what if we didn’t have districts in our world? What if we focused on authing not out of necessity but out of recognition of hard work.

As I look around, I believe our world is running on a maintenance over Growth. I find these activity rates plummet alongside the street presence and I have to question, is this what the world we reside in has become? Finding leaders and placing them in districts so we aren’t attacked by the NPC mafia rather than building up quality and expanding as a city leader sees fit? Have we grown into lack luster leadership without the need for creativity due to the requirements to be a criminal warlord?

Dream Along with me. What if districts were removed. Dream with me, what if hours spent active was directly matched against street presence? Continue dreaming, what if the life we lived aimed to secure a focus on a quality experience for each and every member in a city.

If you would now allow me to brag on my very own city I call home. I believe we dream and the product of that act of dreaming leads us into a world of collective consciousness choosing to engage in relationships with one another. I have never spent more than ten minutes in jail. From Godfather Transistor to Rico I have been busted out. I have been invited to more organized crimes my first day of work in the mafia from invites from chairman Shoresy to Doc-Holliday. The concept of integrating every member into how this city runs is amazing. Don’t even get me started on the activity of Albino who I consider to the best living mobster in our life.

Perhaps dreaming is not worth doing anymore. Perhaps we have grown accustomed to living lives of mediocrity doing the bare minimum. I would love to see a collective mindset in our life on growth rather than maintenance. On dreaming up new ways to thrive rather than living out of fear.

What do you dream? For yourself, for your city, for your lineage?

Don Al stood frozen in time, staring off into space as he daydreams along to Starburst's speech. Al was a big dreamer, he could lose hours just pondering whatever his brain would conjure up. He was such a heavy dreamer, he was growing very convinced his existence was one big dream, was he even real? He'd often feel so insignificant - as if he were just some character in a greater being's imagination. He imagined this being to live in another dimension entirely - completely untouchable by the characters of this world yet all the while controlling everything that happened here. He couldn't be sure of anything but if this being from beyond which controlled him personally had him doing all this crazy shit... and really none of it was free will at all... Well, he was disgusted. Why didn't that evil bastard just let him retire to the old country and live a simple, happy existence? There's no way this greater being from beyond this realm would continue to drag Al through the torment he experiences so often... No sick bastard would be capable of such a thing, right? That couldn't be God's plan...

Al shakes off the thought. "God damn, this weed is good." He mutters to himself, looking down at his joint and flicking the ash off the head as he tunes back into Starburst's points. He remains quiet while an animated Starborn chimes in, making some great points but seeming to trail off into some crazy case of OOCitis, talking about some real satanic shit!

"REPENT!" Al screams out suddenly, rubbing his eyes as the character seems to vanish entirely.

The crowd spin to face Al who had begun making his way to front, nodding to a tune in his head as he marches. Fame had it's disadvantages as he'd soon realise, finding himself constantly slowed by people rushing to show love and beg for autographs. "Albino! Sign my boobs!" One blonde broad rips her blouse open, flashing Al who grins, sticking his tongue out, happy to oblige. He pulls out his marker and gives 'em a squiggle.

"Oh my God! Are you THE Albino?!" A young kid shouts out, offering his baseball bat. Al chuckles, nods and signs the bat.

The fight to the front of the crowd was tiresome, there were many babies to kiss. Not everyone was a fan however - one woman decided Al was foe rather than friend.

"You shot my husband! You're a fucking monster!" She screams hysterically, digging around in her pocket with frustration. Quick on his feet, Al could see where this was going and proceeded to lift his right hand before swinging at her, slapping her back-handed across the chops, knocking her into next week.

"Go to sleep, bitch." The crowd bursts into ecstasy, cheering and calling his name as Al continues his strut after having knocked the dumb cunt out cold.

Finally, after much love and fighting through the gropes, Don Al steps up beside Starburst and shakes his hand firmly.

"It's great to see you again, Starburst!" Al beams a wide grin. "And on a street corner of your very own, holding your own debate! That's how it's fucking done!" He throws his arms open, embracing the associate before releasing and continuing. "You're fuckin' going places. Keep it up." He nods before turning to address the crowd. 

"Let's get it out the way... Yes, I am Albino - the best living mobster." Al smiles, confident and smug, puffing his chest out before patting Starburst on the shoulder. "And this one here is clearly wise beyond their years, full of knowledge and drive. Watch them climb the ranks! I foresee great things ahead." He looks at Starburst with a warm smile while the crowd bursts into loud cheering, throwing panties and bras at the pair. Al takes a sniff - of the air - not panties, that comes later.

"Ahhh, Mafia is back, baby!" He smirks.

"Now, pay attention everyone - please! Starburst brings up an amazing point... What IS the point of districts exactly?!" Al throws his arms out in a questioning pose. "My lineage never actually saw the days which predate the decision to split Cities between multiple Godfathers, but we've definitely always longed for such a setup! Starburst is right - the activity of this world is faltering which is in my opinion only exacerbated by the necessity to split apart into so many different sections of the country." 

Don Al sighs before continuing. "Who the hell wants to be part of a dead crew?" He slants his lip with concern. "Or dead city, even... As the problem worsens and spreads." He gestures towards the centre cities. "Now I do hope none of the mobsters in Detroit get bent out of shape for my saying so..." Al pauses. "Actually, I don't give a fuck, but let's hope they realise this is not personal for their own sake..." He smiles, continuing. "21 people make up the entirety of the City of Detroit." He widens his eyes, looking at every individual in the crowd. "TWENTY-ONE." He states more firmly. "That's not even a full crew! What's the point? We're spread so thin! Say a new mobster jumps off the boat and lands in Detroit... How much activity will they experience?" The question was rhetorical - it was obvious.

He shrugs. "Fuck all, you're right. And then what happens? This new little Gangster is residing in a dead city - basically a lone existence! And then what? They get bored and hop back on the boat! Or decide to go take a sleep in a bus shelter and never wake up again..." Al shakes his head. "How is that healthy? It makes no fucking sense! The issue is recreating itself!"

Al sighs, relighting his joint before he continues. "I've considered heading down to Suggestions Beach and praying to the Gods but I feel these sorts of interventions require larger groups of people to carry weight... Maybe even a whole church full!" Al pauses, his thoughts trailing off a little. The thought of church reminded him of his old pal in a dress, Father O'Malley - what a beautiful man. He takes a pull from his joint. "We'd need a whole lot of us to turn the tides, I feel."

The Don places the joint in his mouth, rubbing his hands together to fight the wind as he walks a few paces back-and-forth, shuffling his thoughts. "I do think no longer using districts would be a great help to our world. But I also think a trip to Suggestions Beach is pointless. Besides, even if we all mobbed up and went down there together, no doubt we'd be told it's been suggested before by some mobster with little else to do!" Al shrugs. "I've succumbed to praying alone and trusting in the Gods. I see little other choice."

It had been a long time since Al's lineage had submitted to the slow decay of this beautiful world. This wasn't the only issue at hand, there were a myriad of problems that could be addressed. He had taken on a patient and hopeful view, just waiting for the opening of New Version Avenue and whatever new adventures that might lead to, for those still left with enough interest in our way of life.

"I'll leave you with one dream I have, since you asked and it's been playing on my mind since last week..." He turns to look at Starburst once more before continuing. "Why, I do often wonder, are we required to loiter in coffee shops to improve our weapon skills?" Al raises an eyebrow. "Shouldn't we be rewarded for being out here... In the streets...?" He quizzes.

"Why would rogues go looking for people with their feet up enjoying a cup of java? Surely they'd have beef with the few mobsters still ballsy enough to step out in the streets and get their face known...?" Al's face turns confused. "Maybe I'm missing something..."

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper, waving it in front of the crowd for all to see. "I'm not shy! Look at this! I added over 50 notches to my gun in a matter of hours!" He rattles the paper around in frustration. "A FEW HOURS!!"

"How you ask? All I did was talk shit in the coffee shop down Main Street and peered my eyes out the window for one of them crazy rogues!" Al waves his arms around in confusion. "The bastards aren't even armed! All I have to do is get out the door and blast the poor fuck before one of the other resting chatters in the coffee shop?!"

Al sighs yet again. "That's it... That's how 'capable' gunmen are created these days..." Don Al scoffs, waving his gun around in the air with his eyes bulging open.

"Any crazy bastard with enough time to waste can get one of these now! There's no merit, no achievement, no accolade... Just time spent."

"Shame... My bloodline always loved honing their marksmanship the most out of everything to do around here... It's my descendants I feel for, how will they entertain themselves?"

Al sighs - yet again, finishing his joint before flicking it at the bitch he'd slapped to the ground who was now starting to come back to reality.

"Anyway... I'm done with my raving. Hopefully we hear some more opinions."

Al steps down from his pedestal, making his way over to the young kid with the bat.

"Hey kid... Can I borrow this?" The young buck nods excitedly, watching Al as he moves back towards the woman who had regained consciousness and begun making her way to her feet. He lifts the bat and smacks her round the head with one almighty *CLUMP*.

"Billy Boy, come get rid of this bitch. I'm sticking around... Hopefully we hear some more people's opinions."

He hands the bat back to the kid who was now hyperventilating with inspiration. "OH MY GOD, THAT WAS SO COOL! I CAN'T WAIT TO BE A MOBSTER!"

Don Al grins.

Felson stepped lively to the discussion with Max at his side. He watched Starburst and Albino take centre stage, while the rest of the street corner looked to blend in with the flora and fauna.

Felson unclipped Max as he approached Starburst. The doberman made a beeline towards Albino, while Felson outstretched his hand in a greeting.

"Name's Felson. Just had to stop by and acknowledge your efforts out here. I heard the speech. Very inspiring for folk like us that also dare to dream."

Felson took a look around, trying to find someone other than Albino and the newer face. He shook his head and turned back to Starburst.
 
"I hope the lack of movement on this corner doesn't put you off. I wonder where these fucks get to, you know? It's like they never leave their headquarters. What a life, eh? Always on the lamb but nobodies even chasin' 'em. They're definitely dreaming, they're off in that, what's it called, astral dimension?"

Felson shook his head again.

"I dream that these dreamers stop their fuckin' dreamin' and do something! The world took on Hitler. Slapped that moustache right off his creepy lip. And for what? For this shit?"

Max was wagging his tail and bouncing around. He spotted a butterfly wafting by and jumped at it. He missed but he was happy all the same.

"I'd like to see smaller districts too. It's just so damn dead, any changes would be good at this point. Beyond that I dream of the closing of the coffee shop that forces people to interact like we're children. I think it makes the world stale. Why would people want or care to interact in these cities when they can get their fix somewhere else? That and forcing interactions in the astral realms rather than here in the streets or business districts, makes it seem like city hall might actually want these cities to go to shit. Why isn't the focus on activity here instead, in making these cities alive and pulsing with activity? I don't get it."

Felson threw up his hands in frustration.

"I'm already thinking it might be better to visit this old country people talk about. What else is there, really? More decay? More apathy and indifference from our leaders? What a shame."