Joey (Princess) Heclan was hell on two legs according the local cop guidebook.<br/><br/>He was bad candy, broken goods, blood on the side walk and stink on a corpse. He was a gangsters flunky in the most traditional sense there could be. Joey was a big boy, easily breaching the six-foot-and-built-like-a-brick-shit-house marker, brute figure performing above and beyond its call of duty and boy, did he let you know it. His face was cross hatched with enough scars to host a naughts and crosses championship, even his muscles had muscles and he accentuated this with a dashing of leather jacket that screamed bad-ass so loud it woke up the neighbours.<br/><br/>Unfortunately for the boys of Don Martello's Club house, he could only sneak as well as his size allowed. Not to say he was clumsy or clompy, but Princess couldn't shadow anything short of a bull elephant.<br/><br/>That was why he had Tink.<br/><br/>Tink or Tinker, the "Family" mechanic understood the full gravity of any situation involving Lens the Camera. Daddy Martello liked to keep the boy in his good books. The baby Artiste brought in some good, interesting folk every now and then, he was easy to bribe off and understood the sensitive concept of 'behind closed doors', there was little we wasn't good for provided it didn't get his hands in anything dirtier than development fluids.<br/><br/>So when Lens had given them the buzz, a set of directions and a rather pretty description he'd rounded up Princess and darted off into the darkening skyline of the Californian back alleys.<br/><br/>Hot, black coffee spilt all down the front of the reporters grey coat as the cup, the hand around it and the chest they'd crashed into rammed into the wall behind him. Princess held the poor weedy man a good foot from the ground, his black, smart leather shoes doing a jig in the air, "I'm telling ya's!" the reporter squeaked, eyes like saucers, "I don't know nothin'! I ain't done NOTHIN' dammit! Ohgod Joey, Joey yer a good man! Joey you knew me Ma! Remember me Ma???"<br/><br/>"Shut up Mahoney!" Tink snapped, watching his comrade manhandle the poor bastard from the shadows. He pushed up from his leaning place on the wall and stepped forward. One. Boot. At. A. Time.<br/><br/>"Tell Don Martello whatever I did, I'll pay him back!" the reporter howled, a sob surfacing in his voice, "Oh god, have mercy boys! I got three chil'en! Three mouths all depending on me!!"<br/><br/>"Shut up Mahoney!" The slim, rough man repeated in a hiss, "We're here for information!"<br/><br/>The reporter, apparently named Mahoney for the amount of times it had been barked in his direction went limp in Princesses bear fist, "hey?"<br/><br/>"And you haven't got any children!" Tink added with a scowl.<br/><br/>"Might do one day, with all due respect, sir,"<br/><br/>There was a noise like two boulders grinding together as Princess chuckled. Tink shot him a glare, "You're one of Lens's beloveds, you keep an eye on the ins and outs of his apartment,"<br/><br/>The reporter blinked, " Lens?"<br/><br/>Tink's small eyes narrowed further, his lips tightened in anger, "MARCO, Mahoney, Marco! The reason why you have that notch on your lip!"<br/><br/>The reporter froze dead, the left hand side of his bottom lip suddenly stinging for the memory. He'd been ... stolen off... photo's apparently and Marco had... well, he'd called it 'claiming him', Mahoney called it biting a fucking split all the fucking way through his fucking lip. Going to the hospital for stitches hadn't been an option for some... reason... well, it had scarred like a bitch.<br/><br/>Mahoney nodded pathetically.<br/><br/>"Clever boy!" Princess let him drop to the floor with an undignified clatter.<br/><br/>"His new boyfriend has escaped and he's offering a reward," Tink watched the colour return to Mahoney's cheeks at the mention of money, "We need to know where he's gone,"<br/><br/>"Do I get a cut??"<br/><br/>"You don't get your throat slit! Now where is the Asian nip!" he snapped.<br/><br/>"Left. On his way down to the broadwalk by the looks of things," Mahoney nodded solemnly, straightening his shirt, "I'd run like ink in the rain were I you gentleman, he's got a good ten minutes on you both!"<br/><br/>Tink and Princess exchanged concerned glances.<br/><br/>"And gents," Mahony's gaze dropped to his coffee spattered shoes, a frown deepening his expression, "Don't go telling Marco... for the love of God, I have his place watched for a reason..."<br/><br/>"Whatever," Tink spat, taking off into the dark, off to go, stalk and drag back this boy. kicking or screaming, it was nothing his good friend chloroform couldn't have coped with.