Yesterday had been the closest her father had ever come to hitting her.

All night, she had been awake, thinking. Finalising her plan. One fuelled by years of built-up anger. One that had been at the forefront of her mind for years, but seemed to have no feasible method of execution.

But, she believed an opportunity had arisen in this new city.

And, as of last night, she would stop at nothing to make it work.

But first, she had to follow her father's orders.

Her face partly covered with a scarf, Gianna stalked through the streets of Birmingham, secretly seething. 

A map drawn in pencil was grasped in her hand, one she had acquired from a policeman. She had wheedled it out of him with her best "helpless little girl" voice, saying she knew someone at the factory.

All the while, she had been making sure to hide the gun in her holster from view.

Her eyes were constantly dancing about the streets as she walked. She had an irrational fear that someone would recognise her. Her grandmother and her father and uncles had all lived in the city she walked through at that moment; it wasn't entirely impossible that someone could clock her inherited features, get her talking, confirm where she was from and try something on her. 

Her lips twitched up in a brief smile at her expense. She was being silly.

But, still, she began to walk a little faster, her fist tightening around the map.

Alone with her thoughts, she began to wonder about something she had overheard her uncle and father talking about that morning. 

Something had happened, yesterday, on Christmas Day. And all Gianna knew for sure was that someone had died.

Someone close to the Peaky Blinders, the rulers of Birmingham (And soon to be the whole fuckin' world, her father had grumbled.)

And once again, Gianna was in the dark about the whole thing. 

Sighing. she brought herself back to the present.

For a while, she managed to move around the city unaided, the map an image in her mind. She crept down darkened alleyways, hurried along exposed mainstreets, keeping her head bowed all the while, only glancing up to make sure she was going the right way. 

When she eventually needed to check the map, she found herself muttering her father's instructions, quiet enough for only herself to hear, as she ground to a stop and uncrumpled the paper in her hand. 

Scope out the Shelby's factory. Find out how to get father into his office. 

Looking up from the map after turning it sideways a few times, Gianna's eyes suddenly snagged on a soot-black building in the near distance, towering over the rows of houses around it as smoke poured out of it's chimneys.

Her chest swelling with accomplishment, Gia began to walk once more.  

-

It was Boxing Day. The morning before, John Michael Shelby had been killed. And Michael Gray may as well have been.

The Shelby clan was back in Small Heath, and needless to say, none of them wanted to be. After Tommy had sold them all out, and after Polly, Arthur, Michael and John had escaped the noose, the family had fractured. John and Arthur took their wives to live in the country. Polly spent her days in her house drinking herself into oblivion and throwing prescription pills down her throat. Ada had departed for America - and Tommy Shelby seemed to have disappeared entirely.

But then came the Italians, forcing them back to Watery Lane.

Tommy had made the decision to hire the damn near feral gypsy contract killer Aberama Gold. Any method to eliminate the Changrettas was one he was more than glad to welcome.

The route that day was taking was an unusual one. Gold's son wanted to be a boxer, and Tommy was to help him achieve that. He had sought out an ex-heavyweight boxer who worked at his factory, and had a pseudo-ring set up in the grounds. He doubted someone of Bonnie Gold's size could even put a dent in Billy Mills, but for the sake of peace with Aberama, he was going to humour him.

Anything to make him forget about yesterdays event's was very much welcome too.

So, he stood on the edge of the ring, and watched the fight.

-

Getting in was a walk in the park. Gianna was tall - inconspicuously so - for her age, but a group of huge, sooty men strolling through the factory doors was more than enough cover. Tugging her scarf further over her face, she slipped in amongst them silently, her footsteps light and movements minimal as not to attract any attention.

Once she was inside, after a moment of brief panic, she ducked behind a stack of crates by the entrance, and crouched, making sure her entire body, along with any stray bits of clothing, were concealed from view. 

Tugging her scarf down from her mouth and blowing out a quick, silent breath of relief, Gia took a moment to look around the place. 

The floor stretched far and wide. There was a staircase leading to a mezzanine a little in front of her, where offices seemed to be hidden behind frosted glass. A huge square of empty ground, with four dark wooden pillars in each corner, was in the centre of the floor, where people seemed to be endlessly crossing. Two black automobiles were parked in one corner. 

Gia couldn't see any blacksmiths slaving over giant fireplaces, or anything she had really expected of a factory, aside from sooty workers and the constant barrage of noise (it was so loud - she felt swallowed up by the shouting, the clanking and creaking). Perhaps all of that was on another floor. 

There seemed to be something stirring amongst the people. They were gathering in little groups, and someone was carrying in a couple loops of rope. Gianna, still making sure to stay out of sight, craned her neck, trying to figure out what was happening.

The moment she began to wonder where the Shelbys were, she spotted a peaked cap atop a black overcoat amongst the crowd. As people passed by, through the gaps, she saw piercing blue eyes, intense bone structure, a melancholy expression.

The photo her father had showed her flashed in her mind. Tommy Shelby.

Her eyes darted about the crowd, and after a second, they locked onto another figure. Sculpted brown hair styled in an intense undercut, a thick moustache, aged skin. Arthur. 

She swallowed, her stomach churning with something like nerves mixed with pride at her achievement of finding them. She pushed it down and searched for the third, John.

But for the life of her, she couldn't spot him in the crowd. Perhaps he was elsewhere in the factory. 

Swallowing again to get rid of the lump in her throat, she remained crouched, watching under lowered brows. 

The man with the rope was forming a square with his material, tying it to each of the pillars at the empty square of floor in the centre of the room. 

Then, a skinny lad in a white tank and braces emerged, tying white wraps around his hands. Another, much larger man was having boxing gloves tied on. Gianna looked on in disbelief. Surely not. 

"Right you lot! Here! Let's make it interesting!" 

Gianna's eyes darted towards the source of the voice, and saw it to be Arthur Shelby. He was wielding a small piece of paper, striding around the perimeter of the square of rope - or, rather, the ring.

"Come place your wager wi' me! I'll give you good odds," he bellowed. Christ, the Birmingham accent was so idiosyncratic, all rolling vowels and other characteristics unfamiliar to Gia's ears. 

Smiling a little to herself, she leaned back against the wall, still crouched. A boxing match in the Shelby's factory. She couldn't think of any plausible explanation for it. 

But she found herself curious to see how it played out, before she approached the ringleader himself, Tommy Shelby. 

She had a proposal for him.

-

Someone rang a bell. The skinny lad stepped away from a man in a square-shouldered coat and dark hat, and strode to meet his opponent, banging his gloves together. People lined the ring, excitement building as they began to cheer on the men. 

It began to get difficult to see as more people surrounded the ring, and Gianna didn't want to risk getting seen to be able to watch whatever was happening. So, she tucked herself away, and listened to the sounds of punching, cheering, groans. 

As she did so, she peered around the factory, identifying all of the exits, blind spots, security measures and more, noting them all down mentally. In moments, she had an entrance figured out for her father or one of his minions. The task her father had given her was complete. Now, she could carry out her own plans. 

Suddenly - 

"Finish him, Bonnie!"

Mere moments after the words had bounced around the room, the crowd fell to a stunned silence. 

Gianna dared peek over the crates once more. 

The skinny lad had knocked the bigger man on his ass.

Her mouth briefly fell open with shock. How the hell... ?

She was quickly forced to forget what she had seen as she focused all her attention of Thomas Shelby. She had to get him on his own, preferably, and at that moment he was surrounded. 

One minute, he was talking to the man in the hat and the skinny, victorious boxer. Then, he was aside with his brother, whispering. She was intrigued to know what was happening, despite herself. 

Out of the blue, Tommy dug in his pocket and removed a soft peaked cap, offering it to the boxer. He took it, seemingly stunned.

Then, before she knew it the Shelby brother was parting from the group and moving. Moving quickly. 

Her stomach dropped, and Gia found herself slipping out from behind the crates, darting across the room, catching him just before he reached the stairs, calling out - 

"What kind of business are you running here, Mr Shelby?" 

Her youthful, American-Italian accented voice rang out through the room. Heads turned. Conversations quietened. 

He glanced over his shoulder, still walking, not fully focusing. 

"Sorry, love, I have a meeting to get - "

All of a sudden, he stuttered to a halt. He seemed to look at her properly, eyes squinting. Crows feet formed at their corners. 

Gianna stood there, hands in her pockets, her face cool, indifferent. Her stomach was still churning a little, but she wouldn't let it show for a second. 

"Do I know you?" he asked, turning around slowly. His voice was impossibly deep and grating, like he had been smoking three packs a day since he was a teenager. 

He began to move towards her, his stride steady, purposeful.

"And how did you get in here?" he murmured, his voice suddenly dangerous.

Gianna was in no way scared of this man. But even so, as he got closer and she got a proper look at him, a chill ran up her spine.

The way he looked at her was enough to send a typical girl her age running. His eyes were lazy, heavy-lidded, yet sharp, dangerous. He couldn't seem to care less who she was - although he did seem confused as to who she was, and why she was addressing him. 

Gianna tipped her head back, looking at him straight as he drew closer still.

She was a Changretta. She may not have been proud about her family, but she was a mobster. She was feared across New York. She could kill this Tommy Shelby if she wanted. She was not afraid. 

"Your security is pitiful," she said lowly. 

"Now answer my first question," he shot back without hesitation, coming to a halt a little way before her. His frame was square and solid, dwarfing her. He was only one or two inches taller than her, but it felt like more.

"Thomas Shelby," she said. "I will tell you. But you just might kill me when I do."

"Tom?"

Suddenly, Arthur Shelby was at his brother's side. They were beginning to attract more and more attention from the others in the room. They were pausing in their tracks, peering at the strange girl stood before the two Shelby brothers. Muttering amongst themselves. Wondering. Waiting.

"Who is this?" the older brother asked lowly. His dark eyes flickered from Tommy to Gia, his gaze laden with suspicion, confusion.

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Tommy said in his rumbling cadence, his eyes fixed on Gianna as he looked down on her.

They were both looking at her now. Waiting, like the rest of them. It suddenly felt like the entire factory had fallen silent, holding it's breath.

The girl drew herself up tall. Took a deep breath. And when she spoke, she did so slowly, carefully.

"My name is Gianna. My family name is Changrett - "

The older one - Arthur - let out a yell so pained, so booming, it nearly blew her back, and before she knew it, a gun was in his hand, and it was trained right on her.