The steady rhythms of rain on plastic sounded as a gentle heartbeat. Jericho regarded the gloom with a peaceful demeanor. The rain suited funerals, made them seem less dim by comparaison. He shook off the black umbrella neatly as he headed in to pay his respects.

The formality of the room served to conceal the uncertainty surrounding Richards' death. Everyone had their suspicions about whether it had been a hit, but no one said a word, just paid their respects and continued. It was just business, after all.

Jericho stared at Junior while approaching the casket. The young man was volatile, angry. Such emotions should be kept in check, he thought, especially when waging a war. Lost in thought, he nearly bumped into the elegant Laura Belle. She also seemed upset, which was unusual for her. Stepping up to the body, he considered the man's life evenly. It had in fact been a hard loss for the family-Richards' was young, but reliable, and his loyalty was unquestionable. Murmuring a prayer for the man's soul, he began walking away. More pressing business had come to mind, that immediately had to be shared with the Don. Moments after, the gunshots struck.

The first man at the scene was Joel Giordano, and Jericho was behind him momentarily, adrenaline running through his veins as he reached for his weapon.

"Abel," his voice was deadly calm, and he acknowledged Joel with a nod akin to that of a cobra, "Calm yourself. If you are still alive, I need to speak with you immediately. Make acknowledgement, as I am prepared to immediately eliminate anyone who may be in the room with you or your corpse."