Los Angeles was quiet, as it had always been. Free from most of the drama and stress of the mob life, it was calm, it was relaxing, and it was perfect on all accounts.

And then, the silence was broken.

Genovese was dead. And fast. PlagueGuy woke up without his contacts, stuck in the middle of the bustling streets of the City of Angels, with nobody familiar around, at least until he walked out of Main Street.

Geno had been the one to push him to his position, and now, he was back at square one. Well, almost. But it sure felt like it.

He was somewhat glad he had been spared from the bullet, but part of him had died anyway, and alongside longing for things to turned out differently, he wished he was buried below as well. Could give him a break from all the craziness, but mostly his gambling addiction.

Mourning will remain, but it was time to move forward. This was a good chance to start over, somewhere a little different, something a little more new. He may still be shaken, somewhat, but he still had his morals, and there were always things to do, things to complete. He knew he needed to keep his chin up in the grand scheme of things; slacking off now only leads to the bottom of a lake.

He eyed his options. There were plenty. LA would stick, but he could try another place, somewhere new. He hadn’t decided. Philly is always a decent option, LA always will be open, New York might hold some prospect, Chicago finally had turned to summer, and above all, Vegas might taunt him with more gambling funds. All were tempting. However, he still feels he owes it to continue on with LA, either as a memory, or directly. Only time would tell.