Last night was the start of something new and he didn't know if he was ready. Just before midnight had struck, the phone rang and life spiraled out of whack. 

"You'll get the package tomorrow, be there by noon."

Cohen can remember it vividly. All he could do was answer with a yes. At the end of the sentence the phone line was dead and Cohen's head was spinning. 

The next morning began with a knock at the door. Cohen got of bed still in yesterday's clothes and answered the door. Opening the door revealed no one outside. Looking down he saw a box taped shut on the front step. Cohen looked around to see if there was anyone around. Without a soul in sight, he picked up the box and took it inside. Kicking shut the door, he sat down on the couch and placed the box before his feet. Putting his face into his hands, all he could do was prepare. 

Taking the small switchblade from his boot, he cut the tape that held the top of the box closed. Opened it up and took out a piece of paper that laid on top. 

'Dear Cohen, you have been chosen by a friend of ours to lead in his footsteps. This was not an easy task but needed to be done. Our business does not stop and we need another tough individual to fill the spot. We have kept a close eye on you, we know that you would do good in our business. May I just say though that the person you are filling in for was someone we rather liked. I hope that I can like you too as well. This business isn't for the faint of heart...'

Throwing the letter back into the box, Cohen leaned back into the couch. Sinking into the softness of the cushions, he only could let out a sigh and close his eyes. 

"Fuck."

Rubbing his face, he pulled himself straight and shook his head. He had to continue looking through the box in order to start on his journey. He puled out a pile of papers with names and numbers on them. Some had different markings beside their names, but he knew that they only meant one thing. At the bottom of the box was a pistol and a wad of cash with an address written on the paper holding it together. Ripping off the address, he put all the contents of the box back neatly and closed it. Leaning back into the couch, Cohen stuffed the address into the front pocket of his leather coat. 

Sitting for a couple minutes in his own silence, he jumped up and picked up the box and stormed outside