"I said no god damn it. I ain't doing it. I can't. It's just not possible. I'm lucky I can barely walk with this debilitating lumbago and now you want me to put the entire city on my back?" yelled Uncle as he gestured all around him.

Uncle's eyes darted all over the room before settling his sight on his rocking chair and motioning for it to be brought towards him. The three men in the room all looked at each other before taking their turns in speaking their minds to Uncle.

"There's no one else to do it." said Dagda.

"You'll do ok. You won't have to go it alone." said Bosco.

"Get your own fucking chair." said McCreary.

Ungrateful sum bitches muttered Uncle to himself as he labored over to his chair before slumping into it and begin to rub his chin as if he was in thought about the situation, but the only thought in his head was if there was a way out of doing all this work. After a few moments Uncle began to chuckle to himself. He gave his knee a few joyous slaps and leaning forward before letting the three men in on his master plan.

"I'll do it. Under one condition. Nothing major, a small favor if anything. Mayari has to be my RH." said Uncle as he sat back and gave his chair a few rocks.

"So you're just gonna make her do all the work?" said the three men almost simultaneously. 

Uncle furrowed his brow as he continued to rock back and forth slowly in his chair. He let out a sigh that ran for quite a while before responding to the grievous insult laid upon him.

"It's called delegating. Every good leader does it and lucky for you three I'm the best at it. Besides I already did a lot of heavy lifting in brainstorming the gang's name." said Uncle.

"What are you calling it?" asked McCreary.

"I'll make them say uncle." said Uncle as he smiled.

Mayari yawned and stretched as she was stirred from her slumber by the sound of someone mentioning her name hundreds of thousands of miles below her. From her home in the stars, she squinted to better see the gathering of three mortal men and whatever the hell Dagda was. She listened in their conversation with her otherworldly hearing and quickly shot up as soon as she realised what they were talking about and what was about to happen.

Descending from the moon and onto Earth, she excitedly approached Uncle and smiled. "I'm happy to see you take on this momentous task and know you'll do amazingly. Even though my crew name suggestions were far more superior than what you went with, I'd still proudly join and support you in your new endeavour. It's the least I can do for my biggest simp."

"Congratulations, Uncle! Or shall I say... corkgratulations." With a snicker and a drop of her proverbial mic, Mayari vanished into the night once again.

As the doors opened to Uncle's new HQ, Extos couldn't help but drape his arm around the older man's shoulder and smile.

"I love it when a plan comes together."

Extos walked into the HQ and sat down, laying his feet up on an Italian maple coffee table. The phrasing of his "congratulations" elicited a look of confusion from the aspiring new district head.

"Oh yes, from the day I stepped foot in Mutiny, I had a plan. A plan for, well, mutiny. You and McCreary were thick as thieves and Mayari was as irreplaceable as she was beautiful. Cracking into McCreary's inner circle wouldn't be as easy as I had hoped.

So I convinced Bosco and McCreary to name you to lead the district vacated by the Jedi! It wasn't difficult, you were a shoe-in for the position. But to demand that Mayari go with you? That was simply icing on the cake."

A quick glance at Extos's watch revealed he was running behind schedule. So many meetings as the new chief advisor to Don McCreary made him so busy. It was wonderfully dreadful.

"Best of luck!"

Hey! Congratulations Uncle! I have heard a lot of great things about you from my lowly station in New York and I just wanted to come give you a pat on the back for such a wonderful opportunity. Here's a gift and a wish for a long successful reign!

Handing Uncle a basketball, the freak walks off.

Since his arrival in America, to work with the Mutiny organization, Uncle had been one of Turco's first contacts. Though he looked like an old drunk, crippled, useless man, there was something else. Never judge a book by its cover, wasn't that the saying? In fact, Uncle was one of the pillars in Detroit's mob structure and now, more than ever, this was confirmed as he was setting out to take over the reins of his own district. When given the chance, Turco approached the man to congratulate him.

"Uncle, it gives me great pleasure to see you take such an important step. I know you actually only did it for the good of the community and the city of Detroit, and that says a lot about you. So, I can only wish you good luck on this new journey. I know you are a very capable man and you will prosper."

Turco firmly shook Uncle's hand and said goodbye, disappearing shortly thereafter.

Standing in the crowd, listening to the various comments, Bosco was more often than not the strong and silent type, but on this occasion he cleared his throat as he took to the centre stage of this particular corkner. Turning to the last speaker, Bosco points an open hand towards the man and begins speaking:

I think Turco here has said it best - this was not done to secure power, fame or for the reasons of bloodthirst. Quite the contrary, in fact, it was done to benefit the community, and to allow us to move forwards.

Turning to face Uncle, Bosco continues:

Uncle, you’ve been nothing but an enormous boon to Detroit. It’s only right you got your own district to make your own stamp upon. I wish you nothing but luck in your new venture, and I have nothing but confidence in you.

Taking a flask out of his inner jacket pocket and raising it towards Uncle, Bosco nods respectfully before shouting “Slainte”, taking a long sip and disappearing into the crowd once again.

Uncle had been pestering literally everyone within earshot about this speech of his he was going to be giving for weeks. Several times, almighty Dagda had to reassure Uncle that he would be in attendance. Yet Uncle still seemed to feel the need to confirm this fact with him over and over. Dagda had many things on his plate - being the chief deity of an entire religion wasn't exactly Sunday lawn work. He needed to visit the altars, listen to prayers, heal the sick and the wounded, tend to his Shomorra Tree, and on top of all that battle with the evil warlord spirit Rhita Gawr across time and space. Yet, he made time for all of his children, even the creepy Uncle ones.

On the day before the much anticipated speech, Dagda was in his forest sanctuary tending to the Shomorra and humming himself a hymn about himself. It was one of his favorite pastimes. The tree was truly wondrous - there were no others like it in the universe. The Shomorra was not just a single tree, but hundreds, all sprouted from a single seed he had planted a couple millennia ago. That seed held vast magic, and in the centuries since it's initial planting, had grown into an entire forest of the rarest of trees. Each tree produced a different fruit - there were the common fruits you'd see in orchards like apples, peaches, and pears - and also tropical ones like bananas, oranges, and pineapples. Even beyond that, the tree produced fruits that were found nowhere else on earth, such as the Larkon. 

Anyway, on that day he noticed a fruit he had never seen before hanging high up in one of the trees. It was acid green in color, shaped somewhat like a banana, yet more wiggly. If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought it to be a snake - but that was absurd, no such evil creatures could penetrate his sanctuary. Tapping into the power of Leaping, he summoned the fruit unto him down below the tree. It broke away from it's stem and sailed gracefully down into his outstretched fingers. It was oddly fuzzy, with little white hairs growing near the base where the stem had been. It felt much heavier than he had expected, and it made him feel slightly uneasy.

He considered the fruit for a moment, trying to decide on what to name it - as he was now convinced that this was not a fruit that had ever been seen anywhere else - a new variety altogether. In order to name it, he decided, he was going to have to taste it. He sniffed the fruit - it smelled like grass. Dagda was beginning to have a bad feeling about the fruit, as if his subconscious self was urging him to toss it away. Yet, he took a bite from the end that did not have any hairs and chewed vigorously. The fruit was stiff and crunchy, like a cucumber, yet lacked the sweet taste of one. It tasted of...wood and goat's milk. What an odd combination...his vision began to blur...his mind began to waver...

***

Dagda awoke the next day in a completely different place with no recollection of how he got there. His head was pounding something fierce - he had clearly ingested an enormous amount of alcohol. Do you have any idea how much alcohol it takes to get a god drunk? Literal metric tons people, we're talking lakes full of vodka here. The room was dark and smelled slightly of...fish? and chips? Fish and chips? Was he in England?

No, he couldn't be in England, he would have smelled the stench of the streets before anything else. He must be back in America. He heard a grunting snore from next to him and jumped - he was in a bed with a person! A mortal! Oh, the shame of this. Zeus would never let him hear the end of it - the great and good Dagda, strict follower of the rules and pristine leader of his people, laying with a mortal!

And not just any mortal either. As the light of midafternoon snuck it's way into the room he could tell: it was that harlot, that snatcher of souls, Dinky. Dagda had heard word of her exploits, most recently an epic outing with a dude called "Little Johnny." Dagda of course knew the man's true name, but he had still followed the story with interest. Was he to be the next of her victims? Was he already? She began to stir and Dagda called upon the powers of Leaping to flee the scene. He pictured his forest, far away in a different dimension, where he had last remembered eating the cursed fruit. 

Nothing happened. His powers were dormant! He couldn't so much as leap from this bed, let alone across space and time. It must have been that evil fruit. Surely the wicked Rhita Gawr had planted that fruit in his sacred forest. The audacity! Dagda's rage seared within him. As those unclean thoughts swirled in his head, another feeling overcame him - shame. He had missed Uncle's speech! Oh what would poor, creepy, grumpy old Uncle have to say!? He would certainly be upset.

Dagda rose from the bed and crept silently towards the door. He robed himself and snuck out onto the landing of an old apartment complex - was this Dinky's lair? What a terrible place for a man's sacred seed to be taken!

***

Half an hour later, Dagda had arrived at the location of the speech. Several of his close associates were mulling around the place, simpering at Uncle and giving him kind words of support. Dagda feared that too much of this would ruin Uncle's already slim sense of hubris, and thus, decided not to be too chatty with his congratulations. He approached Uncle slowly, looking down upon him with his fatherliest face, and smiled.

"Good job."

McCreary listened as the others spoke gleefully of Uncle's new position. Letting go of two key members of his own operation didn't appear as a loss to him but rather a positive gain for the city as a whole. Because he knew that those two are plenty capable of bringing Corktown a new life.

And thus, he joined the crowd as they cheered.

"My friend, I know you'll do great things in Corktown. You're reluctant and stubborn as ever but that's to be expected at your age. Nevertheless, you're dependable through and through. Congratulations on your new outfit and I wish you well."

McCreary gives Uncle a pat on the back. Lightly, of course, not wanting to upset the lumbago, or else he would never hear the end of it.

Walking back to where Uncle was still receiving so many well-wishes, the Freak quickly snuck the ball from the large pile of gifts behind the powerful man and began to bounce it while awkwardly walking away. His stare caught directly into Uncle's gaze for a few seconds while he made his daring dash, and both of the men at this moment knew exactly what was going on... having fallen on hard times in the recent days due to a mild gambling addiction, the Freak needed to take back his vintage and signed bball. 

He owned it first, after all.

"Hey, so, uh, really great job on the district, honestly, my deepest and sincerest of congratulations to you, Don Uncle, but, uh, well, you see something came up and I really gotta... well..."

Not able to really say anything else, there was a very awkward pause while the Greek Freak sort of just stood there and then casually walked off and away from the area, his shoes squeaking against the floor and the sound of the bouncing basketball becoming less audible with every quick step that he took in the opposite direction towards the exit.

"Again just wanted to say great job..."

Shouting those final words, he quickly hopped into his car and drove off as quickly as he had arrived.