[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/eSvDDJn.png[/img] [b][u]Location:[/u][/b] [i]Downtown Trenton, New Jersey[/i] [b][u]Time:[/u][/b] [i]Early Evening[/i] [hr] [/center] [color=ED145B][b]"Thanks."[/b][/color] The rustling of a paper bag. The unmistakable sound of a cash register opening to deposit coinage inside. Kseniya gave a small, polite smile to the teen behind the counter of the donut shop as she walked out, her ill-gotten gains in her hand. It was one of many vices for her, sugary food, though it was perhaps the oldest. She found a bench nearby and sat down on it, taking out a donut and biting into it, the sweet, sickly taste of the sugared icing melting on her tongue, the sweetness of the dough almost dripping from her mouth. God, she enjoyed it. It was the first thing she'd had to eat all day. She didn't [i]need[/i] to eat, per se, but it was always nice to indulge in life's simple pleasures. The sun was setting in the skies over Trenton, New Jersey, and what cloud cover there was, was lit in magnificent arrays of vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows, as though the sky itself were afire. She smiled and leaned back on the bench - a cool breeze blew through her long, blonde hair as she took another bite of the donut. Inside her jacket, her PPK rested easily inside its hard leather chest holster, for easy access. She wasn't allowed to carry it, of course, but the less the cops on the street knew, the better. Their concern was petty crime and the odd murder and robbery, not dealing with the likes of her. She reckoned even if she was found to be carrying a gun, most of the local cops on the beat would simply turn a blind eye to it under a bit of pressure. Pressure was the best dissuasion technique... Her phone buzzed and vibrated in its pocket. Frowning, Rubis took it out, and clicked the home button to check what was going on. A new text, from an unknown number. Instinctively, Rubis' eyes darted about, wondering whether she was being tailed by someone, or something - nothing immediately suspicious stuck out in her mind, so she opened the text. [i][color=ED145B][b]Call this number at the payphone.[/b][/color][/i] She looked down the street, at what she assumed was the payphone in question. She raised an eyebrow, and finished her donut before putting her phone back inside her jacket and walking down towards the payphone, still alerted and on the lookout for anything suspicious. Perhaps she was being followed... but by someone who didn't want to harm her, at least not immediately. Perhaps it was a job offer, though usually those were through other channels, often by crooked employees of federal agencies, or by those in her network - it was seldom that she was contacted via a fucking [i]payphone[/i] of all things. What was this, the 1990s? The fucking mafia or something? She walked over and put in a couple quarters, enough for a call for a few minutes. She hesitated before taking out her phone, but eventually, she did so, and punched in the number... the ring tone was agonisingly long. Finally, just as she was about to give up, the call was answered. [b]"What d'ya hear, what d'ya say... You got the text, I see. Was concerned about getting the wrong number, y'know, girl. Gotta say, business ain't what it used t'be round here. Gone quiet."[/b] She knew the voice instantly and smirked, shaking her head in disbelief. She had been joking earlier, but no shit, it was for real, it was the fucking Nostra. Johnny Tisarelli. [color=ED145B][b]"This had better be good, Tiss. You remember what happened last time you and I had a chat. You coming out from that little cave you and yours hid in?"[/b][/color] [b]"Hehe... tha's the Roob I know. 'Ey, the feds might think they've got the upper hand around here, but man, they don't know the half of it, specially now that the Hounds and all that shit are around. They've been great in gettin' the feds' attention away from us. Now listen, I've been gettin' t'gether the old boys and reformin' the crews, and I need your help. Some slimy cocksuckers took over Corazzo Engineering whilst I was hidin', y'know the one, the big buildin' firm out by the riverside, yeah?"[/b] [color=ED145B][b]"Let me guess, you want those... ahem, [i]slimy cocksuckers[/i] dealt with, mhm? It'll cost you, Tiss."[/b][/color] [b]"Momma always said nothin' in life was ever free. I gotcha on that score."[/b] [color=ED145B][b]"Anything else, Tiss?"[/b][/color] [b]"Y'know, if ever ya wanted a place to stay-"[/b] [color=ED145B][b]"Not. Happening."[/b][/color] There was a laugh from the other end of the phone line. [b]"Worth a shot. Call me when you get that done. I'll introduce ya to the new boys, alright?"[/b] The phone hung up, and Rubis slotted the receiver back into its holder. Jesus Christ, what was she [i]thinking[/i]? Tisarelli had never done all that much good by her, but still, she couldn't exactly turn him down - fuck knows what he'd tell the feds about her more... illicit activities in exchange for some sweet, sweet cash. Money greased more palms than anything else, especially in this business - without money, you were useless; with it, you could do whatever you wanted - for a price, of course. Rubis took another bite of her donut as she walked down the street back to the bench, flipping through her phone for any information on Corazzo Engineering, the old construction firm Tisarelli and his lackey de Bono - or as Kseniya used to say, Boner - ran back in the late 90s and early Noughties. She was in luck. Sitting back down, she read through a news article that dated back to 2013, where it stated that Corazzo Engineering had been taken over by Liam and Padraig O'Shaughnessy. It was intriguing to say the least - de Bono's death in 2013 had opened a can of worms regarding Corazzo's future, especially with regards to some debts that the company had run up with a local materials firm that the Shaughnessy brothers had connections with - had Liam and Padraig agreed to buy the company to excuse the debts? And why hadn't Tisarelli stopped this? Did he even know Boner had been running a sinking ship? Rubis took another bite of her donut, and looked up at the sky... and its hues of red. [color=ED145B][b]"[i]Czerwony, jak krew.[/i]"[/b][/color] [hr] [b][u]Location:[/u][/b] [i]Corazzo Engineering construction site, Duck Island, Trenton, NJ[/i] [b][u]Time:[/u][/b] [i]Mid-Evening, approximately 21:30[/i] [color=ED145B][b]"Stop here. Keep the change."[/b][/color] Rubis handed the taxi driver a ten dollar note, and got out of the car. A red Citroen... couldn't even get decent cars these days for a night of bloody business like this. She lit a cigarette and looked over at the steel shell that marked Corazzo's newest project - a high-rise on the outskirts of Duck Island, next to the riverside... A call from Tisarelli had confirmed that the marks were there to check up on the work... and to check up on some faulty accounting. The local foreman, a guy named Worthington, was on call, waiting for the brothers to arrive... Rubis didn't envy him one bit. When it came to roughing folks up, the Irish were worse than the Nostra, that was for damned sure. She walked over to the side of the road, and watched the site carefully from underneath a wide-brimmed hat - all that could be seen of her face was the low orange glow of a lit cigarette, and the clouds of smoke. For all the guys on the site knew, she was just a local hooker, with her blonde hair and her cheap tobacco, and her heels. It wasn't flattering, that's for sure, but her long overcoat was the perfect cover for her pistol... tonight, Irishmen would die, and the Nostra would reclaim that which was theirs by right and blood ties. Boner had run a sinking ship, but the Irish weren't to gain a foothold in Jersey... hell no. It was odd. Last time Kseniya had worked for Johnny Tisarelli, things had gone sour. She'd ended up putting a bullet in his con's chest, she recalled... Jackie Maggiore, the rat. The FBI had turned up on a... 'routine' drug hit, and Rubis had been forced to shoot her way out - Tiss had begged and pleaded with her that he wasn't responsible, that he'd only found out Maggiore was a rat after he'd been seen talking with an agent that very day! It had taken every ounce of respect she had for the man - and a lot of money - to spare his life. And now, here she was again, Tisarelli's hitwoman. Still, he was right. Nothing in life came free, and mafia work was profitable, that was for damned sure. She could afford to splash out with it... She watched as a black BMW pulled up. Blacked out windows. Four men, two in suits, two in what looked like tracksuits. The brothers Grimm had arrived. They walked over to the gate guard and flashed ID in his face... The gate was open. She walked over towards the gate... the guard eyed her up. "Who're you?" [color=ED145B][b]"Oh, don't worry about me, handsome. I'm just waiting for a client... he said he'd meet me here."[/b][/color] She smiled and batted her lids at the guard, who smirked. "That so, huh. Wanna wait inside?" An opportunity dawned... she intended to seize it with both hands. No doubt he had his own plans in mind for her... but she could easily overpower him. [color=ED145B][b]"Oh... that's [i]very[/i] kind of you... I don't think he'll turn up at this rate."[/b][/color] She walked over to the door, and she heard the key turn, the lock open and the handle slide back. The guard beckoned her inside, his smirk still on his face. When she was inside, he turned to the controls for the shutters on his guard hut. "That's a mighty shame. Still... waste not, want not, huh honey?" The guard turned back to see Kseniya, far from indulging in his fantasy with him, instead had her PPK aimed directly at him. "Wait-", was all he could stammer out as she pulled the trigger. A suppressed clap. A single 7.65mm bullet. It punched clean through his skull and into his brain; he was dead before he hit the floor. She walked over and took the guard's keyring, and with it, she unlocked the door that led into the yard. The gate was closed, and the Irishmen were inside, no doubt heading towards the building site. Kseniya slipped the pistol back into her coat, opened the door and quietly walked down the steps into the dirt at the bottom, before walking slowly towards the building site, where she could see the Irishmen and Worthington holding a... conversation. Worthington was up against a pillar, with the two thugs flanking him... she walked closer, trying to keep the noise down. One of the thugs had a gun - a Glock from the look of it pressed up against the foreman's head - whilst the other had a crowbar in his hand. The brothers were raving about how 'money was being siphoned away' and 'things just weren't working out properly' for which, of course, they blamed the foreman. Dumb bastard probably didn't even know what was going on. But then something caught her attention - one of the brothers started yelling about how the 'Grey Watch weren't getting their due, and you know what that means'. The Grey Watch were in on this? That was odd - she thought the Watch were confined to the NYC area, and they were the techy sort, not the dumb-bastard-on-a-building-site type? What were they doing out here in Jersey, and connected with a dig of all things? Did the Shaughnessy brothers have a stake with the Watch? It didn't matter for now. She walked towards the group, stockinged legs and heels underneath her grey fur coat. [color=ED145B][b]"Gentlemen? Can I help you in this fine evening?"[/b][/color] All five of them looked over at her. The thug with the gun eyed her up. "Worthington, you son of a bitch... you got a whore of yours?" The foreman's terrified eyes turned to Kseniya. "N-No... who the fuck are you, and how did you get past the guard?!" [color=ED145B][b]"He thought with his cock, not his head. That's how. I have a message for you all from Johnny Tisarelli... Chew on these."[/b][/color] And with that, Rubis opened fire. Five suppressed shots. Five dead bodies. [color=ED145B][b][i]Tisarelli, you owe me big time.[/i][/b][/color] Kseniya lit another cigarette and took a long drag, before walking over to search through the bodies...