"You're my brother Cat-Man, you'll do well, you can lead them, in that, I trust you. You'll be at the head, you are the one that I trust with this..."

"If we had more people like you, Charlie, we'd be flying high in the sky, not that we aren't already. I'm just saying, you're like no one else, your drive and passion for this thing of ours, well it's like no other. I have no doubt that you'll lead them into the sunset."

- Joe Adonis and Ilaria Santoro

Opening his eyes with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling, Charlie turned his head, finding himself looking at the body of a female companion that he spent the night with. He rubbed his face, knowing that today was the day. He removed the duvet from around his body, his eyes holding sadness and longing, no longer were the eyes of the Cat-Man filled with mischief and cunning, but instead, they were dull and lifeless. Almost like he wished that this day had never come. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling up his pants and looking at the suit that hung from his wardrobe door, it called for classiness. It called for him like he was still the advisor to Joe Adonis; like he was still the compass for Midas, yet no longer was he the compass or even the hand of justice. No, he was simply Charles Peterson, a man who had yet to become what he longed for. He sighed, standing up, hearing his companion turn over in the bed, continuing her sleep. 

He moved over to his wardrobe, putting on a white T-shirt and what was now common to him, a leather jacket with the symbol of Tops stitched onto the back. He put on some Cowboy boots, before heading out into the chilly Philadelphia air. He walked towards his garage, noticing his new bike that sat there, waiting for him, only he did not ride his bike and instead, went towards the shelves, his eyes drawn to the manuscript that he had written. 

"The Life and Rise of an Outlaw, heh, I guess Adonis and Ilaria made me become a poet."

He laughed to himself, before placing his manuscript inside a rucksack and placed it on his back, before sitting on his bike. He let a sigh out, before closing his eyes and starting his bike, going on his journey to give the proper goodbye that Midas deserved. He allowed his head to move side to side as he rode, his hair blowing in wind, thinking of all the moments that he shared with the two people that he would have given his life for. 

He turned a corner, noticing some of the more seedier people of Philly, many whores decorated the chilly streets of Philadelphia, looking to earn their money by whatever means necessary. Only Charlie did not pay them any mind, even though many of them tried to get his attention, he was focused on the things he had to do, soon enough, he rode off again, leaving the whores to their own devices and potential customers. 

He finally came up to a small clearing, one that he seemed to have visited before, as he parked his bike. Looking up at the sky, before placing a smoke in between his lips and lighting it, he looked down into the ditch that had been since he got there, before he tossed in the smoke and ditch was set alight. It continued to burn as Charlie had removed his manuscript from the rucksack and tossed it inside the ditch, allowing it to burn, almost as if trying to set a new standard of some kind. 

"Goodbye, Charles Peterson..."

With this, Charlie walked away and situated himself on his bike before riding away with a tear running down his cheek, his mind set on where he was going. Knowing that he had invited plenty of others to come to say goodbye as well, it was time to put it to rest, it was time to let the golden plane of Midas fly away from them.

"It's time to go back to where it all began for us in Philadelphia, it'll be nice to give the legacy they made a proper goodbye. Gone, but never forgotten.."