Late at night was always the most favorite of times for Revan and he could not exactly put his finger on why, perhaps it were the buxom women who stood at nearly every street corner who always seemed to be so interested in his clearly peak physical form, or maybe it was the men who would stand around the burning trash can and talk about their illuminating tales that would abruptly end when he would accidentally fall into one of said cans; giving the men yet another tale to tell once they've properly stomped the fire from his jacket. No, Revan knew the real reason... 

It was because he was a King. At least in training, you see, every King must wait eleven or so days before the world can fully recognize them as such-- which explains why you don't see many kings lying around this place, being a mobster is so much simpler and less complicated to the point that sometimes Revan yearns for the days when he was but a simple man. As he puts on he golden robes and walks down the city street this fine eve, Revan learns of a third type of person who spends his days in the night, the madman. Such is the man who runs down the street cackling, yanking the lovely robe from the poor King and only stopping to share a lone finger for a few moments, before jetting off again as if the rules do not apply to him.

"FUCK YOU KIIIIIIIIIIIIING."

Thinking of chasing after the man, he opts to instead call for his guard, but this is when he meets another striking realization which would have been better learned before the entire accident had taken place. He had yet to have any.

"Where the hell is that boy with my guards? I sent him to get them days ago. Ah... such is the life of such a forgiving King, but... am I a king at all without my lovely robes? What am I now..."

Before he can continue his thought, a car whizzes down the street, and the only thing Revan can do to save himself from being adorned on the windshield is dive into a rather unattractive scene. He isn't sure what he has landed on, but one thing is for certain, it does not smell like flowers. Instead of jumping up quickly, he lays in the filth; surely he deserves such a fate if this is the kind of night the Gods have decided to bestow upon him. On his eleventh month in the mob, no less. Maybe they had not heard he had been groomed to be King, perhaps even God needed to be reminded of his wrath.

"It is rather comfy here."

After a quick nap, Revan jolted from the ground and looked up to the Heavens. 

"Ah. Good. It is still night, my favorite time of the day, you know."

He wasn't exactly sure who was listening, but he decided to speak up anyways as one never knows. Walking and sulking at the same time he looked around the area, nothing was right and everything was terrible. Maybe he should give up being such an important figure? Maybe he should just go back to the mob and stop playing such a petty game? He knew deep down inside he was not really a King, he knew he had no right to any throne...

THRONE!

There it lay in a scrap heap just inches away in all of its pure unadulterated beauty, a small golden chair with a brilliant look to it; if one squinted they could see what it was meant to be. All it needed was a little work! He had finally found his rightful throne, he begged for a sign and surely this was it. Ha. To think he had almost given up what was rightfully his, to think he almost let the people win who did not deserve to, to think he was nearly not a King. Picking up the chair Revan begun to drag it away, and this is when he found the next piece of the puzzle! A small building, almost nearly uninhabited... unless you call rats an inhabitant, in which case it had hundreds of things living inside of it. 

"ECHO! ECHOOOOOO! ECHOOOOOOOOOOOO! This place is marvelous. All it needs is a little bit of magic... all it needs is a Kingly touch. What a perfect day, this is all I needed to be respected. An H-Q. All of the most important people have one, and now I do too. BEGONE RAT! THIS IS MY HOME!"

After yelling at the rats for what felt like a few hours he decided to wait them out instead, they'll leave if he begins to make it pretty, at least this is what his mind had told him; and sometimes his mind lies. Clearing out the junk and placing his throne in the middle of the room he looked around and smiled. Finally. A new leader is born.

Whoever this man was, he was a true visionary and I believe some sort of statue should be erected immediately in the city of Philly for him. Any able bodies should apply to help with such a work of art, I am more than happy to pay each of you a stipend of $400 for every ten days of work you put in. Yes! You've heard me! Four hundred full dollars for only a little over a week of hard and painful manual labor.

Gnome pulls out a small scribble of what looks to be a dog's head and some mushrooms.

I have the blueprints, now all I need are the hard workers. What say you?

With that the tiny peculiar man walks off from the scene of the crime smiling and singing a nice little tune. How zany.

BSS skips around looking at the aftermath.

Revan, your life ruling Philadelphia was cut down too soon. However, in that moment, you were glorious sitting up on your throne, and we were all very proud of you. It was a spectacular event, and I would have expected nothing less from you. 

And I know, you died happy. 

It was early in the morning when Ghostdog had his morning walk on the way to the fish market, and back. On the middle of the way he notices some people gathered and speaking about a king who died last night.

"No this can't be true"

Ghostdog tries to listen better the conversation of the unsuspecting civilians. Most of the people had no idea who king Revan was. It doesn't matter. Many people even doubted if he was a king. 

"How could that be possible?", he thought 

Revan was a king and his life, wasn't short, it was long enough to prove he is a king. With a heart of thousands lions, only with his words he could move the mountains....

It had been a long night and a blur which swept the following day into a blurry memory. Curtis had wandered the streets of Philly, lost in the bottom of several bottles and the memory of something speshul. Stopping at the front of Revan's headquarters, he hooked an arm around a lamp post for support and swigged at the harsh whiskey and gazed up at the building.

"Oh what perfect poetry, what a heart breaking absolute it is to see your story concluded. You were utterly complete."

Curtis spoke to himself, the air and the memory of the life he'd warmed so much to see. Too drunk and beside himself to care if he made sense, he continued his lament.

"The path you chose ensured your end and without a note of reservation you strode bravely toward it. Full of knowing and beautifully unerring you marched toward your magnificent death. Your brief life was a microcosm of all our aspirations and philosophically perfect."

Draining the bottle he let it go, his drunken eyes trying to follow it as it went skittering along the sidewalk. Feeling his head spin, the drink finally started to get the beating of him.

"The light that burns, twice as bright costs twice as much... No, burns twice as long, that's it... A bird in the hand is worth two in the.. wait, that's not applicable here... When in Rome... No. A stitch in time.. Oh fuck it. I'M JUST SAD!"

Fumbling in his jacket pocket for a cigarette, he found nothing and then remembered he didn't smoke. Standing upright once more, he made his best effort at a salute and gave a final address to the heartbreakingly empty building. 

"Revan. You were wonderful. I salute your choice, your determination, your bravery and your irrepressible spirit. Sleep well sweet prince."

Swinging around he began slowly wandering down the empty street.