"Thank you, and a good day to you too ma'am." Alexander replied to the air hostess as he exited the plane. The flight back from Chicago, one hastily made, would have been unpleasant if it wasn't for the welcoming staff on board . His comment was genuine, as genuine as could be made by an exhausted , sleep deprived singer after a performance and a long flight. 

His trip had been a successful one. The most recent in a string of successful trips. He knew he had taken a chance by rushing forth to Detroit when he heard the offer from Joy. He knew it was possible he would not be welcomed back at the Phoenix Family Bar. There was only so many unexplained absences Dominic Lombino , his boss would tolerate. Yet, he had chosen to risk it all for the chance to perform in a new city. The chance to further his fame, develop a larger fanbase. 

While hesitant at first, the performance at Joy's club in Detroit and the trip to Chicago had convinced him he had made the right choice. With his performances across the west coast and now further east, coupled with the response from his appearance on Luna's radio show one thing was clear to him. He was ready. Ready to take the leap of faith. If he wanted to advance as a singer he would have to venture out into the great uncertainty as a travelling musician. As much as his part time bartending had helped him out when he had desperately needed it, he feared the time was at hand when he would have to give it up in search of the great unknown. It was funny how things worked out. When he left the city, he had prayed he would have a job to return to. On his way back, he realized he had to quit the job if he still had it. 

As he exited the airport he noticed storm clouds dissipating in the sky and though it odd for that time of the year. He walked across the street to the garage where he had leased a parking spot for his motorcycle, eager to ride through the streets of the city that had embraced him as its own. A few moments later he came out on his BSA, refueled and thoroughly washed. The bag of his earnings , clutched firmly in his hands was now somewhat lighter than it had been when he went inside. 

The garage owner was surprised that he had shown up. "Didn't think you'd be back. I was about to sell off this piece of crap." Alexander had simply looked at him in confusion. He wondered why the man had said that considering it had not been that long. "Call me a sentimental fool Sir, but this BSA and I aren't parting ways anytime soon." He had said with a smile as he had collected the keys and paid the man his money. He thought perhaps the man had assumed someone so well dressed would not ride something so utterly mundane unless he had to. It was a reasonable assumption since Alexander had been on his way to a performance when he dropped it off and was thus rather sharply dressed. But he wasn't yet rich enough to afford something better despite the appearances.

Even if he was, he would not part with the motorcycle unless he had to.  It had reminded him of the war vet's motorcycle he had ridden as a kid in Arizona the moment he laid eyes on it in Mistake's shop in Vegas. Ever since then he had loved it and he knew even if he got filthy rich he would keep it with him, perhaps as a reminder of his humble beginnings sleeping on benches and singing in street corners.  

Slinging his bag on his shoulder he started the motorcycle and began his ride to the bar trying to come up with what he would say to his employer. After having spent some time in the frigid waste that was Chicago , he had been looking forward to basking in the warm embrace of the LA sun once again. But as he rode through the streets, his hair whipping in the air, the storm clouds up above refused to fully part almost as if they were robbing him of the solace he sought. 

As he neared the bar he felt his stomach grumble. Deciding to grab a bite to eat at the kiosk where he usually bought his cigarettes he let his motorcycle roll to a slow stop. His gaze went to the bar across the street and the two police cars that stood outside it. An uneasy feeling crept over him but he pushed the thought to the back of his head as he walked to the Kiosk. "Hi Frank." He greeted the man behind the kiosk "Pack of camels and a couple of donuts please." As he slid the money over the counter he saw Frank staring at him open mouthed . His emerald eyes widened almost as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Well I'll be damned!" Frank said finding his tongue finally "I thought you were gone for sure."  Alexander peered at him curiously. The second time today someone had been surprised by his presence. "Just because you've set up shop next to a bar, that doesn't mean you can start drinking this early in the day." Alexander teased. "I've been coming here for months now why would I stop? Got something against loyal customers."

"Bloody hell boy! Are you telling me you don't know what happened?" Frank asked shocked as he handed him his cigarettes and his donuts. Alexander opened the pack and tucked a cigarette behind his ear before placing the rest in his pocket. He felt the uneasiness return to the forefront as he looked curiously at the man. "See those cops there asking questions?" Frank nodded towards the bar before dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as he noticed one of the policemen cross the street and head towards him. "Those dumb bastards still hadn't pieced everything together yet. I saw it all, and I told them all. I told them how many people came. I told them..told them why there's 5 bodies inside. Mob hit. Had to be. " 

He turned to look at Alexander standing frozen in shock. "You're lucky lad, I thought you were inside. You best disappear now before this lot try and rope you in. Pretty boy like you wouldn't make it a day in lockup. Ya hear me?" 

Alexander stood quietly, his ears ringing and his vision blurring as he saw the Policeman hail him. The man's words never reached his ears. His mind shut down, but his legs frozen up until that moment started moving on their own. Distant shouts rang out somewhere behind him but he never looked back. His feet carried him away unconsciously. He did not know where they were leading him or what he would find there or what the policemen chasing him would make of it. And yet he ran as fast as he could, as far as he could. Winding through alleys and pushing past people till his legs gave out from under him and he collapsed on the sand

Stumbling to his knees he felt his stomach lurch. A moment later his lunch was out on the sand as he collapsed beside his own sick staring back up at the storm clouds while the waves splashed beside him. A multitude of emotions went through his head, but foremost was confusion. He did not understand why the mob would hit the bar. He'd seen enough people enter and leave, even some who seemed unsavory and out f place in the upscale establishment but he had never given it much thought. He wondered if Dominic owed someone money, but he immediately disregarded the thought. Dominic seemed well off and the bar had been doing rather well. There was no way he owed someone money. He simply failed to fathom what could have happened. Only Dominic could tell him what had happened. He had to go back, he had to find out what was going on.

"Well well! Look what we have here boys. The famous songbird himself." He heard someone say as he was getting up and slinging his bag on his shoulder. A man approached him with a bottle of booze in his hands and blood on his knuckles. Two rather large men followed behind him looking amused. "What are you standing around for? Help the poor lad up!"  The man said, gesturing to his lackeys . The two of them grabbed one of his arms each and hoisted him up roughly. They held him firmly and he realized he had found himself in a predicament he might not easily escape from

"Please Sir, there's been some sort of misunder-" Alexander began but the air in his lungs rushed out of his mouth as the man punched him in his gut. "Oh no no no. I remember you, even if you don't remember me." The man paused to take a big swig from his bottle. He wiped his face with his sleeve and smirked. "You with your fancy footwork atop the bar counter and your pretty little face glowing as you sang is not something I can forget. You know why?" The man stopped to look at him for a moment before rolling his eyes and nodding to the lackeys beside him. 

Alexander turned his face to the lackey wondering what he meant with the nod. He received his answer in the form of a fist colliding with his cheek. As the pain engulfed half his face Alexander shook his head trying to regain his focus. "I asked you a question. Do you, know why I can't forget it?" The man enunciated each syllable almost as if he were mocking Alexander. "No" came the reluctant whisper in response only to be greeted by another punch , this time to his gut. 

"What was that? I couldn't hear you." The man said as he leaned close bringing his ear next to Alexander's mouth. "No!" came the reply, louder this time. "Ah, well I'll tell you." The man placed his hand on Alexander's shoulder and continued "I can not forget it because once he saw you, Lombino had no more need for his regular singers. No need for me." His knee came up and struck Alexander to the side of his stomach, almost doubling him over. 

As Alexander hunched over the man's shoulder trying to regain his breath, the man leaned in and whispered. "And as I lay ran around doing odd jobs for local loan sharks, I hear you singing on the radio, haunting me wherever I went." Patting him on the cheek the man turned to look at the sea and took another swig of the bottle before tossing it aside. "I couldn't take it any longer. Grabbed my bat and followed you out the bar waiting to jump you soon as you passed through a shady corner." 

The man unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled it apart to reveal a scar on his chest. "4 broken ribs. That's what I got. Lombino's men were kind enough to drop me off to the hospital and pay for the treatment, even if they warned me never to think about laying a hand on you or risk suffering Hope's wrath." Alexander was confused. His boss hired thugs to protect him? That did not make any sense. And Hope? The delicate woman who had enthralled him, whom he had danced with on the rooftop of the bar? Why was her wrath enough to scare this man off? Just who was this woman? And why was her protection no longer valid?

There were a million questions running through his head. Questions he had to ask Dominic as soon as he got out of this mess. The questions, important though they were, were pushed to the back of his mind as fresh punches landed in his gut one after the other. Once they stopped and he was thrown, Alexander spat out blood and looked up at the man nervously who remarked with a smirk "Not so tough now that the angels on your shoulder are dead are you? About time the two of them got what they deserved. I only wish I was there to see those fucking mobsters die in their own bar." 

It took him a moment to make sense of what was being said. For the second time in as many hours, Alexander froze in shock. The man had called Dominic and Hope mobsters. But more importantly, he had claimed they had died in the mob hit. The revelations were too much for him to process. His mind went blank and he didn't notice the man pick up his bag , the bag that held his earnings and open it up. 

"Bloody hell! You've been holding out. " The man said with a grin on his face. "I am taking this as compensation kid, for all the times I had to suffer because of you." Alexander wanted to resist, but he knew it was pointless . He was bruised, bloodied and baffled. Adding broke to the list of his afflictions would hardly make a difference. Not like he had a choice anyway.

The man rambled on a little longer before leaving but Alexander never heard a word. His mind was trying and failing to process the events of the day. Out of habit he reached behind his ear for the cigarette tucked behind it only to come up empty. That was enough to break him out of his reverie. Getting on one knee he tried to stand as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. His legs as if made of jelly, refused to support him and he fell back on to the sand groaning. The cigarette slipped out of his fingers and unable to find it in the sand in his condition he pulled out another. 

He placed the cigarette in his mouth feeling his bloodied lip dampen the butt as he lit it slowly. Inhaling sharply, he took comfort in the familiar burn at the back of his throat. Closing his eyes, he lay back down. The smoke cascaded out his mouth as his face grimaced in pain. pulling out the cigarette he sighed loudly wondering just what the fuck he would do now.

Ely walked along the shoreline, kicking the salty water as he tromped over the wet sand... Venice Beach... It was never this empty, but the bloody war that had taken everything from the underground of L.A. had everyone scared again. Hardly anyone ventured outside, and those that did were quick to make their way. The few people that were on the sandy shoreline were mostly employees of the city, or ran the small kiosks that littered the coast.

His head hung low... It had all happened and there was so very little he could do. He helped protect a few key members of their respective family, but eventually, even that was enough. Knowing they were on the losing side of what seemed to be a pointless waste of bodies and energy, he'd negotiated peace for what was left of L.A. It hadn't been much, but at least there was no more bloodshed.

It all still made him want to scream, but that would do nothing either. The powers that now controlled his city? They were sending someone new in... Swallowing pride could be hard at times, but he did so that L.A. still had some semblance of what -HAD- been.

Looking up to the skies, Ely sighed and mouthed an 'I'm Sorry' to those that looked down. He kicked another wave as it washed over his feet. Off in the distance he saw a small altercation and grumbled. Normally that thing wouldn't happen, but with the strength of L.A. now gone he imagined all the small time thugs would take their chances. He watched as three of the four figures walked off, one carrying a bag. With a shrug of his shoulders he figured the least he could do was check on the one left behind.

Closing in, the smell of cigarettes, and the familiar scent of someone he knew washed over him. His eyes widened and his hands came from his pocket as he jogged nearer. Realizing that rushing up on the boy while he was probably in a bit of shock was unwise, Ely slowed down and approached quietly, moving around to flank him and walk up.

Standing a mere few feet behind the boy, Ely joined Alex in his gaze out over the ocean. He didn't speak for a few moments as the lad smoked his cigarette, but when he did it was quiet.

"I'm sorry kid..." It was about all he could think to say. "I did what I could, but in the end it didn't matter." He stabbed his hands back in to his jacket pockets...

"You alright? Look like those guys gave you a hard time." He thumbed over his shoulder, "Took your bag, eh?" He huffed and sat down in the sand near Alex, making sure to avoid the splotch of vomit soaked sand. Tell-tale chunks of food made that obvious enough.

"L.A's not what it was two days ago." Taking a moment, he grew silent and turned to face Alex. They both looked rough, and on top of it all, Ely looked tired. That same sparkle that was normally in the old wolf's eyes wasn't there. You'd think after nearly 750 years of loosing those close to you, he'd not be so emotionally drained, but... No one ever gets used to losing those they love and share a bond with. He reached over and gave a light pat to Alexander's shoulder, resting his hand there. He remained silent, turning his gaze to the waves of the ocean. His hand slowly slipped from Alex's shoulder and landed in the sand, his features blank across his face.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alexander saw someone approach him. Exhaustion got the better of his curiosity and he did not turn to glance at the man. Instead he continued to stare ahead into the distance as he smoked. A voice, somewhat familiar, spoke words of comfort and consolation. The sound slowly rambled through his head till it collided with the memory of his first night in LA, almost a lifetime ago. He had been homeless and pennyless, much like he was now. Sitting in a park he had let his voice drift out its sweet melody and found solace in the welcoming embrace of the city and it's residents. One of whom now sat beside him.

He turned to look at Elyan and was surprised by what he saw. Gone was the dark confident gaze and lost were the shoulders seemingly broadened with pride. What we saw was a man who looked older than he had a week ago. A man defeated by destiny. In that moment, he realized something. A dry chuckle escaped his throat as he shook his head. "Bastard."He said with a smile "You knew. Probably got a nice laugh out of it too."

He saw Elyan looking at him slightly confused. "You knew it was a mob owned establishment and you sent me there anyway." He said staring back at the ocean, a scowl now on his face. "I can see the humour in sending a lamb to the slaughter. Though I must apologize for surviving if you were betting on me to die sooner. Always been lucky I guess." He knew he was venting his frustration in the wrong direction, but his voice coated in venom still cascaded out his mouth. 

Now that he knew that Hope had been a powerful gangster, when he recalled how affectionate she had seemed with Elyan and how respectful the average patrons had been, he understood that the man must be a mobster himself. Heck, half the people he had served drinks to in the bar or sung to on the streets must have been mobsters. He questioned himself, wondered how he had ever been blind enough not to notice the telltale signs of mob influence in the establishment. Under other circumstances he might have come to accept things for what they were. But now, the windy embrace of the city that had comforted him on so many nights felt cold and unfamiliar.

Was this the truth of it all? Was this all there was to this city? A glamorous honeytrap in employ of the shady underbelly looking to enthrall those foolish enough to be seduced by the superficial beauty. "L.A's not what it was two days ago." Elyan said. He wondered if that was truly the case. Had this city changed so much in the last few days that a resident of it's shadows now found it foreign? Alexander didn't think so. 

"No." He whispered letting the cigarette slip from his fingers down to the sand below. "This beautifully fucked up jumble of streets never changed. Like moths drawn to the flame, we succumbed to foolish delusions of what this city was or who it could help us be." Unsteadily he stood up and wiped his clothes of puke , blood and sand. Watching the dying embers of his cigarette in the sand below he added "The moth can blame the fire all it likes. Doesn't make the fire guilty or the moth innocent."

With a final nod in the man's direction he left him to his thoughts as he slowly walked back to where he had parked his motorcycle. He wondered if he would ever look at this city he had called his home the same way again. Or any city for that matter. He knew, there would always be a kingdom of shadows hiding beneath the surface itching to come out wherever he went. There was no escaping it now. The mob would be a part of his life whether he liked it or not. 

Stepping on to the motorcycle, he glanced at the bar he had spent so many nights , mundane and memorable, in. Then with a sigh, he was off. After his escape from the chasing policemen and the beating he took on the beach from the local thugs, one thing was certain to him. Whether it was cops or criminals, he was on no one's Christmas list. The city was not safe for him. 

Stopping next to the airport he got off the motorcycle as the setting sign painted the sky the shade of whiskey. A poster on a nearby wall bore an image of the cast for the hottest new play in town. In the center of the chaotic mass, were the two young starlets he had seen on his first night in LA rushing off with tour guides. He had pitied them then, innocent and ignorant of the evils of the world and the sharp brutality of reality. Now, he pitied what he had been, naive and blissfully ignorant of his own delusions. 

Yet, after everything that had happened, he was still resilient. Perhaps just to prove to himself that he was better than these foolish young starlets. If this city held no love for him, he would travel to another and forced his way through all shackles that try to bind him on his journey. Thinking about it though is not as easy as doing it which he soon found out. Having been robbed of all his belongings he was faced with the problem of coming up with money for a plane ticket out . 

As he ran his fingers over the keys in his hands a thought came into his mind but he disregarded it almost immediately. And yet, when he could come up with nothing better, he knew that was the only way. Steeling his breaking heart and drying his eyes that had begun to water, he walked in to the garage across the street where he had stored his bike earlier. The man was about ready to close up when Alexander walked up to the counter. 

"I've changed my mind. About time I got rid of this piece of junk."  He lied as he placed the keys on the counter. "How much will you give me for it?" He asked trying to stop his voice from cracking.