Roco sat in his new leather chair. He was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees and turning over a tattered goat-chewed straw fedora in his hands. One of the few objects recovered from his father’s HQ after it had been overrun and ransacked by the enemy invaders. His father’s legacy ended in a single gunshot but today wasn’t about his father, it was about him.

Roco spun the hat in his hands and then flicked it on his head. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. There was a knock at the door.

FrankCastiglias voice boomed through the door.

“Its goat time Roco”

Roco smiled. Rumours of the death of @FrankCastiglia had been greatly exaggerated. Roco stood up, grabbed his Shepards’ crook, and looked in the mirror. He wasn’t exactly a smartly dressed man but he sure as hell looked striking. He chuckled to himself as he heard the music start to play as he reached the door. Frank had listened to his request. He kicked the door, and it flew open. Frank was on the other side smiling. Roco rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck and took a deep breath. He started to walk out towards the stag set up outside of the HQ. A look of determination as he strode in front of him FrankCastiglia on the left and Harvey_Specter on the right. On Rocos flank marched some magnificent goats who had been kited off in little pinstripe rugs covering their back and little fedora hats on their heads. Holes are carefully cut to accommodate their wonderful horns. Roco look back and smiled at SaraMoore, MaddixCruz and kowIV who completed the extraordinary entourage.

As they all reached the stage the lyrics of the song began, and the beat picked up. The others parted to the side and Roco moved out to the front and commenced his dance.  Strutting around the stage with the goats and bopping in time to the beat. Waving to the adoring crowd. All are most likely handpicked. Who could like this nonsense? Roco sings along as he spins waving the crook to the crowd as they clap and sing along. He pulls HyperVentilate on stage and they continue to dance to the music. The goats showed remarkable rhythm and poise. Such a time to be alive. The music begins to fade out. Roco wipes his brow and waits as the crowd is hushed by @Zev_Schwartz and @TheMorrigan. He was glad they came, his two fairly OddParents. He cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I am not a smartly dressed man, as you can see I am more at home in the hills with goats. You see my father gave his all for this world and at such was acknowledged at his funeral. Thank you to those of you who attended. However, such a work ethic came with a price in his personal life. I was abandoned by the goats. Left to be raised by the goats. Oh Frank you think goats are your alias, you merely adopted the goats, I was born into this, moulded to this.”

Some goats shake their heads and frown at Frank.

“I would like to thank those of you who have helped get me into this position at such a young age. I promise to give my all to this place of ours. My father’s passion lives on within me and will be reignited.”

He steps back and composes himself. He opens his arms.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Goatfather has arrived!!”

He punches into the air as he shouts

“I give to you the Chicago GOATS.”

Several goats faint as the crowd roars, Roco tips his hat to the cheers and waves. He turns on his heels, claps his hands and exists with the Chicago GOATS by his side.

"Did you know that people sometimes eat these things?" Sara shuddered as she stood next to MaddixCruz at the edge of the assembled crowd. She'd been holding her breath for the better part of a week now, praying for this day to come. Someone else could be in charge of trying to herd these smelly little buggers now. And they could take care of the goats, too, while they were at it. 

"Yay! Hooray for the Chicago G- wait, did he just says goats? You mean we're still-" Sara felt a tug on the hem of the one dress she owned and had chosen to wear for the occasion today. When she looked down, she found one of the goats trying to eat it. 

"Shoo! Go, go on, now!" Sara bumped the little fella away with her knee. Still goats? Man, she was NEVER gonna escape this smell. She looked over at Maddix, shrugged, then pulled off her bangle bracelets, handing three of them to her friend. While everyone else around them opened champagne, gave toasts, and tore into what looked like a mountain of Chicago deep dish, she and Maddix played ring toss using the nearest goat's horns.

Harvey had waited for this moment, admittedly not for long as he was about as old as a carton of milk, but here he was, a senior Partner. He could come out and make some grandiose statements about helping Roco rebuild the great City of Chicago, of ushering in a new era, of the stank of BBB's corpse, but no, this was Roco's moment to shine, it wasn't like he was the Louis Litt of the Mafia world and deserving of ridicule. Speaking of which, Harvey was suddenly aware of a fuss a few streets over, some NNC called Rogue-o-Cock was running his mouth because his daddy had been shot in the face and left to die in the gutter for being as loyal and trustworthy as the bastard offspring of Travis Tanner and Daniel Hardman. He made a mental note to get Donna to schedule a deposition for him when he got back to the office. For now it was time to bask in the glory and adulation that was so rightfully his, now that he had brought an air of legitimacy to Roco's mediocre Law Firm. But they were going places, and in a short time, Roco, Specter and Moore would be the biggest Law Firm this side of the Rocky Mountains.

His father had spoken tremendous words about Roco and Sara, and the young Paddy remembered meetin' the pair in the original HQ set up. He had heard they were makin' a speech about the plans he had overheard from a conversation between Sara and his father. Proud of the freshly authed crew leader and the business expansion in his hometown, Paddy headed to the congregation.

He was wearing his shittiest tattered white t-shirt and ol' beat up pantaloons. This appearance however, he was wearin' shoes. Black suede with a white gumsole. No laces, handcrafted from the plant back in Texas. He arrives and is pleasantly surprised by the beautiful speech given by the beautiful man.

Such a fuckin'd's lad, no cap on this dead ass beaulatiful soul! Paddy smiles to himself. He had his normal obsessive compulsion to paint on shit, but instead he decided to commemorate a little differently. A man of the farm himself, he made his way up to the main man and goat entourage.

He smiles and wiggles his eyebrows as he shakes Roco 's hand. Congratulations, I feel Chicago is in good hands havin'uh met you and your crew with m'pops. Now if you'll excuse me I just love aminal's.

Paddy does a little skip to his own Lou backwards from one of if not the most beautiful man he had seen, tough competition with that guy Kinky John wanderin' around the ol' lady killer that'n is. He starts pettin' the goats, a dumb smile that reeks of "I'm stoned" overcomes Paddy gives no fucks Pitruzzello

Looking down at the cup before her she is totally confused whether or not she has coffee or tea. Coming to the conclusion this mystery must be a direct result of the handling of drugs to make a buck. What other possible explanation could there for this dilemma? Suddenly she snaps out of deep thought and recognizes why she is here to speak. 

Please excuse me as I have a tendency to drift off into deep thought. As well as being late for affairs. In my defense, I was born late. My apologies to the Chicago GOATS family. What glorious moment in ur history to have goats grazing our lands! They will tend to our landscaping needs. Brilliant idea!

Congratulations CL Rocco and crew. Best wishes on your endeavers.