Draven paused as she viewed an empty soap box at the corner of a street she happened to almost pass by. Lighting a smoke, she thought for a moment, not sure as to step up or not knowing she's nothing more than a mere petty thief, but she decided to walk over to it anyways. Looking about for a moment she stepped up finally on the box, took a drag of her smoke, and then slowly exhaled as she watched the cloud drift off and dissapate in the gentle winds.

Hello everyone. She gave a half smile as she saw a few notice her. I haven't walked these streets for long, but I have noticed several people that my past mother might have known or spoke of. She paused as her mother's recounted memories flooded her thoughts for a moment then she snapped to looking down at the ground.

I didn't spend much time with my mother, but she had always told that, even though this life is one that is very hard, it can be very rewarding. I remember seeing pictures of a few friends that she had around her. She talked so highly about them and her w.onderful family, that I feel I have been blessed myself to have been given the chance to join them. But..

Why do we do it? I have my own reasons for joining this life of crime. They're the things that keep me going and drive me that my mother taught me about, but do these things drive everyone else? Is it simply the people that you grow to care for? Is it the thought of a life with everything you could have ever wanted at your finger tips or is it simply the drive to do better to strive and grow in ways you haven't before? She smiles as she thinks of her own reasons as she peers upon those that have stopped to listen.

Wouldn't it be easier to just walk away, live long lives elsewhere, and doing other things? Yet day after day we come out and try... Why do you?

Draven stepped off the soap box as she flicked some ash off her smoke before placing it to her lips again. She wasn't sure how many would respond or even take notice, but she was curious because perhaps there were other things she hadn't thought of that might have given her even more reasons to push, to try, and to hopefully succeed.

Why do we do it?

Because its so much fucking better than working for a living.

Now run along and put the kettle on, theres a good girl.

Seeing a new yet familiar face at the corner of the street speak about the dangerous life of crime and the loyalties of families I couldn't help but throw in my own two cents.

The life of crime and danger, bullets flying over your sholders, sitting with your back to the corner in every bar, restaurant and coffee shop. Watching the people you grow close to die in your arms. Working your way up to the streets running drugs and all kinds of other illegal activities where there aren't many rewards for the risks you take.

Its probably the worst life you could ever wish upon anyone in the world you know or care about ...

But for me ... Its what makes me tick ... and no matter how much I'd like to give it up ... it would kill me faster if I did.

Joey pulls out a cigar and joins Draven.

Looks over her shoulder hearing fluffymonkeygibbon and grins a bit.

Kettle... hmm.. There are things that even a petty thief have their uses for, and I hate to say that as some might be domesticated I am not. So as much as I would like to adhere your advice I must decline it. But thank you.

She puts an arm on Joey's shoulder a moment and smiles.

Makes us tick.. I can see that already I have to agree with you there.

Sweeney sitting on a bench with his silk black suit and orange tie from earlier to Draven's mothers grave. He takes out a Mnt Dew from his coat pocket. Opens it up and takes a swallow of the cold liquid drink. He sees his friends daughter out on the streets and gets up to get a closer look to here her speech. While listening Sweeney nods and smiles at her. Don't think Draven knows exactly who he is. But, for sure he knows who she is. After finnishing her speech Sweeney looks up to her from her standing on her box. He begins to speak:

Well Draven number two. Why do we do it exactly? It's quite simple and many reasons why. For me. It's for a couple of reasons.

Sweeney takes a drink of his Mnt Dew and continues.

First, like the fluffy kid said it's a whole shit load better then working at the doc or being shot over some petty war for our goverment and get a hand shake and a thank you. No. I rather be the man who makes thirty times more money and be mroe respected by people in this things of ours.

Now another reason people need to feel like doing this. For instance like me. It's because of our history name. The Sweeney's. People pursade your kids to come back. And, keep telling my kids not too. But, shit happens. They keep coming back.

Sweeney takes another sip of his drink.

So there's really my two reasons in this world. Money and my name. What can I say? I'ma Sweeney

He smiles up to Draven and takes another sip of his drink. Lays it on the ground near the box with a card that says his address in it. Sweeney turns around and walks away with his hands in his pocket looking up to the sky.

Sao stands around, listening to everyone's thoughts on the matter. This throws Sao into a fit of deep thought. His mind is racing, looking for an answer. When he can't think of one, he wings it and tells his opinion.

I honestly don't know why I do this every day. I can guess that it's the thrill of doing what I want, and getting away with it. Working for power, and money. My bloodline has come across a lot of great friends. I read about them in the diaries of my forefathers. I hope that one day I can amass the friends that they have. There's something about having someone who will have your back, no matter the consequences. Someone to share the blood, sweat, and tears with.

All of these things come to mind for reasons why we live the way we do. Yes, it would be easier to live life like a normal person, but normal is boring. It's the weird, the strange, the dangerous that really makes life worth living. None of us were cut out for the normal life. Sometimes, I believe that we never really chose this life, but instead it chose us. It's in our genes to steal, to extort, to kill. I tried the normal life, but I was always waiting for excitement. Always waiting for something to happen to me, and change my daily routine. Waiting for someone to liberate me.

These are all good reasons for doing what we do. My only problem is, figuring out which one is true for me.

Sao reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a smoke. He places it between his lips, and lights it with a match. As he tosses the match to the ground, he walks out of sight.

Goon scraches his head for a second and smiles.

Misplaced pride I guess. While my kin has done well in other walks of life this is the one I can't imagine to leave for good, even if it skips few generations sooner or later something will draw back my bloodline back here for one more spin.

Draven can't help but nodding in agreement with hearing each individuals answers. Hearing Sao speak she smiles at her friend.

You know Sao I think I remember my mother once say you kept her coming back. She looks up at Sweeney and the kinda loses her thought for a moment.

The history of the name huh? I never had thought of that but I guess that would be a reason my mother passed her name on to me as well. She smiles at that thought and then looks at Goon scratching his head and giggles.

Misplaced pride? I'm not sure I understand quiet what you mean there? Please explain? She tilts her head to the side hoping to hear his response.

Seriously

let's not over glamourise the issue.

none of us want to make an honest living.  we don't. we live outside of the law.

Romanticise it as much as you like. the fact is, we don't like a hard days work.

We like a workers hard day money.

what we do is completely reprehensible. it's evil, we should have been removed, be the life guard, from the gene pool.

it's not romantic. 

we're a bunch of fucking killing cunts.

Please, don't try to romanticise my existence. I'm an evil cunt, as are you.

oooooooh cheese

Fluffy.. I do not romanticize anything here. And hard work. Some work a lot harder then you might think. She lights up her smoke.

I have already worked with and seen a ton of people that bust their asses for those families they are in. I say that because I can't even count those that do for the city of New Orleans. I can't say I have or do myself as I am far to young, but I look at those I am working with and around and only aim to be half as good as them

As far as the term "cunt" also know as a vulgarism, primarily referring to the female genitalia I might have one but I am not one. She shrugs as she puffs her smoke.

BubbleBeard scratches his beard and lights a cigar, stepping up to the conversation and listening in. Puffing on his Cuban, the captain nods in Draven's direction and speaks up.

Yarrr, this be a very interesting question here, one I've been meaning ter ask the public for a while now, but yee beat me to it! Why did I choose the life I live? Well it's quite simple, really. Ever since the death of me father Rusty, and my Great-Granpda BubbleBeard, I've wanted to make a name for meself as they both did. BubbleBeard (GRHS) obtained the honored position of CL, and my father shortly before his death was the RH of a crime family. I know they be looking down at me from above, hoping I do better than they did. Fer me lass, it simply be to honor my forefathers who worked in this thing of ours.

Turning his attention to fluffy, the Captain draws his brow and swigs from his flask.

As fer you matey, I'd watch the way you speak ter people, one of these days yee might just disrespect the wrong person. Luckily fer you, Draven has a strong chin and can take being called a cunt in stride. I do not respect those who disrespect women, nor do I take kindly to hearing some of my best friends being called a cunt.

Eve couldn'd help but cry as she remembered her role in her mother's death.

I was young, and my mother had been traveling for quite some time. I saw her walking towards the house in step with a woman I did not recognize. I ran out to greet her, but she yelled at me to stay in the house. She turned her back to me and pulled somthing from her purse. I didn't listen. I had missed her so much. I flung myself towards her before I noticed what was in her hand. My memory of the incident seems to play in slow motion. After I jumped into the air to tackle her, I saw the gun in her hand. She was aiming at street hood. When I knocked into her, her aim faltered just as she was pulling the trigger. She grunted from deep in her throat, then a gunshot exploded into the air.

There was complete silence after the shot was fired. My mother seemed in a trance, staring at the body of the woman she had just shot. I continued to cling to my mother, and stared after the street hood who my mother had wanted dead. His feet seemed glued to the pavement. We stood like this for what seemed like hours, but could only have been moments.

A stray mut ran around the corner and yelped at up, breaking our silence. The young thug sped off down the street and out of sight. I let go of my mother, but she scooped me up and ran me into the house. The rest is a blur of hurried actions. Calls were made, and I was sent to bed. Before I went, my mother whispered in my ear 'whatever happens, remember, this was an accident.' That is the last thing she ever said to me.

Sleep wouldn't come. I kept my ears pressed against my bedroom door and tried to forget the image of blood pooling under that woman's head. Sometime in the early morning I heard another explosion. Heart racing, I ran down the stairs and saw my mother lying before the wide open front door. An imposing, broad-shouldered man climed into a car and drove away.

After that I went to live with an old family friend, Badass. He eventually explained to me why my mother had to be killed. This was the life my mother had chosen, and she knew the consequences should she ever make a mistake.

Why do I? I wish I knew. I don't really know anything else.

I do it for a variety of reasons. The main one is, bizarrely, that it gives me an outlet for my intense desire to educate people.  Since that nasty, and overstated, incident involving an automobile and a school playground,  I have been struck off the teacher’s register.  Therefore I became an organised criminal in order to teach as many people as possible how to self improve.  In many ways, I’d rather not be in this thing of ours.  I just want to teach poetry and prose to little people

 *Looks round for Rory *

But I quite like this job.  And the Streets need me.

Why not?

LoveGun asked back with a grin.

Sure, we could be sittin' here all day arguin' about the risk we be takin' livin' out our lives in crime. But any life has risks. If I were a plain ol' civilian, I could be mindin' my own business, cross the street and get hit by a bus.

She shrugs.

The life of crime surges through my blood. I be findin' meself cravin' for it when I wake up in th' mornin' and before I close me eyes t' sleep at night. I have lived oth'r types of lives, but somethin' keeps bringin' me back t' crime. Maybe it's the people, maybe it's the money, maybe it's the life of power and respect. Maybe it's just this is what I was meant t' be doin'.

These days though, I don't be findin' meself here for my own personal reasons. My Godfather Premeir has given me one of the greatest opportunities in our world. A crew of me own. I have others to be responsible for and as long as they stand by me, I will be standin' by them. I be havin' responsibilities, obligations that I am more then happy to fulfill.

There is also somethin' else that calls me to this world.

LoveGun places her index finger to her lips, thinking about what was on the tip of her tongue.

Ah yes, hard work.

There is a unique fulfillment this lifestyle gives off when you pour your sweat, tears and blood into your work. I don' think I would be findin' any other sort of life that can give me this sort of satisfaction at the end of the day. I think we all be experiencin' a little of that, no matter what sort of expectations we are givin' on a daily basis. Those who want t' work for what they have and or want, will succeed. Those who don't will be findin' themselves buried with the crowd.

We live in a cut throat world, but it be probably the biggest thing tha' be attractin' us to this lifestyle.

Lovegun notices one of her associates walk out of one of the local bars, RonnieCummings carried a brown paper sac. She knew what she'd find in it, a nice bottle of bootleg rum. She walked away from the crowd and joined Ronnie, who passed her the bag, she took a sip.

Quite simply,my family's bloodline keeps returning to these shores for one simple reason.

A promise made to a dear old friend.

No matter what each generation of my family,brings to the table. They are there 110% for that old friend,doing what they can do til the day they die.

Draven bows her head at Lovegun's words, and thinks for a moment. Reflecting on something she said Draven smiled.

I believe you defiantly nailed it on the head LoveGun. A cut throat world.. She nods in agreement, as she smiles at SupBud.

Friends are something that you hold on to and promises another thing you strive to keep. It's a very admirable choice. Estebano my new friend teaching is something that not many can do but those that do it well thrive with the knowledge that they penetrate the brains of the others around them with. I hope to learn from you as well myself.

She walks over to EvelinaGallo and pushes her a bit. One day I'm sure that your answer will come just as I'm searching completely for mine it will come. You never quite know when it will hit you but.. She looks up at the night sky for a brief moment and sees a twinkling star.

I'm sure one of these days it will.

As LoveGun swaggers down the road with Ronnie she hears a familiar voice behind them. She pauses for a moment, continues to listen and before even turning around she knows who it is. SupBud. LoveGun grinned. She retraced her steps, dragging Ronnie and the rum with her and joined SupBud with the gathering crowd.

Aye, yes. Ye be bringin' up a fair point sir. Friends. Truly though, family is what anchors you. Those friends that one day are jus' friends, but then the next ye would trust 'em with your life. True friends are family. Those ones I will be stickin' 'round for, continue t' come back t'.

She grinned at SupBud and passed him the bottle of rum.

While I be back, I'd like t' be askin' ya a question miss. It's a fairly simple one. You've come t' the streets Miss Draven and asked us all this question, but you yourself hasn't been replyin' t' yer own question yet. Would ye be doin' us the honors? Wha' keep ye self here? I be sure I'm not the only curious folk out here wonderin' the same thin'. And I be promisin' miss that any reply ya be given I won't be throwin' any vulgerisms at ye.

Draven look up at LoveGun and solemnly nods.

I guess that is a question that I haven't answered isn't it. There are many things that keep my bloodline here. My mother spoke of something that has never been seen by any of her ancestors. An honor you yourself Don LoveGun hold. She looks at her and smiles. See I guess its simply those things that haven't been attained that drives me, and those I hold dear to me as well. You yourself have spoken of friendships and my mother have spoke of many that I myself have been blessed to have already have talked to. She takes a deep breath and then pulls a smoke out.

There are also those my mother talked about that were closest to her that she lost contact with that she for a reason or another and I was as well told that if I could to regain that. I'm not so sure I know of what she spoke about there, but I am sure I will know when the time comes, but till then there are many that I have even with in these few hours have come to know and trust. She nods humbly to LoveGun.

So I guess there are a few things that keep the linage that has become of my bloodline to whisper to those that it is passed on to to come back. She smiles as she puffs on her smoke.

Why do I do it?

Takes a puff of his smoke.

Well, a better question would be, why don't I do it? It seems that this is just an easier way to go, this life we live. So that should answer your question. By the way would you mind lending me a few bucks for a new pack? I'm all out.

Why do I?

Its as SpikeSpiegel and LoveGun pointed out- Why not?

For me, the otherside is boring... a drivel world where you get up, work, earn, eat, sleep. You have friends but you never really know for sure if they are true to their friendship because there will never come a time when your life will depend on them.

Is it just me that enjoys this dark business we role in? Sure we might not have "security" or "an easy life" but why would you want these things?

When you role in the business, a business where death is far more potent and present... then you learn to appreciate life.

When you role in the business where fake friends and allies can turn on you and say "its just business"... you learn to appreciate the true brothers and sisters you hold dear.

When you are surrounded by a life of war and chaos... you learn to appreciate peace.

It is those things, those golden eggs hidden beneath a surface that looks brash and uneasy, that keeps me coming back. When a brother dies, and I ask myself "Why do I?" I light up a cigarette and remind myself that I wouldn't have it any other way.