okay. so i have a sudden random obsession with this movie now. lol. i've been sick and i've watched it about 3 times now so i decided to write a fanfic even though i won't have much of an audience but oh well.

okay, so this chapter will be mostly in 3rd Person POV aside from Turkish's narrating. anything in italics is Turkish narrating. later on i will probably get in to 1st Person POV from my OC's POV.

i don't own Snatch and i'm not making money off of this blahblahblah.

don't steal. everything thing but Snatch characters is mine.

"We can't ask him to fight for us if we can't find 'em can we?" That's what Tommy had asked. "You won't find a pikey that doesn't want to be found, Tommy." That's how Turkish answered. So at what point did Turkish change his mind. At what point did an un-findable pikey become findable?

Well.

That's where I come in.

LONDON

"You can't find a pikey that doesn't want to be found, Tommy. You can't find a pikey that doesn't want to be found, Tommy!" Tommy trailed after Turkish ranting and glaring at the back of his partner's head. "That's what you said, Turkish. That's what you said!"

"I know!" He snapped. "I know what I said, Tommy." He had stopped and turned to look at the younger male attempting to control the level of his voice on the public side walk. "Now shut up and come on. We're already late." "Late for what?"

Late for what? It's not what so much as who. And who we are late to see is Sakina. Sakina, the name means: Tranquility, devout. God-inspired peace of mind. Everything Sakina is not. She's an Atheist, and the only devout behavior I've ever seen from the girl is her weekly visits to the gun and knife shop and the monthly cleaning of her 50 caliber machine gun she insisted upon buying after she saw Predator for the first time. She has a temper and mild manic tendencies. She was named after Raya and Sakina, pair of sisters who killed around 17 women in Egypt in the early 20th century.

I call her Sakina. Most everyone else calls her Harrow. An odd nickname. A harrow is a piece of farm equipment used to break up the ground using sharp teeth. Deadly, efficient, and destroys whatever comes in the way of its job. Sakina enjoys breaking apart people and putting them back together in a neatly wrapped package. We still don't know when the nickname started but whoever started it knew what they were talking about.

She said to meet her at some house on the outskirts of the city.

Tommy's phone rang from his pocket as they approached the house. "Hello?" He frowned and held the cell out to Turkish. "It's for you." Turkish gave him and odd look and bounced up the steps of the house. "Hello?"

"Don't. Move."

Three shots rang out, the bullets puncturing through the door mere centimeters on either side of Turkish's head, one right above. Tommy uncovered his face and stared in horror to where he was sure that his partner would be dead. The Englishman recovered and picked up the cell phone that had clattered to the stone of the stairs.

"Meet me at the pub. Bring the cash." The line went dead and Tommy carefully pushed open the door to the house. A man was in the process of sliding down the wall taking a painting with him revealing a safe in the wall. One bullet between his eyes the other two had shot through the two separate dials on the vault's face.

A small pub called The Mead Hall was shoved onto the corner of a bustling street on the border of the artsy side of town. Turkish had met Harrow here more than once and Jesus was the woman hard to find when she went into hiding. He hadn't had much contact with her in the past 4 months, she'd been busy and so had he with Brick Top's predecessor on his tale. To be honest he had kind of forgotten her. Not because he didn't care, but in the way that one forgets a best friend who goes on vacation for a long period of time and you learn to preoccupy yourself so, until you see them again, you don't remember how much you enjoy having them around.

"Turk."

Sakina. She looks the same as always. Nothing on her body resembles anything of a killer. Except her eyes. Her left a green that I can only ever describe as lime and her right somewhere between orange and red. Five feet one inch of harsh and intimidating and needless to say adorable concrete. Her voice is somewhere between Transylvanian and Irish, hypnotizing to say the least and in all honesty I can listen to her talk for hours about nothing. She could talk about a dog taking a shit and it would be exhilarating. Tommy has never met her. He's in for a treat.

Sakina, Harrow, stood respectfully as her old friend approached her usual table. Her mid back length brown hair infused with neon oranges and yellows framed her face and the confident air about her could be felt from the front door of the pub. Beside him Turk heard Tommy's breathe catch. "Don't worry, Tommy. She's way out of your league." Tommy glared at Turk as he walked with his arms out welcoming the hug and peck on the lips from Sakina. "Long time no see, Turk." She smiled and sniffed a little adjusting her white double holed belt that held up a pair of dark jeans before pulling at her black Boondock Saints shirt. "I'm recovering from a lil case of bronchitis. Sorry about that. So. What can I do for you?"

'What can I do for you?' By that she means 'What can you do for me?' We may be friends but that doesn't mean I get anything done for free. A discount maybe. Free; never. The bronchitis thing? As long as I can remember she's had issues with her lungs. Never smoked a day in her life except once when we were young and we stole a cigar from the store. She couldn't breathe correctly for a week.

"I want you to find someone for me."

"Oh?" she took a gulp of her whiskey. "Innit a little early for that? It's 9'o'clock." She raised the eyebrow of her green eye. "It's 9:25. If it was 9:00 you wouldn't have been late." Tommy went silent and she turned back to Turk motioning at the kid. "Who is that?" "Tommy." She nodded and called for another round. "So, who do you want me to find." "A pikey." "A pikey?" "A pikey."

"What in the fuckin' name of Michael do you need with a pikey?"

Michael, as in Michael I, King of the Romanians. Died 1947, the same year her father was born. Her father used to say 'In the name of Michael.' I guess the sayings rubbed off.
"We need him as a fighter."

"Unlicensed boxing again, Turkie?" She leaned across the table her hair dragging against the stained wood. "That's all fine and good thar but what's in it for me?" "We'll cut you in on the profit."

"Will you now?" She settled back into her seat crossing her legs under the table. "Yes." She tapped her foot against the leg of the table. "33%"

"What?!" Tommy practically jumped from his seat. "33%?!" Turk ignored his partner. "Where the Hell did you get 33%?" "There's three of us. 100 divided by three is 33.33333333…" she rolled her wrist as she spit out a string of threes. "Even as it gets. Take it or leave it, you know I don't negotiate."

She won't fucking budge I'll give her that much. And no other way am I finding that pikey without her. Unless he decides to come find me. And we all know that ain't fucking happening.

"Fine. Deal." Turk thrust out his hand and the girl across the table smirked giving it a firm shake.

"So. Who am I looking for?"

Turk looked at Tommy who pulled a crummy photo from his coat pocket and slid it across the table. "Cute. He got a name?" "Mickey." The amusement in her eyes died and she looked suddenly annoyed.

"Mickey? As in Mickey Mouse?"

"I guess if that's the comparison you want to make." "I fucking hate Mickey Mouse." The two males gave each other a look. "When do you need him?"

"By the end of this week if possible."

"I'll get him in three days."

She snatched up Mickey from the table and grabbed the bag with the doe from Turk tossing down a few dollars before zipping it tight and wandering out the door mumbling to herself. "I fucking hate Mickey Mouse."