As you enter the car, the mood is gloomy. Neither man will speak to you, nor make eye contact. They take you outside of recognized territory for the family and into an unfamiliar neighborhood. Soon the car creeps to a stop in front of a dismal looking decrepit mansion. The windows have all been boarded and the only car in sight is the one you've arrive in. The men walk up the porch steps and gesture for you to follow. Opening the door elicits a terrible creaking noise that seems to echo through the halls.

"Havana!"

You hear the authoritative voice of Cesare Torretta issue from one of the side parlor rooms. Inside the room is a long table lit with candles. With the little light you can make out the faces of Finnigan, Capo of the Dead Poets, Mak the Right Hand Man, and Cesare Torretta himself

"Sit down, Havana."

Cesare's voice is stern and authoritative. The other eyes simply watch you as if waiting for something to happen...

Feeling her heart pounding in her chest, Havana looked warily at the two men accompanying her to who-knows-where, feeling an uneasiness growing within her. Trying to retrace her steps during the past few days, she wondered if she'd messed up somewhere along the road and was now about to get shot for it, however she drew a blank. As they pulled up in front of what she can only describe as a legitimate haunted mansion, Havana felt her stomach drop when she heard a familiar commanding voice booming from a parlor room. It was Cesare, his harsh tone startling the brunette and nearly causing her to jump from fright.

'Yep, I guess this is my death,' she thought to herself as she looked at the solemn faces of her family members, not really making out what it was on their faces. Disappointment? Anger? Expectation? She didn't know. Following her boss' orders, she quickly sat down in front of them, careful not to break eye contact with Cesare, trying to figure out what this was all about.

"W-what's up, boss?" Havana asked with a wavering smile, trying to appear confident despite the fact that her hands were shaking. She knew she didn't do anything wrong, but she was still afraid - in this business, you never know when someone might pull a fast one and pin their mistakes on you, so she remained vigilant and ready to defend herself just in case.

Seeing Cesare and the others in this scenario terrified her, yes, but looking at them now, she felt reassured that they had good judgment. Although beads of sweat were still forming on her forehead, she felt a bit more relaxed now that she was in the company of people that she trusted, people who guided her in the past months. Ready to face whatever it is to come, Havana straightened up in her seat as she anticipated what could possible come next.

Cesare eyed Havana as she entered the room and took a nervous seat in front of the Dead Poets, a group that had dwindled alarmingly low through both happy and extremely sad events. When she'd seated herself, Cesare leaned forward and began.

"Havana, I first saw you for the first time in Chicago with Nikki in the Broadway Mob. When I had the opportunity to reclaim you into the Dead Poets Society, I made room for you because I knew what you were capable of. Since then you've proved my actions to have been correct through your work for this family, not least of all by your latest job at the Ravenite."

Cesare looked at both of the men on his flanks,

"It is for this reason that myself and both of the men here with me, as the remaining Dead Poets, have elected to extend to you the title of 'Dead Poet' and bring you in as a full member of the Society. If you're willing to take on this title, stand, and we can begin."

Hearing what Cesare had to say, Havana breathed a long sigh of relief before tensing back up once she fully realized what her boss was saying. She hadn't been in the crew for a long time and she recognized that she had many shortcomings, but she felt honored by the offer nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, she nodded once before clearing her throat.

"I..." Havana started, rising from her chair with a small smile, eyes trailing from each of the men's faces. "I'm ready to be a Dead Poet." The young woman declared, knowing full well what the title entailed, ready to take it on.

Cesare stood with Havana. This movement prompted the rest of the table to join them. Cesare produced several articles which he placed on the table. First, he placed his gun on the table, followed by an open switchblade, and finally... a fountain pen dipped in a vial of ink.

Placing his hand over the gun, Cesare spoke, "There are many people who believe this is the most powerful weapon we possess. Much power has been granted to those who wield this."

He then removed the pen from it's inkwell and held it up in the air, "But this... this is what forms empires. This is what makes us great. This is the grandest weapon you will ever wield."

Placing the pen on the table he slid the inkwell to the middle of the table, "Give me your hand." As Havana complied, Cesare retrieved the blade from it's place and stuck his finger with the blade. A red bead of blood appeared, and Cesare held it over the inkwell. The drop of blood fell into the ink and Cesare replaced the pen into it.

Cesare then reached into his jacket and removed a parchment. Sliding it in front of Havana, the names on the paper were those of all the Dead Poets present at the table. Their signatures all added to the paper in black-red tones of ink and blood.

"If you truly wish to become a Dead Poet, answer.

Do you swear to spill your blood in the defense of our family?

Are you prepared to raise both the pen and the sword in honor of those in this room?

Will you add your name to the list of the Dead Poets?"

Staring at the parchment in front of her and looking back up to Cesare and the two men beside him, a few beats of silence passed before Havana gulped and nodded once again, this time with more finality and confidence.

"I swear to spill my blood in defense of our family.
I'm prepared to raise both the pen and the sword in honor of those in this room."

With a steady hand and a deep breath, Havana picked up the pen dipped in the mixture of blood and ink. Signing her name on the bottom of the list, she felt a small smile creeping up her face as she sealed the deal.

"I've added my name to the list of the Dead Poets."

Cesare stood up and rounded the table, he was serenely happy to be able to add another Dead Poet to his family.

He gave Havana a hug, "You're now a Dead Poet. Welcome to the society."

He motioned with his arm back towards the other two men to allow them to offer their congratulations.