It was a majestic building, first built in 1865 filled with history and purpose. It housed books. It housed knowledge. It housed a way of life alien to Mafia Basketball jocks who didn’t know one end of a book to another. Seriously, the last time he was here he saw Grin-22 holding a book upstairs and opening his mouth like a helpless fish. He looked ridiculous. But let’s stay on track shall we. Ahem.

The building was a pristine white constructed from marble to stand the test of time. It was pure, unlike the denizens of this shithole city who were knee deep in sewage from the 12^th Street Public Toilets. Hobbs intended the library to be a lighthouse providing guidance in the dark ages.

The windows did what windows did, they let light in, and if you opened them, they let smells out. But they were also stained class from some Italian renaissance design that people like to use for centuries over. It was cool I suppose.

Look, the point is, as a building and a place of visitation you couldn’t get much better than the Detroit library. People just needed imagination. They just needed to picture a building on the outside, and on the inside there’d be books and probably facilities to use them.

Hobbs purchased the library from the central government for the low fee of $1,105. The place had apparently fallen into disrepair and disuse in recent weeks and they needed someone wealthy to foot the bills. Headcoach was not that man. Hobbs was.

Inside the building were rows, and rows of books, as befitting of a library. The library had installed a Dewey decimal system for the organisation of the books. The only problem was Hobbs didn’t understand a fucking thing about that either, but that was ok. Libraries were a safe place. This was a safe place.

Books were organised into different sections. The history section was filled to bursting detailing sections such as Pre-War Detroit: A shining city of success, War time Detroit: Cowardice and bitterness. Post-War Detroit: The JFMAST Basketball Movement. There was also some stuff about World War I and World War II, and the founding of America and the Civil war and such, but they were less relevant in this dystopian time.

An adjacent room had a clean toilet facility with underfloor heating and actual taps with running water. This was a place you could urinate and defecate in comfort and grace

The shining jewel of the library was the education section. In here several pre-printed passes were left hanging outside the door for members of JFMAST and its associates. The centre had desks and chairs, almost like a school, with pens and paper for learning. At the front was a chalk board for somebody to stand up and deliver said education and arithmancy programme.

Hobbs was in the learning centre preparing the day. The room was already crowded with 180-200 bodyguards, some getting bulkier by the day (From training, not power pump traffic stops). He couldn’t wait to get started.

“I love the smell of books in the morning. Someone, do some maths with me. 1 four is four… 2 fours are eight. 3 fours are twelve!”

Void had been on a visit to Detroit for little less than a day now. Initially he had set out to come and see what was known throughout the states as "The Mug Capital of The World". However his visit soon turned out to be a complete and utter disaster, the Las Vegas tourist had seemed to run into one unlucky encounter after another.

It had started with adding a few extra scratches to his "botched art gallery heists" count which he carefully tracked in his pocket notebook. Even when he had managed to get a 1-on-1 training session with the famed Gratuitous Gallery Grifting Grin-22 he still couldn't figure out the finer points of art stealing.

Secondly he had his pockets pilfered several times by a very stealthy individual. On both occasions Void had noticed that he was one tube of heat-rub poorer fairly quickly, but not even once had he succeeded to make out his assailant. Was it because of the high amount of noise in the streets of Detroit? Was it the fact that the streets are crowded and not very spacious? Was it the fog that morning? Void did not know. All he did know was that even though he had his suspicions about a certain man he saw quickly waddling away across the street, he could only start throwing fists if the thief was caught red-handed and the identity was a certainty.

Seeing a pristine looking building sporting a sign with the word "Library" on it Void had the faint hope that he could find somekind of respite there. He stepped in and was greeted by the familiar-though-somewhat-intimidating figure of Hobbs.

Hobbs I think it's wonderful that you've carved out a calm oasis in the somewhat chaotic streets of Detroit where no pockets are safe and where beatings are the norm. I think it's a contrast that many will be able to appreciate.

I especially admire the effort that was put into the urinal facilities of this place, I think many can attest that the public toilets of 12th street are rather intimidating for the average joe (one might even consider it a safety hazard for the uninitiated). I think most pass it (when forced to cross those streets) with clenched cheeks, figuratively speaking.

Void perused the books on offer for a bit, walking back and forth between the many bookcases stocked with the great works of the world. Eventually he settled on a translated version of "Fathers and Sons" by Ivan Turgenev. He then deposited himself on a couch in one of the many reading corners of the great library.

Though his trip to Detroit had left him metaphorically felted so far, at least in here he would be able to kick back for a bit and relax.

Nicola-Trevisani could not bring herself to give a single braincell over to learning or even enjoying the game of basketball, which meant when she was stuck in Detroit Michigain, she usually ended up with a lot of time on her hands while waiting for the next flight back to Chicago. While Nicola-Trevisani enjoyed exploring the city and eating at various establishments, she sent a word or two of thanks to whomever was watching over her the day she discovered the library. Nicola-Trevisani was a voracious reader, but wanting to travel light meant whatever book she had brought along for the journey was done before the plane even reached the half-way point of the flight. 

Walking in Nicola-Trevisani took a deep breath smelling the glorious smell of paper, slight mildew and dust. It was something that reminded her of home, although it was strangely quiet compared to the library at her house she grew up in, but she supposed a few barking dogs would do that to a place. 

The best part about being a mute, Nicola-Trevisani had discovered in her time away from home, was that she could just pretend not to see or hear anyone, and carry on with her day. And so she did. Heading to the non-fiction section she started running her fingers over the spines of the books, making note of the authors and titles, wondering what the return policy was like in a place like this. 

Iron Mike heads into the new building in town (Almost certainly built in 1865) prepared to put the squeeze on the buthineth owner for a cut of his profits. He is shocked to discover between 180 & 200 nerdly looking men hanging around Hobbs

'This fucking guy again' thinks Iron Mike. 

Iron Mike admires the stained class windows, 'they let light in & let thmells out' who the hell would want to let a thmell out? Iron Mike has no idea what the thuck this place is but already he knows he doesn't like it. He is surprised to spot Nicola-Trevisani sensually rubbing the books like some kind of Illuminati wierdo. He almost opens his mouth to speak but remembers the previous snubbings where his cheery 'Hello Friendth' had gone unanswered.

Iron Mike quickly abandoms his plan to shake the owner down, no one is going to turn a profit in Mug City selling books. Geth the thuck outta here. 

He swerves with the grace of a 200lb, 20 inch necked gazelle & heads straight for the bathroom.

'What the thuck is this? A working light, underfloor heating, running water, no glory hole?' Mike begins to have a panic attack & quickly flees the room. Wait till HeadCoach hears about this muses Iron Mike.

On his way out he wonders to himself if they have any books on how to plan & execute a boxing contest.

Hobbs watched from his newly erected balcony that allowed him to see into the entire Library below. He was like a warrior King surveying the peasant ants down the below, which was made even more true when notorious angry short man, Mike Tython wandered in. Hobbs thought this was unusual. Everybody knew Mike couldn't write or do simple mathematics, but recent evidence also showed the man was not even capable of reading. What on earth was he doing in a library? Spying no doubt.

Hobbs looked at the threatening note received yesterday and frowned

To: Hobbs
From: HeadCoach
Sent: Jun 04, '22 21:08
Subject:

I have not visited yet as I am tired, overweight and hungover but I will be burning your library like one of D0m3n1cs establishments soon.

Hobbs looked up at the ceiling and was comforted by the state of the art sprinkler system that would prevent any and all future acts of arson that would no doubt be attempted. He looked at the blankets and the foam extinguishers as well. This place was a fire proof fortress, and guess what? If you tried to flood it, it would not cause too many issues either due to the excellent plastic backing on the books providing protection. As well as this, 180-200 bodyguards patrolled the floor looking for trouble makers in any shape or sizes, but mainly the fat rotund, Headcoach shaped sizes. Hobbs tossed the note over his shoulder like a regimental soldier and congratulated himself.

He watched as Nicola made her way around, and he casually wondered how she read books. Obviously she read them but what did people sound like when she read the words? Did they all just grunt silently? Did they not speak but instead carry a paper pad around? He made a mental note to send someone to ask the question later.

He was still pondering when he saw Iron Mike waddle out the bathroom trousers around his ankles. In his haste to leave the premises he'd forgotten to remove the toilet paper and had an awkward shitty trail following behind.

"These Detroit heathens! In my pure library. We must deal with them. They need some education, education, education and if that fails; war."

Foo found herself in front of the Library as she was wandering the streets of Detroit. Hobbs had mentioned the place to her so she figured she'd go check it out and see what all the fuss was about. She immediately saw the Post-War Detroit section and was intrigued. "Finally, I can learn who this JFMAST fellow is or was, why he's so special and what the hell basketball has to do with a mafia crime enterprise." 

Foo smiled at the librarian at the desk and walked over to the section of interest. There she found one single book. "What kind of library has a whole section for one single book?" she thought to herself. "I guess that's all that could be expected, this JFMAST, basketball, debauchery was a quite recent movement and how many people could there be actually interested in this stuff?" As Foo finished that thought she realized "actually I'm not all this interested in this stuff if I am honest." She place the solitary book back on the shelf and went to find some more interesting and thought provoking.

Hobbs was meandering around the place like the magnificent person he was, somehow managing to be everywhere all at once. He'd seen the section LittleBunnyFooFoo had gone over to and smiled. It was a particularly sparse section lacking in any significant history or world leading events, despite what Mr Headcoach and his associates would try have you believe.

Hobbs heard her commentary and cheered internally, and then externally as well.

"BRAVO, WOO-HOO" he shouted in response to Foo's criticism of the Detroit regime. The library was not the great World leading renowned success he had hoped for. He had hoped to educate the people of Detroit and show them that there was a path to a brighter tomorrow full of learning and useful trivia.

"I don't think the people of Detroit are ready for this lifestyle" he said sadly. "I think, I think they are just going to die alone in puddles of their own growth hormone ridden urine, and that makes me sad."

Void had come to return the encyclopedia he had borrowed a couple of days back. He had spotted it in a bush close to where he had the beatdown with Conqueeftador in the park. Void had tried to wipe the blood off but there were still smears vaguely visible on the cover. Speaking of the cover the beating had also severely bent it out of shape. Here was hoping that the old lady of a librarian wouldn't notice, judging by the girth of her glasses though Void wasn't particularly worried.

After shoving the encyclopedia in the librarian's hands she turned to Void and gave him a displeased scowl. Void pretended not to notice and quickly waddled off to Hobbs whistling innocently to escape the witch's wrath.

"You know Hobbs, you can lead a horse to water but you can't force it to drink. To be honest I'm not surprised that there hasn't been a lot of Detroitian clientelle seeing how they publicly shame any of theirs who take to occupations besides the ole b-ball. I've seen people being mocked for being able to do basic maths" Void shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes.

"Another thing which struck me was that the threats made by HeadCoach against this bastion of hope for Detroit have been completely empty so far. I'm not sure if he's allergic to paper or if he's scared of that sour hag of a librarian that you've employed but I think the library doesn't have to worry about any disturbances anytime soon. Maybe D0m3n1c's establishments were enough to satisfy his rage, eh?"

"Void I think you you've hit several nails on the head with that perverted peace loving brain of yours. You see, Headcoach is a coward this is clear to all who have witnessed his engagements in the Great War, his engagements in the battle for Bricktown, and finally his extreme no show versus South Philly and the gang. A fight I was rewarded with a truly remarkable $100,000 reward from Mad_Hatter. The kind of money that can make a difference in this life."

Hobbs let that sink in. He was rich now like the Monopoly man. He decided that was witty and he said it out loud.

"Hey, I'm rich now... like the Monopoly man". Nailed it. Smashed right out of the park. Hobbs was on a roll.

"Look at this magnificent fortress of books. Nothing can beat books. Not rock, or scissors. Nothing. You are safe here, Void. So long as you stay away from my #1 you understand?".

Hobbs would never threaten a man directly. But bullying and insults? Fair game.

It had been a while since Void had visited one of the few rare reputable places in Detroit. After seeing the performance of HeadCoach in the boxing ring Void was even happier that the Basketball Behemoth had yet to show up to wreck the only place in Detroit where one could read a book without being made fun of by illiterate athletes.

Void had somehow managed to lose the last book that he borrowed from the rich selection of the library after having a few too many of Treebeard's cocktails on the night his crew leader became a big twig, no doubt that surly sourpuss of a librarian would remember that he was about 2 weeks past the due date for returning "Fathers and Sons". He whistled innocently and quickly made his way past the counter.

Continuing his escape he walked into a random section of the library to get away from the librarian as quickly as possible. He looked at signage and murmered "Philosophy huh?". He started going through the listings in alphabetical order eventually ending up at.

R... "Republica" by Plato.
S... "Systematic Immolation of Thought" by WhereWasI.
T... "Tribute to tha_hustla" by an anonymous mobster.

Systematic Immolation of Thought caught his eye, many times had he attempted to decipher the truths at the center of the famous oration but he had never quite succeeded. In recent years there was apparently even a study group dedicated to this literary work of art and well-respected bit of contemporary mobster-philosophy. Couldn't hurt to give it another try.

Having decided what to borrow-and-potentially-never-return next, Void made his way to one of the library's reading corners, attempting to sneak past both the librarian and Hobbs who Void had spotted reading "Boxing 101" in the sports section. Surely he must've been studying to prevent an even more shameful 0/4 track record.

The Detroit municipal Library was proven to be a haven to scholars, mathematicians and scientists throughout Detroit. Since their arrival in the city the stalwarts Grin-22, FrizzleFry and TouchofEvil had all taken a backseat in the life of crime, and in Evil's case had blown his own brains out rather than remain part of the Mafia Basketball World. Hobbs took credit for that. He created a shrine in the corner of the library that provided a substantial amount of research and evidence that showed his victories over Detroit, they were not limited but did include the following titles:

"The Great Mafia Basketball ban in Summerlin, Las Vegas" By Robin Hobbskon

"The Great Mafia Basketball ban in ALL of Las Vegas" By Rupert Hobbsalon

"The Waste not, Want Not: A fruit success story" By Radaslaw Hobbzokov

None of them were written by Hobbs of course, he wasn't that vain, but he did find the titles a substantial and magnificent success and they had all been checked out 180-200 times! Wow. The World was impressed and so was Hobbs.

He went to speak to Librarian Mary Sue to understand how the financials were doing. He looked over the books and saw lots of late fees that were due to be collected soon, most of them belonging to Void. Hobbs would have to visit him to collect very soon, and if he couldn't pay? He'd force him into a Lottery Syndicate with him. The most cruel and unusual punishment known to man.

"Draft a note to Void. Something along the lines of: "Dearest Peace Pervert, you owe me 75 credits in late fees. Pay now or be beaten to within an inch of death." Too much? Probably. But he wasn't sure twigs could read so he might get away with it as long as Daiquiri didn't see it.

A renaissance man of the highest order, Geralt was not only physically superior to all humankind, his intellect also far outstripped the average man. It was to his great delight that whilst hunting a Banshee in Michigan, he stumbled across a public library that was obviously not actually private and clearly owned by the mob. He was in dire need of a new bestiary, his current volume having traveled through time and space along side was obviously out of date. 

He entered the library and made his way to the non-fiction section, but was having some difficulty locating what he was looking for. He stood around and brooded a bit, as only he could, before seeking out Hobbs for assistance.

"Hobbs, my good man, where would I find the section for beasts, ghosts, ghouls and the like?"

D0m walked into the Detroit Library and went straight towards the history section. He was looking for a book on pre-war Detroit. Interested in learning what it was like and how it turned into the city it is today. He found a book, a comfortable chair and settled down to read

"Not just Headcoach. He burnt down his old business whilst I was still inside his Narnia like backroom getting myself a drink and a sandwich. Never have I ever been so fearful. I was fortunate BBB happened to be walking past... though with all the arson lately I also find his arrival very, very suspicious.

What do you think BaronGreenback? Are Detroit capable of fire and murder?"

Vin loved history, he made his way up the stairs and pushed open the door to the library. The first thing he noticed was the smell, like a traditionally aged library. His father was a treasure hunter and he happened to know of some old mysteries that probably still existed. He went to find a book on the Knights Templar. That treasure is what his father was searching for and now dedicated his own life. 

He quickly scurried around the library and began to find the books of that era. Gather them all and make his way to a table away from everyone else. No attention must be brought to himself, he set his notebook and pen down and cracked open the first book. 

A new manuscript was added to the library in the Las Vegas section. It was the transcript of a conversation that took place between one William Hobbs and Void in a Las Vegas forestry setting, and witnessed by CatoftheCanals. It was quite the tale, and had to be witnessed to be enjoyed, or err, burnt away in shame.

Hobbs finished binding the paper and put it on shelf remember to leave copies in reception for Daiquiri and twigs to enjoy whenever they were next in Detroit. They had to know what Void was up to. The rest were added to the bookshelves to await people booking them out.

This was the story of Spaghetti-Gate. This was the story of how friendships were forged in the fires of adversity, love and magic. This was how rainbows were made.

The Spaghetti Chronicles: Volume 1

To: Hobbs
From: Void
Sent: Jun 24, '22 16:24
Subject:

A The Forest valet opens the door. In the background you can hear Void rattle his cage and scream

"HELLO HOBBBBS MY ARCH FRENEMY HOW ARE YOU THIS FINE DAY"

To: Void
From: Hobbs
Sent: Jun 24, '22 16:25
Subject:

"i've brought you a prize for busting me from jail

do u want it"

To: Hobbs
From: Void
Sent: Jun 24, '22 16:27
Subject:

"WELL HOBBERS MY MAN IT WOULD DEPEND ON THE PRIZE OF COURSE. FOR ALL I KNOW IT COULD BE A BULLET TO THE HEAD."

Void starts rattling his cage more fiercely in excitement

To: Void
From: Hobbs
Sent: Jun 24, '22 16:28
Subject:

"no it's nothing bad it's a reward for breaking me out"

Hobbs smiles and walks and that

"So do u want your prize?"

To: Hobbs
From: Void
Sent: Jun 24, '22 16:30
Subject:

THE CAGE'S HINGES START CREAKING AS THE CAGE RATTLING GETS MORE INTENSE.

"WELL HOBBS SINCE YOU'RE MY GOOD FRIEND I WILL TRUST YOUR PRIZE. I ACCEPT IT"

VOID STARTS NERVOUSLY SWEATING, HE HAD A BAD FEELING ABOUT WHAT WAS ABOUT TO BE COMING

To: Void
From: Hobbs
Sent: Jun 24, '22 16:33
Subject:

"The terms of the prize are legally binding, you've now accepted. Thank you"

hobbs turns away from void, and then turns back again

and unzips his pants

"its me

im your prize"

 

To: Hobbs
From: Void
Sent: Jun 24, '22 16:38
Subject:

Void starts rattling the cage now out of fear instead of excitement

"NO HOBBS I DO NOT WANT THIS PRIZE, PUT YOUR PANTS BACK ON YOU SCOUNDREL, WHAT WILL YOUR RIGHT HAND MAN WHO CAN READ YOUR MAILS THINK OF THIS"

The valet seem to also have gotten visibly uncomfortable

To: Void
From: Hobbs
Sent: Jun 24, '22 16:39
Subject:

Hobbs sidesteps revealing CATOFTHEANALS stood right behind him

"shes cool with it"

 

To: Hobbs
From: Void
Sent: Jun 24, '22 16:43
Subject:

"I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT HOBBS, THIS MUST BE ANOTHER HIRED ACTOR"

"VALET, GET THIS MAN OUT OF HERE BEFORE I AM FORCED TO HIRE JHONNY SKETCHES"

To: Void
From: Hobbs
Sent: Jun 24, '22 16:46
Subject:

"you said you wanted the prize, i am the prize. Wanted prize, give you prize."

hobbs had a meltdown on the floor

his bits spilled out of his unzipped trousers

sadness intensified

only cat could save him now

 

To: Hobbs
From: Void
Sent: Jun 24, '22 16:48
Subject:

"VALET IT SEEMS THAT SPAGHETTI HAS DROPPED OUT OF HOBBS' POCKETS"

"PLEASE CLEAN IT UP, I WOULD DO IT MYSELF AND SHOVE HOBBS OUT OF HERE BUT I AM CAGED UP AFTER ALL"

To: Void
From: Hobbs
Sent: Jun 24, '22 16:51
Subject:

it was too late

hobbs had finished on the floor

cat helped clean him up and they left void, prize having been fulfilled

Void looked happy for the first time in his life

END SCENE

To: Hobbs
From: Void
Sent: Jun 24, '22 17:03
Subject:

I will be sending you the bill of the cleaning squad which I will need to hire to clean up the spaghetti on the floor.

The manuscript was only a rough draft, and overtime would be turned into a novel. 

The movie rights were already up for auction and Hobbs hoped BBB and his studio would make the required $10,000,000 purchase to bring them home to Detroit's Holly-Mud studio. 

TripleShittzOnADumbNamedAbandomedNonAstroDomeOfDinggedBatt attacc! The sign falls off and nearly hits the poor bastidd with no flag but some of the shittest pieces. Calligraphy? Little weird? But the geometric patterns of a ThrowUP? WellUPPdeKUNTzzYeeOlEadOhWho? 

SignalOfSpliffAndWhoFookinGuessedHeCouldHandleThatManyyKUNT? WicketzzWhizzederrWhosWhizzTCWho?

BobbyKnight't'uh Da FoIght'n'JustMoIght'n'n flings a port'yerr'slided knee into the ribcage of some old guy. Dressed as a clown for some weird reason. The fuckin werdz wuzzdizz one on again? Who's who and where's this dumb asshole from? What'd he do on the black mamba #3Hol3Again? Oh fuck? That one retard? Fookin.21'zzWhiff'Eez'.13zzEnShiite? Aw shiet. 

The sound of 1brokenndrumm stick of lasagna on'na who? Wouldn't wanna be that'uh' JanKeTt1? Dammit Janet. If I didn't wanna suck this girafa de'la bay'beyyuh. The true signal of the gunship is found at last. A left handed touchdown pass, what sport's this bullshit again? eMerican? EstateOfWho? Doctor's a ZOOS and he left weird clues all over the poop'in tube of TeleViZion.

Behold the scourge of every scumbag'ett1. sKuMmzZz slim slacks? With the klipkloppinsocksohsorts? Aw fuck a duck and call ee'zown'self chuckcled'delli pickle'err'ino bambino gambino. AwShiet.The KUNTzzErrKissEdErrzMistazZSistuh? Mussa missed dat'un. Aw piss oh fuck oh glee of ducks. This'enn junct'shinn is just cruisin to the sound of his own DingerDonglinDangledLikeWhoAgain?

Jesus fuckin' christ'a'MarioSuckzz Wah!LuigiHasATwinSisTERD? Oh surely not of the Temples? OhPissOhFuckedThatDuckAgain? A'ginnst the wind'err of heez'own'sol'hol3? Oh fuck oh shit.

 Ireland must really suck at certain times of year. Like if a song told em not to tell you it rained there. Who'duh Guessed It Had Ghost in the title? Oh shieet. This ain't a duck? He's some dumbazz quack'ett'en'shuck't'ett you bessaMakeLikeABuckett. HicksHonkstableConstable tune of i7 hums to a soft mellow, i5'vibratin'n on down through a southernly cruise over his... Lowerd t00nzz.

 Why's his left foot out the window when he enters this one?

Crashes into the abandoned shithole of a rundown contest. Takes a shit and then leaves.

"I think we'll file FartBarf's story in the Mentals of History section with the likes of Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin" Hobbs said with an all knowing nod to Mr Sosabowski. 

Sosabowski was here to rent some books on therapy so he could help the masses, or cure himself. Hobbs wasn't sure which but it wasn't his job to know or judge people.