"Feel free to slam the shit out of him," Reverb smiled, glancing at Benny to get the mobster's clearly wide-eyed reaction.

Carter thought on this for a moment. He knew very little about this man, Benny the Knife, and even less about his new companion, Reverb. Even further, he had no desire to carry out an interrogation in the middle of an alley, in the rain, no less.

He glanced about the alley, and saw that there was only one door, with the words "Plugged-Up Plumbing" displayed prominantly on the faded white paint.

[i]As good a place as any.[/i]

Carter stepped forward, gripping Benny's collar with his right hand, before shoving him into the wall near the door.

"A move or a sound," stated Carter coolly. "And you'll go back to your boys without teeth."

Benny was a surpringly talented quick-learner at the quiet game.

Carter reached into one of his drop pouches, and produced a small lockpick and a tension wrench. He glanced at the lock, jimmied the wrench into place for a quick test before inserting the pick. A six quick clicks later, and the the deadbolt spun open with a satisfying 'thunk.'

He pulled open the door, and shoved Benny inside, retrieving his shield on the way.

[i]44.6 seconds. I'm losing my touch.[/i]

The plumbing shop had a remarkably well-organized back room, especially for a place so filled with varieties of items. Pipes and fittings of every size, shape, and material filled shelves to the ceiling. A workbench area in the center of the room had little but a small table and two chairs.

The table soon found itself on the other side of the room. Instead, a cuffed Benny Tramunte sat silently in its place.

Carter stood across from the man, leaning against one of the shelves, his helmet still not betraying his piercing glare. He studied the man for a moment, noticing the rain dripping down his face, but the clear sense of panic as he glanced from Riot to Reverb, then back to Riot again.

[i]Benny, you've found yourself between a rock and a hard place tonight, and I'm truly not sure which is which.[/i]

"Mr. Tramunte," said Carter finally. "You may have put together that I'm looking to get a couple questions answered. How this proceeds is entirely up to you."

Carter stood up straight, and began pacing, slowly.

"You answer my questions correctly, and I'll leave you to the capable hands of my associate, here. You don't..."

Carter pulled a length of lead pipe from one of the racks.

"And you may not walk out of here at all."

"As much as he deserves death I need him alive to get paid," reminded Reverb. Riot turned and looked at him, the mask hiding his features, but the silence clearly portraying surprise at his being interrupted.

"But," continued the man, "A few broken bones won't hurt him."

Benny was clearly not comforted.

"What the fuck do you want!?"

Carter reached into his other drop pouch, and unfolded four photos, each of a different victim. Each had had their throat slit, and lay unmoving in a pool of their own blood.

They had been slit and left to bleed out. Gruesome, but effective.

Riot showed these photos to Benny.

"Four deaths, initially unrelated, but you and I know the truth." Carter showed the first photo. "Anthony Bonanno." The next. "Anthony Tuzzo. Pasquale Solano. Joseph Orena. Notice a pattern?"

"Hey, there's a lot of Italians in this neighba-hood."

"But each of these were prominant risers in the West End families. Each of these men were in the same position as you, Benny, and that's got me curious."

"You can't prove nothing, Riot," said Benny, suddenly a little smug. "You ain't no cop."

"You're right," agreed Riot. He tapped the pipe in hand. "The police of this city are just another arm of the Castelvatrano Empire. The Family's got them in their back pockets. But me..."

Carter, now directly behind Benny, laid the pipe on the man's shoulder.

"I'm not bound by those rules."

He leaned forward.

"Tell me about the hits, Benny. Who put them out?"

"Fuck you! You kill me, you get nothin!"

"Maybe the satisfaction of cleaning you off the street. Like crushing a bug underneath my boot."

"Those hits weren't even in my neighborhood! I own up past 32nd. Anything south of that is Gambetti's turf!"

[i]Gambetti. Anthony Gambetti. Minor Don in the Castelvatrano Family, but easily one of the most ruthless. Though operates on the upper west, his muscle has been pressing south. He fits. Damn it.[/i]

But then there was another question that came to mind. If Benny didn't commit those hits, then that would mean that someone else was cleaning house. But there had been no eyewitnesses of mob hitmen in the area.

It wasn't until Carter noticed the red and black out of the corner of his eye that his internal alarm started to sound.

Could it be that Reverb was operating on Gambetti's behalf? On behalf of the Family?

[i]There's certainly one way to try and find out.[/i]

"Benny, what's your family like?"