One cutter, two cutters, three cutters, four. Frank was stuffing his boxes like a 12th street whore. Part way through he got a little concerned, wondering why Albino wanted so many of the damn things. They'd likely give them away for free with the cigars, or he thought maybe they'd be good for helping remove some finger tips. Knowing what he knew and seeing what he saw, Frank shivered at the thought of which one was more likely.

Frank stacked a few boxes together and balanced them one on top of the other as he began helping to load up the car. The backseat was full and the floor of the passenger side in the front was full also. They'd cleaned out most of the more expensive cigars, some cutters, and some humidors.

They were pretty much set to jet when Albino motioned for Frank to join him at the trunk of the car. The thought had slipped his mind, but he did wonder why they weren't putting anything in the trunk. Was there a body in there yet to be disposed of?

Frank fussed with his necklace as he joined Albino at the trunk, taking a quick snort of a white powder, making sure he'd stay awake for the remainder of the job. Frank casually tucked the necklace back behind the collar of his shirt, brushed at his nose and gave the Philly gangster an upward nod.

"What next?"

Albino forces a hard snort, shooting a ball of crusty, powdered snot up the bent join in his nose. His eyes snap shut. He shudders before opening them again - his vision still impaired, now from his smouldering cigar as it begins to dim, still dangling from the corner of his mouth. He pulls a cloud into his chest, reinvigorating it with life.

"I'm fucking sick of this city." Albino growled.

Frank stared blankly. Unsure.

Albino tears the trunk open, flicking some residue powder into the wind. He sniffles his moistening nose, rushing air through his nostril followed by a sigh.

"I forgot about that guy..." Albino chuckles... Almost maniacally. Another problem to solve. "Fuck... Help me push him out the way."

The two grunt and strain in unison. They tumble, losing balance as they apply too much force to the stiffened corpse.

 *CRUNCH*

Frank hurries to turn his back from the scene while an aged Albino struggles to escape the grip of his most recent prey. Eventually, he finds his feet and stands upright, patting at his coat and taking a deep breath. Life had a way of repeatedly humbling him.

Albino leans inside the trunk, pulling at a previously concealed compartment to reveal a large container. 

"You good, Frank?" Al called out. His stomach had begun to turn upside down - finally it was kicking in. He took a deep breath. "This shit will keep you awake, pal."

Albino leans into the trunk and begins pulling with all his might at the container. It shifted and shuffled in his grip as the liquid content sloshed around in protest. After a fight, he successfully wrestles it to the ground and unscrews the cap. He sloshes the bottle around and takes a long, deep breath.

"Petroleum!" He smacks his lips together, chuckling to himself. "Don't you just LOVE that smell?!" Taking a second huff. "Don't tell Transistor about this bit... We couldn't find this bit... Y'know?"

He kicks the container.

"I ain't moving this... Look at the size of it. Frank, grab two of the boyz and get rid of that shithole. I'm fucking sick of the sight of it... When was this place built? Fucking thing's older than Shoresy... At least he's beautiful. This thing's fucking hideous!"

Albino spits.

"Get rid of it, Frank. Make it good."

Albino climbs up and over the trunk, carefully making his way on to the roof. He gently sits atop the side of the roof, facing the 12th Street Cigar Lounge with his legs dangling. He reaches inside his jacket pocket for his lighter and revitalises his cigar before tucking the light back away.

He takes a long pull on his cigar and grins once more.

"Let the show begin."

"You heard him, you grab the legs, you the head." Said Frank with gusto as he grabbed the petrol container. The two men got to task, one grabbed the body under the arms and the other muscled it by the waist. They shuffled along behind the young man, who was whistling up a storm, the wakey-wakey powder giving him a second wind, the petrol can swinging at his side as he walked towards the shop with a pep in his step.

After a few quick splashes in the back rooms, Frank did the same on the shelves and the cabinets in the front, and then the same again in the cigar lounge area, finally joining the two men who'd propped the body up in one of the recliners.

With one last look at the deformed head, Frank got on with it and thoroughly doused the lounges as Albino's men nudged one another to get a move on too. They left first, followed shortly after by Frank, who picked up the pace as he darted back out through the main doors and skidded to a stop, holding a bottle.

Frank could see Albino seated on the car and his men a few feet away chatting by themselves. He could also see that the moon was full, and it looked larger than normal. It was lower in the sky than usual, at least to Frank. He acknowledged its presence, then turned back towards the shop and raised the Molotov. A lighter lit up the end, then the bottle with flaming rag was tossed inside the main doors. The party starter smashed and with it the fire immediately spread, engulfing the whole entrance to the building.

Frank calmly back peddled, watching his handy work. It didn't take long before the other rooms also caught alight and the place was spitting flames out through bursting windows and doors. Frank was absolutely mesmerised and enraptured by the beauty of this Godly, unruly, destructive force. It was like Music to his soul, just standing there, watching as the city was burning to the ground around him. He was home, for a moment, back at the orphanage.

Swii was casually walking in the streets of Detroit when he saw something that caught his eye. He crossed the road and walked into the cigar lounge, behind him two of his most trusted bodyguards followed him and scanned the area. 

" Relax boys, lets enjoy ourselves and bring something back to New York, head over to the clerk and order 5 of some hand-made Cubans". 

The bodyguard talked to the clerk and received 5 boxes of top shelf cigars. The three men left the lounge and continued on their path towards the secure location they had rented for this visit in Detroit.  

"I'll bring these back to HQ, I hope the others will enjoy these, maybe we still got some of that bourbon I love to" Swii thought to himself and was exited to return to Queens to show the boss what he had found.

Rico was walking down the streets of Detroit when the sweet smell of cigar smoke filled his nostrils. This was only his second time in Detroit so he had not yet stumbled upon this cigar establishment. Rico walked into the lounge and went straight to the cubans. He picked up a few of his favorites and brought them to Harvey at the counter.

"Hey there! I'd love to purchase these cubans and a heavy pour of bourbon if you've got it!"

Harvey rang up the cigars and liquor, poured the glass of bourbon and passed it to Rico. Rico, being the accountant he is, pulled out a billfold of properly lined up fresh bills and paid for his good.

Rico walked over to a seat in the lounge, cut one of the cubans with his favorite V cutter, lit the cigar with some matches from his pocket and took a long draw on the cigar.

"Ahh this is just what I needed after a long stressful day!"

Rico sat and sipped his bourbon and smoked his cigar, unwinding from the stresses of life.