"Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt." - Mark Antony at Caesar's Funeral

Husky woke up slowly. His eyes gingerly opened up, not knowing what to expect. There was no breeze blowing, but an unearthly chill crept up his spine. In front of him he saw two men sitting patiently . One , dressed in white from head to toe, smiling sadly as his kind eyes flickered over Husky. The other, dressed in black, with a grim expression looked at him intently.

 He tried to remember what had happened how had he got here? His last memory was of him sitting on the roof of the pizzeria after he had bid LuckyLucy farewell. Pondering over  their conversation he quietly sipped his Fort Wayne as the moonlight bathed his face in an unnatural glow. He couldn't help but smile, when he thought about his recently opened second business. When he had come to this city to escape the demons of his past, it had given him a shelter from the storm.

For a man who had sworn never to take a life or pick a pocket, this city had given other ways to lead a life of adventure, a life of thrill. His business was thriving now, so many people from so many different crews had come to pay their respects. It gladdened him every time a new customer came over, made him feel like he was playing his part, however small, in this world.

There was a time not long ago, when he did not feel the same. After Scooter's death Husky had felt himself falling deeper and deeper into an existentialist crisis. He had wondered if there was any meaning to this life at all. He had wondered if his fate would be any different. Would there be anyone telling his story, sharing his memory, toasting to his life? Or would he just be another Icharus who had flown too close to the sun?

In the end, it was a conversation with the Godfather Chairman himself, that had convinced him to try, to not give up on his dreams, to aim high and fight for it. Yes, Disorder was many things. Who would have known one of them would be a patient mentor? Husky chuckled now on the rooftop, as he remembered the man cynically claiming that he agreed with the public's opinion of him being a cunt. Husky still did not believe him. As his thoughts wandered, he felt the bullet dig its way into his heart, and heard the muffled sound of a pistol go off in the distance. His glass slipped through his finger and broke into a million pieces as he fell to the street below. His last thought was , "Damn. That is a waste of good whiskey."

As his hand searched for the wound on his chest the man in white spoke, "Yes, you're dead kid. Your whole crew has been wiped out." Husky gazed at the man, his eyes full of questions. The man in black spoke up in a low whisper, "Some young punk from your crew shot Durdens instead of hunting for a rogue while you slept. As Peter said, your whole crew has been wiped out."

A million thoughts ran through Husky's head. He did not care about the reason. War broke  out often, and war.. war never changes. It was the law of the jungle, the strong preyed on the weak. He understood that. He understood they had wiped out everyone well, just because they could. But just because he understood, it did not mean he was not saddened by the outcome. He knew following the Damnation of Detroit, many people would speak up.

They would claim his crew members had been disrespectful. Husky searched his own memories, but no matter how hard he tried he could not remember vouching for anyone, or treating anyone with any disrespect. One simply had to recall his visits at oh so many businesses around the nation to realise it was true. But those who came for him, were all honorable men, so he would accept their claim of his disrespect.

 They would claim he was a Capo and therefore part of the upper echelons. Husky thought about all the offers he had receive for LHM from so many people across the nation looking to start their own crew. He remembered passing up all those offers for he did not wish to be in a position of power. He simply wished to build and nurture his businesses. But those who came for him, were all wise men, so he would accept their claim of his authority.

They would claim he was a threat. Husky tried to recall the last time he shot a rival or picked someone's pocket and came up with nothing. But those who came for him, were all capable men, so he would accept their claim of his threatening nature.

They would claim his numerous visits to the streets gave him eyes everywhere in Detroit and he could use them against anyone anytime he wished. Husky thought about all his conversations with people from various crews where he had expressed his desire for a peaceful future. He thought about how he had publically claimed that all he wanted to do was share stories in the streets and hear the people express their appreciation at them. But those who came for him, were all powerful men, so he would accept their claim that his ability was a danger to them.

Husky wondered if anyone who had ever heard him speak, anyone he had met in the streets would think the same. How could they not, for those who came after him were indeed wise men, weren't they?

Would the people who had shared a drink with him think he was a powerful threat with a dangerous ability?

How could they not, for the men who came after him had claimed he was. Everyone knew they were respectful men who would not take a rash decision without judging someone's character, would they?

Would those that had dreamt his dreams of peace agree with his cold blooded murder? How could they not, for the men who came after him in the middle of the night were all men worthy of respect, weren't they?

Peter looked at him and said, "I am here to invite you to walk with me through the gates. My associate Mr. Morningstar however offers a different proposition." The man in black smiled and said, "I can give you the chance to go back, not into your own body of course, it is too disfigured. In the body of a different young man making his way through the streets.  In exchange for a part of your soul. All I need is a drop of blood right here"

Husky took the knife offered to him and pricked his finger without hesitation. Letting the blood drip onto the contract, he closed his eyes, growing more cynical as his soul fractured.

He knew the first thing he would do was look for @NikkiSwango . She was the only one he trusted enough to tell him the truth. The truth about the streets, the truth about the way the people had reacted, the way people thought about the annihilation of a city, the murder of a peaceful thief , the aftermath of what was meant to be a message to everyone else.

He was anxious to see what the streets had thought of the actions of those that came after him in the dead of the night with steel in their hands and disdain in their hearts.

The actions of these .... honorable men.

Don't exhaust yourself for  questioning peoples honors .You are reborn my brother with a more clear mind and better ideas.

I'm not going to say no one can stop you they can  but I'm sure you wont hesitate to talk about the problems these streets have.

A man's or woman's life doesn't worth a penny around here but what is precious are the ideas on their minds to follow.

Good luck on your reincarnation I'm sure the world will be a better place as time goes on maybe not in the close future but definitely on the long run.

-Rev