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1920s America...where the gin joints were underground, the liquor was fine, women enjoyed life, and organized crime was born.
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The humble abode of reluctant Irish hitman Patrick "Paddy" MacLean.

8/5/2011 #1

Paddy let out a long sigh as he fumbled with his key in the lock of his apartment. He'd pay for it in the morning, but it had been an enjoyable evening, all the more so knowing that he would probably have to shoot a man tomorrow.

He opened the door and put his hat on the hook on the back. He walked over to his gramophone and selected a blues record. Negro melodies were more wild than mainstream jazz, but he enjoyed them. They seemed to encapsulate his feelings. As the music droned from the speaker Paddy took off his jacket, shrugged off his suspenders, and loosened his tie. He knelt in front of the bookshelf, fingers running across the leather spines of his collection. He selected A Tale of Two Cities and settled down to read.

Or, at least, attempted. His mind insisted ion wandering to Caitlin, what she had said, his time spent with her. He had never come across a girl so bright, so independent. Though it may cost him dearly, Paddy knew he had to get to know her better.

8/5/2011 #2

The next morning was back to business. After a shower and a shave, Paddy dressed and reluctantly put away A Tale of Two Cities before leaving for work.

((To Connelly Family Home))

8/5/2011 #3

Paddy entered his apartment and sat in the darkness for a few moments. Various sights flashe before his eyes: looking down the sights of an antiquated Springfield bolt action rifle, witnessing his best friend step on a land mine, the bloody mass that was all that remained of a British soldier's head, and Caitlin's smiling face.

Paddy rushed to the phone and picked up the rceiver. "Operator, Caitlin Connelly please."

"One moment." There was static, then a click as someone picked up.

"Patrick Connelly speaking."

"Shit!" Paddy slammed down the phone.

8/7/2011 #4

Paddy sat back in his chair, notpad and pencil in hand, scribbling furiously. I saw a figure in my rifle sight who did not know that he was there, and as I hesitated to take his life-

There was a BANG at the door. "Where the hell is she?" Patrick roared from outside.

"The hell you say!" Paddy replied, but opened the door anyway. "What are we talking about?"

Patrick shouldered his way past him. "Where is Caitlin? I know she's with you."

"No, she isn't."

A quick glance around Paddy's tiny apartment confirmed this fact. Patrick sighed. "Then what happened to her?"

"Well, she's known to disappear for days at a time?"

"The whole family has dinner once a week. Nobody misses it. Nobody. Something happened to her."

Paddy snatched his Tommy gun from atop the bookshelf. "I'm going to go look for her."

"Paddy, be reasonable. What are you going to do, start combing the entire city?"

Paddy rounded on Patrick, gesturing menacingly with the barrel of his gun. "Fuck you, Connelly. I've been doing bullshit I don't want to do for this family since I got off the fucking boat, and now that I actually want to help, you shut me down? Fuck. You." He made for the door, then spun around. "AND ANOTHER THING!" He reached for the bookshelf, chucked it at Patrick, and roared. "Read a goddamn book, you fucking Philistine!" He stormed from the apartment.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Patrick read the cover. The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli. Shrugging, he tucked it under his arm and raced after Patrick.

((Both to Connelly Family Home))

8/8/2011 #5
Phoebe Powers

((Sorry, have to do this. Great book choice on that one. I had to read it for my Empires class two and a half years ago))

8/8/2011 #6

(I thought it might help Patrick run the Family better.)

8/8/2011 #7

((From Connelly Family Home))

Paddy pulled the car up to the curb in front of his apartment building. "I think it's finally ready," he said to Caitlin. "It took me a month to get the proper wood for it, and since then it's been curing."

9/17/2011 #8
Phoebe Powers

"What's ready?" she asked yet again. The entire car ride to his apartment she had been asking and he still wouldn't tell her. Caitlin had to admit that her curiosity was piqued.

9/17/2011 #9

"Then I had to fill the head with molten lead, give it a little extra weight." Paddy led Caitlin out of the car and up to his apartment. Opening the door, he strode across the tiny one-room living space and reached up into the chimney, of all places.

9/17/2011 #10
Phoebe Powers

Caitlin just stared at him. "So what is it?"

9/18/2011 #11

"This." Paddy took fromn the chimney a stout, knobbly wooden stick roughly three feet long. It had a glossy black finish and a thick, knotted head. It was long enough for Paddy to use as a walking stick. "This is my new shillelagh. It's a walking stick made of blackthorn. It makes a very formidable weapon in the heads of a practitioner of bataireacht, or Irish stick fighting."

9/18/2011 #12
Phoebe Powers

Caitlin looked at it. "Paddy, it is beautiful."

9/18/2011 #13

"It can also be deadly." Paddy tapped the thick head. "I hollowed this part out and filled it with molten lead, to give it an extra ten pounds of heft. It's called a 'loaded stick.'" Paddy tossed it out and caught it again. "Back home stick fighting was mostly sport, but grew in earnest during the revolution."

9/18/2011 #14
Phoebe Powers

Caitlin smiled. "Sometimes the most beautiful things in the world are the most deadly."

9/18/2011 #15

Paddy adjusted his grip on the stick; he moved his hand roughly midway down the shaft. "You don't swing it like a cudgel though. You hold it like this so you can apply both ends with a flick of the wrist." He looked at it wistfully. "A simple blackthorn stick has not only given me the best fun of my life, but has also saved my life at least twice."

9/18/2011 #16
Phoebe Powers

"Perhaps you will tell me about those times sometime," Caitlin answered. "Until then, I do believe that we have work to do."

9/18/2011 #17

"Ah, yes." Paddy leaned on his new walking stick. "I'll get to break her in sooner than I thought."

9/18/2011 #18
Phoebe Powers

"Yes, because violence is always the first option with this family."

9/18/2011 #19

"Caitie, I highly doubt some Negroes running a bookmaking operation will even comprehend my accent, let alone listen to reason. Christ said 'They who live by the sword shall perish by the sword.'" Paddy winked. "Never said anything about a stick."

9/18/2011 #20
Phoebe Powers

"We should just get this job finished with. I would really like to try and relax today."

9/18/2011 #21

"Right." Paddy led Caitlin back downstairs to the car, and they drove off.

((To the Docks))

9/18/2011 #22
Phoebe Powers

"Thank you."

((To the Docks))

9/18/2011 #23
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