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Jan-9-2010 07:18

Having a family member is one of the worst feelings one could ever have. Marc never saw it coming.

Spring of 1939, Marc sat in his office with nothing to do. The depression was about over. People were getting jobs again, he was happy for that. But business for others, such as himself, was slow once again. It seemed that business would pick up for a couple weeks, and then for a month, it would slow down. One or two clients here and there, or sometimes, none for weeks. Getting money was hard enough in this type of business. So one would have to set money aside for rent, food, etc.

As Marc sat in his chair day dreaming of his youth as a soldier fighting in the War, he was awaken by his phone ringing.

"This is Marc," Marc said answering the phone.

"Marc, they've taken her," the voice said on the other line. It was my mother.

"Mom? Who did they take?! Who took her?!" Marc stammered.

"I don't know who it was but they got her! Your sister. She's gone. Someone broke in. They left a note, Marc."

His mother was stuttering through her words. "I'm on my way," Marc said. He grabbed his coat and his hat, and ran out the door.

Within minutes, he arrived at his childhood home. Marc burst through the door and his mother fell into his arms crying. His sister, Anna was gone. He ran upstairs into her bedroom, to find it had been destroyed. Anna had put up a fight.

On her bed, he found the note. It read:

"Hello Marc,
You and I both know each other and we are going to play a little game of cat and mouse. Do you like games Marc? Because I do. As you know, by now, I have Anna. And I must say, Marc, your sister is quite the piece of work. She gave one of my troopers, a broken nose, and three cracked ribs. Two hours after you read this note, you will be contacted and will be given one simple task. You refuse to do it, and your sister dies.
Sincerely,

Tim O'Leary"

Mar-1-2010 08:03

Luckily, she spotted Marc before he disappeared into the local bar. She followed him immediately.

Mar-2-2010 19:20

Marc walked in to the dimly lit bar. It was dark as was any other bar in town. And just like in every city, there sat the town's local fixer. Shady, as Marc called him. Marc sat across from him and Shady looked up. With a thick Irish accent he asked, "Now what would a dick like you want with a guy like me?" His breath reeked of Russian Vodka and gin. "I want information Shady, on a Tim O'Leary.

"O'Leary? Wasn't he that slime ball you dropped off them stairs back in London?"

"Yes" Marc snapped, "I need that information and I need it fast!"

"Haha! Now come on, dick, you know I can't just give you that information. You gots to give something to me in return."

Marc reached up and took Shady's Vodka bottle and threw it behind him. The bottle shattered. "What the hell?!" he heard someone scream.

Marc reached into his pocket and pulled out his revolver and pulled the hammer back. Marc put his hand on the table holding the gun level to Shady's chest. "Now I'm wouldn't hesitate one second to blow your brains out all over the wall behind you. I've already killed his brother! And you owe me this favor buddy so don't act like you don't know who I am. Because now you look like a damned fool." Marc said.

Shady leaned forward. "Fine, but this is the last time you get somethin' from me. O'Leary hangs out here often. He mentioned something about kidnappin some lass. I don't know the whole story, but I know now that lass is your sister. O'Leary skips town a lot too. He can be found in places like Chicago, New York City, and even Boston. That's all I know." Shady said.

Marc swore out loud. Three different cities! Three different cities to search in less than 2 days! Marc holstered his gun and stormed out the door lighting up his pipe on his way out. As he was coming out, he nearly knocked someone.

It was the same lady he saw snooping around at his mother's house. "What the hell-" Marc said and stopped as he regained his footing. "What the hell are you doing here, lady?"

Mar-2-2010 19:29

"I actually have something for you. I found it after you left." She snapped.

"Do you, now?" Marc asked. "What is it?"

She pulled out a small brown box. Without even looking at it, Marc took the box and shoved it in the back seat of his car.

"Aren't you even going to open it?" She asked quickly.

"No," Marc said as he made his way to the driver side's back door. He opened the door and pulled out a brief case.

The girl opened her mouth to talk but Marc cut her off.

"Look, lady, I appreciate you trying to help me," he said as he opened his brief case, "but I've got less than 2 days to find my sister from an Irish mobster and finally kill that bastard." Marc said as he took out the pieces to assemble his personal M1 Thompson sub machine gun.

He slammed a magazine in the gun and yanked back the charging handle, placing a bullet into the chamber. "Look, I have a lot of work to do."

"You might be able to use some help." She said.

"Oh yeah? And how? Also, please enlighten me..Who are you?"