Kenny was taking a walk in South Philly, PH. He was going to check out the bar that his brother AnthonyRusso had opened up a few weeks ago. He planned on getting super drunk and make his big brother take care of him. Again.

As he walked down a very deserted street, he saw a strange man sitting on the side walk, he could hear that the man was crying. Kenny decided to ignore and just continued walking. As he continues his walk, he stops a bit and takes a closer look at the man, but he couldn't see his face. It was an awkward sight. The man was wearing an very fancy tuxedo, an yellow shorts and a big red shoe. Kenny started to think what the fuck was wrong with that guy, wearing THAT tuxedo with THOSE horrible shorts. Kenny didn't understood absolutely nothing about fashion but he knew that outfit was very bad for his eyes and everyone's else eyes. He saw a bottle of whiskey by the side of the man which he was sure to be drinking.

"Mister, could I have a moment of your precious time?" The man said as he lifted up his head. Kenny took a look at him and got spooked; the man was wearing a very good clown make up. He didn't knew what to do so he signaled the clown to continue talking. "My master.. KenoN was killed. And everyone from my city. I have no one left." Said the clown, sobbing. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took a long sip, Kenny just stared at him, horrified but a little sad for the man.

Kenny sit on the sidewalk next to the clown. "KenoN? I heard of this name. He was kind of someone important to Los Angeles, aye?" Kenny said, curious about the clown's origins. "Since you called me and we're talking, how about you share that bottle?" The clown nodded and gave the bottle to Kenny, he took a sip but without touching his lips at the bottle, letting some whiskey fall on him. He would smell like booze later but at least he wouldn't get herpes. "You can keep talking, clown." The man smiled upon being called a clown, what made Kenny be a little uncomfortable, who would like to look like that in a daily basis, even more who would like to be called a clown? Perhaps a clown. He thinks to himself.

"Well, mister. My name is Bozonaro and I'm a corrupt agent. I was serving Don KenoN over at Los Angeles, but he got killed and everyone else who was important in there. Such an sad situation for me, mister." Bozonaro said, starting to cry again, Kenny just stared at him with an "wtf" face, powerless to say nothing. Maybe if he said a word he would start laughing his ass off, but he kept to himself, the man seemed pretty hurt.

Bozonaro finally stopped crying and took the bottle back from Kenny's hands. He took a long sip before saying: "Sir, you look like KenoN. You beautiful like him." Kenny just kept the wtf face on. He could not believe in that guy. He looked like he was in his late 40's, how could a person old like that could cry and walk around wearing a clown make up? Bozonaro started to speak again. "Are you mobster? Mafia? Mafioso? I could serve you. I'm good at serving mafia. I could keep you out of jail. I could deliver you cocaine. We could be friends." He took his police identity out of his pocket and delivered it to Kenny, who took a look good at it. Indeed he was with the mob and he heard about some people in this line of business tend to have a corrupt agent to work for them, Kenny liked the idea, but didn't liked the man that much.

"Are you sure about that? You don't even know me. I don't even know you. How do we build this kind of relationship out of nowhere?" Kenny asked to the clown, thinking more. He wanted those perks he just said. He was tired of being arrested when he tried to bust some friends out of jail. He was curious, so he decided to accept. "Alright, if you want that much, I'll let you serve me, but please keep your distance or you WILL get shot."

The clown listened to Kenny accepting him and quickly got on his feet, jumping and clapping hands like a child. "Thank you, master! You will not regret that! Me good agent! Famous in the police! Everyone listen to me!" Kenny got up too, this time laughing. He was sure that Bozonaro was an retarded or something like that, but he had heard his name before, somewhere. He extended his hand to the clown and they did a handshake, closing in a very lucrative relationship for both. "And what is your name mister?" He asked Kenny, without letting go of his hand. Kenny tried to force it but Bozonaro wouldn't let go. Kenny got angry and delivered a very powerful punch on Bozonaro's face. The man fall down on the ground as Kenny took an piece of paper out of his pockets and threw at the ground, next to Bozonaro.

"My name is Kenneth, but you may call me Kenny. Russo's the last name." He said, lowering and stealing Bozonaro's bottle of whiskey. He pointed at the piece of paper while Bozonaro tried to get on his feet without success, due to the force of the punch. "That is the my adress, drop by later and we can discuss more about this, I'm late to an meeting." Kenny took a long sip of the bottle and started to walk away. He looked back and saw Bozonaro with the paper on hands and a smile on his face.