"Bishop"... It was a quick and easy name to use; no ties to home, to anything. "Last name," a voice called to the man as he seemed to wander off in his thoughts. It had been genius! So simple... Bishop. "Sir, last name?" The voice was a bit more agitated this time. "Hmm? Las' name?" Bishop blinked, palms sweating a bit. How could he have forgotten the last name in his ruse? "Bloody stupid ya dolt," Bishop berated himself in his head. "McGough," he spat out quickly. The officer looked him over, an eyebrow quirked high. After a few looks over the manifest, he nodded and handed Mr. McGough his credentials. With a begrudged smile and a huff, the immigration officer muttered, "Welcome to America." Bishop nodded and headed off to see this land away from home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn't take long before the shine of the U.S.A. wore off for Bishop. Factory lines, construction, railroads, none of it paid well for an Irish man. Work on the railways took him out to Las Vegas where he stayed. Now with the crime families out there, work was in abundance for the right-minded person. Bishop stepped foot into one of the local dives known for it's show girls and took a seat at an open table. He dressed moderately like the working class; suspenders with tan slacks, a plaid, long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled to three-quarter lengths, a pair of brown loafers, and a brown leather driver's hat set atop his head. "What'll it be, sugar?" called out a raspy, feminine voice. Without turning, Bishop held his right hand out and held up two fingers, "Scotch, two rocks. T'anks lass." He returned his gaze to the stage where a voluptuous woman and her band struck up the next tune...

"Rocks?"

A gruff voice comes across clear and bold from another table. An older gent raises his glass and agitated the brown liquid inside. 

"Irish Single malt, imported from London. They don't serve it here, but I hold stock in LA."

Gato leant over the back of his chair, the cabaret continuing over his shoulder. 

"I'm surprised a fresh face like yours has travelled this far across the country after the journey you've had. What business do you intend to find in Vegas?"

Raoh was at his regular spot when he noticed the new face confirming his drink order to the lady stood before him. New faces came around often but their business in this world was what intrigued him. Some were closed off and wanted to go about their day settling for the normal lines of work, those which would see them make a comfortable living, enough to put food on their plates and a roof over their head. It was the person inside which always peaked Raoh's interest though.

As he watched the movements and awareness of this gentlemen, he knew that there was something hidden there, something which only a keen eye would notice.

The great Don ChristianGato was also in attendance tonight so for the moment, he sat still and tipped his hat to Christian as the Don spoke with the new face.

Ordering another whiskey for himself, he continued to enjoy the ambience and mood of his favourite venue.

Bishop turned his head, facing the man addressing him. His eyes laid quickly on the drink, wetting his lips as the stranger addressed him. "Single malt, ya got good taste."  He smiled before continuing, "Tha boom of tha railways brought me out here. T'anks ta tha' I been workin' my arse off. Thinkin' it's time ta find somthin' a wee bit more substantial, if ya know wha' I mean? There's lo's a work ta be found if ya know where ta look."

The waitress returned, setting the scotch in front of Bishop. He quickly dug in his pocket and offered the lady a few folded bills, "T'anks again lass."  He simply nodded to her as she took the money before lifting the glass to his mouth. After a sip of the drink and an audible sigh of relief from it's burn, he looked back to the stranger. "Sorry for tha interruption. An' where be me manners? Name's Bishop, Bishop McGough." He offered his hand out to the gentleman.

Sweating profusely a medium built man in an all black  three piece suit enters the building. In the midst of all the noise and the music he quietly shuffles to a seat at an open table. He sits down and starts wiping off the sweat with his handkerchief. 

"Dang i! The heat's just bloody unbearable sometimes" He thinks to himself.

"One Cutty sark with water on the side please." He orders to the waitress nearby him.

He stretches his legs and relaxes. He was happy to take some time off for himself. Life was harsh in the cities.And even harsher for guys like him.

Never  in his dreams would he have thought that he would be in this line of work when stepped fresh off the boat 2 days ago. He was all about "earning an honest means to life" then. He remembers about it and chuckles. Needs make people desperate and desperate people like him tend to fall into the less glorious avenues of earning pennies. Running drugs,rorobbing post offices, extortion, cracking safes....... "Heh!"(he chuckles). Hid father would be very disappointed in him right now.

But the past was all but gone. Right now he had to accept the reality he was living in. He was lucky that he was taken in by a crew in Philadelphia. He owed them everything. There's always the news of other poor less fortunate blokes getting capped all the time. Right now he was under the protection of that crew and that put his mind at a little ease. Although it didn't mean that he was  safe , atleast he would now have a small fighting chance.

The waitress comes over with his drink. He thanks her and gladly accepts it. He wipes his forehead one more time before proceeding to put the glass to his lips.

As the coarse drink feels its way through his throat he notices a familiar figure sitting in the background. Was his eyes deceiving him? Why would he be at Vegas right now? Surely it wasn't a lookalike was it?

After staring at the man for some time he finally releases his breath. It was indeed Raoh his sponsor and the boss of the crew Century's End sitting across the room from his table. He raises his glass to Raoh.

"Signore McGough, it's a pleasure. My name is Christian Gato, I work out of Detroit, though have business on the west coast. I say business, that was in LA, I come here for the show girls"

A small smile curls across his lips and he raises his glass towards the ongoing performance behind him.

"That's what I like about you mick's, you're down to earth and not afraid to put some work in."

Gato lights a smoke and pushes his back into his chair. The smoke caught the liquor at the back of his throat as he inhaled, it was one of the few things Christian could still enjoy in this life.

"I'm looking for people. If you're interested. West Montcalm Street in Detroit, find yourself over there and no doubt one of my associates will find you. From there we will see if a relationship develops."

Christian smiles warmly once more and nods his head, just as a waiter delivers a bottle of the single malt Irish whiskey the Gatos were famous for to Bishops table.

"Salut, paisano."

"Gato... The Christian Gato?" he chuckled shaking his head. "Ne'er thought I'd be here drinkin' wit' tha one an' only. Tha pleasure be mine, good sir." He leaned back into his chair, as Mr. Gato did the same. Following suit, he pulled a pack of smokes out himself and lit one. Listening to Mr. Gato speak, he drew on his cigarette and inhaled; blowing a stream of smoke out and up into the air. The bottle slid onto the table as Gato finished. There was a napkin with something written or drawn on it underneath the glass the waiter set with the bottle, and Bishop just stared at the bottle before looking back.

"Ya may have just convinced me ta have me arse on tha nex' plane ta Detroit, Mr. Gato." He tipped his hat to the man and popped the bottle open, pouring a glass and offering to top off the Don's.

"Of course, Mr. Gato. Slán." He lifted his glass and nodded to the man heading out. Afterwards, he studied the napkin and stuffed it into his pocket. Tomorrow would be a long day. Seemed a flight was in order.

Whilst the great Don Gato continued to converse with Bishop, Raoh enjoyed a wonderful drink with his newest recriuit, Kalhan.

"Well, its good to see you here, how about we enjoy a few more beverages and the fine view we have? Its good to get out from the busy HQ and just enjoy the variety life has to offer sometimes"

Calling over the waiting staff, Raoh relayed his drink order before relaxing back into the comfy seat, pulling out a smoke and lighting it with his zippo, taking a deep drag and blowing the thick grey plume towards the ceiling.

"I will take a whiskey on the rocks please, Kalhan what would you like? Consider it my treat for all your hard work so far friend"