Babs had stayed silent until that moment, leaning back in the corner, arms crossed, cigarette hanging from his lips. The smoke curled lazily upward, dissolving into the weak light of the single bulb overhead. He didn’t need to interrupt while Big Moe spoke — when a man like Moe talked, everyone listened. But when Tony dropped his gaze, searching for mercy, Babs flicked his cigarette to the floor and stepped forward.

His footsteps echoed softly. He stopped just in front of Tony, eyes locking on him — the kind of stare that doesn’t ask for answers, only the truth.

“You know what your problem is, Tony?” His voice was calm, low, but every word cut through the air like a razor. “You forgot where you are. You forgot who you’re dealing with. You thought nice shoes and silk ties would buy you respect from people who wash blood off their hands with whiskey.”

He leaned down slightly, just enough to meet Tony’s eyes head-on.
“I’ve seen men smarter than you think they can cheat the system. But no one cheats in this game. You only buy time before your name comes up.”

Tony started to speak, but Babs raised a hand to silence him.
“No. You had your chance to talk when you were running your mouth about the people who fed you. Now you just listen.”

Babs straightened up, glanced toward Rain and Big Moe, then back to Tony.
“Moe says you walk tonight — and I respect that. But remember this: once a man loses trust in this world, it’s like someone cut his tendon. You can still stand, but you’ll never run again.”

He paused, voice dropping lower, colder.
“The debt stays, Tony. The only thing that changes is the price. And the next time you see the three of us together… don’t expect conversation. Expect the end.”

Then he turned toward Rain, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You know, Rain… you went easy on him tonight. Next time, don’t. Let him feel what it costs when someone plays with our time.”

Babs shoved his hands into his coat pockets, started walking toward the door, never looking back.
“Come on, Tony,” he said over his shoulder, voice like gravel. “Learn to keep your mouth shut while you still have someone to talk to.”

Gunnz heard everything from the shadows and decided to speak his 2 cents

hmm, interesting.

Gunnz then walks off back into the shadows

From the shadows near the doorway, Valestri had been watching — silent, patient, taking in every word like it was gospel. When Babs moved past him toward the exit, the faint scrape of his coat brushed against Valestri’s arm.

He didn’t flinch. Just took a slow breath, eyes shifting from Tony — pale and broken — to Big Moe, then Rain.

“Guess the message got across,” Valestri said quietly, voice smooth but edged. “Man forgets who keeps the roof over his head, sometimes it takes a little… reminder.”

He stepped forward, flicking a bit of ash from his cuff. “If you ever need someone to make sure lessons like this stick, you know where to find me. I don’t talk loud — I just finish what’s started.”

Then he gave a respectful nod toward Moe and Rain, the kind that said he knew his place — but wasn’t afraid to earn more.

“Until next time.”

I wasn’t going to second guess myself. If @TonyTheTaylor  had been working both sides, Big Moe’s  whole operation would’ve been compromised before anyone saw it coming. I couldn’t play with maybes, I dealt in certainties. And Tony’s carelessness had just proved how easily even the powerful could paint a target on their own back.

My thoughts were broken when a man stepped out of the shadows.
Tall. Lean. Dressed in a charcoal suit that didn’t come from anywhere local. Clean shoes. Clean hands. Eyes that took in everything without moving.

My hand drifted toward the gun at my side, subtle and slow. I motioned TheDude and SilentAssassin  to hostler their weapons, Stefan_Babic stepped closer to BigMoe pistol already out at his side.  I thought to myself this shit can’t get any worse.

 Who in the fuck is this guy and how the fuck does he know so much. 

Babs was already at the doorway, cigarette smoke curling through the cold air of the hallway. He’d meant to leave, to let the room cool off after the chaos — but the words that drifted from the shadows hit him like a gunshot.

“...you know where to find me. I don’t talk loud.... I just finish what’s started.”

He froze. The cigarette burned down between his fingers as a thin line of ash fell to the floor. Then, slowly, he turned. His eyes had gone glassy and still, the kind of quiet that came right before the storm.

Each step echoed heavy against the concrete. When he reached Valestri, there was no warning — just a fist clutching his lapel and slamming him back against the wall. The plaster shuddered, dust rising like smoke from an old wound.

“You… what are you, huh?” Babs said, low, his voice rough but razor-sharp. “Who sent you? Who the hell are you working for? You think you just walk in here, drop a few clever lines, and walk out clean?”

Valestri didn’t flinch. There was the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth — or maybe it was defiance. His eyes stayed locked on Babs, calculating, weighing each move, each breath.

Babs leaned in closer, their foreheads almost touching. “This ain’t your ground, friend,” he muttered. “You wanna earn your place here — you tell me exactly what it is you’re after.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them — thick, heavy, dangerous. Then, without letting go, Babs’ eyes flicked past Valestri’s shoulder, over to MsRain

The tension in the basement lightened, and everyone was back to breathing normally.  TonyTheTailor and BigMoe, both powerful men in their own right, had a mutual respect.  They both understood the means you use to protect what you’ve built.

We were in the midst of ending a long night; people had dropped their guard, and in walks this guy Valestri.

First thing that came to my head was, does this motherfucker know he just walked in on the kidnapping and interrogation of the Godfather of Southside, Philly?

When Stefan_Babic looked at me, I told him, Get rid of him.  Stefan and SilentAssassin grabbed Valestri up from the chair. I waved them to stop and sit him back down. I was just wrong about TonyTheTailor’s intentions. I didn’t want to be wrong about this guy.

I walked over to Valestri, placed my foot between his legs, pressing on his privates just hard enough to make him squirm back.

You’re trespassing. State your business before I decide you don’t have any.

I removed my foot, stepped back, and looked him dead in his eyes.  

My fingers hooked the inside of my jacket. Not drawing yet, just reminding him I could.

What the fuck are you doing here?