being asked if he were carrying something, you see he didn't wear this god awful floor length trench coat for no reason, along with his normal shoulder holstered 1911 he had begun dragging around a Whinchester model 1897 long ago, he always justified this to himself with the old adage "I'd rather have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it". The things he had seen only rivaled by those that he had done. At first he had thought this was some lackadaisical busy work as he had been at the club all night hassling the boys and making trouble for the lovely bar maid, but this didn't feel right and it became clear upon reading the note, he knew well the ghosts of a mans past could haunt him as he had come home from Europe with several of his own, he wasn't letting Rooer go at this alone and he'd be damned if he just sat in the car he hadn't left a man behind ever before and he wasn't likely to start tonight with something so shady going down involving some one he had come to care for but he understood the importance of Roo going in alone at first so as to keep the premice he was alone and so he waited just as he was told but he could feel it in his bones something wasn't right and it was a matter of time before he would need to start blasting and so he left the car running but stepped out the side and checked his weapons as he crept to an opening in which he could keep and eye in things from the shadows until the time inevitably came 

Rooer strolled into what he deemed the factory floor. He could just about make out crates, hulks of disused machinery and other debris in the dark. He continued to stroll forward, his 1911 clenched in his hand. He could hear rats scurrying around and maybe the sound of whispers. He wasn't sure if they were real or his mind playing tricks on him.

"Hello?" Rooer called out into the dark "Anyone home?" Rooer could hear himself in the echo. Then he heard again, the soft murmur of a whisper. He didn't like this

"If there is anyone currently in here, Could we skip the part where we play in dark and get the part with what the fuck you want with me?" Rooer spoke into the darkness.

There was a long pause before something spoke back to Rooer. 

"You were always the impatient one, Jacob"

Two floodlights flicked on in front of him. The light blinded Rooer and he lifted his hand so he could see the figure in the offending light ahead of him. More floodlights started to flick on around him. Illuminating the factory, rats scurrying at the light. Rooer realised that it wasn't just him and the other figure in the room but there were many more figures now. 

It was then that he could get a good glance at the figure ahead of him. Rooer had to double-take, he couldn't believe his eyes. It couldn't be. "No" Was all Rooer could offer at the figure "No, I thought you were." The figure cut him off "Thought I was dead? I can see why you might think that. Considering you left me for dead" The figure grinned "What's wrong Jacob? Are you having trouble recognising your own flesh and blood? Your dear older Brother? They used to call us Jacob & John. The brothers in Crime" he laughed. Mocking him.

Rooer shook his head in disbelief, flashbacks of the past now started to engulf him. He remembered the flashes of the sirens. The smell of blood, the shouts. The bullet enters his brother, his brother going still.

"You died, I saw you go down" Rooer choked "We were set up. They knew they were coming. I barely made it out of there with my life."

"Convinent for you" John replied, the humour in his voice had been replaced with something more of malice. Hate even. "You were the only who did along with 15 million in cash."

"What the fuck are you on about John? I said I barely made it out alive! You think I set you up?" The shock in his voice had been replaced now with indignation "Who the fuck else took it then Jacob?! Everyone else fucking died. Sonny, Alfred, Beca, Tommy. 15 million. Our crews entire work" Rage now licked at Rooer's brother's voice "Fucking why Jacob? Why did you sell us out Jacob? Did you know that I spent 25 years in the clink Jacob. Twenty-Five YEARS"

There was a pause between the two men. Rooer noticed that John had bought more help and they were fanning out around him. He didn't like his odds. 

"And who Do i find is still alive? Hanging out with some other fucking crew but my own little brother. My Jacob, Not only thriving but what was it" John held up his hand and air quoted "Head of security?" John laughed "Did you run out of money Jacob?, How long till you bury them too?"

"For the last fucking time Johnny, I didn't take the fucking money. I didn't even know you were fucking alive till now. It was a set up, Someone else took the money. They're playing us" Rooer half-reasoned, half pleaded "Everybody else is dead Jacob. Just me and you. Just tell me brother. Where. Is. My. Fucking. Money." John was now aiming his own 1911 at Rooer, Rooer aimed his back in kind.

Rooer realised he wasn't going to get out of this without a fight. He was surrounded, outnumbered, outgunned. almost out of ideas. He scanned the room, In Hopes of anything to even the odds. That's when he noticed it. Some of the crates were locked up on a crane over them. The rope holding them up looked loose. 

Rooer looked one last time at his brother, He had noticed his hair had grown long, age had worn at his features and deep-set in dark brown eyes was a look of pure, unadulterated hate. Rooer was never going to convince him "I'm sorry brother, I don't have the money". Rooer took his moment and shot the rope holding the crates up. They crashed down to the ground crushing some of John's men underneath them.

In the resulting chaos, Rooer dived for the nearest piece of cover. 
 

IL_Duce stands in the void hearing Rooers voice echo through seemingly nothing for a moment, He didn't like it, his gut was turning like rock tumbler from the quarry in the old days on the legit job before all this and just as it builds to the worst the darkness is disrupted in a loud click

"I knew it, I fucking knew it, these rat bastards wont take us down no sir" he said under his breath while positioning his sling and cycling his trusty shotgun "I knew I'd need you too love" 

He made his way inside listening to the dialogue between the left hand and the mystery man when just then he froze behind a stack of crates "His brother....Jesus fucking christ... what are we getting into" he thinks to himself as he attempts a position of concealment and shoulders his trench gun among the raising weapons in the room when all of a sudden Rooer jerks his arm up and fires at the strap of a crane placed over head, a large bundle of crates crashes to the ground in a thunderous manner as he sees Rooer roll behind the crate across a narrow opening between them sure that he is okay

IL_Duce shouts "YOU MOTHERFUCKERS" as he begins firing striking several men in each burst until after the fifth shot when he knew well it would be empty it dropped to the ground as he turned his shoulder into the crates and produced his Colt from beneath his coat cocking the hammer in a smooth motion he begins to speak in a quick hushed tone his family prayer with the sign of the cross

"And shepherds we shall be, For Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee. And teeming with souls shall it ever be.  In Nomine Patris, et Fili, et Spiritus Cancti."

Prepared to die IL_Duce steps forward to take aim for any who have yet to die or runaway in the midst of the unraveling of their so called ambush  

Rooer had just about managed to roll behind a crate before he started to hear gunfire, bullets narrowly whizzing by him. A few embedding into the wall and a few in the crate. Rooer was appreciating the fact crates were made of stronger stuff when he heard distinct shotgun shots.

Rooer peaked his head over the crate, both hands on his 1911. That's when he had noticed IL_Duce had decided to follow him and make a dramatic entrance at that, Rooer cursed to himself for getting another club member involved but frankly was relieved he wasn't completely alone.

He couldn't see his brother, IL_Duce appearance had caused some disorder in his brother's gang's ranks. He took that moment to clip a few goons before being treated with several shots in return, only for Duce to start firing with his colt. A varying swell of shouts, curses and holy mary.

Rooer knew, however, that He only bought a couple of clips and by the sounds of it. IL_Duce had exhausted his shotgun, Rooer ejected his spent magazine and inserted another. He waited for Duce to fire another volley and he skittered between the crates and broken machinery, now and then taking his shots until he made his way to his companion.

“You're both an idiot and a Saviour IL_Duce for following me in here, I'm on my last magazine though, I can't imagine you've got many quicker loaders left. There are way too many here, they'll swamp us eventually” Rooer told IL_Duce

Rooer then heard his brother among the crowd. “Burn them out, We've got them pinned in. I need to check on other business” then several Molotov were tossed into the factory floor. Flames sweeping towards them, Rooer & IL_Duce were gradually pushed back up against the wall, the gunfire had slowed, It seemed that his assailants had left to let them burn.

The smoke was thick, Rooer started to cough. His eyes started to sting. He looked around for a possible exit, A broken window about 7ft above them. Rooer poked IL_Duce in the back and pointed to the window above him, IL_Duce looked up, understood without saying a word. “I think there is a fire escape platform out there, Just below the window. I'll boost you up, Then you pull me up.”

“And if there isn't?” IL_Duce replied. “Well Duce, It was nice knowing you, give me a nice burial” Rooer half-laughed, half-choked from the smoke” Rooer slid his gun into his belt and kneeled to boost Duce up. It didn't take long for Duce to scramble up the wall. There was a moment of silence. Rooer checking hadn't fallen out the other side of the window.

After a few long moments, Rooer noticed Duce leaning down with his hand to pull him up. Rooer took a moment to do a running jump up at the wall and grabbed Duce's hand. Who with a handful of expletives, religious epithets and other colourful words. Pulled him up.

It was then Rooer noticed his brother across the flames, Staring at him. The flames almost made him like an otherworldly demon. There was a brief crack of gunfire and Rooer felt a searing rod of pain in his leg. Then Duce pulled him through the window.

They both laid there on the fire platform. “My fucking leg, The shit shot me!” Rooer exclaimed.
A few more shots whizzed through the window.