William slowly makes his way through the streets of Queens. His threadbare coat was once warm enough to keep out the chill. It was once a nice gray color too. They say time heals, but in Will's estimation, it only took.

He took a breath, and felt the cold ice in the air invade his lungs in ways he hadn't expected or invited it to. New York was a bitch, and he needed to make some money or he'd die here. Thankfully he'd managed to get the name of a woman who was supposed to be willing to help people like him out.

"@Amira?" He asked cautiously as he approached the woman. She certainly matched the description he was given. "Are you Amira? A friend of mine said you might be willing to help me find some work in the city."

At this point in her life, it was rare that Amira heard her name from an unfamiliar voice without knowing it was coming; so this occurrence intrigued her. She turned from the door of her car that she was about to enter, as did three fit looking bodyguards. Her eyes were sharp like an eagle as she found the face that matched the voice. By the way he was dressed, the man reminded her of herself only a handful of years before. The memory of her own torn dress and scraped skin put a somber smile on her face, but she nodded. Her voice was smooth, with a distinct Middle-Eastern accent, but perfectly crisp English.

"Yes, I am Amira. And, yes, I can help you find work...depending on what it is you're interested in doing."

She waved off the bodyguards, who all stepped toward the back of the vehicle. Just by the lines of his clothes being barely held together, she could tell he wasn't carrying anything, so she motioned for him to join her.

"Come and have a seat with me, out of the wind."

Willy nodded and got into the car where he was directed, thankful for the escape for the moment. He wasn't about to tell her that though, not with those three goons standing nearby. Clearly she was someone you only spoke to when needed, and only about what she needed to know. Pleasantries and nicities were a luxury not afforded to this woman.

He nodded as she got into the car, and although he might have read the situation, Willy wasn't the best with social cues, so of course he took it upon himself to speak first. A wiser man would have waited.

"Don't care what the job is as long as it pays enough to pay my rent and buy some food." He gestured to his own clothing, keenly aware of the holes that were threatening to appear in the soles of his shoes at any moment.

"As you can tell, anything beyond that hasn't been in the cards, so I've gotte used to scraping by."

With a simple nod of acceptance to his answer, Amira settled back into the soft leather seat. Her expression eased a bit. She had done this many times before. Recruiting was part of the job. You don't want to come off as too cold all the time, though you're always watching until you are sure their intentions are honest.

This fellow, however, somehow to Amira didn't seem like the sort to go to the trouble of lying. She recognized something in his eyes; something beyond the worn clothing and the pale European skin. It wax the look of one who had seen more than should have been packed into the few years lived. It was a look Amira had worn often, and more often lately in her private moments since moving to New York. From that recognition, perhaps, there sprang a bit of empathy.

"Alright, then let's begin with your name. You know mine, but I do not know yours."

She quickly glanced at her watch, then before he could answer, she rapped her knuckles on the window and gave one of the men a signal. That one nodded and got into the driver's seat while the other two walked to another car behind.

"I have not eaten yet today. If you don't mind, we can continue this over a meal, then I will bring you back to wherever you wish."

Willy nodded to the woman. "You're the boss, we can do whatever you want."

He stretched his had across what seemed like a vastness of luxury. The leather of the seats, the car itself, the fact that this woman commanded these men as if they were not just employees, but dogs. All of it screamed something to Willy that he'd not heard before in his lifetime. It screamed an amount of importance, and the money that went along with it, that he'd never even dreamt of.

"William Butcher." He said while holding his hand out to shake. "Most folks call me Willy, but a few of my friends stick to Bill. Only the guys I grew up with though, at least the ones that are left." He let that somber air take hold for a moment, remembering the guys who had died to disease or starvation. It was one thing that the papers were always up in arms over the breadlines being too long, or there not being enough work. But they never finished the story. They never told you what happened to the people that were out of work, and at the end of the line for days on end.

It was never a good ending.

His stomach growled to emphasize where he had been the last few days himself.

"So, you mentioned food? Mind if I bum a scrap or two from your plate?" A year ago, he would have never asked that question. When you found yourself on hard times though, social acceptance mattered little and less. "And if you can really do a job, I'll take it, don't care what it is. I used to be a bus driver, but then the layoffs and the city just didn't have the money to keep everyone on staff."

In another situation, Amira might have felt her heart break for the man sitting beside her. She'd seen hundreds upon hundreds just like him since moving to New York. It wasn't the same as LA- where the vast numbers of impoverished people were at least a community that worked together. The city of New York was a colder place, where it seemed "every man for himself" was the way of things. This man, however, had made a bold move to change his future, and because of that, she didn't need to feel any pity or heartbreak. For a moment, she thought of Viridia, and how quickly the young woman had found her stride in this world- going from a scrappy young college girl with some plants to a veritable powerhouse of her own in the L.A. organized crime scene. That brought a warmer smile to Amira's face, and she shook her head.

"No scraps. Those days are done for you now. You're going to be working with me until you have your feet under you; and no one in my employ or my supervision goes without."

She decided it best not to throw too much at him at once, so she simply gave him a reassuring wink as the car stopped in front of what seemed to be a very typical New York 24-hour diner. Amira's door opened, and she stepped out. As William followed, she spoke to her driver.

"This is Mr. Butcher, he will be my new associate for a while. Though, I believe he will not need my shepherding too long."

"Yes ma'am. A pleasure to meet you, sir. My name is Wendell, Ms. Dayan's driver and lead day security."

The two men from the car behind appeared and walked directly into the diner. Seemingly as soon as they'd gone in, they were back out and gave the driver a nod. Amira took it all in without missing a beat, and started for the door, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

A few minutes later, the two were seated at a booth in the back of the dining room. Fresh coffee was poured and plastic covered menus were laid on the table. Amira picked up her cup and took a drink, not bothering to add anything to the steamy, bitter coffee.

"Pick whatever you like. Now, let's talk about work. There are quite a number of things you could potentially do for my employer. I will tell you more about him in a more private situation- for now, though, tell me more about your skills; your talents. I know that you can drive a bus, so that's a start."

William took no more than 30 seconds to look over the menu. He had been a fan of an open-faced steak sandwich his entire life, and while it was not something he could afford often, he wasn't about to turn one down.

"I confess," he began cautiously as he placed the menu on the table, "I don't know that I have a great many skills. Like I said, I can drive a bus, which means I can do some basic mechanics, I know my ways around the city like the back of my hand though if that helps. I've seen every street here, and watched them as they change day-in and day-out for a decade before I got laid off."

He looked toward the window almost reminiscent of a better time.

"I'm not above working my ass off though. I can fill pot holes, dig trenches, carry boxes, move furniture. I'll be a handyman, fixing lights or plumbing if I gotta. Whatever you need, I'm just grateful for the chance Miss Dayan." Now that he knew her proper name, he'd make sure to use it.

"Can't say I'd be a very good babysitter though if you've got kids." He glanced down at her hand to check for a ring. "Never had any of my own, so I don't know the first thing about em other than they need to be fed."

She couldn't help but chuckle a bit at his estimation of the care of children. For just a fraction of a second, her mind wandered to Spencer- how close they came to making a go at life together; and maybe having children one day. But, in this life? No, it would have been no better than her own upbringing, if not worse. Perhaps it was better this way. But that thought stung too.

"No, no children, that won't be asked of you. But, neither will filling pot-holes or moving furniture."

The waitress returned and the two made their orders. Amira ordered a Mediterranean omelet and toast. She remained quiet until the waitress was well out of earshot.

"Our business is profit, Mr. Butcher. We make it through several different channels. My employer owns quite a few businesses through which he makes money. There are opportunities there, but not manual labor. You can learn the ropes of management. As for myself, I am in the process of establishing the East coast division of my private securities firm, Azra Securities. We provide security detail for high-end clients; men like the ones you see with me today. However, we also employ, train, and deploy a much larger force that is used to protect much larger...assets."

There would be more explaining to do there, if he was interested.

"But, with your knowledge of the city's layout, that is quite useful. And you drive..."

She put down her cup and raised an eyebrow.

"How fast can you drive?"

Willy smirked at the question. "The answer to that generally depends on how many coppers are on the route I'm taking. I've had to make up time on a schedule once or twice, and busses? They don't pulled over often."

He took a sip of coffee and let it sit on his tongue for a moment. When you didn't have any for a week, that first bitter rush was always nice.

"Cars though? That's a different story. Government didn't skrimp on buying the good engines for theirs, so you gotta have a good one if you're going to really do anything with it. That said, most of the police are still footties, and they won't bother you unless you stop. If you decide not to, just keep yourself off of broadway, 5th, and 7th. Those are the big three that they like to patrol."

He realized he had started off on a tangent and stopped himself by taking another pull from the coffee mug in front of him.

"The answer to your questions shouldn't be how fast I can drive, it should be how fast can I get where I'm going. Drive as fast as you want, but if you get stuck, or don't know another way to get out of traffic and you're just as slow as everyone around you."

He nodded then and gestured out to the car they came in.

"I don't want to take someone else's job though. Wendell shouldn't be out of work just because I need some. Much as I need food in my belly, so does he."

"Ha, Wendell would shake your hand and name his firstborn after you if you took the driving job away from him. He was meant to be security only, but i've not been very lucky keeping drivers since moving from Los Angeles. I don't really know why."

That wasn't exactly true. Amira had a strong feeling she knew why. Hiring for Azra brought good men from all over the US; but hiring a driver tended to just bring applicants from around the City, and those applicants were mostly all the same. Big men with tiny dicks that just couldn't handle having a woman for a boss. Even worse, having a foreign woman for a boss. Amira had been in the US for nine years now, and was even a naturalized citizen; but she had that look, and she still had a discernable accent. And, whether she liked to admit it or not, she was intimidating at times. This made a combination that sent most weaker-willed men hitting the pavement of their own accord fairly regularly.

"Well, anyway, Wendell is a good employee for Azra that does what is needed. And that's what I look for, which you have clearly stated you can handle. So I have no doubt we can find something that fits your skill set- and perhaps might help you find a few more you didn't know you had." 

The food arrived, and was sat down in front of them with various condiments and whatnot. Amira placed the paper napkin over her lap, and reached for the salt shaker. The meal was the time to drop business and learn more about the man. It was akin to a hidden interview process, really. Amira's job, besides bringing new talent into the crew, was to make sure the new talent wasn't going to pose any kind of threat to the family- physical or otherwise. Amira had a well-known way of learning a lot about people simply by striking up friendly conversation. Garrett said it was because of her charisma or something. Spencer used to say it was her eyes.

"Are you originally from New York?"

Willie waited patiently. His stomach told him to eat right away. His upbringing told him to wail till the lady started. It was a war he was determined to win so he could make the right impression.

"Born and raised." He said as ne nodded. "Bay Ridge, small part of Brooklyn, not overly far from Queens if you take the right routes. Not that I'd suggest heading that way if you can help it. Not friendly to people they don't know out that way."

He watched as she began to eat and he dug in to his own. Making sure to chew, and swallow in a reasonable amount of time before he continued.

"Not to pry, but you don't sound like you're from 'round here. Care to share, or is that a private, "Never ask a lady" type of question?"

"Not unless you ask my age."

Amira smirked a bit and took another bite, then shook her head.

"I don't mind sharing. I was born in my father's homeland of Turkey; in the country's capital, Ankara. My mother was from Egypt. We mostly lived between Turkey and Greece until 1948, when my parents moved us to Israel. They worked for a man named Isser Harel, who was part of a group that worked secret jobs for David Ben-Gurion. They were spooks, as you call them here. Much like your CIA. Created around the same time, actually."

She spoke much more easily and casually about her family than she used to, and she didn't really realize it. All the loss and the tragedy had just become so commonplace- now it was just like telling any other story from the daily news.

"They were killed in Operation Mural, working to evacuate Jews from Morocco. That left my brother Yael and I on our own. We came to America hoping to find our way. We were in New York for a short time, actually- in the Bronx- but not very long before my idiot brother got himself into debt and we fled to Las Vegas."

"Reel it in, Amira." She chided herself. The man didn't need to hear her entire life story. She took a drink of her coffee to break the flow of the story.

"So, that's how I got to the states. Since then, well, it's been quite a ride."

She began to spread jam on her toast.

"Do you have family here?"

It was a blunt question- one that she knew might be too blunt for some; but it was important. A man with too many attachments might have problems with loyalty or being asked to do some less-than-moral tasks.

Willie listened intently, nodding as Amira went on, but he made sure to eat first and foremost. When she took a drink he made sure to stop. She was clearly ending up her story of her and her brother's plight. He nodded to her.

"I do, I've got a sister out in Chicago somewhere, but I don't walk with her much. She's a schoolteacher, and her husband works in finance. They've got two kids. Picture perfect family. Suburbs, picket fence, the whole nine yards." He shrugged. "Hard to get out to see them much though when you don't have two pennies to rub together for bus fare."

He smiled at the irony of having driven oine for so long, and not being able to now.

"Anyway, mom passed a few years back, and if I had a father, I never knew him. So, yeah. Just me out here now." He shook his head. "I guess the boy siblings have the hard luck huh? Between your brother and me? Seems like you girls got it all figured out."

He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed before he continued.

"Thank you for this by the way." He raised the remainder to his mouth and popped it in.

A sardonic chuckle huffed from over Amira's coffee cup.

"Yael created his own hard luck. Gambled himself into his own grave at the ripe old age of 27. Me? I just happened to stumble into the right black sedan at the right time."

She was happy to see him eating the meal so eagerly. Pride could get in the way of men far too often. 

"And no thanks necessary for the meal. One thing that this life has in common with my old one is that we like to conduct business while breaking bread. Spencer says that-"

she paused a half second, realizing her slip, and corrected herself

"-said that it was because Italians just liked to eat. But that didn't really work for the Los Angeles crew. I don't think a single one of them were actually Italian."

Her smile and gaze seemed a thousand miles away until the waitress came by and dropped the check on the table. Amira finished that last of her toast and omelet, then cleared her throat.

"We start tomorrow, then. You have some people to meet, some things to sign, and then perhaps we can look at some hardware."

She didn't look at the bill on the edge of the table, she just took a few large bills from her handbag and plunked it down as she stood. The three guards seemed to materialize out of nowhere, and the group exited. 

Back in Amira's car, she reached into a briefcase on the floorboard and pulled out a thick envelope with a rubber band around it. She knew she was going to have to word this very carefully.

"I pay in advance for your first week of training. You'll need a suit for tomorrow- I would recommend you see Mike at Deleno's over on 27th. He's quick and excellent at his work."

The envelope contained $20,000.00 and a business card with Amira's name and a telephone number.

"If you need anything, or find yourself in a spot, you call this number. They will know your name. Now, where shall we drop you off?"

Willie was stunned to silence. First by the large bills on the diner table, then as if that was just a jab, the envelope Amira handed to him as if it was nothing. He felt his head spin. He wouldn't have ever seen this kind of money till he was good and retired in his old job.

"Stumbled into the right sedan indeed." He half-muttered to himself before looking up.

"If this Tailor, Mike, is areound, might as well drop me off there. I'll take care of my business with him and make sure to get home in time for a good night's sleep. If it's not our of your way of course."

He looked to the driver, then to Amira. "If it's going to be a bother though, let me out here and I'll make my way in that direction. Something else you might like to know about me, I'm task oriented. I was give a guy to see, so that's what I'm doing now. Simple as that."

"Not at all. My errands today take me all over the city- it's practically on my way."

She sat back in the seat as Wendell pulled away from the curb. Uncle Joe would like this one, she thought to herself. His simple "no beating around the bush" attitude was something that her new boss would likely find appealing. It would be interesting to see how his personality changed- or maybe evolved- once he found his footing and became used to the life. The action. The money. Everyone changed somehow. Maybe not to the extreme she had; and she hoped to goodness that he wouldn't come anywhere near that. 

As the rounded a corner to pull onto the next street, something else struck her. From whom did he get the recommendation? That would be an interesting topic for another time. 

As the car pulled up, Willie nodded and stuffed the envelope he had into his waistband. It wasn't about to fit in any of his pockets, and that was the next safest place for it. He turned and nodded both to Wendell and to Amira before speaking.

"Thanks for the lift, and of course for the job. I'll see you first thing in the morning."

With that he stepped out to find himself back in the chill of the New York Air. Some things changed, the city never cared though, it was always ready to kick you back down so it could tower over you.