Nipper looked at himself in the mirror. The motions of coating his skin in thick blue paint, lining his eyes in crude dark liner, pasting on that thick red lipstick, it had all become so routine. So normal. When he'd completed the process and fixed the thick black curlered hair on his head, he looked at his reflection. Past the facade and into the eyes of the man beneath. He knew this man, every minute of his life, his past and present. Knew the truth of every story, knew reality from miss-told fictions. His back hurt from all the bending, his knees ached from all the squatting. He looked deep into the eyes in the mirror, as if examining a stranger for some penetrating truth. It was time to stand up. People would have to deal with what they found.

He made his way outside and took the short walk into the busy streets. It was a fine day and the reflective mood continued as he walked. Thoughts of Grin-07, FatherJack, Farage and all the other good men and women that had fallen in the attack by New York. Such a sad loss. He felt his resolve strengthen and his certainty about what had to come, resolute. It had been decided, he would move and take control of the city that betrayed their ties. He would start to rebuild and to do that, he would start afresh. Stronger, out in front of everything. A new name, a new start, proud and strong. 

He looked at the usual glances and stares he gathered as he walked. He knew these expressions would be different when they saw what was really there. His decision was made. At the local market he collected a large jug of warm water with a plug in the top, a sizable metal bowl and two towels. He carried these items into the busiest square and walked up to a local delivery van. Climbing onto the hood, he placed the items on the roof and hopped up after. His weight made the roof complain as the metal gave a little under him. 

The trademark gold kimono had already caught some attention and half blinded several others as the sun bounced off the radiant silk. He unplugged the jug and poured most of the warm water into a the metal bowl. Then he stood. The gold robe hid the squat stance he'd maintained for so long. He looked around at the faces who were increasingly looking his way, expecting some volley of confusing language and hostility. 

"Herro!"

He watched as no one batted an eye. Not one person, it had all become so normal.

"I want to show you something."

He bent over the bowl of water, placing one of the towels into it. He wrung out the cloth and paused for a moment watching his reflection rippling in the warm water. He looked back at the crowd. This time his voice was different. Slower, calmer, deeper, louder. His English was perfect and there was an effortless presence to the delivery.

"Until now it has been necessary for me to be this person you see before you. But this is not me. And this entertaining individual, much as I have grown to love him, must fall here today." 

He looked back down at the now still reflection and sighed. There was so much water under this bridge, even the river was tired of looking up at it. He took the sodden towel and began wiping his face. Stroke after freshly rinsed stroke until the towel could hold no more. He removed the thick back haired wig, then he picked up the second towel and continued until every trace of his known face lay before him, The now blue water settled and a familiar face stared back at him. Yes he thought, it was about damn time. A smile crept across the scarred face and he stood up. But this time he cast off the gold kimono and stood up. All the way up. What bent over as a squat figure with a hidden face, now stood tall as a broad man with a battled face and an intense stare. He stood in an immaculate black suit and raked across the visibly stunned crowd with a look of authority. 

"Hello."

He smiled at them all. A devilish grin, won in a damnation of years, silently enduring so many burning lies. The cycle of resentment and bitterness had long since come and gone. Far from being tied by such fleeting emotion, what now stood was a total lack of concern. For opinion, for judgement, for societal ideas of right and wrong. This man was his own truth now and the freedom of that liberated spirit lit up his scarred face. There was a fire in those eyes that nothing could put out.

"There will be no more hiding. My father called me Nipper. And his name was Disorder."

Unloading order number number 1278, eight fucking trays, Alan saw his favourite whore knelt down by the river. He felt a twitch in his pants. Perhaps there was time before his next delivery he thought. 

Seeing her stand up and remove her dress he thought it might be his lucky day. Wait. What. Its not a her?! I thought that was her special tool I liked so much. Why did noone tell me she was a he!  

Oh. My. God. Its not the first time the Disorder bloodline has fucked me but never quite as brutal as this. This is just my luck. How has noone ever figured it out? He must be an absolute professional.

Nipper catches Alan's eye and gives him a wink. That twitch happens again. He wouldn't? Not for old times sake? No. Dont be stupid Alan. You're just a delivery driver and she now runs New York. 

Meanwhile. Mrs. Evans coughs impatiently for her woodbine. I wonder if she will sort that twitch out Alan thinks.

Oooooh it gives me absolute shivers. 

Mandalore just happen to be walking by hearing all of this. Inside his helmet dropped hearing the name Disorder. Sending chills down his spin he pointed and then tapped his helmet only to walk away shocked. 

Right looked at Nipper as he suddenly could say Hello like any other person can..

Well.. the living ones, he added in his mind.

This is not Right, Nipper! First you make us uncomfortable with your pronouncation, then we get used to it and finally we actually accept it.. And now.. now you take it away from us?!

Elodin was visibly confused: he was looking at a man that apparently took the place of his old Chinese friend. She was right there, at this exact place, just few seconds ago. Yet she disappeared like that, POOF!, wiped away by some perfumed, soul-vacuuming, face-switching towel.

He decided to stand on his back legs (the knowledge position), trying to understand what had just happened. Unsuccessfully. He then decided to take matters in his own paws and to throw some light on this mystery. 

He pounced on the hood, ignoring all the surprised and curious looks, and took the first towel with a lot of precautions, as he didn't want to disappear himself. He looked at it carefully, inspecting every inch of the now not-white-at-all piece of fabric, looking for his lady friend: she was definitely not there. The second towel did not bring any more success, unfortunately.

He then stopped for a second. Was it over ? Was there now way to bring her back ? Ah, maybe by using the bowl too ? He assembled the towels in some sort of ball and poured the content of the bowl over it very slowly and cautiously, and waited for something to happen.

Nothing. Something was missing. One last time, he looked around him. Yes ! The wig was the key ! He took it and... DAMN ! It was now glued to his fur ! After 30 hectic seconds, rolling around and jumping crazily while doing some secret kung-fu moves, the wig detached and surprisingly landed exactly on the now soaking wet towels construction. Perfect.

Wait... Still nothing ? 

He finally turned to face the stranger, keeping safe distance. He was tall, confident and probably from a long lineage of magic towels masters. He walked in circles around him, trying to find new clues. Finally, he came closer. Perhaps his smell could be a clue ? Smells never lie.

He sniffed him once... He sniffed him twice... Then, like struck by lighting, he suddenly realized :

OH MY GOD.

NIPPER ?!! 

Having just being a part of the announcement to move over to New York, Latom found herself standing in the crowd watching yet another spectacle. Something about the entire scene was strange. Almost like meeting an alien for the first time. She'd had plenty of dealings with the one they called Nipper. Both nice ones as well as bad ones. But during these encounters a strong level of respect had formed. Strong enough to be included in Nippers move over to New York. Things were looking up.

But the revelation that was happening in front of her was still shocking. She had heard rumors and tales of a time when Disorder had run the show in this world of ours. Some told with great admiration and some filled with hatred. What would this mean to their newly founded alliance in New York? Would this affect things? She wasn't sure. Exciting times lay ahead surely. 

"- I hope this doesn't change things?" Latom said with a slight shiver in her voice trying to not let the stories get to her.

It had certainly been an eventful day. Accompanying his boss to the streets of New York, Rick had mixed emotions. Whilst his round at Grinble Beach was now all but a fantasy, the prospect of what Nipper was about to reveal was truly exciting. Having the Chinese 'lady' for a leader was fun at times (bar the beatings); the true Nipper being reveal would no doubt bring more intensity and evidently, notoriety to Rick.

Nipper, I hope now you can further flourish with that kimono off your back. No more early morning wake ups to cake that face paint on. No more speech lessons. No more laundrette work. 

It's been a pleasure working with you up to now in Chicago, with some truly great people around us. I have nothing but optimism for the future and restoring New York to a great city with the solid structure in place. 

Begin Transmission.

Chuck listened with a mixture of shock, wonder and disappointment.  Psychologists called it shwodis.  Shock at the kimono and wig façade falling off, wonder at the name of Disorder being back on the streets and disappointment at spending all that time learning mandarin.  Time that could have been spent at the custard institute or the churro laboratory. 

Well well well Nipper.  I’m sure your father will be proud of what you are achieving.  I’m sure we’ll hear rumours of the kimono being worn behind closed doors and being used to scare unwanted visitors.  Just no flashing us if and when you do choose to wear it again please.

Yellowface? Classy. Does your next speech include marching with a burning torch, a white cloak and a white pointy hat?

Nipper looked down at the confused youngster.

"Cinnamon, what on earth are you talking about?"

Seeing people get the shivers __________I________ shouts out 

Run for the hills, run for the hills

His trusty chauffeur points out that they are coming from the hills 

Run away from the hills, run away from the hills. If you see the hills, run the other way.  

Turning through the diaries of his ancestors he comes to a page about the Disorder regime and sees one word. 

Well I could say that word out loud or I could just leave it to the imagination. 

Your ancestor's work speaks for itself. New York will certainly prosper. 

Beetle was watching the various reactions by various people on the new revelation done by her very own beloved crew leader with an amused expression on her face when she hears someone shout:

"Run away from the hills, run away from the hills. If you see the hills, run the other way. "

"Why though?" she wonders.

But then as things settle down she continues watching as people come showering him with good wishes and congratulations. She smiles and nods in agreement how everything was going to be better now.

You know fine well. I assume you know we won't accept anyone using the N-word, but it's cute and funny to say "Herro" because it isn't quite as offensive.

I just want to make sure your prejudices don't extend to any other culture, because I find these sort of subjects quite unpalatable, so if this is going to be an on-going trend, I'll make note to avoid your corners from now on.

While wandering the streets, Pencil heard whispers and small talks about this man called Disorder that once was, even as a civilian. Her ancestors were not around during that time. They had decided to venture off to other parts of the world for some years before the curiosity of Pencil's grandmother brought the family line back into these shores. Pencil was reading the journal written by her mother that stated there was a young fellow who resembled Disorder walking around and went by the name of Nipper, but could not be certain that they were of the same blood. So hearing this speech just as she herself decided to live the life of crime intrigued her and she listened with complete interest. Pencil doesn't say anything she was just passing by and interested in the revelation and thought that was very good of him to clarify for those wondering. 

Hearing a familiar tone from the streets ahead, TheElephantInTheRoom felt at ease and continued his cycle of enjoyment, and watched the passers by wonder in amazement at the immense stature yet incredible poise of the enormous life form ascending and descending in perfect time right there before their very eyes.

His rhythm faltered at the sound of another voice, however. A voice he had not heard, a resonating deep and striking voice, a voice of authority, a voice of meaning and clarity, a voice of strength and purpose.

The old grey wrinkled mammal ceased his incessant bouncing and clumsily dismounted from his trampoline. He walked towards the figure standing before him and stood for a moment as he inhaled the essence of the transformation before him. Gone had the figure who had once commanded the infamous clan he had been part of. Gone had the twisted stooping frame of a worn and torn madam from the East. Gone had the colourful robe and tightly bound hair. Gone had the Nipper he once knew.

The Elephants eyes met with those of the man before him, and a stare began between them.

As he circled the well-dressed newcomer, the stare gradually melted to a look of recognition, respect and admiration.

Lifting his trunk, the old hulk blasted the streets with a continual triumphant tone, shattering the plate glass windows of everything within a few hundred yards. Much to the annoyance of several traders who yelled “What the fuck?” and “I’ve just had this place painted you fucking great maniac.”

Ignoring the profanities, the Elephant acknowledged his new commander and chief in the customary way by relieving himself into a pavement drain before once again alighting his trampoline.

An Elephant never forgets.

Stoney is not shocked or surprised. Stoney does take an interest in the stock market and has concerns on further investments.