A/N: Big Kev was giving me stress, but I think we worked it out. I hope you start to understand what's going on now.

Big Kev's Clean Hands

Ya know, I ain't never been here before. You wouldn't think it judging by the mugs I hang around with and the lowlife I work for. Of course, I wouldn't never come down here for none of my own shit. I ain't really that kinda guy. I mean, I see a lotta shit, but I ain't really involved with none of it. So I guess there ain't no reason for me to ever end up here, huh?

See, I keep my hands clean and in my line of work, that ain't always the easiest thing to do. But I'm lucky like that. I like to think it's cause I'm such a nice guy. I don't bother nobody. I'm usually pretty fucking polite to dames I meet. I treat 'em real special. Just ask the girls at Classics. Everyone of them'll tell ya, Big Kev is a sweetheart. I smile, hold their hand and look 'em in the eye when I talk to 'em. They like that. It makes 'em feel pretty.

And the Johnny Law's? I'm just as nice to them, too. I ain't hardly never had to get rough with no one I was shaken down. A little smile goes a long way, ya know? I don't go around trying to scare goons like that fucking Show does. He don't know how muscle with class. That's why that fucking grip is gonna end up sleeping with the fishes.

I can't help it. See, I always been thisa way. Big D always says I'm too nice a guy to be muscle for Bugsy Jarrett. I tell him, you ain't gotta be mean to drive a car. I wish I just did that, ya know? Like just drive for a crew. But no. Bugs thinks I'm a good driver, but much better muscle. He thinks 'cause I'm big people listen to me. That ain't always the case. And I don't like all the attention. I'd rather be behind the wheel, speeding the hell out of dodge than doing some of the horrible shit he asks me to do. And he wants some horrible shit done. Bugs done a lotta wrong shit to people, his own family included.

Did you know that he killed Lucky's parents because they owed him some money for Christmas presents? Just like that, killed 'em and took little Lucky in as his own. Not that he treated him like a son or nothing. He hated little bastard as much as the rest of us do. I think it's because he never approved of his sister marrying a Mick. That meant Lucky can't never be made and Busgy ain't have no kids of his own. He blamed his sister for destroying the legacy that his grandfather worked so hard to build. I think that's why Lucky's parents got popped to be truthful. But I ain't got no proof of that. All of that shit happened before my time. And believe you me, I wouldn't be involved with that shit if it was going on now.

Knowing when to mind my business, that's how I stay outta trouble. I got this knack for feeling out when a situation is more than I can handle. I ain't scared of trouble. I just don't wanna be involved with it. I ain't a trigger man. I ain't never had to use my piece, I'm proud to say. I much better behind the wheel of a car, than behind the barrell of a gun. Smiley says I drive so good cause I'm trying to run away from shit. I told him he can suck my dick, but he might have a point.

You wanna know a little secret? A couple times when I was given the order to make an example outta some poor schmuck, I freelanced the job. There's a couple of guys I go to, depending on what needs to be done. I know the best guys in the business and I don't give a fuck who they work for.

For instance, if I just need to rough somebody up, I call on KO. He'll beat the shit outta anybody and don't ask why. Dealing with him's a little tricky though 'cause I always gotta pull him off. He don't understand the difference between 'break his legs' and 'bash his skull in'. But he's good at what he does, though.

And let's just say that I need building burned down, with a couple of mugs inside, cause Bugsy wats to cash in on the insurance…that's when I go to Babyface. Don't nobody suspect him of shit. And say I need a guy's throat slit and have look like he had an accident shaving. That's when I call Smiley. Or if I need something done quick, precise, marksman style… that's all Eni.

I got enough friends that I don't have get my hands dirty. I even got friends that clean the fuck up. Taker'll take every fucking piece of evidence, identification, even the fucking paint off the walls…they aren't never an identifying mark left. And All-nighter? He's the fucking neat freak. He'd stash the bodies in neat little piles off in corner somewhere, so he don't have look at the cluttered remains of Joes that got there caps pealed.

Don't get me wrong, freelancing ain't cheap. But my boys and I gotta deal. Sometimes, I drive a car for them; sometimes they do shit for me. Like that time that that store keeper wasn't buying his shit through Bugsy's distributors, I hadda call Eni to put two bullets in both knee caps. As a favor to him, I mighta borrowed a big ass cannon from Bugsy's war collection to give to him. I knew damn well he already two of 'em, but Eni shoots shit all the time and I figured he busted his up. Bugsy didn't know the difference, Eni got another big ass gun, everybody was happy.

Hey, don't look at me like that. It's hard work keeping my hands clean in this business. I got a house and girl that ain't cheap. So, I gotta do what I gotta do.And what I gotta do, right now, is back to work. So, lemme tell you what I know about what went down tonight.

It all started tonight when Bugsy kept whining and shit about not being able to find his favorite diamond cufflinks. I told him that I had seen 'em was when I took him home last night. He was entertaining a lady friend of his that dances at The Spot. They call her Legs, because she's got these Legs that are fucking non-stop. I ain't really want none of the details, cause I know Big D's giving her the stiffy on the side. D's my boy, but Bugs is my boss. What's a fella to do?

Anyways, Bugsy thought he could convince Legs to dance for Classics and he was gonna show her the finer things in life. Shit that he swears Big D can't never show her, which is bullshit 'cause D's a classy guy. But, I guess things ain't go so hot because when Legs was gone, so were the cuffies.

I swear I had to listen to Bugs talk about Big D's low class broads the whole ride to the office. Then he was talking about having her put to sleep for stealing from him. I hope to God that he didn't mean for me to do it. That ain't my bag. Imagine talking about killing a woman with legs like that over a pair of cuffies? Espeically when he got more.

Well it just so happened that by the time we got to the office, he forgot all about snuffing Legs. See, when we walked in the door we was greeted by my two favorite Federal agents. They always make me nervous. Like the last time them sons-a-bitches waltzed in Bugs' place, they suddenly became owners of two of the finest pieces of pier real estate. Just so happens that I wasn't there at the time. But tonight, Bugs was all kinds of happy that I was around. He told me to watch his back for any funny business and take 'em out if they started some shit. Fuck that shit. I wasn't doing that. Killing fucking Feds? Bugsy's fucking crazy.

I played it off cool, though. I did what I always do, which ain't much. I stood around and looked scary, hoping that those fucking flat foots would take the hint. Now as the Feds is leaving out that little fucker Bishop tells me to watch my back tonight. Then he laughs that usual bullshit laugh of his and pats me on the arm. I ain't think nothing of it, probably his Wing-tips was tied too tight. A hazard of being a flat foot.

But they musta said something that really pissed Bugs off, because he starts yelling about going to Classics to see his darling nephew. I know right there he ain't happy, cause Bugs don't ever request to see Lucky. I ain't understand it all, something about the Feds paying him his cut and some booze or some shit. I don't know. Alls I know if Bugs is about to hit the fucking roof.

So before I go walking in there all blind and shit, I decided to call the club to check out the vibe. The last thing I was going to do was walk into a shootout cause Lucky done fucked something up. Now see, my girl, Frenchy,dances there. Not because she's a great dancer or nothing, but so I can watch her ass. And it's amazing how she watches mine, too. Always getting me info on what the fuck Lucky's up to. Guess I can't be all mad that he's taking a liking to her.

Remember that way of sensing trouble I told ya 'bout? Well it kicked into high fucking gear when I talked to Frenchy. To start, she tells me that Kelly's all upset. Now I know that don't sound like nothing, but if you knew Kelly, your senses would be perking up, too. So when I asked Frenchy why, she says something about Eni and a shipment or something.

Now, this the second time tonight I done heard about some shipment. First from the Feds outside of Bugsy's office and now from Frenchy and Eni's got something to do with it. I needed more, so I told her to keep an eye on Lucky. Low and behold, that fucker calls her up to his office while she's on the phone with me. So I knew right away that we was gonna have to get to Classics fast. I would hate to have to actually pull the trigger cause Lucky done touched my girl.

So we get to Classics in record fucking time. I was driving of course and I'm looking around for some signs of trouble. Of course fucking Bugs won't get out the car unless I make sure it's secure first. Like I wanna get shot for his ass. But I do it and I just so happen to see all the boys but Taker walking outside. It ain't feel right cause the house was packed and all the security was fucking leaving.

Just before I head back to the car to tell Bugs that something feels off, a kid comes up to me with a note. He says that some mug paid him a pence to give it to Bugs. I ain't read it or nothing. I just went back to the car and gave it to the man. He didn't seem real interested. He was more interested in why the fuck the Feds' car was out front, when they ain't leave his office not an hour ago. Lucky was in deep shit.

We wait for a little bit and watch as the flat foots leave before we go inside. Bugs goes to Lucky and I decide to talk to Kelly for more information. She pushed down the intercom. We hear all about how Lucky got pinched. He even tells Bugs that Big D did it.

Now, Bugs ain't really the type to get bent outta shape about a shipment. As much money as he got, that's small time. But because Double V's name was involved, that shit became major. Almost as major as Kelly's attitude at the mention of Big D's crew. She's going on and on about how her Eni didn't do nothing like that and how Candace thinks it was All-nighter and the guys.

I hadda tell her to shut up or she was gonna get us found out as snoopers. I didn't mean to yell, but she was almost hysterical whine Bugs came out and told me to send a note to Double V. She just had a feeling that Eni was gonna get hurt. I couldn't tell her that nothing would happen to him on my watch…not with Bugs there…not if I valued my life.

So I did the job. I ran a few errands, then I went to The Spot. Just so happens that by the time I tell D that Bugs wanna see Double V, fucking Eni is bringing Kelly in. He don't say much, just that Frenchy said that Kelly can stay with us. Now my radar's really going off. I don't know what the trouble is, but Eni ain't the type to ring false alarms. What else could I do? I took her back to my place and made sure that Frenchy and Teach was there to take care of her.

Now I'm a careful Joe. I drive cars and I ain't shot no one, ever. I might not be as heartless as Eni or as smart as Candy or Moves, but I know when something don't feel right. I know when my hands about to get dirty and I don't fucking like it. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Bugs, you sure this the right place?" I been to this pier a hundred times, but it ain't never look as deserted as it do right now. There ain't even one street light on and I know boats come through here all times a night. I really don't like this shit. "Who the fuck we meeting anyways?"

Bugs looks nervous, which for him ain't nothing. He always looks fucking nervous. To be a Don, he sure is a scrawny, scary little bastard. "Yeah. This is where it said. Get out and check it out."

"Who the fuck I'm looking for?" I'm out on the pier at two in the fucking morning, people ain't exactly bustling around this place. I get more nerves behind the wheel of a car. Cause if something pops off, I can mash my foot to that gas pedal and take off in no time. On foot? I'ma sitting fucking duck.

Bugs shrugs. He don't give a fuck. If I take a bullet, he'll still get to drive away. "You'll know."

I don't say nothing else. I get out the car and stretch real good. I know my gun is loaded and one day I'm gonna have to shoot it. I just hope it ain't today. It's so quiet that I can hear my shoes on the ground as I walk. It's dark and there's a fog coming off the water. Really is making my stomach churn.

I stop when a see the glare of a cigarette. I can't make out who it is, because it's too dark. But I can see a shadow next to him move. "You who we meeting?" I play it off cool, cause I'm a big guy. Little does this grip know, I'm shitting fucking bricks.

"Where's your boss? I got something I think he wants back." I don't know the voice, but judging from the light that ciggy gives off, there's a least four of them. Now I gotta choice, go get Bugs and let him get shot…or refuse and I get dead.

"Be right back." I ain't stupid. Don't ever let anybody tell you I am. I walk kinda fast back to the car, but I ain't gonna look over my shoulder. I may not of ever shot my piece, but I never let nobody think I was scared, either. They ain't gotta know the truth. "Bugs, them mugs is here. It's four of 'em and they don't look armed." I don't know if they're armed or not. I ain't stick around long enough to see. Alls I know is I don't wanna get capped if they are.

Nodding his head, Bugs steps outta the car with his briefcase. I don't know what's in it, or really what we're here for. I don't care, neither. I just wanna go the hell home. I walk with him back over to rolling door of the warehouse only them mugs ain't there now. But fucking Double V is. What kinda switch-a-roo is this?

"Double V." Bugs nods his head like he suspected it all along. I'm confused. If it was him and his goons shadows before, why ain't he just shoot me then? He coulda popped me and then got Bugs and the guys in the car. Why wait 'til we're all here?

"Bugs." Double V nods back. "What balls you got inviting me out here this time of night? Makes sense though…neutral turf and all." There's something about the way that V is rearing back on his heals and checking out the scenery that don't sit right with me. He ain't familiar with this turf. Why would he invite Bugs out here in the dark, when he don't know the lay of the land. And the what the fuck does he mean that Bugs invited him?

Bugs looks at me and the few guys we got with us. He looks just as uncomfortable as Double V does. "Me? You the one paying kids to slip notes under my door. So what the fuck you want V? You gonna try to bribe me for my booze back?"

And there's that fucking laugh. "Me? You stole my booze and my money."

Before Bugs can answer I hear this crack across the water. The next thing I know, mugs is ducking for cover. Bullets come out in every fucking direction. I took this job for the money and perks, not to get fucking shot at. My daddy used to say that a good run beats a bad stand and since I ain't no shooter, I'm running my ass somewheres far away.

I find a spot right behind a dumpster and from here I can see that the pier ain't fucking dark no more. It just lights, and a big ass fire coming from inside the warehouse. I can see sparks from guns coming from seven different directions and freak fire blasts blowing up all the buildings. I don't know what the fuck is going on, it's too chaotic. Too many people running and screaming. Too much smoke and blood. It looks like a fucking war zone out here. And just as quick as starts, it fucking stops. It's quiet. Just the sound of glass exploding, and a few moans.

I can hear someone walking up to me, and this wheezy sound. There's more foot steps and I can just barely make out some mug with a hat and a ciggy. He flicks it and it bounces off of the poor schmuck right before he falls to the ground.

I listen for a few minutes and there's this sound, like a high pitched laugh. I don't know what the fuck that is or who the fuck would make it. But I do know the familiar screech of tires when I hear it. I know right away that that ain't no normal car. That's some fancy shit with too much weight in it cause the tires sound real heavy. Hey, I know my cars and I know what a peal out on tires that ain't evenly distributed sounds like. It sounds like I need to keep my ass put for another minute.

I think it's safe. I step out from my hiding space and look down at the body on the ground. I don't believe it. Don Double V – "Vinny" Vincent McMahon, done got his throat slit from ear to ear. Some fucking Wise Guy had the balls to take out a Don.

I gotta get the hell away from here. There's other guys on the ground, too, but I don't know them. Thems the guys that Double V brought with him. I damn sure ain't helping none of them, cause I don't blood on my hands. Literally or figuratively.

I start to walk over to the car but what I see stops me. Bugsy. He's fucking slouched in front of the car, with a bullet between his eyes. And because the back of his head is still on, I'd say it wasn't point blank range. That shit happened from far away. I look up and sure enough on the top of that warehouse is a tripod. "That's quite a fucking distance." I'm getting the hell outta here.

Whoever them guys were, they were fucking pros. There was four of us in the car, now I'm the only one that's driving away. But, I'm also the only one that ain't drew my gun. So maybe that's the reason I don't fucking shoot. I ain't willing to get shot. Fucking notes, and Feds, and dead Dons on a pier. Fuck. What the fuck am I gonna do? The Council's gonna have a thousand fucking questions and I don't have no fucking answers. I need this shit cleaned up. I need them bodies stashed so don't nobody ask me nothing. I need to call Taker and All-Nighter.

How the fuck did I get invovled with this? Now my hands is gonna get dirty because of this small time fucking shipment.