Hector puts a cigarette out on the sidewalk as he stands under a light post thinking his about his life, because he is a criminal. He observes the pedestrians walking about, wondering of their motivations, about how boring their days must be. Hector clears his throat to speak to the people present at the moment, on his criminal ways;

"Form together unions,

and steady we build.

Ready to die, until the day I'm ready to kill.

Parlay with the hitters with unbearable futures.

So cold they could stare at Medusa.

Shoot a Gangster everyday,

until I'm out of my fear.

If it doesn't make a billion dollars, then its not an idea.

From lending people money,

to placing wagers to cover you.

We can talk money, whatever the fuck troubles you.

Do well to be well protected,

from the head, to the socks.

Everybody makes mistakes, and ends up dead in a box."

He pulls out a golden flask he had inherited from his father and toasted to a his life. He took his leave.

Feeling motivated, Hector goes back to Downtown, DT, rounds up a group of highly trained con-artists, and orchestrates a bank heist that  would cripple a rival family's financial structure.

Al ganders around trying to spot silent Bob...

Hector steps aside as Al-Ligambi looks for his lost friend.