What a load of hogwash.

Alfie didn't know what he had expected to come of his spontaneous sit-down with that woman who claimed she was some conductor of spiritual beings.

Chalk it up to boredom.

At the end of the day after terrorizing his employees, he had realized he was bored.

All work and no play.

Or too much idleness.

He felt idle. He might be running around, shouting orders to his men and concocting schemes, but where were the fruits of his labor in regards to that troublesome loose end named Thomas Shelby? What had he actually done to solve his dilemma?

He was at a crossroads, an uncertain junction in his life and all because of Thomas Shelby. Should he kill him. Should he not kill him? Should he wait. Should he act? It was all becoming so goddamned exhausting to think about so he had decided to seek spiritual counsel in prayer over a bottle of rum, but when he wasn't miraculously enlightened, he realized he'd better find something else to do to occupy his time. He'd grabbed a another drink and a bite to eat at a pub down the street, walked around town, thought of that good looking woman and realized he hadn't gotten her name. He had looked at the other women around him throwing themselves at the bartenders and bus-boys and had not felt a flicker of interest in a single one.

Not one.

Yet that one woman with her thin face, short hair, and solemn eyes was at the back of his brain, picking away at him. Now he had Thomas Shelby and this unnamed woman chipping away at his brain, driving him into a frenzy. It had even driven him to a false mystic and some strange woman talking about burning buildings and children screaming. He had to admit that her words had been a little chilling and she was clearly distressed, which was why he'd tried to (in an unusual bout of generosity) ease her fears by providing some sort of explanation. Clearly, she wasn't getting anything out of that cracked woman and those two terrified dolts on either side of him.

Alfie shrugged and continued walking down the street, one hand secured around the pistol at his belt.

He knew these streets like the back of his hand and walked them with confidence. If anyone tried to jump him (which had actually happened before) one shot and the problem was solved. It didn't trouble him that the light was fading. He wasn't afraid of a little darkness. That was what street lamps were for and there were plenty of those all around. People were milling about the pubs and clubs, little lads with girls on their arms, laughing and talking completely oblivious of the man in the top hat walking the streets holding a pistol at his belt. Sometimes Alfie envied them all, envied their ignorance. However he knew that when push came to shove, it was better to be the one on his guard, be the one with the successful business who was powerful enough to keep his enemies at bay and make everyone fear him, than some ignorant youth taking his girl out on the town.

Although that would be nice.. He pictured that, taking a pretty woman, all dolled up for him for drinks in a club, dancing with her under a chandelier in a ball room like in the pictures.

if you were a sentimental sap. The more practical, logical part of his mind said, finishing the first part of that sentence and cutting those thoughts short. The world was filled with enough troubles without some woman getting inside his head. He'd managed to live thus far without any serious distractions of that sort and he would continue on in that fashion.

He would also lose the shadows that had been tailing him for the past block.

Kids.

He had seen them, four boys under the age of thirteen out of the corner of his eye while there was still a little light left, creeping along the walls and trying to follow him unseen. He listened to their feet pattering behind him. Young kids were known to wander in groups, picking pockets on the streets at night. Alfie loosened his grip on the pistol. He continued to walk at a leisurely pace, reevaluating his plan. No use in shooting at a gang of street urchins. Bad publicity, killing a bunch of children, even if they were up to no good. Not to mention he drew the line somewhere. He wasn't a homicidal maniac who killed women and children. He'd bash a few faces with a hammer to instill fear and intimidation into potential employees, maybe kill a goat every once in a while, but there was a line he did not cross.

They carried on in that fashion until Alfie, seeing that they weren't going to cease and scatter, stopped in his tracks, turned around, and growled,

"Off with you!"

He saw the shadowy figures stiffen at the sound of his voice, then heard retreating footsteps running in the opposite direction. One of them said,

"I told ya, shouldn't have picked im. Told ya he knew we were after im."

Kids these days.

Alfie shook his head and turned around, coming face to face with two hooded figures standing under the street lamp in front of him.

"Good evening to you," Alfie called, moving his hand slowly back to his pistol under his coat as he walked towards them. "Lovely night ain't it?"

The figures didn't answer. Carefully, he loosened the pistol from his belt while continuing to walk forward. He scanned his surroundings. The brick wall was to his left, the street was to his right, and the two men were in front of him. No one was going to ambush him from the side or from behind. The two figures remained where they were, their arms crossed over their chests. No hands in pockets reaching for concealed weapons.

Odd.

"I said, a lovely night yeah?" Alfie went on, slowing his pace, evaluating his options. The hooded men said nothing and remained so still that Alfie wondered if they were real or stuffed mannequins from one of the department stores. He didn't like the fact that they were just standing there. Were they going to charge him head on? That would be an idiotic plan.

"Christ someone'd think you lads are statutes," he went on cheerily. Don't you two have somewhere to be?"

Two shots.

Alfie braced himself for the act and increased his pace.

Now or never.

With lightening quick reflexes he had polished in similar situations, he drew the pistol out of his coat, aimed, and….

"Oy!"

Alfie's eyes traveled upwards at the sound of a voice above his head and immediately wished he hadn't as a bag full of rocks, pebbles and coal came raining down on top of him. He lowered his head, shielding his eyes with his hands and feeling blood well up underneath his eyes as the rocks cut his skin. He was momentarily blinded by the dust. Then he felt liquid run down his clothes and he realized what was about to happen next.

Shit.

He raised the gun and fired up straight towards the roof. He broke into a run, swerving to his right, gritting his teeth and trying to clear his vision. He heard the sound of a body hitting the ground and knew his bullet had met its mark. He yanked his coat off, which had been doused with petrol, and threw it as far away from him as possible. His eyes stung from the dust and oil and he felt blood running down his cheeks.

In all the commotion, he had momentarily forgotten about the two hooded figures until they came at him from either side and began beating him with their fists, driving him into a side-alley away from the main street. Rage filled Alfie when he realized that he had fallen right into their trap. His vision turned red and he lashed out at his assailants. He wasn't going to go out like this, not without a good old fashioned last stand. He grabbed the man to his right, wrapped his hands around the man's neck, and choked the life out of him. He felt the man go limp in his arms, tossed him away and then he swung around to deal with the other one.

He froze as something sharp pierced his lower back, and stayed there. Blinding pain shot up his back and he felt the blood running down the back of his shirt. His hands fell to his side and he lost all sense of what he was supposed to be doing.

In his moment of shock, the second man grabbed him from behind by the scruff of his neck then shoved him against the brick wall, pressing his face so forcefully into the bricks that blood ran down his nose.

Alfie swore as he heard the sound of a match being lit.

"I have three options," a male voice said in a Scottish accent. "Burn ya alive right where you stand with this match here," Alfie saw the light from the match out of the corner of his eye. "Pull this knife out of yer back and leave ya to bleed out like a stuck pig…"

Alfie bit down on his tongue to keep from shouting out as the man wiggled the knife in his back.

"Or I let you go with a message."

Alfie spit blood out of his teeth in contempt.

"Give my regards to Thomas Shelby."

Of course.

Alfie laughed then, a rasping guttural sound. He couldn't help it and it helped distract him from the pain in his back. He wished he could say it felt like a pin or a splinter, but it was excruciating.

"Good evening to ya Mr. Solomons," the man hissed before letting go of him. Alfie's legs buckled and he slid down the wall. Somehow he managed to remain conscious and not fall onto his back.

Give my regards to Thomas Shelby.

He raised his hands and pressed them against the brick wall, trying to stand up. With an effort he rose onto his feet, swaying and trying to catch himself on the wall. Tommy Shelby apparently had made some new enemies.

Maybe he actually blew up their businesses. Put a couple grenades in their factories.

He laughed again, his head spinning, feeling his lips crack as he started grinning. He felt giddy, drunk…

Why the hell am I laughing?

His situation came crashing down on him.

I've got a knife in my back. I'm covered in petrol. I don't know where in the hell I am and it's because of Shelby.

Surprisingly he couldn't feel frightened or angry about it, which was a very bad sign according to a small functioning portion of his brain. Blood was running down his back and he stank to high heaven of gasoline. He needed to find a phone and get himself onto a hospital gurney.

Facedown. Facedown on a gurney. No point in driving this blade deeper.

He winced, taking one tentative step forward, both his hands against the wall. He made it back out into the street, holding the wall for support. He stayed close to the wall as he made it to the street, searching for a place he could make a call. He saw one large building in the distance, completely illuminated. He staggered towards it and this time nearly fell as his vision clouded over. He swore again and pushed himself back to his feet, pushing onward for what felt like an eternity. He made it to the wide front steps of the building and collapsed onto all fours.

He heard screams and realized people were screaming at the sight of him, bleeding, covered in ash and dust, getting blood on the front steps.

"Mr. Solomons?"

Alfie raised his eyes to see her, all decked out in white, like some sort of angel, wearing a white knit cap, coat and scarf with light shining on her from the opened door.

"Someone call an ambulance," she yelled, taking the steps two at a time and bending down towards him.

"Mr. Solomons," she said again, alarm on her face as she crouched down beside him.

"Alfie," he said, his words slurring. He tried to stand.

"Do not move," she ordered, her voice stern. He looked up and saw the concern on her face. He wanted to apologize for being a literal bloody mess, although she didn't seem frightened by the blood.

"Alright Alfie," she said, her tone brisk as she slipped out of her coat, wrapped it up into a ball, and pressed it against his back.

"Don't ruin your pretty coat for me," he said. She ignored him, placing a steadying hand on his side and pressing the coat against his back around the knife hilt.

"Who did this to you?" she asked, reaching up towards her neck, removing her scarf and rolling it up into a ball like she did the coat.

"Don't know," he said trying to stop her from ruining her scarf as well, but she ignored him and dabbed at his lacerated and bloody face.

"The ambulance will be here any minute."

Alfie nodded, pressing his head down against the cool marble step.

"You're going to be alright," she added. Her voice sounded distant now. His vision flickered.

This wouldn't be the worst way to go," flashed across his mind. He closed his eyes and was even starting to feel a little peaceful when a slap to the face jolted him back to his senses.