(Author's Note: OMFG!!! YOU WON'T BELIEVE THIS!!! This Mother's Day my grandma came over and she saw I was reading the book The Untouchables (more about the book in the A/N at the end). So she started telling me about how her dad, my great-grandpa, was an actual bootlegger during Prohibiton!!! I was ecstatic. Lol. She said he'd have bunches of stills in their garage where they'd make the alcohol, and the rumrunners would come to their garage in the middle of the night to get the alcohol. Apparently my great-grandma knew they were making it for Al Capone, not any of those other gangsters in the Chicago area like Bugsy or whomever. Then my great-grandpa would get an alert from some people he hired around the neighborhood to tell him when the police were coming so he'd have enough time to take everything down and hide the evidence. SO MY GREAT-GRANDPA WAS A BOOTLEGGER FOR AL CAPONE! Haha, I'm so proud. I just had to tell you guys since it fit in with the theme of the story.)


A collective gasp engulfs the room. Al Capone? Inside Log Cabin? Duncan just looked around and smirked, seeming to be enjoying everybody's shock. "So? What are you all waiting for? Get back to work! I don't want Uncle Al thinking I pay you guys just to sit around," Duncan exclaims with a hint of a teasing glint in his eye, though he was being completely serious.

The room empties in the blink of an eye, with everybody anxious for Al Capone's arrival. Courtney stays behind, however, and walks over to Duncan. He looks her up and down, taking in her cleavage, bare legs, and high heels. Then he looks her in the eyes and asks, "Got a light?"

Courtney looks away and scans the coffee table to the right of them. Pushing over a stack of PlayBoy magazines revealed a red lighter, which Courtney picked up and handed to Duncan. "The way you were looking at me, I'd have figured you were going to ask something else," she comments.

Duncan takes a cigarette from his pocket, lights it, and slips the lighter into his pocket for later use. "Like what?" Duncan asks after a drag. He turns his head to let out a puff of smoke.

"Use your imagination," Courtney retorts, crossing her arms over her chest. Duncan returns to checking her out, running his gaze up and down her body.

"I'm using it."

Courtney turns around and replies, "Let me know when you're finished." She plops down on the couch and promptly crosses her legs, an annoying habit of hers. Duncan smirks at her.

"Now what's really the problem?" Courtney continues, "I know you only ever smoke in the house when you're worried."

Duncan sighs and takes a seat next to Courtney. "You know me too well," he admits sullenly. But this was no surprise to her. Another drag on his cigarette and yet no reply from his fiancée prompts him to continue, "I guess I'm just nervous about seeing Uncle Al. I haven't seen him in a while, and he definitely hasn't seen me since before all this Log Cabin business, and--"

"I'm sure he'll be proud of you, Duncan," Courtney says honestly.

"You sure?" Duncan asks. Looking into his eyes right then, Courtney could see just a little peek of what he was like as a kid. Innocent, naïve, vulnerable…

"Sure, I'm sure," she answers him. The doorbell rings a few floors below them. "But there's only one way to find out." Courtney stands up and looks at Duncan, giving him a look like, Well, are you coming?

"Shit," he groans, running a hand through his thick hair. Then he extinguishes his cigarette in the ash tray on the coffee table, stands up, and takes Courtney's hand in his. They walk down the stairs and up to the front door. Duncan opens the front door to reveal Al Capone, in the flesh.

"Duncan!" Al Capone booms, in his loud Italian accent. He steps into the foyer and pulls his nephew in for a hug. After a quick slap on the back, they pull apart. Gangsters weren't much for emotional confrontations.

"Hey, Uncle Al," Duncan replies with a grin. From where Courtney was standing, Al Capone looked to be at least a few inches taller than Duncan, which meant he towered over her.

"And you must be Courtney Pembrooke. Err, pardon me, Courtney Malone," Al Capone thunders, holding his hand out, "And Duncan's right: You're gorgeous." Courtney smiles bashfully and accepts the handshake, with his hand completely enveloping hers.

"Thank you. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Capone," Courtney says back.

"That's Uncle Al to you," Al Capone says with a wink. "You're practically family now." Courtney can't help but smile at this. Al Capone looks around the warehouse, examining it, meanwhile, Courtney was examining him. It wasn't often you were in the presence of a notorious gangster whose face kissed the front cover of newspapers everywhere. Despite the exception of Duncan, whom Courtney saw every day.

Al Capone had thick black eyebrows and brown eyes. His face was round and pudgy, and had a receding hairline of black Italian hair. He had big ears, big lips, a big nose; he was an overall big person. Up close, he didn't appear to be the cold-blooded killer he really was. The only slightly terrifying thing about him were the three scars on his left cheek, from a bar fight years ago.

Everybody in Chicago knew the origin of those scars. Al Capone, before he was a gangster, was a bouncer at a night club. Frankie Yale, a mob boss from New York, came in one night with his sister, Lena. Al Capone told Lena, " 'Honey, you got a nice ass, and I mean that as a compliment, believe me.' " Frankie went berserk, however, and slashed Al Capone with his pocket knife. Thus, Al Capone got the nickname Scarface from ruthless newspaper reporters. Though they would never call him that to his face.

Duncan led Al Capone up the stairs, and Courtney followed. The first stop on their tour of the warehouse was the Blue Magic room. After a quick introduction to the processing method, Al Capone slapped Duncan on the back. "You know," said Al, "You're almost giving my gang a run for our money. If you weren't family, I'd kill you."

Duncan laughs and replies with a smirk, "Don't worry, Uncle Al. You have over a thousand gunmen, half the Chicago police department on your payroll, you make 60 million bucks a year, and you have favors from mayors, congressmen, legislators, and state's attorneys. We ain't got nothing on you."

This time it was Al Capone's turn to laugh. "Good answer, boy, good answer," he chuckles. Courtney figures she should get going, since by now, she still has hardly studied her Day N' Night packet, and she figured Duncan and Al Capone could have some bonding time. She slips out of the room unnoticed and back to her bedroom, where she reads the whole packet front to back.

"I have built my organization upon fear."
- Al Capone

At seven that evening, Courtney puts the packet away, confident that she's learned everything there was to know. She puts her high heels back on, which she took off a few hours ago for comfort's sake. She takes her car keys from the nightstand, opens the door, and nearly runs into Duncan in the hallway.

"Oops, sorry," Courtney blurts. But the look in Duncan's eyes makes her stop. "Wh-What happened?" she asks nervously.

Duncan takes her car keys out of her hands and replies, "I'll tell you in the car. I'm driving you to work." Then he wordlessly leads her out of the warehouse and into the alley next to the building.

"Where's Al Capone?" Courtney asks. She anxiously climbs into the passenger seat of her car, keeping her eyes on Duncan's face to watch his expression. But his face was kept blank as a slate, despite the odd look in his eyes.

"Bonding with the guys," Duncan answers. He starts the car and murmurs, "If you could call it that." They pull out of the alley and start heading towards Day N' Night.

"Then what's the problem?" Duncan rakes one hand through his hair and lets out a heavy sigh. "It's the Blue Magic. More people are starting to use it, since it's gaining popularity. But the newbies don't know how much to be using, so they're dying off. Again. Except now they're dying at a larger rate and if the police ever find out we're the ones distributing the Blue Magic, we could be charged for possession and sale of illegal substances and manslaughter," he admits.

"So… what are we going to do?"

"Right after your work, which should be sometime around midnight, I'm going to pick you up and we're going to go to the Lombardi's house. She's a newbie drug addict turned drug dealer. So she's real amateur, in the sense of both doing and dealing. We'll have to explain to her that she has to start teaching her customers how much to use," Duncan explains.

"But we never do that," Courtney comments. The car stops in front of the alley to Day N' Night, but she doesn't make a move to get out of the car.

"I know, but we have to if we're going to stop people from overdosing," Duncan replies with a wry grin. "So… I'll pick you up tonight."

Courtney nods and climbs out of the car. She knew this was going to come eventually, seeing as this has happened before, right when they first introduced Chicago to Blue Magic, but it still surprised her that it was happening now. But it was like a virus. It would happen once, they'd be totally shocked when it did, then even though it went away and they knew it'd come back again, they were still shocked when it did.

Courtney knocks on the thick door into the bar and a slot at eye-level slides open. Brock's big brown eyes peer through at her. "Brock, what're you doing? Let me in," Courtney snaps. She really wasn't in the mood.

"Okay, okay," Brock rumbles. The slot slides closed and the door opens. He steps aside to let her in, and right as he closes the door, continues, "Day N' Night has changed from a bar to a speakeasy. Instead of just letting people in now, we have a password you have to say before we let you in, you know, to cut down on police busts."

"So what's the password?"

"Malone."

Courtney smirks and rolls her eyes. "Should be easy enough to remember," she remarks.

"Courtney! Over here!" Bethany calls out, waving from over at the bar counter. Courtney saunters over and puts her palms flat on the counter.

"We need you to man the bar alone tonight. Susan and I will be busy in the back room tonight, and I'm sure you read enough of the packet in order to know how to keep things under control, right?" Bethany asks.

"Definitely."

"Nobody knows anybody.
Not that well."
- Tom Reagan

In an hour or more, the bar was packed. Courtney was shuffling around the bar like a pro, having made herself comfortable where everything was by now. Every seat was filled around the bar, and some people even stood around, waiting for a new seat to open up. Apparently everyone wanted to see how much Duncan's fiancée could handle.

"One over here!" a man calls, and Courtney sees a finger raise in the air through her peripheral vision. She grabs another shot glass and a bottle of brandy. The whole night so far, he's been knocking back shots like nobody's business. Courtney was surprised he was still able to sit upright.

Courtney puts two ice cubes into the shot glass and calls out, "One!" as the brandy begins to flow into the glass. "Two! Three!" By three, Courtney tilts the bottle up to stop pouring and fills the remaining space with some mixer. With a flick of her wrist, the shot goes flying down the smooth wood counter. Customers cheer as it passes them; part of being a bartender was the actual performance.

"Margarita over her!" another man calls. Courtney mentally groans, since margaritas usually took the most amount of time, even if they were a crowd-pleaser. She tosses a pinch of coarse Kosher salt on the counter and wets the rim of the glass. After putting the glass top-down in the salt, there was now a crystalline rim to the glass.

Courtney fills up the glass with ice and tequila. She takes two lime slices from under the counter and squeezes lime juice into the mix. Courtney attaches the second lime slice to the rim for appearances' sake. She carries the margarita to the customer, lifts it into the air with a small smirk like a toast, and sets it in front of him.

Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder. Courtney turns around to see Susan with dime-sized pupils. "Bethany wants to see you," Susan says obnoxiously loud like Courtney couldn't hear. "I'll take over from here."

"Uh… sure," Courtney replies, and slips out of Susan's grip. She leaves the bar and heads to the far corner of the speakeasy. Bethany had said she would be in the back room for the night, but Courtney had never been in a room in Day N' Night besides the stockroom.

She opens the first door she comes to, revealing a dark room with no windows and only a single lightbulb. A blue-ish haze of cigar smoke hovered close over a long polished table where a handful of men were playing poker. Stacks of hundred-dollar bills were piled on the table, and all their gazes turned to face the open door. "Pardon me," Courtney excuses, backing out of the room.

The next room she gets to, Courtney opens the door a bit more anxiously. Luckily, Bethany was in the corner sitting on a crate. Even from the door, Courtney could see that her pupils were the size of dimes. Courtney navigates her way through the room by going around about ten people who were all taking their share of a Blue Magic eight-ball and snorting it.

"Susan said you wanted to see me," Courtney says to Bethany, whose world was currently being magnified by the cocaine.

"Ah, yes. I want you to…," Bethany leaves off, staring into the distance. Her eyes flick back and forth, and her whole body vibrates. On coke, your body just feels on complete overdrive. There were simply too many thoughts flying through her head to form a single sentence.

Suddenly, Duncan bursts into the room and cocks his head at Courtney, signaling for her to leave with him. "C'mon, Princess," he orders. Then he turns to Bethany and says, "Hope you don't mind I steal your employee a little early tonight. But I left some Blue Magic and liquor in the stock room for reparations."

Bethany's eyes light up at the sound of more Blue Magic. "Shush, no! Take Courtney! Do whatever you want!" she exclaims, then shoulders her way into the circle of druggies for another snort.

Courtney retreats across the room to Duncan and he puts his arm around her. "Night, Brock," Duncan says to the burly guard who lets them out into the alleyway with a nod. "Ready for Sarah Lombardi?" he asks once they're alone.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Courtney grumbles. They collapse into the seats of Duncan's black getaway car and he drives them to a nearby tenement apartment building that was so close to the Day N' Night bar that they may as well have walked.

They get out of the car and head to the building. This time there was no sledgehammer or red letter, since they'd only be talking to a fellow dealer about using drugs responsibly, if you could call it that, instead of collecting a debt. Since they wouldn't need to use Courtney's people skills for the confrontation, Duncan goes ahead and leads them both up to the fourth floor.

He knocks on the very first door on the floor and they both wait in the hallway for an answer. Duncan looks at Courtney and raises an eyebrow. "Maybe she's not home?" Courtney wonders out-loud.

"Doubtful. Three days ago I called her and told her I'd be coming to see her today. She wouldn't purposefully leave," Duncan replies. Courtney bites her bottom lip, a nervous habit of hers. Duncan smirks at her, though, and immediately Courtney self-consciously stops biting her lip.

She sighs as another minute passes and Duncan knocks on the door once again. "Wait…," Duncan says hesitantly. "Does something smell like shit to you?"

Courtney takes a deep breath and nearly gags. Plugging her nose, she nods at Duncan and he knocks one more time, so hard that the knocking echoed down the hallway. Courtney could now make out the sound of a children's crying. With no answer from inside the room and with the door being locked, Duncan kicks the door in. Something was going on, and it didn't feel right.

In the room, a naked lightbulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating the scarce furniture around it. A battered couch was covered with a dirty patchwork quilt, and a soiled dresser with a broken mirror leaned against one of the aged plaster walls. The worn carpet was stained and had a puddle in the corner from a drip in the ceiling. Yellowed newspapers were stacked in another corner, and cobwebs created a mosaic on the ceiling. In the middle of the room was a bawling little boy, about two years old.

Courtney immediately kneels down in front of the boy and croons, "Shh, don't cry, what's the matter?" She takes the raven-haired, hazel-eyed toddler into her arms and rubs his back comfortingly as his tears stream into her hair and down her shoulder.

Duncan, meanwhile, quickly enters the room and begins on a lookout for Sarah Lombardi. The smell was noticeably stronger in the room and he could almost pinpoint the source. He opens a door on the left, the only other door in the apartment, and is hit by a blast of foul air.

On the yellowing, soiled mattress laid the dead body of Sarah Lombardi.


(Author's Note: Have you guys seen the movie The Untouchables, about a group of prohibition men who try to shut down Al Capone's gangster empire? Well, I haven't. Haha. But I totally need to, right after I finish reading the book The Untouchables, which the movie was based off of. The movie always leaves out part of whatever book it was based off of, so I always read the book first. Anyway, just check out the movie or the book, I don't care. It's really awesome. And sorry I kinda jumped around a lot from scene to scene, but I'm really trying to paint the picture of what it was like to be a mobster before I get to the actual plot. So spare with me. It'll come up soon.)