The sound of the crowd could be heard several blocks over; they were going insane. The noise originated from a cigar bar, a location not prone to loudness, but a place constantly aiming to be the next big thing. They struck it rich when they got the legendary Scott-Weiland to perform, and news spread throughout the entire neighborhood. Within hours, tickets were sold out for this event. It was a better turnout than anyone had hoped for, and people went to extreme lengths to get their hands on tickets after they had already sold out. Some of them did things they weren't proud of and could never speak of again.

The bar was nothing special; it had wooden walls, red velvet curtains, and red lighting all around the insides. Wooden tables and stools were placed accordingly in the building. The bar was just at the entrance along the right wall with some high seats. Straight on from the door, at the back end of the bar, was an elevated stage. Again, nothing special about it, except it had Scott-Weiland and his minions on it. Scott was rocking out, looking damn fine while doing it too. He was wearing a classy getup; black shoes, black slacks, a white formal shirt and a black vest, a tie, an expensive watch and a pair of shades to top it all off. 

He was gently swaying back and forth, seemingly possessed by the beat going on behind him. He had the microphone stand grasped firmly in his left hand, a lit cigar in his other, inhaling large puffs every once in awhile to keep the cherry burning. It was a truly majestic sight, seeing him there in his prime, entrenched in his craft. His eyes closed as he seemingly whispered sweet nothings into the microphone. Of course he was singing much louder than a whisper, but Scott-Weiland knew what this was. As he was singing, he paused as a guitar solo began, and he stepped back from the stand, taking puffs from his cigar, and swaying back and forth, bobbing his head and essentially slithering back to the mic when his time was near.

The final song, a cover of 'They Can't Take That Away From Me', was probably the most well received song of the night. It got loud applause, roaring cheers, and some women even lifted up their shirts - possibly the best way to show appreciation. Scott-Weiland struggled getting off the stage. He was plagued by woman after woman begging for his attention, and even some men. He eventually had to give in to their needs and wound up signing autographs for well over an hour. He got some weird requests from some of his "special" fans, but he adhered to them to the best of his ability.

After he was able to finally make his way out of the building, Scott needed a drink, and badly. He walked down the road, avoiding eye contact with as many people as possible. He didn't need anyone else to swarm him. He walked inside one of his favorite bars in Detroit, the one he always had to visit while he was in town. He knew the owner personally, so he didn't have to fear for his sanity. He drank Jameson until he couldn't feel his face anymore. The barkeeper told him to stop many times, but he refused. After a few too many, Scott went to the restroom, but passed out the very moment he walked through the door.

Around two in the afternoon the next day, Scott woke up. He was in a different room, one that appeared to be a back room, next to a fully naked woman. His pants were down around his ankles and he had no recollection of doing anything, but there was enough evidence to make a guess on what happened. He got up a little too fast and his eyes got really blurry for a few seconds, with a terrible pounding in his head. It felt like someone was smashing a hammer into his skull, but he had no time to lose. He shook it off, made himself decent, and took off. He took off headed to his car which was still at the cigar bar from his last gig.

The parking lot looked so much different at this time of day. His car was the only one, but damn did it look good sitting there. Something was off, though. Upon closer inspection, Scott found a note wedged under his wiper. He thought it was a parking ticket at first, but it wasn't even close to that. He opened it up and saw some very messy handwriting. It looked as if a toddler wrote it, but a toddler doesn't have that kind of vocabulary skills. The note read:

Sir or Ma'am,

I accidentally scraped up against your vehicle in the wee hours of the morning, but I had no cash so I could not leave you any to pay for the damages. However, your vehicle looks expensive, so I figured you'll have enough cash to fix it yourself anyway. Have a good day!

Great, just what he needed. Another expense he couldn't afford. He had finally had enough of this. The constant struggle, the lack of respect, people always being all over him, the list goes on. Scott couldn't take this lifestyle anymore, he needed to change it. The only question he could as himself is 'how'? Then it hit him. He didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps, but that seemed to be the only route. He crumbled the note and threw it on the ground before he got in his now-banged-up car and drove until he found a payphone.

He got out of the car, slammed the door behind him, and walked up to the payphone. Yet another expense he didn't need, but he thought this one would be worth it. He reached into his pocket, took out a nickel, and put it in the slot on the payphone. He dialed the number for his manager. The two had a relatively short conversation, strictly business and to the point. Very rarely had this happened between them, but when shit was going to hell, Scott was not in a mood to be social.

Scott got his manager to pass the word along that he was looking for work. Although his manager may not have been very familiar with the business, he knew a lot of people in it, most of which were based in his hometown of Chicago. It only took a few hours and Scott had his first job, stealing a car. It wasn't a special car, but it was enough to prove himself worthy.

There was nobody around and the car was unlocked. This was too good to be true, he thought. He made off clean, had no attention, and best of all, the car was in pristine condition. He dropped it off at a warehouse in Chicago later that day after he changed the plates, and gave a call to the guy who organized this deal. He was very pleased with Scott's work. From this point forward, Scott continued to do small jobs throughout Chicago, until one devastating night.

The streets were littered with people. Screaming, crying people. A war had just broken out in Chicago. Scott had heard rumors of such a thing happening, and he knew exactly how to keep himself alive in this situation. He blended in to the crowd, faked a scream here and there, and kept heading away from the gunfire. On his journey, he saw who he thought was his boss get shot in the head and drop dead. He was out of work again, but he had more to worry about now.

He got far enough away from the gunfire, where nobody even realized what was going on, and he hopped the fence of a carnival. He needed that extra layer of protection. He walked around the carnival for a few minutes, checking if anyone was there, but he found no one. He walked over to a trailer and leaned back on it, letting out a sigh of relief. He was thankful to be alive. 

Just as he settled down and lit up a cigarette, the door to the trailer swung open and a clown jumped out. Scott jumped, thinking it was someone trying to kill him. Luckily for him, it was only Fear. Scott and Fear knew each other already, from many small exchanges in the past, but nothing on a personal level. They saw each other around and always exchanged small talk, but nothing more. Scott knew he was safe.

Knowing what was going on out there, Fear was shocked to see Scott still in one piece. He heard almost all of the rest of his former family was gone, and he assumed Scott was in the majority. Little did Fear know, Scott was always a slippy bastard and he wouldn't be that easy to catch. 

Scott explained to Fear what happened, what he saw, the amount of panic everyone around him was in. He even mentioned the gruesome death of his boss. This was met with condolences, and to Scott's surprise, an offer of employment. Fear knew what kind of a mobster Scott was, and he wouldn't pass up on an opportunity to seize him. Without a second thought, Scott accepted the offer.

Through the following months, Scott did his fair share of work for the family. He did all that was asked of him, from the grunt work of carrying crates to the more exhilarating work of killing every living being he could see. He came extremely far since he started working for Fear, and he didn't realize he was about to be rewarded. After an ordinary night's work, Scott was approached by Fear with a huge grin on his face. Scott listened as Fear explained everything and offered him a chance to run his own family.

Scott smiled, jumped out of his seat, and hugged Fear. He couldn't contain himself. The thought of such an opportunity never even crossed his mind years ago, but now it was reality. Scott loosened his grip on Fear and backed away. Fear handed him an envelope and shook his hand. Scott made his way out of the building, smiling the whole way, and got into his new, clean car and headed for his hotel.

Scott got into his hotel, tossed the envelope on a nightstand, and laid in the bed. He let out a big sigh, elated from finally being in a safe haven where he could unwind with a drink or two. After he rested for a few minutes, Scott reached over for the envelope and opened it. The contents included a set of keys and a piece of paper that had an address, a time, and a statement that said, "Ceremony is at noon tomorrow. Be there." Scott had put the contents back into the envelope and went to sleep.

The next morning, Scott was up bright and early. Not by choice, however. He just couldn't sleep. His mind wouldn't stop wandering about stuff that scared him shitless. He knew he could do whatever he set his mind to, but it didn't help calm his nerves. He was just pacing around his hotel room all day until he had to leave for the "ceremony," as Fear called it.

Scott pulled up outside his new HQ about fifteen minutes early, yet there was already a crowd gathered, sitting in chairs across the street from it. Scott could see Fear in the crowd, still dressed as a clown, clearly happy that he had shown up. Scott got out of his car and breathed the fresh air in. He walked up to the doors of his HQ and saw a red ribbon tied across them, and guards on either side of them. One of them was holding a pair of scissors, clearly holding onto them for Scott so he could cut the ribbon. Scott turned around at the gathered crowd, and decided it was an optimal time to speak. He cleared his throat.

Ladies and Gentlemen! Particularly the redhead in row 3, about 6 people over. You see me when I'm finished, OK? Moving on. Important business and all that. I am here today to accept Don Fear's most gracious offer to assume the position of Ringmaster in our new operation in Corktown; The Carnival. 

My ancestors have known Fear's ancestors for as long as I can remember, we've always been quite close. It's been a wild ride so far, and I look forward to working even closer with him than we have thus far. I'm not going to spend a lot of time explaining our goals and aspirations, as that's just not my style. All I wish to state, is that I believe Corktown to be in the best hands possible, and that it's time to let the rebuild resume! Thank you, Fear for this opportunity. And thank you for believing in me, when perhaps I didn't even believe in myself. And thank you to Latin, for without you, none of this would be possible.

Thank you all for your time, and to the redhead in row 3, I'll be awaiting you in my car. See you there!

Scott winked at the gorgeous redhead and turned around. He grabbed the scissors from a guard and cut the ribbon, officially opening his HQ for business.

cipher solves his Legacy style puzzle box on his approach to his old friend and extends his hand for a hand shake

congratulations my old friend, you have always been a hard worker and have earned this position in every aspect

cipher proposes a toast

heres to beers and sunny days

Honesty goes over to Scott and shakes his hand. 

" Congratulations on the opportunity of setting a family. It is always a nice touch to this thing of ours when a new crew sets up. Let yours be a prosperous one."

Honesty lets go of Scott's hand and walks away, drinking the rest of the alcohol in his glass. He goes over to his car, hal drunk, and tells the driver to ride home.

Guile smiles and remembers the tales his grandfather told him about the last carnival that set up in Detroit.

Congratulations and i hope that yours does much better than the last carnival that was in town