A/N: This starts out kind of slow, basically the first couple chapters are going to be about their childhood. Like I said..kind of slow..I got most of my information from “The Blues Brothers: Private” but I have altered some of the things to go with my plot.

The hot, stormy July night was reflecting the turmoil inside the Dwight Correctional Facility. The long cell block was silent. It’s dismal concrete floor led to the kitchen. It all looked the same, grey concrete floor, dirty white tile on the three counters that were in a neat row in the center of the room. Pots and pans hung from racks on the ceiling, all of them were black iron. One long counter ran along the four walls, leaving a space by the door, covered with the same grimey white tile.

On the rolling silver cart lat Artesia Papageorge, giving birth to her son. Cissy and Sally, the nurse, were doing to the best they could to help. All three knew that Artesia wasn’t going to make it. It was such a shame, Artesia was a beautiful woman. She had short curly black hair and big brown eyes with an ivory complection. She looked like a china doll compared to great big Cissy, whose chocolate skin was rough and wrinkled. Her great big ape-like hands were clutching Aresia’s tiny little hand that was sweaty from stress. Occasionally, Cissy would reach out and wipe sweat from Artesia’s forehead. Nurse Sally, held Artesia’s legs apart and kept coaching her on what to do to make the baby come out faster.

Artesia was in a great amount of pain and she was extremely tired. It wouldn’t be much longer before she was gone. Artesia wasn’t scared, she just wanted the baby to make it. Even though Artesia couldn’t remember who the father was, she still felt her baby was the only thing she had done right in her whole life. Artesia had been told that she had a murdered a man and that’s why she was at the Dwight Correctional Facility. The thing was Artesia didn’t even remember killing anyone.

A wave of pain swept over Artesia and she cried out. Cissy said some comforting things that Artesia didn’t register. Sally was screaming something , but Artesia heard none of it. She was fading now. It was time for Artesia to die. There was one thing she had to do first, though.

“Call...call him Jake,” Artesia croaked. With one final contraction, baby Jake was free of Artesia’s grasp. Sally quickly wiped him off, she almost didn’t notice that Artesia was dead. Sally nodded to Cissy and the burly woman draped a blanket over Artesias’s petite body. Poor baby Jake was now an orphan.

It was a typical snowy December day in Chicago. The dank dirty streets were covered in a slushy grey mass. The tall concrete and steel buildings touched the morbid grey skies that threatened another snow fall. Anyone walking on the street was so bundled up all you could see was there eyes. The cold, bitter air was nipping at Peter Torokvei’s nose. All he was trying to do was sell newspapers from his shabby little stand that looked like it was built out of cardboard. Mostly because it was.

Today, Peter rather be inside warming up. He was an old man and the weather was hard for him to handle. For Sixty years he’d been doing this and it had begun to take it’s toll on him. Today was slow. Nobody wanted to bother stopping to get the paper. They just wanted to get to warmth as fast as they could. Cars just shot past his stand and people walking by pretended they didn’t see him. That’s why he was surprised when the bright red Mustang pulled up to his pathetic stand.

An attractive blonde stuck her head out the window and gestured to the stack of papers. Peter practically leapt at them. He handed her one and before he told her the cost the woman handed him a basket. She quickly drove off. Peter watched her disappear than looked at the contents of the basket. There was a baby wrapped in a powder blue blanket. In all his years of running this news stand, Peter had never had anyone pay for a paper like this. He was so surprised that he forgot the license plate number on the car.

Al Norton was tied up and gagged in the trunk of a car. It was dark and hot. He was sweating profusely and it was hard to breath. His neatly pressed suit was now wrinkled and clinging to his body. These weren’t the things he wanted to be his last memory. Al was hoping he’d die a little thinner too. He was grossly over weight and balding. He didn’t exactly look like a mafia, even though that’s what he was. He’d been working in the Jewish mob since he was twelve. It seemed like a good idea t the time. Now, he regretted every second of it.

It all started with his wife, Kathy. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. Kathy was thin and had straight short brown hair. Her eyes had been a mixture of blue and grey. She saved Al from his dark life. Though Kathy was a strong woman she couldn’t handle the stress of child birth. In exchange for his baby daughter Ann, Kathy gave her life.

It was after Kathy’s death that Al came up with his plan. He couldn’t go on with out his beloved wife and Al hated his daughter , for it was her that had killed his love. Al wanted to rid himself of his life and all the pain that came with it. He didn’t care what happened to Ann, the only family he had left, part of him hoped she’d die too. So far Al’s plan was working. He’d told his boss that he wanted to quit. When you work for the mob you can’t quit. You get killed. It wasn’t quite suicide, which would have Al damned to hell. So, by having some one else kill him he could go to heaven and be with Kathy.

Now, Al could hear sea gulls cawing and fog horns from ships. They were at the dock. Soon the car would come to a stop. Then Al would hear the foot steps of his assassin. The trunk would open and the blinding light of the sun would shower down on him, temporarily restricting his eyesight. Before his sight returned his assassin would shoot him in the head. Then the assassin would tie Al to three cinder blocks and toss him into the unforgiving ocean. Hopefully, after that Al’s soul would ascend up to heaven. Where he’d meet his wife, Kathy, and once again be reunited with his love.

That did all happen. Just exactly as Al had imagined. Except for the last part of course. Because Al went to Hell for all his previous sins that he committed doing his work. The one thing that was most damning was the hatred for his daughter.