Don Capazzo walks up the the center part of the street and sees a crate perfect to stand up on and pose a question to the masses. He walks up to the crate and kicks it away. No need for crates, he will just project his voice so that if a group comes around they hear him. He takes a step up and makes sure there are no wrinkles in his pinstriped suit. He straightens his tie and leaves the most important thing for the end. His hair. Not much needs to be done because it's perfect...it was always perfect. He pulls out a cigar and takes a puff, he smiles then repeats with another puff.

He takes one more step up and looks around.

"Hello good people. I have brought forth a question today that some of you may sway one way and some others may be on the opposite side. It's not a secret that several mafioso around the country has robbed graves whether currently or in their past."

Don Capazzo pauses.

"Now granted as a young up and comer sometimes we must do what we can to make ends meet. When the bosses money is due he doesn't care where it's coming from as long its coming and frequently too. One might have to take extreme actions such as robbing graves to give them self a chance in this world. There have also been rumblings of huge price tags attached to the quantity of graves you can dig up as if its some sort of game as you all know."

Capazzo pauses once more.

"On the other hand some may find such actions deplorable and the absolute low of low. Yes we must make ends meet but can there be other alternatives? After all, we are indeed mafioso but we also have a level of honor, class and sophistication. Is the said price tags WORTH the disgrace that could come upon digging up graves of the dead? Some would say no and some of course would beg to differ."

Capazzo takes one more puff of his cigar then throws it out.

"So I stand here and ask all of you...robbing graves....is it something that should be done by a mafioso? Also...to the ones who have or are currently doing it, should they be looked at any differently?

Thank you."

Capazzo nods and takes a step back as he awaits the first speaker to express his or her opinions.

John stopped short as he heard a familiar voice. Turning to see if he was right in placement, one could not mistake the overly gelled hair of Don Capazzo. He stepped forward and made his way through the crowd until he was close enough to hear the Don clearly. Many questions, and John pondered them for a bit before stepping forward.

"I say it depends on tuh reason for tuh grave diggin'. If it be for items to fence? I say na, let tuh dead sleep peacefully. Even if I put a bullet in someone's 'ead, I will let their body rest. I've na need for defiling them or their resting place..."

He took a breath and sighed, "'Oweva... If it be purposely to deliver a message or tuh retrieve summat specific? Then sometimes things be a necessary evil." John gave a nod, knowing full well he'd had to dig up some unmarked graves when he was in France to check for booby traps.

"For those that rob graves jus' because they can? There be na 'onor in it." John spit on the ground, "Ya wanna make a name for yessen? Knock a target that can fight back an' identify ya... Gain some 'onor an' some credibility. Don' be scum." John chuckled a bit. "Do we choose to live as rats, or do we rise as kings of tuh streets? You make tuh choice, but if ya choose to make yessen a king? Then we can talk." He looked at Capazzo with a nod. "To one'a tuh Kings thessen! Don Capazzo!" John cheered, causing the crowd to follow suit before he bowed his head, stepping backward into the congregation of beggars, mafiosi, and citizens alike, effectively disappearing from view.

Fats found himself in the crowd, and watched with a cocked eyebrow as the gathering of people cheered on with John. He himself had his hands in his pockets. He found John's words ripe and encouraging, and even inspiring. The sheep showed that. He also found the topic a little hard to speak on. For he had lived a not so glamourous life not too long ago. At times, he still smelt of it.

After the collective cheers died down and the chatter began, Louis nudged his way to the front. He gave his former employer a casual salute before turning to address the group.

"You!" Fats used his right hand to point at one of the people at the front, his left still snug in the corresponding trouser pocket.

"And you!" He pointed at another as he walked slowly down the front.

"You too!" And another.

"Oh, and you too lady!" He stopped as he looked at the women his hand was pointing directly at. She was a nobody. A thug, not yet to turn the tide in her poverty striken life into riding the waves of a gangster's ambition.

Everyone Fats pointed at was like this. Thugs. The lowest level of the totem pole. Out amongst the movers and shakers at street level. They never seemed to speak themselves, just watch on from the cluster of faces and bodies. And cheer as others that did make the turn inspired something in them. They'd never rise to those same heights though. Death always at their backs. Father time their worst enemy.

"You all agree so readily. And forget where you are so quickly."

Both hands were now comfortably in pockets, as Louis continued, strolling down the front of the group.

"We may be quick to judge others, but what about us? What about what we've done ourselves to survive this harsh world? Could it be worse than digging up the bodies of the dead? And why is putting them in the ground any better? Wouldn't it be worse to leave the soul without a body, rather than messing with an empty vessel's parking space?"

The thought of a topic he was familiar with came to mind. Boosting, and driving automobiles. Just vehicles, for the body, which was just another vehicle for something else.

"I've lived a shitty life. Been homeless, stole from others to survive. I think if it doesn't mess with the code, it's fine. Sometimes we gotta do what we gotta do to survive. And once the body is without its driver, what happens to where it's parked doesn't matter so much."

Earl was sitting at a cafe having a nice hot cup of tea when he spotted a lonely crate across the street, he thought nothing of it and continued to sip his tea when he noticed a friend from Chicago approach the crate. He looked as if he was admiring it but then he gave it a forceful kick and turned to address the people. Before doing so he seemed to check his appearance in the mirror, but of course there was no mirror, just a man with a lot of hair who had gotten quite skilled at tailoring his image. He addressed the people finally after lighting a cigar and taking a puff. By this time Earl had finished his tea and stood to get a little closer and let his old ears have a fighting chance at hearing the statement about to be made. 

Don Capazzo addressed the crowd regarding robbing the graves of the deceased, and whether or not it was deplorable to undergo such an action. What was most concerning was that after his second puff of what looked to be a very nice cigar he threw it to the side. A few members of the crowd spoke up, including a family member of his, John_Shoaltz. Earl waited until he had an opening and continued the conversation addressing the group as a whole. 

"Look at me as differently as you wish, I will admit to robbing graves in my youth. Why I musta robbed a good 600 graves back in my day. And it was uphill both ways to and from the cemetery. Don't believe me?" Earl pulled a list from his pocket that was titled Personal Achievements, a few were redacted but his grave robs were publicly shown. "I surely wouldn't be caught dead doing it now, I'm not as spry as I used to be and the chump change is nothing to me these days. You talk about Honor, Class and Sophistication as attributes of ourselves in this lifestyle which I will certainly agree to for my later years once I was Made. But before I was made, these were not attributes I had; when I was poor and sleeping on the streets, trying to afford bread, nothing but a shovel to my name... Sure, I made use of my talents. So as I said, look at me differently, criticize me as you will, but the dead don't need their trinkets from this world. If you don't want to make use of your talents, so be it."

Earl turned and looked down at the still lit, barely smoked cigar, now barely smoking then turned to look at Capazzo alone, "Why? There was so much of that cigars life ahead of it..." Earl hung his head low and began humming taps as he lifted his shoe and twisted it gently, crushing the last puff of smoke from its now lifeless shape. 

Villain happens to be walking close by when he hears out Capazzo. He was having a speech and it was building a crowd too. A lot of those there were already wondering to theirselves what to answer the questions posed, some were talking it with each other so nobody else could hear, some were gesturing it while others were expressing their opinions loudly. Villain decided to be one of the latter ones and started talking.

"Robbing. Robbing those damned graves for some extra buck was all I ever knew a while back. Hitting up a coffin and coming up with some goods that made you more than 500$ was a pretty lucky day to me. Growing up in the streets isn't something easy, and almost nobody will hand you over their hard earned cash. You have to climb the steps one at a time, from the lowest so you wont underestimate what you gain in the future and look at yourself a bit differently with that "Look how far I've come" look in your eye. So, to finish it up, you don't want to miss out on whatever brings you some more income."

With that Villain decided to finish what he was saying, giving room to more people to come up with different opinions.

Leman Russ just finished the rugged blueprint of his esteemed war tank. Oh, how he dreamed of having his own tank. He wanted to name it 'Leman Russ Tank' and sell it to Russians, Germans, or basically anyone who has a fat purse. As he walked down the street, he overheard a discussion. Grave-robbing and all that shit. Leman felt that he needed to voice out his thoughts.

"Robbing graves, for me, is low. We should let the dead rest in peace. But if you fancy this thing, I have nothing against you. It's just that...it feels eerily wrong, and finding graves, hah, it takes a lot of legwork. Maybe I'll rob one or few graves here and there, but it's not part of my profession. A real mafioso finds other ways to make dough."

Russ felt a sneeze is coming. He took out his hankie, and lo and behold, out fell a small human bone. Broken and filled with soil. Freshly-dug.

A cascade of silence and wave of cold stares followed next.

Roadrunner was just coming down the street when he heard his Don's words. Wanting to hear more of what he was saying he made his way to the front of the crowed. After hearing the speech and then what others had to say, he thought about the questions posed by his respected boss. Finally he stepped forward.

You know, boss, some may find it rude and disrespectful to disturb the dead and I can understand why they may feel that way, these are people they loved and cherished in this life. However from our perspective it is all about doing what we need to do to make a living. There are those in our line of work who do not feel this way. The great thing is they do not have to do it or be there when it is done. I feel it should always be up to the person still alive since the dead do not care.

Broken-Glass-Santina observed the discussion as she took long drags on her cigarette. Flicking the used butt to the side, she lit up another without even taking her eyes off the crowd. Doing what we do, there are no limits, she thought to herself. We'll all end up in hell for how we make our livings. What difference does it make if we take from the dead? But she voiced no concerns. Everyone had their own moral code. If she was judged for how she made her living, whether it's robbing graves, committing crimes, selling drugs, or whatever else then so be it. She only judged those who had no loyalty to their living, breathing family. She turned on her heel and headed back the way she had come, leaving only used cigarettes and wisps of smoke in her wake.