The air was heavy with the unmistakable stench of gunpowder. Vallenar’s once pristine suit was now tattered and stained with crimson blood, the unmistakable evidence of a vicious war. Vallenar stumbled as he entered his bathroom, his eyes sagged with exhaustion yet they still burned with the fire of victory. 

Tucked away in the corner of the room was a porcelain sink. He saw his reflection in the mirror as he approached it and he looked far much worse than he felt. The faucet creaked as he turned it on, releasing a steady spray of frigid water. 

It must have been almost two days, the coalition had emerged triumphant but victory came at a cost. Cirmison liquid mixed with clear water as Vallenar washed away the blood of his victims and washed away down the drain.

He’d answered the call of his Godfather, no questions asked, he had been there from start to finish. He would laugh at the Vallenar of the past for feeling tired as he waited in deep into the night for the fight to start, that Vallenar had no idea how long the war would last. He’d seen titans fall that night, but he’d also seen how difficult it was to defeat an enemy that was too far away from your home. 

In those few fleeting moments of watching the water cleanse the blood from his hands Vallenar had become a changed man. He remembered murdering high ranking individuals in their sleep, knowing the chaos it would cause inside the enemies Headquarters until it eventually crumbled. 

He saw flashbacks of the young mobsters he had to murder before they could barely even be old enough to own a gun. 

He looked back at how he stalked his enemies, following and searching for targets before they became threats. 

That night Vallenar slept like he had never slept before. He woke up assured of his path ahead, his mind was no longer clouded on what he wanted from this life. He knew just the person he needed to pay a visit to. 

“You once told me that if my plans to remain at your side until the end should ever change, I should come see you.” Vallenar said to Marston as he sat at his desk inside the headquarters of the Outlaws. “While those plans remain the same, I would want nothing more than to achieve that in a greater capacity and take control of one the Divisions of the Outlaws.” 

Vallenar could never forget the smile that came from Marston, it was like a father watching a son rise to his greater potential. He would always remember those few words that Marston gave to him. 

“Excellent, The Bronx is yours.”

“Thank you,” Vallenar replied, “ I will try my best to rise to your expectation and return The Bronx to glory. Be assured that on any day, those who oppose you shall see, The Last Horizon.”