After returning from a long trip from LA, Ashers back is hurting and his leg as are stiff with his old age. Just as he starts to moan about it he gets word that his friend JeanRalphio had finally mustered up the enthusiasm to challenge the godfather in south philly. At first Asher didn’t believe it but after slapping himself a few times and realising it all wasn’t a dream, he started to prepare.
 

After having a well deserved rest he starts to put his tux on he orders his assistant to pick up a fresh pack of Cuban cigars and gets them ready to gift to the new appointed Godfather.
 

Asher turns up to the celebration, first thing he notices is people drinking from a strange looking fountain. “Tell Laurel I am here, no wait, I meant Yanny “ . Following a warm greeting from Yanny , Asher wastes no time in embracing his friend Jeanralphio . “Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to be here today, partly because I am old and surprised I still have the energy to walk, let alone attend these type of celebrations. But seeing Ralphio take the Godfather position gives me a lot of joy. I have been a patient man and I was always told; good things come to those that wait. Congratulations my friend and want to say thank you for all your hard work and support during my time in Philly”.

Asher raises his glass and joins the celebration.

Sitting with his legs up in the cockpit, the pilot flipped the Aviation Daily from front to back, on his way to the centerfold Air Host or Air Hostess of the Day.

After skipping through the weather, which of course is massively important for pilots, on page 5, there was a very interesting flashback on the Christmas Bullet and safety standards that have risen ever since the idiot design had been launched.. Twice. A little column decorated the side of page 6 about the official standards for Mile High Club Entry. Nothing new to PilotPhil there..

Just before hitting the centre page and Phil was already kind of excited to finally arrive there.. there was a double page of other news, news from the ground, which described the world below, the world without turbulence or air madness. It told of the incredibly old JeanRalphio, having taken twice the usual time to finally claim his position as Godfather in Philadelphia. Phil smiled. He remembered his great-grandmother speak of this modest, thankful, then still young kid, who was extremely knowledgable and down-to-earth. Totally not the pilot type, PilotPhil mentally commented. Phil's grandmother had really cared for him.

The article further commented on the fact that JeanRalphio had maximum occupation, yet still was wearing a tag about looking for members, about the 720 actually indicating Jean's age and it also mentioned a big party having been set up by Laurel Yanny. Phil was intrigued, although not sure he was invited, he turned his plane around mid-air, checked the broken fuel indicator to check if the plane was still capable of flying back to Detroit and then on towards Philadelphia and made up an excuse for the passengers about the detour.

Some hours later, the fuel had turned out to be just enough and the landing wasn't too smooth. Not too surprising, as he decided to land a bit closer to the venue than the nearest airport was. As form as the standard procedure, AirHostess_Avril distracted the passengers, so PilotPhil could get off the plane first. He crossed the grassland to arrive, uniformed, at the grand party.

This is impressive, Phil mumbled, as he saw the spotlessness of the organisation, that surely would be headed by someone with OCD. Everything was perfectly ordered. PilotPhil even checked his uniform to see if there were any spots. Of course there weren't.

PilotPhil looked around and went to look for JeanRalphio, the newly appointed Godfather. On his way he spotted a slightly stressed out and busy Laurel Yanny, who advised the new Godfather not to show all dancing skills he had. Phil greeted her with a smile and a small bow. He waited in line for Godfather Chairman Asher to congratulate Jean.

PilotPhil sighed and waited

These old men..  Their conversation did not even take that long, but the toilet breaks either was taking in between made it last for ages, so it seemed. PilotPhil made a mental note to postpone the next flight for an extra hour.

When Asher had raised his glass to toast, PilotPhil took his chance to approach the new Godfather. He stretched out his hand and smiled.

It brings me great joy to see you here in the position you patiently waited for to claim. I know from my grandmother that you really deserve this position and want to hereby, as a gift, offer you this VIP membership to fly Phil Airlines with discount. However, you can not combine it with your old-age discount, I hope you understand..

Still shaking JeanRalphio's hand, Phil couldn't resist and he hugged him

Well done, sir. You have done great and will be even greater. Congratulations!

It had hit LA shores a new Godfather arose, after her own celebrations feeling slightly worse for wear, nursing a hangover, shielding her eyes whilst on board of PilotPhil airlines, slightly more turbulent than normal, or was it the usual? 

Once the plane 'delicately landed' in south philly, Velvet made way to the celebration of JeanRalphio upon visiting her favourite bakery in south philly to soak up some of her excessive alcohol.

Following the large congregation of people flowing through the streets whispering in confirmation of Jean grabbing the title of godfather which was much deserved. Giving the guards a nod as she  walked into the venue, removing her glasses as she heard a few heartfelt speeches of friends and other crew leaders from various cities.

keeping her glasses firmly stuck to her face as the smell of liquor passed her by on trays, blanching slightly at the thought.

her boots clicked on the tiled floor passing the jello pool tempted to scoop a cup full till she  spotted @Yanny by JeanRalphio " well there goes that idea probably the safest bet knowing Phil is around..." speaking to no one on particular. 

approaching the new South philly  Godfather  and his right hand,  smiling warmly pulling out case for Cuban cigars as a gift 

"Congratulations Godfather Jean, has a smooth ring to it, sorta just rolls off the tongue,  I'm proud of you! You've out done yourself to get here, been a privilege working with you in Philly to say you deserve this is an understatement, perhaps this will finally  quieten the old man Asher heh? All seriousness congratulations hun" she chuckled, before pulling the man in for a brief hug before she took her leave to enjoy the rest of the party

JeanRalphio finished putting the final touches on his larger than life head of hair as a final streak of gel ran through the sides, a spritz of cologne forthcoming as he scanned his greater outfit in the mirror, ensuring no wrinkles existed on his dress shirt and verifying that his collar was fashionably popped.

“Pitch time, baby.”

With several businesses under his belt under the umbrella of Entertainment 720, the road to developing Haute Homies was a long and tedious one.  A paid entourage for individuals with low self-esteem to be surrounded by a well dressed cadre of compliment showering unionized models was a slam dunk, in his opinion, and he was sure that the money-gobbling, faceless entity that held rank over South Philadelphia would be amenable to a business venture that would put money in their wallets and happy faces on the streets.  With the other investors present, JeanRalphio was going to make a pitch that couldn't be turned down.

Still, he was perturbed by the organization’s requirements, which saw him perform seemingly trivial and pointless tasks around the cities. Helping deadbeats get back on the streets where they belong instead of a jail cell; several requests to throw sticks of dynamite at abandoned buildings, and getting acquainted with the fine art of fleecing police officers pockets, only confirming their abject poverty in contrast to the criminals who operated in this world.

It was a long and weary process, one that elicited a content but hollow gaze that he had seen in his previous interactions with others who had followed in these footsteps.  Gone were the days where Jean could rely on PilotPhil to relieve his tension at 30,000 feet.  Life would move on, though, and with a call to Yanny to verify plans for an official launch party, Ralphio pondered briefly if life would ever be the same.

As he spun around to exit the door, Jean tapped his breast pocket instinctually, feeling the outline of his Kolibri pistol; the only weapon he ever needed to feel safe.  Slinging his messenger bag across his shoulder, he headed outside of the building, where an uneventful cab ride later yielded a building on the outskirts of Philadelphia - an old Goliath National Bank branch still making their bread and butter servicing old pensioners.  Thanking the driver, JeanRalphio tossed the driver a bill and briefly went over the driver’s payment options before bidding farewell as he entered the building.

Nodding at the bank staff who directed him up a flight of stairs, he made his way up to the board room and took a seat, watching as the various potential investors filtered in, and was surprised to see Shoresy himself at this very meeting.  A surprise investor?

JeanRalphio pulled up his messenger bag from the floor and pushed it on to the table.

"New bag.  What do you think?"

"Whoa-ho.  Very nice." an investor shot back. "Look at that."

"49 units. Picked it up from the dealer yesterday."

"Good straps.", the investor replied.

"That's Italian leather, aged 230 days. And the trim is something called Sans Vie."

"That's very cool, JeanRalphio.  But that's nothing.  Look at this."

A light ash colored bag was lifted on to the table, complete with an elegant, smokey blue strap.

"70 days. 45 units. Trimmed, no perks. What do you think?"

JeanRalphio bit his lip as he tried to contain his displeasure.

"Nice."

Shoresy chimed in, as he spun the bag around on the table.

"Jesus. That really is super. How'd a nitwit like you get so tasteful?"

JeanRalphio exhaled through his nose, trying to contain his anger.

"I can't believe that Shoresy prefers his bag to mine." he thought to himself.

Shoresy laughed.  "But wait, you ain't seen nothin' yet..."

Another bag was placed on the table, this time Shoresy's very own.  Soft yet sturdy, sporting a distinctive heft that screamed vintage Shoresy.

"Lambskin, Canadian. 60 days timed, 45 units.  Hand stitched. And the color is "Vintage Bourbon"."

JeanRalphio sighed. He couldn't fault him for showing it off; a very nice bag.

"Impressive.  Very nice." JeanRalphio sighed, giving off the slightest hint of a smile in Shoresy's direction.

JeanRalphio looked at the final investor in the room, who up until this point had been silent, his back turned from the rest of the table as he leaned against it.

"Let's see the Godfather's bag."

A puff of smoke emanated from the investor as he took a deep drag of his cigarette, pulling up from the floor an enormous bag.  Time seemed to have slowed as he watched the bag seemingly float through the air as he saw its details. A blur of time seemed to have passed as he found himself holding the bag.

"Look at that subtle off-grey colouring. The tasteful thickness of it.  The reinforced shoulder straps. Oh my God, it even has room for 60 units." JeanRalphio thought to himself.

"I am the Godfather, kid." the investor added.

Overwhelmed, JeanRalphio dropped the bag on the table as he stared blankly into the distance.

"Jean? Are you okay?"

What happened next was uncertain to JeanRalphio in the heat of the moment, the only memories being dispersed coming with a sudden bolt of rage and intensity that seemed to be soothed with gunshots, interlaced by yelling. After what felt like just a few quick seconds, The smoke filled room had cleared, leaving only Shoresy and Jean alive in the room.  Grabbing both the Godfather's bag as well as the bag he entered the conference room with, Jean stared Shoresy in the eyes as he gripped both bags, giving him a nod that was quickly returned as he held his Kolibri. Holstering it, he swung open the door to the bank and headed downstairs, checking his shoes for blood stains. Satisfied with their state, he made his way several blocks over to a waiting car with Yanny, making his way to the venue in Winter St; a stone’s throw away from the old Race Street Pier.

As the two pulled up to the venue, being informed of the Jello pool - which seemed to have calmed his nerves - he turned to Yanny.

"I had to shoot some people. I didn't make the pitch, but I do have a magic bag now. So we're probably going to have to embellish what happened here today. Tell me about the bicycles, again?"

Getting out of the car, the two began chatting as they made their way towards what would be a party for the ages.