It didn't last long. What a shame.

I had very high expectations for this.

As did I, Bellamorte, but the writing was on the wall. During my most recent visit to Detroit, I made my usual stop at the 12th Street Public Toilets only to see Enricho standing outside with a blueprint and a visible "question mark" appearing over his head. I asked him what was going on and he started going on and on about renovations and clean-up plans in progress.

I was in shock and didn't hear anything beyond "clean up plans". What was he thinking? The renovations I could live with. The place could use a few more glory holes. But clean up? Nuh uh. No way, bub.  There is grit and grime that has been in those toilets for longer than you or I have walked this Earth. New life has been created. It's this biological life flourishing that give the Toilets their unique charm and scent.

Shortly afterwards, Enricho and everyone in his crew were found dead in what appeared to be a mass suicide, but you never know with these things. It could have been staged to look like a mass suicide. It wouldn't surprise me, given the treachery that was planned.

Very puzzling, DickDickman. One would almost suspect DetroitSimon was on the scene, pulling the strings as he does in his evil and tyrannical fashion. I once saw him drink out of the 12th Street Toilets and not just sip but draw great big glugs audibly gurgling down his throat. And when he was finished he got up and washed his face in it. That kind of treatment to his internal organs may be why his family line has endured several humiliating deaths in succession to the likes of a notorious snitch and Little Enzo The Simon Slayer. 

It wouldn't surprise me if his plan all along was to leave Detroit in order to facilitate the deaths of more innocent people, the thing he loves most in this world. But in fairness, his continuing inability to dribble a basketball without hitting his own feet was simply not suitable to the Detroit lifestyle. He seems more like a pickleball 'athlete'. Or maybe just one of those guys who carries around a ping pong paddle with a ball attached to it with a string. 

RIP skatterbrain.

Robinson had approached the 12th Street Toilets on his latest travel to Detroit, having been busting to release the beast inside his intestines. Barely letting his little cheeks touch the seat as he dropped the kids at the pool, he cleaned himself up before walking outside, stepping over the flowers left for the deceased former crew leader and RHM who had been disappeared and were believed dead from the area, leaving Hellman to fix the city by himself. 

Robinson lit up his pipe, took a few puffs before making his way up 12th Street towards the tube station. Shame what this place has come to. Even the former newspaper vendor who his father had often tipped was no longer here. Old newspapers still laying across the street, blown around by the strong breeze.

I really don't appreciate being bad-mouthed all over town, TextBasedMafiaRPGMan, especially not when I'm over here covering for your boss. I didn't want to have to be the one to come out here and offer a glimpse behind the curtain, particularly as I know this guy has gone back to crewleader school to smarten up his act, but I will do what I have to in order to clear my good name. I had NOTHING to do with the retirement of Skatterbrain. Unlike someone else...

EIkmilk came to me, as he usually does for improvement and when he needs information:

To: DetroitSimon
From: EIkmilk
Sent: Feb 20, '26 07:43
Subject:

Skatterbrain Geoffrey'd himself

What happened?

I actually found this reference to the late geoffrey, a man who decided it would be better to cut his own throat rather than pursue a life of crime after two hours beneath the ARLA banner, a bit distasteful but whatever. Naturally I answered in hilarious fashion.

To: EIkmilk
From: DetroitSimon
Sent: Feb 20, '26 07:46
Subject:

Someone told him he had to disband and join you

Once the laughter died down, I received this puzzling reply:

To: DetroitSimon
From: EIkmilk
Sent: Feb 20, '26 07:48
Subject:

Who told him? I'll them a quad

"I'll them a quad." A slip of the tongue from a known imbecile or the mask finally starting to slip and his own guilt for the role he played in the enforced retired of Skatterbrain coming to the fore? I think we know it was the latter and the former is a foregone conclusion like HeadCoach against Illuminatiated in a battle of Mafia wits. So spill, what was the prank, EIkmilk? Why did you drive another person out of this community?

Was I upset? Did I make a mistake? Does DetroitSimon carry around a bespoke leather bound thesaurus and dictionary?

The answer to all of these questions is Yes.

Especially the one about the thesaurus. 

As my right honorable Right Hand Man stated, DetroitSimon is more mathlete than athlete and must accept responsibility.

Skatterbrain skattered his brains all over the floor and Geoffrey'd himself. Those are the facts. This life is hard. Harder than DaveGoggins ever was. We can stand around blaming each other for his death or we can mourn him.