On October 30th, 2019 around 4pm, Harry was leaving a Manhattan casino where he was approached by three wise guys in the parking lot out of nowhere, all of them dressed in black. Tony, the head honcho was built and stood about 6 ft. 2 in. with black hair and a black mustache. Alongside him was Danny, short, chunky and bald. The third guy was Christopher, Tony's nephew, in his younger twenties with dark hair, clean cut and a cocky attitude. “Hey, hey, hey, well what do ya know, it’s Harry Bohr!” Tony shouted out surprisingly, but in a sarcastic matter. Smiling broadly with his arms crossed in front of his chest the other two men stood behind him. “Where ya been you slimy little fucker?” Harry went to make a run for it and Christopher chased him down, snagging him up by the collar of his jacket, then slamming him up against a parked truck.

“You ain’t going nowhere you slimy fuck!” Christopher said, punching him dead in the stomach and knocking the wind right out of the 150 pound man.

“So, where ya been, Harry?” Tony questioned, as he straightened his tie. Harry stood there, knelt over as he held his stomach from the blow. He knew he’d screwed up bigtime and these people were no one to mess with.

“Come on, let’s go for a ride, Harry! Grab this piece of shit and take him to the car.” Tony...