The docks, where mobs bring in their illegal liquor.

Clyde pulled into an empty part of the docks, behind an old, abandoned fish warehouse. He opened his door.

"Get out." He said, waving his gun toward Alice. He looked out his windshield. His boss was standing next to a Model T, a fedora pulled low over his face. "Come on." Clyde said to Alice.

Alice slowly got out of the car, trying not to do anything just yet that would get her shot again. If she lived through this she would seriously have to consider her parents' suggestion that she move north where they had gone several years before.

"You have come with the girl."

"Y-yes s-sir." Clyde said nervously.

Tony lifted his head. "Good. We can't have any survivors."

Clyde's eyes widened. He looked exactly as Alice had said he looked. Tony pulled out a Tommy gun from the inside of his trench coat.

((By the way, you do not have permission to kill her.))

"There...there has to be some... other way to work this out..." Alice said, eyes wide as she focused on the gun.

((I know that. I'm hurt now.))

"There is a way." Tony said, leveling the gun to her.

((Or do I?))

((I'm not trying to insult your intelligence by making it sound like you don't know that but I thought I would just state it.))

She stared over at him. "And...what way is that...exactly?"

((I was kidding. But that did bring up an interesting question-what if someone shot someone with a bazooka at point blank range? There has to be a line where you can kill another player without their consent. Otherwise, where's the suspense? It makes the game all more real.))

Tony aimed the Tommy gun at Clyde and shot a short burst into his gut. Clyde sank to the ground, moaning in pain. He pointed the gun at Alice again.

"Now it's your turn."

((Well, I think that would be one of those things where you PM the person ahead of time and sort of figure it out...but yeah, a bazooka at point blank range would definitely be a kill shot.))

"My turn?" she asked. "Haven't you shot me enough already today? And I don't really think this is entirely fair since I don't have a weapon of my own. Honestly, don't you have any sort of code of honor?"

((But where is the realism? Where is the 'holy darn, he killed me'? It's like you're planning a story.))

"Hm..." Tony pondered. "Nope, no code. Have you anything to say before you die?"

((True but some people just don't want their character to die because they want to RP with them.))

"Well...killing me probably isn't the best idea. I mean there would be some pretty serious consequences and I imagine they would include your capture and torture. Then again, maybe that's just me but I wouldn't really want to risk it. Would it really be worth it to kill me knowing that you'll be tortured and then killed?"

((You're right. But suppose someone were to kill a char without permission. Would there really be reason for punishment for the RPer? I mean, if it says in the description about crime and lawlessness and things of that nature, then what's the point of putting it in there if you have to get permission to actually commit a crime? I mean, where is the realism in that? That, my dear girl, is hypocrisy. What do you think?))

"Hm..." Tony pondered. "Yes again."

At that moment, Clyde's trembling hand pulled his .38 out of his holster and aimed it shakily at Tony. He fired six rounds into the gangster, who dropped his Tommy gun and stumbled backwards, falling over the edge of the dock and into the freezing black water.

((True. I agree but I still think it is up to the author to decide what happens to their character. One person can say the shot was fired but it is only the author who can decide how much damage is done...of course paying attention to details like the range, etc.))

Alice watched him fall backwards and she stood there for a few moments, stunned. Then she turned and moved over to Clyde. "Here, let me look at the gunshot. The bleeding looks bad."

((Oh, good. Because I was expecting you to say something along the lines of-"You still better not kill Alice.".))

"W-why d-do you w-want to h-help me?" Clyde asked, growing pale.

She sighed. "Because I am a nurse and it is what I do. Besides, I think you just saved my life."

"And it's the big house for me now." He grunted from the pain. "Either that or...the cemetary." His face looked grave. "Listen-if I don't make it out of this-"

She pressed her hand over his wound. "Hey, don't talk that way. All we have to do is get inside your car and rush to the hospital."

He groaned at the pain of her touching the wound. "Jesus. Let's get there fast." He tried to sit up, unsuccessfully.

She nodded. "I am going to help you up now. It may hurt."

"Okay, sister." He lifted his arm to help her.

She nodded. "Okay, on three then. One...two...three." Then she proceeded to pull him up.

Clyde rose to his feet with the help of Alice.

"You drive?"

"Of course I drive. Just get in the car."

He pulled himself into the passenger seat.

Alice shut the door and then got in the driver's side. She looked over at Clyde and then drove off for the hospital.

((To...hospital?))

Tony was sinking quickly. He pulled himself to a wooden beam. The salt water seeping into his wounds was pure agony. He drifted along in the water, bobbing in and out. He heard sirens, and was faced with an extremely bright light from the dock. He saw the flashing siren lights and barely heard a figure's voice call out to him before he passed out.

Caitlin made her way to the docks, as per her Uncle's instructions, though her father had actually given her the assignment. An important shipment would be arriving through the docks, hiding in fishing equipment and various other tools. It was not entirely unusual for her to do this, though typically Lee or Patrick would do this.

Though she did feel fairly secure doing this, she also could not wait to get the job finished so she could get away from here and do something else.

Paddy MacLean thoroughly enjoyed an evening when he didn't have to kill anybody.

To most outside individuals, Paddy was seen as a psychopath, a killer for money with no heart, no remorse. But that wasn't who he was, not really. He was the kind of guy who likes to kick back with a jazz record and perhaps chuckle a bit at the Divine Comedy. He didn't enjoy his work, but it was really the only thing he knew how to do.

Paddy exited the cab, tipped the criver, and lit a cigarette as he strolled down to the docks, ambling nowhere in particular.

As she turned a corner, Caitlin felt a jolt inside, though she kept her features from betraying her surprise at seeing Paddy at the docks as well. She should have known that her uncle would send someone else for this task and not trust that she would be able to handle it on her own. "Good evening," she said. "I should have known that you would be here."

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