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The man pretended to read the newspaper as he kept a close eye on his victim. It was a skill he practiced on random people in coffee shops from time to time. Observe in patience, seem involved in a newspaper article or create small talk with the middle-aged single mom who lost her husband to random street violence. Veteran move, he thought to himself. Practicing on fake targets was risk free.

This would be his first victim and he wanted to make sure everything went down without a hitch. Besides, he had a new boss to impress. He reached into his tattered leather jacket and pulled out a mirror to check his looks. Jet black hair slicked straight back, he was the stereotypical guido. There were many establishments in this city that looked down on his kind. Not because he was an aspiring criminal, but because he was an Italian American. This was no such place though; this particular coffee shop was owned by a Capo of a NY crime family. Observing his clean shaven face, he smiled as he imagined himself as a big-time mobster with a mugshot in the paper.  Shame in just a few moments a stocking to cover his face would ruin his perfect hair day. A necessity though, he thought to himself.

He struggled to fight the knot in his stomach as he anticipated the deed. What a rush! He licked his lips repeatedly as his hands began to tremble. Remembering what his mentor told him, he took a deep breath and wiped his sweaty palms on his worn and dirty jeans. The crusty jeans were a harsh reminder of what he wanted to get away from. He wanted everything that came with being a high ranking mobster – the glitz, the glam. Money to buy anything he wanted, and the power to take whatever the money couldn’t buy. All in due time though, he reassured himself.

His victim was slow. Later in life, the victim seemed to take their time in every move. The man had followed the victim into this coffee shop from a distance, but had to maintain an extraordinary distance due to how slow the victim was walking. He continuously reminded himself the payoff would be worth it.

The victim stood up and started heading towards the door. The man didn’t bother to pay for his coffee, the shop owner knew his word was good – he’d pay him when he had the money. That was one of the perks of being involved with the wrong crowd…or right crowd, depending on which side you were on.

Once out in the street, the man allowed the victim to get a considerable distance ahead of him. After all, he knew their route – the man had put much effort into studying the tendencies of his prey. Such precision was necessary when it came to doing something like this, he thought to himself. First the victim would stop and pick up some bread, take Jackson Blvd down to 5^th St, and take the alley as a shortcut over to Maple Grove. The alley was where it would all happen, and both of their lives would change forever.

As he walked behind the victim, the man remembered reading some of his father’s journal entries. Once considered a powerful and well-connected mobster, he was gunned down in his prime during what was later referred to by some as the Siege of NY. Funny how things worked out, the man thought to himself…working for the very city that sent his father to the grave. It was all business though, and the people in power have changed since then. Right on Jackson Blvd.

Many of his father’s friends and associates were killed before the man was old enough to embark on his own journey – to make his own mark. Still, others came out of the woodwork and made contact with the man. They offered the man training, a place to call home, and….protection… Left on 5^th Street.

Protection…the thought lingered in his head. Where was the protection when his father died? Maybe all of his Bodyguards were paid off by the opposition. Maybe his father was never meant to walk away alive from that war. All the man knew though was that what was done was done. There were no personal grudges being held by him. He declined offers and opportunities placed before him. The man wanted to forge his own destiny, create his own allies and alliances – without the help of his father’s name.  Right into the alley.

All of his careful planning was about to be put to the test. This was the moment he was waiting for. This was the moment where his Crew Leader would find out what he was made of. The man knew once he did this, there was no going back. His heart raced. His palms became damp with sweat. Suddenly his leather jacket felt like it was squeezing the air from his lungs – the nervous excitement was almost too much to bear.  He pulled out the stocking he had stuffed in his jacket and slipped it over his head.

The man took three deep breaths as he ensured the alley was clear – he wanted to leave no witnesses. Finally, he sped up his walking to catch the slow victim. The victim had no idea what was about to happen. That was the best part. Now running full speed, the man was fully committed to taking care of what had to be taken care of. As the victim turned, it was already too late…the old lady carrying a purse shrieked in terror, and then:

Success! you grabbed yourself $79

After sending up $18 in tribute, doogle knew his Crew Leader would be pleased. He was well on his way. 

WhereAmI approaches doogle fresh after committing his crime,

Well done doogle, your preparations and amazing talents clearly succeeded, who wouldn't be proud?

(OOC: very well written with a funny witty ending, lol)

Stashes the cash and dumps the purse just as WhereAmI shows up.

Thank you, I can't wait until I mastermind another crime. Perhaps one day with much practice, and a little bit of luck, I can be on your level. =] 

If you're anything like your ancestor you will be in no time.

doogle puts his arm around WhereAmI and smiles

Thanks for the kind words friendo! He speaks as he looks at the new Made Man ring on his finger.. One day, if I should find myself in Detroit, you and I will have to put our heads together and make some money, don't you think?  I don't believe I've visited the city in awhile... his voice trails off as he looks towards the sky.

...Anyways, next time you make a run to New York, we'll have to catch a Yankees game. One of the players is...a friend of mine...doogle smiles at WhereAmI as he nods, showing his understanding.  Seats right behind home plate. No lady friend escorts this time either!

Furby sat observing the scruffy Mafioso out of the corner of his eye, reclining back in his chair and smirking to himself. It doesn't take much to pick out a Mafioso and it takes much less to spot one who has found their mark for the next crime they plan on committing. Credit to the young lad, he was playing it straight and even brought a newspaper along to hold up the image. Sighing, Furby glances at the mark that had been selected for this crime. Greying hair, no awareness of their surroundings and the reaction speed of a wall. Not just any old wall, a water damaged wall. Easy pickings.

Gripped by nostalgia, Furby stares off out the window and thinks back to when he used to knock around with the other thugs when he was just an associate. Robbing old ladies and occasionally trading 5 units or so of marijuana, those were the days. Things were simpler then. You just did the crimes, made your tribute and hoped you'd get noticed by the Boss in a good light for your efforts. Snapping back to the present, the furry crewleader notices that the mark is making her way to the door and the young Mafioso standing up to follow her, wiping his hands on his jeans. Poor guy must be a little bit nervous if his hands are clammy. Perhaps it's one of his first times, or he's one of he people who never quite get into the habit of doing crime mindlessly. Either way, good luck to him. Furby sips his coffee and goes back to observing the other clientele idly.

Axe was in that cafe stalking doogle's every move while secretly hating Stallion for putting him up to this low task. Why would Axe care about the lineage about anybody? Everybody gets noticed if they are worth anything anyway, regardless of genetic predisposition to greatness. But Stallion had heard great things of doogle's ancestors and wanted to know right away if he was a chip off the old block.

On a bad day, Axe is always cranky, so he really wasn't enjoying this task and was finding fault with doogle's every move. Why would he take out a mirror right now? Is he used to being in the prison so long he needs a mirror to look at his sides, like when behind bars? Can't he see that the newspaper is upside down? Why does he keep checking out the ass of the waitress? Granted, it's a sweet piece of fine ass, but still...

The time comes and they head down to the alley. Axe can see how nervous the kid was. Fortunately, the target was so oblivious she didn't turn her head once, so doogle would be fine after all. After the purse was snatched, Axe goes to the closest pay phone. When Stallion picks up, Axe says:

The diaper was successfully changed. Next time you need a baby sitter, grab the fucking yellow pages.

Axe hung up almost breaking the phone. He couldn't help but walk off with half a smile, though. It had been a slick job after all. For how nervous the kid was, he surely was efficient in that purse tug. Axe knew the crew would be able to count on doogle for great things in no time...