Rats had taken over the streets of every major city, which saw very few people outside. From New York to Los Angeles, there seemed to be more action in the business districts than anywhere else in the city, with most people focusing on quietly gaining cash and influence over make a lot of noise in the streets where people are judged and executed by a jury of their peers. 

The sound of a basketball was loud and out of place, but still, it continued to bounce against the pavement in slick defiance to these quiet winds; finally, a tall, lanky man appeared in view. He was looking a bit disheveled, seeing as how most of the night had been spent in an uncomfortable bed while dreaming up the perfect lines to deliver the next day. 

"There's a lot of... no, that's not good."

It had been taking hours.

"What I most notice when I look at you all is... no, that doesn't work."

Hours which had slowly morphed into days before his very eyes.

"This reminds me of a poem by... no one wants to hear a fucking poem, you moron. Think!"

The calendar now read an entirely different month than when he had first had this thought, it was a simple one, something that anyone could have come up with; a lot of men and women had been turning their back on conversation and story-telling alike, and the man wanted to figure out why; and if there was anything that he and other members of the community could do to bring it back, or if this was just another phase that would pass like any other. While it was extremely easy to think about, once the Freak attempted to put it into words, it became a different beast entirely, and the words flowed like molasses rather than honey.

Tentatively he marched his tall ass up to where a large group of people had been waiting for him after he had decided to yet again send out cards in the mail which did not work so well for his poker competition, but this time maybe there would be more bites as he had made it more clear that it would be open to everyone.

"So... this... well... this... there's this story, no, wait, don't go! I'm offering millions of dollars to anyone that can tell me why everyone is just chugging along and no one is coming out to have conversations." the mentioning of money seemed to have grabbed the attention of at least a few people, which gave him a bit of confidence to really lean into that.

"Now, I'm not a man who really likes debates. I don't have the aptitude for it, and my brain quickly forgets to be committed enough to care about any given subject for longer than a few hours; that is why instead of just having a conversation about how the streets are in a stagnated state, I am putting my money where my mouth is to offer up a bandaid fix, so to speak."

Pulling out a pack of bandaids to complete the gag that his words set up, he could tell that he was now completely nailing this whole conversation thing and kept fighting through the feelings of intense awkwardness. There was no doubt in his mind that all that he had to do now was circle around and finish the thought, and then he would be home free.

"Yes, for everyone this week that lives out their lives for all to see, or have a conversation with their fellow mafioso, I will be sending them large amounts of cash. You're also free to chat with me here about what I've brought up, and even explain why maybe you have not been coming out to the streets lately. I'd love to hear from anyone and everyone, the more the merrier."

Twisting his fingers into a snapping motion, three men quickly rushed onto the scene with absurdly large suitcases filled to the brim with hundreds of thousands of dollars. All of this money would go to anyone who did anything in the Streets over the next seven days, and he would also be sending large amounts of cash to anyone that talked to him here, too.

Even a few sparkling credits could be seen at the bottom of the suitcases, tucked away nicely for anyone who came out here and gave their best attempt. Those things were pretty cool.

"Anyway, let's get this thing started, yeah? Any questions?"

Evie was having a casual stroll on the streets and she overheard someone speaking about something that tickled her curiosity. She waved and smiled politely towards GreekFreak. She stopped and thought about what he said, about why there seemed to be a lack of storytelling and conversing between mobsters. She looked around, wondering if anyone was going to offer their own opinion, but seeing as though she was the first one to approach - she tried her very best to kindly explain her point of view.

"Hey there, I don't have any questions but can I just say I like the way you think. With the whole offering-money-to-whoever-comes-out. Sadly, it really shouldn't have to be that way. But it works so," she shrugged then continued.

"For me though , I think the main root of the issue of stagnation in the streets is the lack of engagement. When someone comes out to have a conversation, they would expect someone to listen and join in yeah? So when that doesn't happen, they may even get discouraged for coming out again? It's not always fun doing a solo ride.

...But I admit I am part of the problem. Sometimes I have to attend to matters at the family HQ or dedicate my time to other things in my personal life. Anyways, I'm all for bringing the streets back to life though. Currently I'm in the works of organising an event... perhaps pass the baton or something else."

Some people would say that the Freak came out here only for the attention, others would say it was the money, but the true nefarious reasoning behind it was that he was still a little bit annoyed no one went to his mafia-sanctioned poker tournament where the winner would win one million dollars! He even had a fucking fondue fountain; how many people would go to the lengths of bringing cheese to a competition? Very little, that's fucking how many.

The first person who received any sort of funds from this very ambitious project was Silverlight, who had received ONE MILLION DOLLARS in the way of a mostly accidental oversight by the Freak's money manager, who had since been fired. In his place are now four money managers all paid to do the same job, which is a bit redundant, but at the end of the day, this sort of extra buffer will cause this type of mistake to most likely never happen again.

"I agree with you, what I am doing here shouldn't need to be done, but thankfully someone brilliant came along and decided to do it anyway. Where would we be, really, without people like me?" trying to remember to ground himself, he unleashed a flurry of negative thoughts into his head all at once in an attempt to stay humbled.

"and where would we be without people like you too, it seems. You've done more than your fair share already for this community, and if we all did one thing, I believe it would add up to hundreds of things, so that's why my question is: Why not? What is preventing people from doing their one thing? I'm interested to find out, and hopefully, I receive an answer."

There wasn't really much more to say, and the Freak could leave this on a high note, but that would be very unlike him to not continuously drone on about a subject until it was so beaten and dead that nobody would dare touch it. This is why, dramatically, he waved around his hands for a few seconds and then continued.

"You see, I probably won a talent show competition a few weeks ago, or at least this is what I am telling everyone, seeing as how it had been left up in the air and when those sorts of things happen; the person with the most confidence wins. That's why I am very excited to see more about your event that you're running, and I'll probably try taking first place in that too." 

Nice, he had only mentioned himself once or twice during that entire sentence, which was a marked improvement over that one time he did a one-man play about how he had won the talent show competition only a few weeks back. While learning how to be less of a showboat was a work in progress, what was not, was the money that he had earned and was now using to give back to the community; if they are willing to pluck it from his extremely altruistic hands.

"If anyone else has anything to say about this subject, especially one who typically doesn't venture out into conversations like this one, I think that everyone would love to hear from you."

It was true, after all, that the debate would rage on a lot stronger if someone who did not really debate could come out and discuss what exactly puts them off about the subject. Was it the arguing they disliked? Because The Greek did not like to argue either, in fact, it was one of his top three biggest pet peeves, but he did enjoy a good conversation.

So let's have one! Get the heck out here. Or don't, really it is your choice. 

Catherine was interested, while she may poke fun at how free money and things are a wonderful motivational tool in regards to getting the blood pumping and people curious about things that were happening, she had to actually include herself in that bracket. Because while her way with words was astounding, enlightening, brilliant and perhaps even a bit long-winded, she too was no stranger to holding her hand out for free shit. 

Which is why she found herself on the streets, but she had her notebook in hand, pencil at the ready and moving over to where GreekFreak was stood, staring at those around him she asked the very important and pointed question, "Has this gone the way you had thought?" looking at him to make note of his behavior, whilst waiting for his undoubtedly convoluted and somehow still brilliant, response. 

Finally, they sent the reporters to talk about his idea; it had all culminated into its true purpose, which was getting himself into the newspapers. While most people shied away from the limelight, there was a distinct amount that jumped straight into it headfirst like a pool, and the man who was born a foot taller than the average was one of those few. It was most likely because he had always been more noticed than others, so the concept wasn't very foreign or scary to him at all.

"Has this gone the way that I had thought?" repeating the sentence was a good way for him to think about his next words carefully, crafting them like a wordsmith into the finest of word-blades. "Why, yes and no." stopping to flash his bright, white smile to the woman who was jotting down every single one of his words: he knew that at this moment he had captured her attention.

"I think that I was expecting more debate over why things were the way that they are, but instead people rushed into the foray to tell their stories and cash in on what has been quite the expensive endeavor." jokingly tugging at his pockets, a few hundred dollar bills actually fell out and onto the ground.

Once he had chased them all down while they swirled around in the wind, he quickly turned his attention back to the reporter.

"We can cut that part out, right?" the massive man then decided to break out into a coughing fit in an attempt to somewhat confuse the woman into completely forgetting about everything that had just happened. This most likely just made things worse, and before he could reel any further away from his intentions of being noticed for his bravery in giving away free money, he began to speak again.

"Anyway, like I was saying. I think I would like to see more conversations amongst thieves, so to speak, especially here where I intended to have a broader conversation. Otherwise, though, I think it is great that people are living out their lives for all to see. It really teaches us a lot about how difficult it is to, you know, be in the mob."

He completely nailed this interview, and so he flashed off one last grin before allowing her to take in all of his words which would surely be a hefty feat given how every single one was carefully crafted and equally as important as the last.

While Marsh has traveled to many exotic locales, while listening to Diego’s speech he couldn’t help but wonder what speech impediment or “rare condition” as he put it, he might have as his words seemed to flow seamlessly.  

But after taking a second to think about what was just said, it seemed that Diego meant to say “mobsters” but somehow what came out of his well-spoken mouth was another, perhaps more commonly used,  word that his brain seemed to automatically correct to “monsters”.

”Crazy condition to have,” Marsh said to no one in particular. “Indeed, hopefully technology will one day be able to remedy this situation.”

ToE limped out onto the streets. He scratched at his chin thoughtfully as he listened to those around him and tried to think if he had bothered to come out here before. Years of alcohol abuse had slowed his thought processes but he believed this was indeed his first true 'public' appearance in his 56 years.

"My family have a history of being in these streets. In fact their whole reputation was initially built on it when my ancestors joined La Frat for the firat time decades ago. Since then generation upon generation of my relatives have come out here and spoken their minds. Usually sticking up for the weak and the downtrodden. Somerimes they have come out in support of the organisation they have been associated with, but they have seldom if ever been a story teller like the kind my friend Diego refers too. 

Call me old fashioned, but I've always thought of our streets as a place for news, debate and conversation, I prefer to live my life in our bars, shops and other establishments. However, as also alluded to by Mr Cortez, our world has changed somewhaat, things have moved on, and people seem more content to tell stories, live their lives, and socialise with their associates in the streets. And that kind of keeps me away.  Don't get me wrong, everyone is entitled to tell their story, everyone is entitled to live their best life how they see fit, but its not for me. I don't want to hear about how you and your friends robbed the bank, or what kind of celebration was thrown for who and by whom for being old, or a Godfather, or popping their cherry. Its not just my cup of tea as the brits would say. 

As a result I don't bother coming into the streets that much anymore. I keep an eye on cityhall's announcements, i occasionally check the local suggestion boxes, and I'm occasionally found propping up a bar or seen in a restaurant, and thats about it. Sure i keep my ear to the streets, I still pay attention to whats said, but I seldom if ever come out here any more, but then, I'm just a dinosaur now, too old and too stuck in my ways, and edging ever closer to extinction."

ToE thinks about reaching for the cheap 1/4 bottle of whiskey in his pocket, but thinks better of it, his battle with his demons is his alone to fight, and no one elses business. Instead he reaches into his pocket and takes out a packet of Morleys before lighting up. This simple act does a reasonable job of hiding the shake in his hands from the withdrawal he's feeling. Noticing that everyone is still looking at him, he shrugs and scowls back in his best 'what more do you guys want? Blood?' Scowl and hobbles off to look for one of those bars he mentioned. 

Just as the Greek was giving up hope that anyone outside of a random reporter who had categorized him as second billing in a shared three-way tie of a talent show competition (which still had the man quite sore, to be honest) would be the only person to actually show up and have any sort of conversation as to why they do not venture into the streets; a handful of men from Vegas all entered the fray and let their opinions be known on the subject.

The first weaved a tale of monsters and futuristic creations which will see the silent speak with fervor- while the second mostly came out in support of his compatriot. Then there was the third who spoke of how things moved forwards and debate made way for stories which he did not care to listen to or see with his very own eyes, and while this was understandable, there were a few questions that the Freak had for all three of the men who had decided to appear.

First, he turned his attention to Diego Cortez and nodded with understanding; "I know what you mean, sometimes it's best to stand back a little and listen, rather than speak. There's a lot that goes into forming all of these sentences and thoughts that just isn't worth it if you're not very inclined to talk much in the first place. There's a lot of room in the mob for the silent type." the Greek smiled widely while holding out his hands in an attempt to get some of these tips that Diego spoke about.

"I think overall, at least from my point of view, is that a lot of people don't feel like coming out and letting themselves be known. From a young age, we're all taught to keep our heads down and only act when you've gotten the upper hand while having loud conversations can tend to put a target on your back." this is when he turned his attention over to Touch_Of_Evil, who had eloquently put their position out there.

"When I first offered money for any debate or story, I wasn't sure what would happen, but I noticed immediately that most people definitely opted for the story function over the conversation with others. I'm a firm believer that this is because when you're telling a story there's a lot less of a chance for direct confrontation, and burning any sort of bridge, whether on purpose or otherwise, is seen as a very negative thing in this world."

While Touch had already moved off into the business districts already, he shrugged and turned toward the other people who were still paying attention to what he was saying, although there weren't many of those to speak of. Taking a deep breath and having the full intention to turn this long rant into something that people could actually respond to, he continued with his words.

"What I would ask now though is this: If you are of the belief that conversation and news are important, why not generate more of it? What causes people to see the stories that they believe are a new craze and allow them to take center stage? Is it because of this belief that I spoke of, where we're taught to stay out of the limelight?"

At the mention of the limelight, his mind switched into performer mode, and much like the thespians of the past, the Freak danced around what he perceived to be a stage at this moment, before looking back out towards the people who had gathered to hear more about the subject at hand. 

"I, myself, believe in running towards the light, but maybe, in the end, that will be what will cause my curtains to close prematurely. Scene end." 

The Freak stopped prancing and stood there completely still and quiet for the moment, but everyone around him seemed very tense knowing that it could pull a complete 180 at any given moment. For now though, surprisingly, he had nothing more to say.

Freshly tanked up, the shakes abated and his ruddy complexion back instead of ashen grey of earlier, ToE returns to the proverbial scene of the crime.

Simply put Mr Freak, time moves on, fashion changes. When my family firat graced these streets, people kept themselvea to themselves. They spoke about important topics, but they didn't share their private interactions. That's not to say that people didn't have fun. There were street parties, weddings, celebrations of various types, mixed in with nonsence conversations, I remember one from many generations ago about people having new moo, but despite hours of research Inhave never discovered what new moo was or what it was used for. 

Much like other forms of cultural entertainment, the masses have moved more towards reality programming. What we see is the day to day operations of various aspects of our society, unfettered by archaic terms such as Omerta. Once upon a time coming into the streets and talking about scams and business your family was conducting was enough to get you killed, now its the norm. Likewise, in years gone by, no one cared about your back story, it just was. I've had demkns, avengers, vigilantes, undead judges and vampires in my family line, but they never felt the need to tell folks hkw they got into this business. Now that is fairly common, folks want to tell you how they as an intergalactic bountyhunter managed to join the Mafia. And people seem to want to know. 

The fact that cityhall rewards people for sharing their stories, for regaling the masses or discussing the politics of our world helps drive us to the streets and cafes. I can remember a time when there wasn't the same level of reward, when the reward was the notoriety of having an educated voice rather than golden credits or increased street knowledge. Back then sayingbthe wrong thing to the wrong person was likely to get you killed. Percieved slights could see whole cities levelled. This doesn't happen to the same extent anymore. Yes if you come out and call a Hand of another family a Caravan Using Nomadic Traveller, its likely to see you taking a dirt nap, the simple act of disagreement is unlikely to do so.

Those of us of an ancient vintage have discussed mostly every subject there is to discuss, and its why we are less likely to be out here talking about subjects that our ancestors have discussed ad nauseum a 1000 times before. The younger and newer generations are those leading the charge with stories and missions, entertaining the younger and newer generations. And at the risk of inciting hatred towards me, I would say that the reason for this is that it is easier for them. Telling a story is certainly easier to do than it is to spark a debate, as you yourself have discovered Mr Freak. And at the end of the day thats what we all do, play to our strengths. Not everyone is the next John Wick, not everyone is the next Stephen King or J K Rowling and not everyone has what it takes to be the next Rockfather.

There is nothing being debated here Maeve. GreekFreak simply came to the streets and said he was going to give mkney to anyone who told a story or spoke to him, or started a debate. As I was passing I overheard DiegoCortez engage with him, get a little tongue tied, and then I overheard Marsh taking the piss out of Diego, and it got me to thinking about the streets and how they have changed since my family firat came here, so I shared my thoughts with Mr Freak. I then had to attend to some personal business. However, whilst away... on business... erm, I felt the need to expound upon my original conversation, snd luckily Mr Freak was still here.

"I would call this a revitalization effort more than any sort of debate, and then I asked people who don't typically venture into the Streets to tell me why they personally don't. Touch_Of_Evil and Diego were both good enough to come to give me their reasoning as to why they don't bother with the streets too much these days and I'm grateful to hear any point of view. I would say overall that I am curious more so than trying to argue or give any solid advice on how to fix things."

Before he dropped the conversation completely, he made sure to add a few more words:

"Although if you'd personally like to start an argument or create a conversation of your own where you detail advice on how we can move forward, then I'd be more than happy to send some money your way for doing so."

Turning his attention back to Touch_Of_Evil, the Freak nodded. "You make a lot of good points, and I thank you for coming out here and giving me the time of day to explain things from your point of view. I agree that telling a story is easier and a lot less confrontational, which is why I frequently can be seen showing off my own stories."

Rattling around a few coins, he tosses them towards the man who had given his two cents and now had two extra cents of his own. "Times do change. So here's some of mine, thank you again."