There wasn't a swan to be found in the entire City of Detroit. It was a beautiful sight to behold honestly. SlimRagnarok and his 12th Street Swan Hunters took their mantra very seriously. Death to all swans was originally instilled in them by SimonTheSwanHunter. While Simon and his gang of retired mobsters had lost their swan hunting ways, 12th Street had not. Every new member into the crew had to kill at least six swans across the six cities before they were even allowed into the headquarters lobby. Life was truly good.

But this was the end of summer, which led into [Fall] and the migration of swans from horrific places like Florida and Georgia. North they would fly, carrying their diseases, awkwardly honking at people, and evening shitting on unexpecting victims. No questions asked, these birds had to be stopped. Death To All Swans wasn’t just a motto, but a life style to defend

Slim put out a call to the entire crew. From Interlude, to Lala and everyone in between. His call was simple. Load your arsenal, and prepare for the worst. Swan season was about to attempt to wreak havoc on Detroit. While loading his personal assortment of weapons, Slim put in a call to WaffleStompingChamp. His request was simple, come out of retirement and fight the good fight one last time.

With a dufflebag full of rifles and shotguns slung over his shoulder, Slim stepped out onto 12th street, a fresh Matt 4 Auth shirt on his torso. It was time to unleash hell.