With the Memorial Auction for Destro holding an interlude, the adjacent ballroom had been prepared for Destro's celebration of life. Behind the wreaths and roses that garnished the wooden railings to the sides the podium, the gold trim along the mahogany podium adorned with the ornament of a handcrafted bald eagle, was an extravagant oil painting commissioned by the finest artist of our time. The church organ was being played graciously by the organist of the Cathedral. @CommissarZverev , as the most decorated orator, descended from a lineage of the greatest orators this world has ever seen, stood at the lectern. @CoconutRandy stood by with cameras, recorders, and the memory of his dead intern, Grinbini, to chronicle this ceremony in eternal history.

@CommissarZverev takes his place at the podium and the organist comes to a smooth ceasing transition. Zverev speaks, "My comrades, it is now time for the euology, I had asked tiggy to come and speak about the noble work done by @Destro on behalf of the Streets, The Company, Detroit, the Country, the Soviet State, and most of all, his comrades. Each and every one of you, who had come out to pay your respects to Destro."

CommissarZverev steps aside, and tiggy steps forward to take the place at the podium. tiggy was not a perfect public speaker, but tiggy knew that there was no higher honor than that of being able to speak freely about Destro, in a place of mourning and friendship, among comrades that encompassed the entire country and beyond. With everyone seated, tiggy took up the post at the lectern. tiggy had no cue-cards, or rehearsed speech. tiggy only had heart, a heart for one of the world's most renowned men who was taken from this world far too soon.

"My friends, Commissar Zverev had asked me to say a few words on the subject of James's life, as the sole survivor of Shannon-Whelan's crew, and the first winner of the State's Competitive Writing Competitions, and the undisputed arm-wrestling champion, but I decided to go another way. When I sat down last night, thinking of the bonds that tied James Destro and I together, especially these last few days since his passing, I realized that our bond comes down to one thing.

Family. 

James McCullen Destro cared most of all about his family, about us, about the welfare of all those who chose to make the 12th Street in Detroit as their home. No matter who it was or where they came from, we were all family to James. And James, through this work in the community, came to be a part of all of our families. He was the embodiment of a true comrade. Beholden to no-one but his family, because he saw the world as his family.

A man is only as strong as the people he surrounds himself with, and James Destro surrounded himself with every one of us on the Streets, surrounded himself with our community and way of life that each and every one of us engages in. James drew his strength from us. James was the man who loved this world and community, and gave everything he had to protect it. He gave his sweat, his blood, and ultimately, his life, so that we, the men and women he loved, could continue to go on. James Destro was the selfless man that we can only hope to aspire to be, and it is our duty and privilege to honor James Destro, otherwise everything that he had done for us would be for nothing."

tiggy paused for a moment, removing a handkerchief and wiping away some tears that had begun to build and swell in the ducts of tiggy's eyes. Placing the handkerchief away, tiggy continued.

"Now, I would ask that you all please stand, take the pamphlet placed behind the seat in front of you, and join me in the singing of the song The Good Comrade."

The church organ takes the cue to begin playing the instrumentals for the song. At its conclusion, tiggy steps back from the podium, and the floor is left open. A wide assortment of hors d'oeuvres and refreshments are placed on long dining tables by waiting staff for those willing to partake and socialize among other like-minded friends about how inspiring Destro was to them.

Today Nara heard a group of guys playing together. Like any musicians who play together from time to time they can read one another. The different melodies discordant at first but as the whole took it in and parts from each one began to mingle with the others untill taking a bit and giving as well they found harmony. 

It tugged at his heart, no heart is the wrong word. It touched the place in his heart that you feel things and a memory of Revenant made his ache. Several actually. The brief encounter with Destro when his spirit first became alive in this world. The chuckle it got when he spouted out nonsensical things about making a crew called Cobra. This man from the 30s must have thought him quite mad. Before he went here, then there and meantime Revenants body became uninhabitable he got just enough time to meet and admire him. When Nara found himself in himself, (people who are cronologically unstable have things that happen to them nobody really can understand or explain) He saw him here and there and He never found reason to disike his former crewmate. 

So many memories. One from Revenants time with the Russian army pre revolution helping them beat the Turks. 

Nara knows 2 words in Russian yes and no but as he hears the song sung in its language he also forms in his mind the imagery of the words in other languages. 

He hears this.

His mind, heart, soul, it relates imagery to these words so in a way hes translated it for anyone who doesnt currently speak fluent Russian to be able to understand.
For you Destro.

With grey clouds the sky is veiled
Nerves tensed such as guitar strings
Rain drumming from morning to night
Frozen time seems an eternity
We assualt from all directions Tanks, infnatry, artillery's fire
They are killing us, but we're surviving
And once again, we throw ourselves in an attack

A toast to life, come on brother, until the end
A toast to those, who were with us back then
A toast to life, come on brother, until the end
We'll remember those who were with us back then

The sky above us, in leaden clouds
Lies low in cold mists
We'd like to believe that everything's over
If only the wounded comrade could survive
Wait up bro, don't die yet
You will live long and happily
We will dance at your wedding
And you'll raise your kids up in the sky

A toast to life, come on brother, until the end
A toast to those who wait for you at home
A toast to life, come on brother, until the end
A toast to those who wait for you at home
A toast to them, a toast to us

To Siberia and to the Caucasus
To the lights of far-away cities
And to friends, and to love
A toast to them, a toast to us
And to the Paras, and to the Spetznas
To war honors Come on, lets raise it, friend

A toast to life, come on brother, until the end
A toast to those, who were with us back then
A toast to life, come on brother, until the end
We'll remember those who were with us back then

A toast to life, come on brother, until the end
A toast to those who wait for you at home
A toast to life, come on brother, until the end
A toast to those who wait for you at home

In old album, I found a picture
Grandpa, what a man, commander of Red Army
Signed "For son to remeber,"
Passed century flashbacks
The smell of unmowed grass in the dawn,
Moans of scorched earth from bombardments
Pair of old soldier's boots
New wars will replace the old ones

A toast to life A toast to those A toast to life
Let's remember those who were with us.

Caught up in all these memories and everyone whos life was cut short he catches himself singing it in Russian with a tear running down the left cheek. 

Super VIP Randy, Left and Right-Hand Man of The Renegades, bowed his head as they Germanly sang the The Good Comrade together in honour of the fallen hero Destro. This was shortly followed by another song from Narasimhaya, this one a Russian toast to life. It was a beautiful ceremony and truly worthy of his dead enemy-turned-ally. Destro loved funerals, Randy thought to himself with a sad sigh. 

It reminded him of the time they had buried California Bill, who died of stomach rot following his attempted digestion of most things growing outside the cave he had been living in. Bill had fallen on hard times due to his break-up with his fiancee, whose sisters underwear he had been caught wearing, and fled to a life in the woods, where he would roll berries, mushrooms, grass and bark into small balls of mud and pop them down the gullet like tater tots. He was a good guy, however perverted, and Randy had only dropped one tab of acid (despite being offered two) at his funeral. 

"Rest in Peace, Destro."

Randy sighed again, in italics this time.