To say things hadn't gone to plan would be a massive fucking understatement. One minute he had had Lincoln Clay right where he had wanted him and the next he was at his mercy. Deep, deep, deep down Tommy Marcano knew his ego was to blame, he had been so fucking determined to prove himself a tough guy, to show he had stones and that no one fucked with his family. A quick death couldn't be enough for Clay so he had opted for something slow, to tie him up and soak him in the same oil mix he was now drenched in and burn him. How the hell could he have known there was a nail sticking out on the pipe Lincoln had been tied too? One lousy, fortunate nail and Lincoln was free of his rope bonds and ready to burn Tommy alive.

The capo squirmed on the floor, bloody teethed and putting on a show of defiance even though he was shit scared. He figured Lincoln was bluffing but the fire was coming closer and Tommy was starting to sweat, literally and figuratively.

Lincoln was turning away, ready to leave him to burn and Tommy couldn't do anything about it because he was soaked in oil and injured and would never be able to get up and run in time.

"If I'm dead so is that Navarro bitch!" Tommy yelled erratically at Lincoln's retreating form.

Lincoln paused and looked back at the Mafiosi quizzically. Lincoln was exhausted and aching from head to toe, as if the beat downs in the ring hadn't been enough, Tommy's men had done a number on him before knocking him out and tying him up. He figured Tommy would say anything to save his skin but he couldn't fathom why the man would lie about the Navarros. How could Tommy even know Theresa?"

Tommy gave Lincoln a half-crazed bloody smile. "I knew, you knew her," he said triumphantly, "I fucking knew, whore would've sunk us all." His eyes darted nervously to the ever spreading flames in the room. "You get me away from the fire now," he commanded, "because if I burn she dies too."

"What does that mean?" Lincoln snapped. "Where is she?"

Tommy shook his head. "No, I tell you that and I'm dead. You get me out of here now."

Lincoln frowned back at the man. "Alright Tommy," he gave in with a snarl, "but I'll be carrying you, so if your men try to shoot me, they're shooting you first." He bent down and grabbed the man roughly before hoisting him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

Tommy scowled as Lincoln started to move, heading to the only doorway that wasn't going up in smoke.

It was nerve racking for Tommy, his perspective was everything that Lincoln passed whilst he speculated over what Lincoln was encountering. There were screams, gunfire, the roar of spreading flames and choking smoke. Twice Tommy had to yell out to his guards to stand down.

Without warning Tommy was thrown violently forward to the ground. As he smacked off the wooden floorboards and rolled he heard the familiar ratatata of machine gun fire before shotgun shells fired. He stayed where he was, winded, sore and too wary of being shot to move.

Within minutes it was over and Lincoln had him tossed over his shoulder again.

"You'd better tell me where she is," Lincoln growled at him as he continued on.

It took maybe ten minutes for Lincoln to get them out of the The Acadia.

Tommy got one final glimpse of his pride and joy going up in smoke before Lincoln dropped him again and he glimpsed the butt of the shotgun coming to his forehead, then it was darkness.

Tommy stirred to a pounding headache and a sensation of nausea. His vision was blurred, his eyes watered and his skull throbbed as he considered going back to unconsciousness. He wanted to throw up but realised quickly that there was tape over his mouth preventing him. Alarmed, he tried to move and became aware of ropes binding his hands together at his back and also binding his feet together.

Next was the sensation of movement, he was still but somehow moving. His eyes darted about as he blinked away the water and tried to clear his dizziness. He realised suddenly that he was in the back seat of a car. Glancing up and ahead he spied Lincoln Clay's stern brown eyes watching him carefully in the rear view mirror.

Lincoln was talking to him but Tommy didn't care. He tested his ropes, wondering if he would have the same luck as Lincoln but he realised swiftly that the bonds were too tight and there was nothing sharp behind him to help.

He frowned as Lincoln turned up the radio, taunting him with the song All Along the Watchtower. By God Tommy hated that song, he didn't like the singer's voice, hell the song itself was just nonsense.

"You people speak of family like you know what that word means," Lincoln addressed him in a voice deep and sombre. "But you were born into yours, you never had to go looking for some place to belong."

Tommy watched as Lincoln's lighter clicked repeatedly in the gap between the front seats. He got the message and the lack of subtlety just irritated him.

"Family, to you it's just a God damn last name. If you knew what family really meant you would have never fucked with mine. All that spilled blood, you know what it breeds? Loyalty. Family ain't who you're born with, it's who you die for."

Tommy felt his stomach jerk upwards as Lincoln slammed down hard on the accelerator and his head smacked hard off the back of the chair behind him. He pondered Lincoln's words and wondered if Lincoln had kept him alive purely for Theresa or if perhaps he had darker motive behind his generosity.

The car hit a few bumps and Tommy tasted vomit again as he glanced up at the windows. There was only the midnight blue of the sky and the shadows of trees to look at. He realised quickly as there were no street lights or sound of traffic that they must be out in the bayou.

Since there was no way Lincoln could possibly know where Theresa was, Tommy had to wonder why they were heading out that way. He realised with a chill that it was probably the same reason he had taken Theresa and her brother there, to torture without interruption and to have a place where bodies wouldn't be found too easily.

Tommy swallowed hard, vowing that he wouldn't crack under torture, that the only way Lincoln was going to learn where Theresa was, was if Tommy got to keep his life. He consoled himself with the thought that Lincoln was young and didn't seem the type to believe in torture.

It was another hour before Lincoln finally halted the car and stepped out.

A few minutes more and Tommy found himself yanked out and dragged across dirt.

Tommy tried to protest but he couldn't make much noise with the tape.

Lincoln made a mocking hushing noise as he positioned him at the edge of a murky lake that shimmered black at the edges as it caught the glare of the car's headlights.

Tommy looked for landmarks as Lincoln yanked him upright to his knees. There was a large, creepy looking manor lingering not too far from them, guarded by an old fence but it looked empty and it was the only building that Tommy could spy.

"Bayou's a big place Tommy," Lincoln said in a quiet, calm tone as he stepped back from the man. "Dark, hungry, by the time it's through with you there won't be nothing left."

Tommy was all too conscious of the lake behind him. He could hear the water lapping close to him and smell its swamp odour, stagnant and full of decay. He glanced over his shoulder but only a dark gleam was visible, the night hid its monsters for now.

There was a loud screech before Tommy was blinded by another set of headlights. He squinted at them, trying to spy the car they belonged to. The car halted and the lights went off.

A car door slammed and Tommy filled with dread as he began to make out the features of the approaching figure.

Vito Scaletta, dressed for business rather than swamp, stepped up beside Lincoln with a face filled with fury and promising violence.

"Well, well, Tommy you greasy motherfucker," Vito greeted him bluntly, "I didn't think it would be long before you fucked up."

Vito glanced at Lincoln and he frowned. "Ducks is on his way, Quinn and Ren too, better get the truth out of him now before they rip him apart."

Vito turned another glare back on Tommy and gave him a taunting smile, made all the sinister thanks to the shadows his hat cast on his face. "You get that chickenshit? The Navarro woman you say is going to die, she's got three brothers on her way here now to fuck you up and not one of them believes in a quick death. You had better get talking before they get here."

Lincoln stepped forward and yanked off the tape on Tommy's mouth at last. "Tommy he isn't kidding," he said in a low voice. "You're going to have to agree to take us to Theresa otherwise they've no reason to let you live."

"I'm not taking you," Tommy retorted hotly with a glare up at Clay, "you think I'm that kind of fool? You'll kill me as soon as we reach her. No, I'll tell you where she is."

"Yeah you'll lie," Vito interrupted bluntly, "and run off while we're looking for her. No Tommy," he shook his head, "you take us to her, that's your only choice. Why the fuck do you even have her?"

Tommy gave Vito an ugly, bloodstained grin. "She's a whore in league with you and Clay, why do you think I have her?"

Vito sighed scornfully. "Tommy you stupid fuckface she's hardly enemy number one for you."

Tommy shrugged. "Well I'm not telling you where she is."

Vito smiled this time and plucked out a cigar cutter. "I was hoping you'd make this interesting Tommy. You know I figured Grecco was the closest I was going to get to Sal for a while but here you are, all wrapped up like the perfect present for me."

Lincoln stepped away allowing Vito to step behind Tommy, instantly filling him with unease. Tommy squirmed, trying to twist his head to see what Vito was doing. When the cigar cutter clamped onto one of his fingers and sliced the tip off, Tommy knew.

Tommy let out a howl of pain and tried to yank his hand away but the ropes and Vito's firm grasp prevented him.

"You sound like a baby," Vito mocked him, "have some fucking balls."

Tommy yelled again when another fingertip was removed.

"This is what you get for trying to play with the big boys."

"Fuck you carpet-bagger!" Tommy snarled back at him.

"Tommy that's not a promise to show us where Theresa is now, is it?" Vito queried sardonically.

There was another loud screech of tyres along with the splashing of muck as the wheels skidded against the mud of the swamp.

Tommy glanced ahead with fresh unease as another set of headlights illuminated their brief section of the bayou.

One car door opened before the car even stopped and a man sprung out of it and came charging up the dirt. "Where is that motherfucker?!" Renzio Navarro's voice roared out of the darkness. "I'm going to nail him to the ground with his dick and stab out his eyes! He's a God damn dead fucker walking!"

Lincoln shot Vito a wary look whilst Tommy tried very hard to appear calm.

Ren came storming up to them with a gun out in one hand and a knife in the other. Spying Tommy tied up on the ground, he immediately raised his gun and took aim.

"Ren don't do anything rash," Vito cautioned him, "he has to tell us where they are."

They? Tommy glanced up at Vito in confusion at his word choice.

Vito shot Tommy an ugly smile. "That's right asshole, we know Tommaso Navarro was with his sister Theresa, strange how you haven't mentioned him."

"I ain't gonna shoot fuckface here," Ren snarled as he fixed a predatory gaze on Tommy, "that would be making things too damn fast."

Two more car doors shut and Quinn and Bobby arrived to flank Tommy, both with their eyes fuelled with a mad rage.

Bobby was wearing a grey suit with a black tie and a white fedora with a black ribbon about it. Despite the warmth of the night he didn't appear to be sweating in his suit and managed to appear equal parts stylish and crazy. By comparison, Ren was half-gangster and half-summer ready in an open, short sleeved grey shirt, a white t-shirt, grey trousers and a fedora to match Bobby's. Quinn was similar but his shirt had long sleeves and he hadn't bothered with a hat.

"Tommy Marcano," Bobby spat out his name, "I hear you know where our brother and sister are. I guess you don't know much about the Navarro family if you thought it was a good idea to take them. I'll make it brief for you." Bobby stepped forward and raised his right hand to his chest. "I'm Roberto Navarro, I'm the one who's going to cut off your hands and feed 'em to the gators." He gestured back to his right. "This is my brother Quinn, he's the one who's gonna slice off your ears and give 'em to the birds." He then gestured ahead to his left. "And this is Ren, he's gonna stab out your eyes and make sure you don't bleed out on us. He's got medical training, knows how to keep a fucker alive for a long time. You want to wait us out Tommy?"

Tommy stared up at Bobby and believed that the lunatic meant every word he said. He swallowed hard before retorting. "What makes you certain Theresa and that other brother of yours have the time for this nonsense?" he queried coolly. "All this time you're wasting here, she and him could bleeding out right now."

"Well if that's the case you're dead motherfucker," Ren snapped at him, "and I will make it God damn slow for you."

"She ain't dead yet," Vito spoke up, "or you would have never mentioned her."

Vito stepped away from Tommy, moving to stand beside Lincoln. "He's right though Ducks," he said as he glanced Bobby's way, "time is a wasting, why don't you just get down to it."

Bobby nodded as he tugged out a knife and started walking towards Tommy. "Alright shitkicker, which hand you like best?" he queried as the madness in his dark stare seemed to fill his eyes.

Tommy shrank back until he felt the cool splash of water on his rear, then he froze up, fearful to move any further back lest an alligator get him.

"What if I do take you to them? How do I know you won't kill me then? What's in it for me?" he snapped as he glowered up at Bobby.

"A quicker death!" Ren snapped.

Bobby glared at his brother over his shoulder before returning his stare to Tommy. "Now, now we can't get something for nothing," he said calmly. "I'm a man of my word Mr. Marcano, if I say we won't kill you then we won't kill you. If you take us to our brother and sister tonight then we won't kill you."

Tommy frowned at this, Bobby did sound sincere but Tommy didn't know the man. Still he wasn't exactly in a position to bargain. He thought of the dead Navarro brother and wondered what would happen when they found him. His gaze darted nervously to Ren as he wondered if he might snap and shoot him up in a rage.

"I'll tell you where they are," Tommy offered, "Clay can stay with me, then when you get to them and see they're where I say they are, then he can let me go."

Vito and Ren both frowned at this. "One of you should stay too," Vito suggested as he looked to Bobby.

Bobby nodded agreeably. "Alright, Quinn can stay. You try to cut and run Tommy and Quinn will slice your feet right off."

Tommy swallowed again. Quinn seemed less murderous but only in comparison to Ren who was glowering at Tommy and miming slashing motions with his knife. Quinn was another brother and Tommy still feared a violent retribution when they found their deceased brother. He struggled to think of a way out of the situation, fully believing that if he didn't start showing signs of co-operation then Bobby and his brothers would opt for torture.

"Let me hurt him Bobby," Ren begged with a grin at Tommy, "little skin peeling won't kill him."

"Shit, I'll tell you," Tommy snapped as he looked to Bobby, "just take him with you and give me your word that I leave alive."

Bobby gave Tommy a careful stare before taking off his hat to reveal a thick crop of greying hair. He pressed the hat against his chest and said solemnly, "I give you my word, none of us will kill you providing you give us the right directions to our brother and sister." He placed the hat back on his head.

Tommy nodded in a quick acceptance as he glimpsed Ren waving his knife at him. "Alright, they're near the gator farm," Tommy confessed.

"You want to narrow that down?" Bobby suggested as he raised his eyebrows. "There are probably more than a few of 'em out here."

Tommy scowled over at Lincoln. "He knows the one, Johnny Peralta ran it for me. You get there, there's a shack to the south of it, not far, only shack out there, part of a forgotten distillery."

Lincoln nodded and looked to Vito. "I'll give you directions," he offered.

"Sure kid."

"You and Quinn keep Tommy company," Bobby said to Lincoln, "once we find Theresa and Tommaso I'll head back here to confirm it." He gave Tommy a cool stare. "You tell a lie about their whereabouts Tommy and I will carve you up slowly."

"I haven't but you remember when you find them that you promised you wouldn't kill me," Tommy retorted with an anxious glance at Quinn and then Lincoln.

Bobby nodded. "Alright, deal's a deal. Lincoln, give us the directions."


Even though Vito had been expecting it he still hadn't prepared himself to see it. Tommy had been too evasive about Tommaso, too keen not to lead them here, of course Tommaso had to be dead. They were in the shack as Tommy had said. Tommaso was face down in the dirt displaying that his hands had been bound behind his back with rope. Theresa was beside him, her hands free from her bonds, soaked in blood and covered in scratches. Her right arm was about Tommy's stiff form and her left arm was limp and crooked beside her. She murmured her brother's name over and over until she heard Ren's violent curses.

Theresa glanced up at the shocked and unhappy trio with a wild stare of hate and vengeance.

Ren started to swear rapidly in Italian whilst Bobby knelt down before his sister. "Theresa mi-" he began softly.

"Don't say it," she growled out quietly, "don't. They were his last words. He apologised when it was all my fault. He followed me and I led him right into trouble, like I always do." She shook her head angrily.

Vito stood behind Bobby, silently observing the grisly scene. He saw how Theresa's face was swollen and covered in wounds, her right eye was promising a bruise, her lip was split and bloody, her nose was caked in dry blood, her brow had a deep cut on it and her cheeks were coloured with budding bruises.

Bobby dipped his head slightly before extending his right hand to his sister and resting it on her head gently. "Theresa you would never knowingly have led Tommaso to his death so enough of that nonsense. You were here with him in his final moments, that is the important thing."

Bobby glared unfavourably in Ren's direction when Ren started kicking one of the wooden walls and yelling. "That fuck dies slow!" He dug both of his hands into his hair and yelled.

Theresa let out a moan of pain.

"Easy Tessie," Bobby soothed as he patted her gently on her crown, "you're going to get to a doctor soon." He was purposefully cool with his sister, knowing that if he tried to console her he might have to give into his own grief and he didn't have the time for that now.

Bobby stood up and gave Ren a careful look. He ordered Ren in Italian, "Renzio you need to take care of Tommaso now. You're his older brother, see him home." He turned his attention to Vito and let his boss see the sorrow in his brown stare. "Vito can you get Theresa to a doctor please? I need to return to Lincoln and finish this."

Vito nodded. "Sure thing."

The mob boss could see that Bobby was struggling to hold back his emotions. He understood, there would be plenty of time for grief later.

"Are you going to kill him?" Ren snarled. "He knew, fuckface knew Tommy was lying dead here all this time." Ren shook his head. "Jesus Bobby, he knew Theresa was here with his corpse and he delayed and he delayed. Fuck, you'd better hurt him, you'd better drag it out, make him suffer."

"I gave my word that I wouldn't," Bobby retorted carefully, "but trust that he won't be leaving the bayou alive."

Ren frowned. "Alright, help me get him out first." He looked back to the body of his brother and a sob escaped him. "Oh shit." He rubbed away the tears budding at his eyes roughly with one hand.

"Save your grief for later Renzio," Bobby ordered softly in Italian. "We will have the rest of our lives to weep but now we must be strong to see him home."

Ren nodded and muttered, "fuck."

As Ren and Bobby headed to Tommy, Vito stepped up to Theresa. He crouched before her and surveyed her injuries, her left arm looked broken and her legs were bruised and bloody with a strained ankle possibly. "Hey Tess," he greeted bluntly. "You alright if I carry you?"

She attempted a shrug and let out a wince as her left arm protested. "I can walk," she muttered.

"I'm sure you can but it'll be quicker if I carry you," Vito reasoned.

She turned her miserably to the ground. "Okay."

Vito reached over and gave her right shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'll get you to a doctor real quick," he promised.

Theresa didn't respond.