Going after that last pickpocket had been a mistake, Hawke realized too late as he limped into a back alley within the safety of his own territory. Of course this would be the one time he didn't have Honey with him; usually he took her almost everywhere, as the locals knew her and he needed her for protection, but he figured this one time couldn't be too bad.

Naturally, he was wrong, and now he was hurt, badly.

Blood flowed freely from a knife would on his side, and he pressed his hands against it, hard. Normally, Hawke would go to a doctor if he got roughed up a bit, but this was different. A wound of this nature would require a larger examination, and that wasn't something he was going to allow. He couldn't let anyone outside of family know about the secret he kept, so he'd have to deal with this on his own, somehow.

That was a lot easier said then done, though. He didn't have anything to make a tourniquet with; removing his shirt would be too risky, and he didn't have the strength or tools to tear off a part of his pants, as his knife had been grabbed in the assault and his gun would be no good. Now feeling dizzy, he leaned against a side wall, slumping to the ground in defeat and exhaustion.

Dope was walking up the street whistling as he went like he normally did, today was a fine day. He had just got back from a wild birthday party at the local bar. Instead of riding back in the limo with Chong and getting extremely stoned, decided to walk. Now Dope was buzzing pretty good, stumbling a few times here and there. In the distance he could make out the familiar shape of a police car, now being drunk in public was a crime and Dope would spend a long day in Hell before he went back to jail. Quickly and quietly, he slipped into a dark alley and watched from afar as the cruiser rolled by. Out of nowhere a noise was made in the dark alley, sounded like a cat in the trashcan maybe. Dope turned back towards the street before he heard the noise again. This time it was a dragging noise, as if something or someone was trying to get away deeper into the alley. Dope grabbed his gun from his waist and walked deeper into the alley to investigate, it was then that he noticed blood stains on the ground. He was hoping he hadn't run into a body of a recent murder, the gangsters were notorious for dropping bodies to rot in the alleys these days. He continued further until he located a man leaning on the brick wall, he was breathing heavily and bleeding even heavier. Dope slowly approached him gun drawn, it was then he noticed it was his friend Hawke. Dope put his gun back in his belt on his waist and began to get closer. There was a nasty knife wound on Hawkes side, he figured that's where the blood was pouring from. Dope took off his own shirt and wrapped it around Hawke, he then released his belt and buckled it around Hawke to hold the shirt. This would at least stop the bleeding for a little while till Dope could carry him to the HQ. 

"Don't worry buddy, I'll get you outta here, just hang on and stay with me".

At first, Hawke tensed upon seeing a second person come into the alley, his hand that wasn't pressed to his side reaching instinctively for the gun in the front of his shirt. Even though he was badly injured, he still wasn't going to go down without a fight...that was, until he realized that the person who'd entered the alley was a friend, and he relaxed. If there was a God, then He was looking out for him right now. Hawke managed to give a painful smile as Dope came over, and fixed the problem of a tourniquet.

"Thanks, man. I--owe you one," he said between breaths. His vision blurred yet again, and it didn't take long for the shirt tied around his waist to get soaked with blood. At least this would keep less of it from escaping from his body. It was better than the alternative. Still, a pang of fear raced through Hawke's body as Dope's hands got dangerously close to his chest. Even though they were friends, he didn't know about Hawke's birth sex, and no matter what happened, he wanted it to stay that way.

Watching a cruiser roll by the front of the alley, Hawke realized why he'd ducked into the alley in the first place. Once it was gone, he tried to struggle to his feet, but ended up slumping to the ground again, breathing heavily. "We gotta get--home. Lira--" Right now, the only protection his daughter had was Honey, and although she was a good cat, there was no guarantee that she'd stay behind to guard Lira rather than save his own tail, should an enemy mobster decide to stop by his house.

The blood was seeping out of the wound heavily, Dope could tell Hawke wasn't gonna make it to HQ. He had Hawkes right arm over his shoulder and his left arm under Hawkes arms lifting him up. They slowly walked out of the alley to the street, leaving a red trail behind them. Dope wondered what had happened, was this an attempt to wack that had failed?  He was drinking a lot before but under these new circumstances, he had lost all of his buzz. Cars rolled by staring but did nothing, they saw the fine suits and knew it was a mafia thing. Nobody wanted to help or get involved with them, they were probably scared of what their life might become or what would happen to their families. The government had already fed them so much bullshit, profiling the mob  that they didn't take the time to realize that Dope and Hawke were real people too. Up ahead Dope could make out some kids running his way, he seized the opportunity he was given and pulled our a crisp 10 dollar bill from his pocket. He didn't have it in his wallet because he was using this money to tip the strippers at the bar. Dope yelled to one of the boys, asking them to come over. 

"Listen up kid, You wanna make 10 dollars"?  Said Dope while still holding up his leaking friend.

"Yes sir, what do we gotta do"?

"I need you to run up the street and call Anton_Giovanni. If he comes, I will give you another 10 dollars".

Dope hands over the money to the kids, he had only hoped to pay one, but they stuck together like a family. It reminded him of his childhood, all the friends he used to play with, how they were inseparable. They would probably take the money after this and go buy some smokes, well he didn't quite know what they would do. We're kids as mischievous now as they were back then when he was younger? Who knows, all Dope knew was that his good friend Anton_Giovanni could help with this. Dope hoped he would get here sooner then later as Hawke was getting weaker every minute that passed by. He would start drooling and seem to wanna pass out, but Dope kept smacking his face trying to keep him awake. So there they sat, on the streets edge, Sun shining down, waiting for a miracle.

All Hawke could think about as they limped along was his daughter, and at least it kept him alive. She was, in all honesty, the only thing he had left to live for. He couldn't imagine life without her, and he was sure that she couldn't imagine life without him. He wasn't about to leave her so soon; she was only four years old after all. There was no guarantee that any of his surviving family would want to care for her, since she was born out of wedlock, and he didn't know if his own Mafia family would raise her. He hoped not. He wanted to keep Lira as far away from this dirty business as he possibly could.

Although his vision was blurring, when he saw the two boys, he was quickly reminded of his daughter. His body felt so heavy. Hawke leaned more and more on Dope as they waited, watching as the shapes of the boys got smaller and smaller in his vision. He started to wonder who this Anton person was, but the thought slipped from his mind like butter on a hot car. He was finding it hard to hold on to anything, really, including his friend; luckily for him, Dope's grip on him was tight enough so that he wouldn't slip down to the pavement.

Everything started to feel slow after a few minutes. His eyelids yearned to close, but they were kept open half by Dope's occasional smack in the face and what remained of Hawke's own free will. He couldn't allow himself to rest; if he did, there was a possibility that he'd die, and he refused to go down like this. Not now, after he'd come so far and struggled. Not now.

Scratchy - now alone with only his type writer and fifty other pages of paper work to deal with, grabs a smoke from his breast pocket and reaches for his match box as he walks out of an office block, to the double doors into the outside - before lighting, a kid bumps into Scratchy and starts to run into Anton's building, with a loyal face - he see's the kid running left where Anton's office would be. With a confused face and no bother to stop the kid, he begins to light. After a few inhales - he see's the kid confused coming out again;

"Wheyeyey' boy, what you d-doing, get outta' here, t-this isn't your type of p-place," Scratchy exclaims, trying to get the kids attention,

"I was asked to get anton -- a guy looks pretty messed up, just down the street," The boy replies in short of breath, in shock - Scratchy throws down his cigarette - shouts for his two body guards that were in place for his own safety after an estranged incident with a fellow employee, 

"Show me w-where kid," Scratchy replies - following the kid down the rough pathways, with his bodyguards meeting with the two, looking blood, he approaches carefully - beginning his approach with a subtle; "It's okay, I work with Anton-"