"Three more hours, can't believe this shit, you?" Lawrence exclaims towards Scratchy as he winds the window down, taking a deep sigh,

"Things have gotten more busy now, t-the whole mafioso is all over the place, g-gotta expect traffic to be t-this shit," Scratchy exclaims with his hands on the wheel, casually pressing on the breaks as traffic seemed to be heavy. On a half country side, paved road - driving towards Philly, already ready to shoot themselves four times over as the road vibrated with each mile. With the drive continuing, a makeshift sign approaches them as they go at a steady speed as it says; 'Motel & Gas'.

Knowing that their fuel and motivation has diminished, Lawrence and Scratchy take it to themselves to take the next right - knowing that it's getting dark, it wasn't a bad idea to stop and take it easy especially from the long arduous drive they've already taken. In the middle of Ohio, the green coating most of it's ground and forest coating most of the surrounding area - Scratchy takes a couple of turns as he follows the sign, not too far away from the main road but still quite deep in.

Looking closer, they see a large facility with modernised patio and a greenery which the owners must use for their customers. Both in jumpsuits - coated in oil and dirt, Scratchy and Lawrence seemed to embrace the vibe of the nature yet the sound of vehicles vibrate in the background from one to another. Seeing the red sky lighten up as the sun sets - they park their truck on the dirt patch, seeing a noticeable amount of cars already parked.

Getting out of the truck, Scratchy takes the keys throwing them towards Lawrence; "Get it filled up, i'll get us rooms - hopefully they got some whiskey," Scratchy purposed as Lawrence gives a slight chuckle. In the reception, it's clean yet still not fully furnished, with part of the wall covered up and some areas not painted or fitted in properly, the owners stand behind the reception desk solemnly, with two keys in their hand already - they point them both towards the bar, with a confused smile and a two hundred dollars in hand - Scratchy nods slightly and slides it along.

After a few hours of drinking whiskey with Lawrence, KL and MrGanja are noticed opposite side of the room, they seem to be huddled close, talking about something important - looking at a man who's playing pool. Scratchy, with a cigar in his mouth and four drinks in, Lawrence is already faced down on the bar, Scratchy approaches the two, knowing their works and history - getting caught up with them seemed like a good idea at the time;

"H-hey-" Scratchy burps as smoke flies out of his mouth as KL and MrGanja don't look so impressed - hiding under their hat as the person they were stalking walks by, KL grabs Scratchy by the scuff and throws him onto the seat next to him.

As me and Ganja are sitting at the table huddled up talking about an important business matter a man who seemed intoxicated wanders over to us, smoke flies out of his mouth as he burps. With a slight speech impediment he introduces himself, feeling a little on edge I grab the man who introduced himself as Scratchy and slam him down in the seat next to me. After a few seconds of awkward silence I look at Ganja "he must be one of them!." Ganja looks at me in agreement as Scratchy looks confused.

Ganja who keeps his gun hidden in his coat presses it to Scratchy's back as we very calmly get up and walk outside to my car. As we get in my car I take off, Scratchy is in the passenger seat while Ganja sits diagonal from him in the back seat with his gun still on him.

"So your with the Irish huh?, we had an agreement!, this is why I came out here to Ohio with my friend here."

Before continuing Scratchy informs me that he is not blackmailing me, I could tell he was a nervous person so it either meant he was lying or scared for his life. I stop at a nearby gas station to grab some smokes.

"Ganja ill be out in a minute, see if you can get to know our friend here a bit more, and keep a lookout for those pricks."

While walking into the gas station I realized that the name Scratchy sounded very familiar. I was hoping Ganja could get some useful info out of him.

Holding his entire self together, in some pain as his body was numb from the drinking - he's memory comes back to him as the last hit strikes him; "H-hold on, hold on!" Scratchy, puts his hands up, trying to scurry into the corner, with a faint Italian/Chicago accent rising up with it, "I'm with the Unione Siciliana, t-the underboss of Senza - I'm only here doing arms trips I swear guys, I-I swear - I don't have an inch of Irish in me," As he is still drunk, he laughs at the last sum of words he through out before holding his chest in pain from the last set of injuries, "If you drive back to t-the motel, m-my associate La-Lawrence is with the t-truck with o-over thirty eight thousand worth of guns and ex-explosives."

With a couple of minutes of silence, Scratchy finally settles down as the two faces of KL and MrGanja turn into relaxed confusion, Scratchy opens up and says, "I'll take that s-smoke now, fucking Christ."

Taking my hand off the wheel, I lean back and look at Scratchy.

"The speech problem says your hiding something, however your name sounds familiar and I can't seem to figure out why. Ganja lighten up on him, maybe when the boos wares off a little he will remember more."

Ganja leans back but is still cautious.

"So... Scratchy here's the deal, I got 4 Irishmen trying to blackmail me about a crime I supposedly committed, they say they have proof".

I light up a cigarette, take a puff and continue.

"Guys name is Pete O'Reilly, also has a brother John. Back in Philly in the neighborhood I run my Hotel in these guys are trying to set up shop. There small time but this so called evidence they have is giving them some leverage. Its also the reason me and my friend Ganja is here in Ohio... they know the cops in Philly won't be of use to them so apparently they have a few friends in the Ohio PD. So I'm thinking we take a negative situation and turn it into a positive one!, you help me and my friend here deal with these assholes, in return we help you out... you must be out here for some reason, you sure as fuck don't sound like your a local here."

Before Scratchy answers I ask Ganja if he has anything to add.

Listening to KL's tale, Scratchy knew the familiar face yet wanted to get out of the situation he was in - knowing that agreeing with the guy's who can put you out of a job in a minute Scratchy gives a firm nod, opening his slurred mouth open as an amount of time passes with his last drink settling in;

"I'sh, I'sh sw-wears it my man, I'sh jush want to live s'the american d-dreamsh l-like everyone elsh does," as he takes the 'special' cigarette from MrGanja, holding his chest - he takes a regular puff as his visions starts to cloud and things start to sound far away, "If'sh you wantsh a war, be my guesht, Chicago hash 'no missingsh pershon' allowed so don't be a mook an-" Scratchy pauses as he looks in confusion, the 'cigarette' kicks in as he begins to go silent and stare at the ceiling.

Being taken out of the car - the world he was seeing was more colourful, seeing that the lights within the diner were brighter - the now sober on one substance, and intoxicated on the other - Scratchy gets seated down, playing with the paper napkins as his face and chest seem not to be a problem anymore. Seeing that the two are looking behind them constantly, Scratchy started to look their ways too - before he could turn MrGanja who's sitting next to him grabs Scratchy's neck and turns his head side to side - releasing his grip - Scratchy slumps down onto his chair.

After five minutes pass, the orders start to come out - a large cup of coffee is placed in-front of him; "Be careful hun, it's ho-" Before the waitress could finish her sentence, the smell of coffee somehow reacts with his gag reflex - Scratchy now under the table starts throwing up. with this, the one of the two Irish seem to get out from their seats and approaches the bathroom. KL and MrGanja seem to figit in their own skin - seeing the events unfold, they excuse themselves as the waitress looks at the two with confusion as they walk by, with a definite eye of frustration as she walks back to the counter to grab some more wipes.