Vitorre sat up in bed, his head aching. The woman lying under the blankets next to him had traveled with him from New York, they were both naked. He rose, finding his robe. The sun was about to rise and the only light in his hotel room was dim morning twilight flooding in through the blinds on the windows. He washed his face in the bathroom sink before getting dressed quietly, to let his travel companion sleep. He placed a few thousand dollars on the nightstand and kissed her forehead gently before he walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

In the hotel office he gave instructions to leave his companion to sleep as late as she wanted, and settled the bill, then called for a cab. He went to the Los Angeles Zoo in Griffin Park as per the instructions of his old boss. He pulled a photograph from the left pocket inside the chest of his four-piece suit and memorized it again. He replaced the picture as the taxi abruptly stopped. He got out and paid the cabby.

Inside the Zoo he headed for the lion exhibit. He couldn't have missed Judge_Holden if he wanted to. He was the only man he'd ever met without eyebrows. As Vitorre approached he couldn't believe how the man towered over him. Being 6'3" made him taller than almost everyone he met. The Judge was taller by nearly a full foot, and apparently recognized him as well.

"Vitorre, I take it?" he asked as Vittore got nearer to him.

"Si" he reached out his right hand to shake.

"Premier said you served his family well." the Judge returned Vitorre's firm handshake.

"I do what I'm told, signore. I was a soldato in the old country." His thick Italian accent proved that he had indeed lived and was probably born in the old country. He held the Judge's eyes as he looked him over.

"Alright. Here he comes now, a bit early, but that's fine." the Judge said as he looked over Vitorre. Without a word, Vitorre turned and saw someone who he had to guess was also in the life, and looked as though he liked to show it off. The bulge that was a pistol in his jacket was needless, and for looks. Apparently he thinks himself too dashing to care about attracting the wrong kind of attention thought Vitorre. Before the man came into earshot he heard the Judge whisper, "Before we leave, he's going to feet these cats."

Knowing instantly what he meant, Vitorre nodded without taking his eyes off the man as he approached. "Judge, whats with the goon? I didn't think you'd need bodyguards." he said, looking with disdain at Vitorre.

"He's a made-man, Antonello. And you need to keep your tongue, or someone might get upset." the Judge replied as Vitorre moved slowly until his position was directly off the mans right side, he only nodded when Antonello looked at him. "Someone like Premier," the Judge added.

"What are you talking about boss?" Antonello asked, shifting his stance nervously. "I would never-" He was cut off as the Judge landed a hard blow to his throat. He gasped for air and leaned forward clutching the Judge's jacket. The only thing that kept him from falling down was Vitorre's hand clutching his right arm just under his shoulder and holding him up, without looking at the Judge Vitorre kicked Antonello's right leg to the side and in one quick stomp snapped it at the knee. The crunch was confirmed by a loud, painful gasp by the now injured man.

After retrieving the pistol from inside Antonello's jacket, Vitorre broke the mans left leg and together the two taller men hoisted him over the railing into the lion enclosure. Vitorre pointed the mans own pistol at him and blew a hole in his stomach. When the Judge looked at him angrily he responded with a shrug of the shoulders and "He won't bleed to death before the lions have a meal." Apparently appeased at the answer, the Judge began walking away, beckoning him to follow.

"I've already set up an apartment for you, Vito. Do you care if its Vito or Vitorre?"

"I do not care either way, signore." Vitorre paused and looked back as the man they had sentenced to death screamed, apparently the lions were already hungry. He continued "Not that I really care, but what did he do?"

The Judge just smiled until they sat in his car. "He made an inappropriate comment about RedHood. It got back to Premier, and he asked me to take care of the problem." Vitorre just nodded as the drove off.

He loved these early morning hours, sun coming up, cool breeze blowing in from the Santa Ana's. He was a little early but that was his nature. Prepare for all contingencies. The key had shown up on his desk along with a simple hand written note, quickly read and then just as quickly burned. He drug a thumbnail over the head of a match and that was that. The smoke curled in dark tendrils wafting upward and he held the burning slip of paper as long as he could before finally tossing it into the sink and washing the remaining ash down the drain.

He whistled a bit of the Grail leitmotif from Wagner's Parsifal as he fitted key to lock and casually strolled through the entry gate. The infamous fire here at Griffith Park just two years prior had been devastating but the zoo today showed little evidence. It had been scrubbed and cleaned and worked over 'til it looked new again. Diurnal denizens lifted sleepy heads and stared at him as he passed their cages. He barely gave them a glance as he made his way to the big cats. He was alone for most of ten minutes before Moretti showed up. Well recommended, and apparently a mover and shaker coming on strong. He shrugged to himself. The man had been sent and the word came on down from the top, not his usual working conditions but that's the way it goes sometimes. Besides, a little help now and again can be a blessing. The job itself was a piece of cake. One of the local boys had gotten himself upside down to a shark under the employ of Godfather Premier. Actually had the chutzpah to bet on Detroit against the Gas House Gang. He had dug a hole for himself and perpetually came up short on cash and long on excuses. Everyone knows that if word gets around you're stacking up bodies then the bookmakers ain't making bank and kicking up and everything goes to shit. A cover story would be disseminated about improper remarks and business would continue as usual.

Moretti was right on time, polite but reserved. A bit of an enigma. His thick accent as he introduced himself was a little hard to understand for the man from Texas and truth be told he had wished that they would converse in Moretti's mother tongue, as he spoke several languages including Italian fluently. All the same though, there wasn't much talking to get around. His partner was stoic and quiet as a statue for the most part. His eyes belied a crafty intelligence however and he knew that Godfather had sent the right man for the job. They didn't have to wait long for the mark to show. Antonello was a small timer still trying to put on airs. Owe a man a hundred large and still trying to dress like he was the belle of the ball. Dipshit. He raised the stetson off of his head and ran a hand over his smooth head, winking at Moretti as he did so, and waved poor broke assed Antonello over. Shit eating grin plastered on his face and holding out what looked to be five hundred dollars in twenties, he thought he was coming over to cover the vig and trot his happy ass off to breakfast. The Judge smiled a humourless grin as he pocketed the proffered roll and more or less announced a change in plans with a quick ridge hand strike to Antonello's larynx. He let his partner work the poor bastard over a bit before they lifted him up off of his feet and up over the railing, dangling him by his feet upside down over the pissed off and hungry looking overgrown kitties below.

"I'd tell ya I was going to miss seeing you around but I'd be lion...."

They let themselves out the same way they came in. If the morning shift coming in to clean cages and sweep the lanes were at all curious they didn't show it. Once in his car he thumbed through the roll of twenties and gave half over to his silent partner. Moretti showed no emotion as he cleaned his hands with a handkerchief monogrammed with his initials and avoided looking at the money until he was satisfied no trace of cordite or blood could be found. His share disappeared into a pocket once finished and he turned to the Judge and nodded a tacit thank you. The big engine purred as they drove out of the lot and headed down Crystal Springs Drive.

"You got some new digs, by the way. I'll drop you off."