Dear lord did He hate this damned city, If it wasn't the cigar smoke invading his lungs, it was the smell of blood, freshly dug dirt and death. The sounds too. Screams, gunfire, crying, So MANY things. And here He was, walking the streets of Ebbot City, Chicago, almost waiting to be mugged, though no one seemed to be paying him any mind. Then again, he supposed he didn't look very approachable with his black jacket and jeans and a long-sleeved tee along with a newsboy cap with multiple holsters. He chuckled inwardly at the thought. However it seemed, He was scared half to death, but continued walking. Passing a small bar, he heard shouts, of anger or something else, He couldn't tell, glass breaking, and practically a constant in these places, sounds of fists hitting bodies. He hated it here.

"Just one more job and you're home-free," He kept repeating that every step or so. The bread-making factory was in sight, his last job for this section's mafia. He sighed, "Here we go," quietly, "HEY," A voice yelled, running to him "You can't go in there." He grinned at the mid-twenties man, pulling a small badge from the collar of his jacket. "So, how many loaves a bread ya got for me, Joshie 2, 3?" He asked, snickering. Loaves were how he referred to jobs from the bosses "2 easy ones, though you ain't gonna like the second." "So just get it over with and tell me dammit." Josh sighed, "First one's securing a dead drop." He paused as if wondering how to put it. "And." The younger man pressed "The second's an assassination. Look I swear to you on my life I tried to change it." Josh went from quiet to pleading quickly "That prick, Ever since the kid left on their 'Business trip' Karl's been running the mob like his personal servants. I need you to get me an audience with Gaster okay?" "I'll do what I can no promises though" "I'm gonna speak with Karl." He said, "Be careful, Nathan." Nathan sighed, then said, "Nathan's gone, Josh, He left the moment you and I joined the Mob." Nathan said, walking into the fake factory.