The news hit like a shovel to the face.

BOYSON was gone. Just gone. Cornered by Durdens one night, drunk and tired, fired back like he done before. Except this time the bullet found a badge.

They say it was a lawman. Federal. Not local. FBN.
That changed everything.

Now the feds are all over the streets. Asking questions, turning over rocks. And BOYSON's name is on a list somewhere, crossed out with a red line that means "closed".

Hiro_Nakamura stands in the doorway of the room above the laundromat. The place smells like BOYSON's cigarettes. His old man's jacket hangs on the hook. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sits on the table. A few crumpled bills. A gun, cleaned and loaded, in the drawer.

Hiro steps inside. Closes the door behind him.

My father is dead.

Not gonna pretend I knew him well. I didn't. He was a ghost most of my life. Only showed up when he needed something or when he was too drunk to remember where else to go. But he was still my old man.

And now, he's gone because he got cornered by some Durdens, drunk off his ass and put a bullet in a fed. That is the story anyways. I don't know if its true. Humiliating, but that doesn't matter now.

The feds are crawling everywhere. asking questions. turning over rocks. His name is hot. And my name? My name is Hiro_Nakamura. His son. Which means I gotta step careful, don't wanna raise any alarms with those FBN goons.

So here I am in his room, above a laundromat, looking at his jacket and his whiskey and his gun. Got maybe like 40 bucks to my name. No job, no plan. Just a dead father and a city that wants to forget he existed.

But I still gotta eat, gotta pay the rent. Gotta figure out who I am, now that he's not around to be the shadow I was hiding behind.

Anybody got work? Anything? I ain't picky. I can carry, I can watch, I can keep my mouth shut. I just need a chance.

Sitting back listening to the young whipper snapper ramble on, Tussy bided his time. It was clear the poor man was grieving, though not entirely what for. Sure, family had it's place, but it wasn't like he was family to the man who had been taken down before his time. Nevertheless, anyone mourning a loss to the FBN was a man Tussy had a soft spot for. He approached the young lad and handed him a matchbook with a note on it.

'Here, keep this kid. A little something to tide you over till you land on your feet. I knew your old man, and I had nowt but respect for him. I hope one day you'll live up to his standards and get the life I'm sure you deserve. For now, take this cash to get you started, and contact the number on the matchbook - I'm sure he'll have some work for you'

With that he disappeared back into the shadows.

Hiro stands there, staring at the matchbook in his hand. The old man, Tussy, he said his name was, disappeared back into the shadows before Hiro could even get a word out.

He flips the matchbook over, reads the note. Then opens it, a few bills folded inside. Not a fortune, but enough. Enough for food. Enough for rent this week. Enough to breathe.

He looks up at the empty street where Tussy was standing. Nothing. 

He pockets the cash. Pockets the matchbook. Stands there for a long moment.

"Thanks, old man. I owe you one."

He walks back inside, closes the door, and sits down at the table. Lights a cigarette. Stares at the matchbook.

He reads the number. Commits it to memory.

Tomorrow, he'll call. Tomorrow, he'll find out what kind of work this contact has. Tomorrow, he starts figuring out who he is in this city without his old man's shadow.

Tonight, he just sits. And breathes. And tries to remember what it feels like to not be scared.

Approaching his newer of friends home, Enricho found himself an air of dread. Things have happened and he's bounced around towns and cities before landing back with some of his old friends in Las Vegas. As he approached the door, Enricho belted out, "Eeesh! What's with this chill?! It's barely cold out this afternoon. Gah!" Trying to shake the feeling, Enricho knocked on the door and waited.

Some time passed with no answer and with a day that had nothing happening, Enrichi decided to simple sit on the stoop of old BOYSONS place and take a good toke. Somewhere in between he decided a cigarette would do some good. People passed by and a few tipped their hats with a smile. Very few showed fear towards him, something he often felt was a sign of trust with the people around him.

Enricho had walked to the store at one point in his wait for time to pass him by. He decided that when BOYSON got home, he'd share a beer with him. "It is certainly rare for The Great Enricho to have THIS much time to simply wait for a friend!" He chuckled to himself, "man is worth the wait. Been a while.." Enricho trailed off as the feeling of dread never wore off. He placed the beer in the shade under a bush next to the stoop and sat back down with a joint. "Man.. I haven't seen this much fed since.." Enricho stopped speaking, leaned back and stared at the greyed out sky. His heart heavy with the loss he's had since his life started on these streets. It started raining.

Hiro wakes up slow. Feels like he got hit by something. Sits up and rubs his face, looks at the matchbook on the table.

"Right. Gotta make that call, Tussy said to call this number. Said the guy would have work."

He gets up and splashes water on his face, looks in the mirror. Sees his old man looking back a him.
He walks to the payphone down the street. Drops a nickel and dials the number he was given.

Ring ring. Ring ring.

Nothing.

Hiro hangs up and tries again.

Ring ring. Ring ring.

Nothing again.

He stands there for a sec. Don't know what to do, figures maybe the number doesn't work. Maybe Tussy gave him a bum lead. Maybe he's just shit out of luck.
He walks back to the room and looks out the window. Its raining. Doesn't rain much in Vegas, so it feels a bit weird.

He grabs his old mans jacket off the hook and puts it on. Its too big, smells like smoke then he goes outside.

Rain is coming down steady, not heavy but enough to get you wet if you stand in it. 
Hiro walks down the block with his hands in his pockets. He sees a guy sitting on the stoop, smoking and just watching the rain. 
Hiro doesn't recognize him but something about the way he sits there feels like he belongs.
Hiro stops a few feet away and lights his own cigarette. Stands there for a second before saying anything.

"Hey. You waiting for someone or just enjoying the rain?"

"Nothing like a good shower, sir." Enricho chuckled, leaned forward and grabbed a beer from under the bush. Popping the cap with the side of a knife he keeps in his breast pocket inside his suit jacket. "I'd offer you one, but I'm waiting on a friend of mine I met a couple weeks back. Probably going to have to hop to if he doesn't show up soon, though." Taking a swig, Enricho shurgs and grabs another, pops the cap and offers it over. "Eh, The Great Enricho always has more beer money!" Trying to pull some of his enthusiasm forward, but finding his words didn't have the same feeling behind it as they would on a good day. Today just doesn't feel like a good day for him. "Say, do you happen to know the good man BOYSON? I've been away for a short bit, thought we'd catch up."

Hiro stands there for a second. The rain dripping off his hair, looks at the beer being offered to him and takes it.

"Thanks."

He takes a sip. Its cold and tastes good. He holds it for a moment before answering.

"BOYSON? Yeah, I know him."

He pauses. Takes another sip then looks at the ground for a second.

"Hes my old man... Passed away a couple days ago. He got caught up with some Durdens. Fired back and hit a fed by accident. FBN has been all over the place since."

He looks up at EnrichoLives.

"You knew him?"

"Didnt know he was such a trigger happy son of a bitch." Enricho shook his head, "is The Great Enricho the only one who can survive an encounter with those blasted FBN shit brains?!" Enricho could feel his rage bubbling, he took a deep breath and another swig of his beer, "BOYSON was turning out to be a good friend of mine, I'm sorry for your loss." Enricho paused for a moment. He has never been good at these types of things "Hope he was something better than that of my careless father. He got rolled over by some dice and my brother couldn't handle the life, so I got brought in to cover some debts. They're all repaid by this point, but I stuck around after it. The Great Enricho has many friends in this life now!" He shot a fist in the air then settled back into his posture on the stoop.

Enricho gave a friendly hand to shake, "EnrichoLives, but everyone calls me Enricho. To me, I am The Great Enricho! Feel free to be one of the few who calls me by my self made title." Enricho gave a warm smile.

Hiro takes the hand and shakes it.

"Hiro. Hiro Nakamura. Pleasure to meet you."

He lets go and takes another sip of his beer. Looks at the rain for a second.

"He wasn't trigger happy. Not really. He was just tired, drunk and cornered. Anyone woulda done the same in his shoes."

He pauses and takes another sip.

"I don't know much about him. Not the good stuff anyway. He was gone most of my life. Only showed up when he needed something or when he was too drunk to remember where else to go. But he was still my old man."

He looks at EnrichoLives.

"Sorry about your brother. And your old man. Sounds like you been through some shit too."

"Its been an interesting time." Enricho shook his head and leaned back with his eyes closed feeling the rain hit his face again. Coming back to the man in front of him, "it is a pleasure to meet you Hiro! The Great Enricho always welcomes new friends!" Enricho plunged a fist to the air with his forced enthusiasm that he's practiced many times to hide any pain he might be feeling in the moment.

A moment passed and Enricho finished his beer.

"I can't offer you much solace on who your old man really was, our friendship had just started. However, if you ever need anything, my people are just a whisper away." Enricho finally rose from the stoop and shook off what water he could and checked his watch. "Guess it's time to get going, I should get over to my tailor about my new suit. Seems like a good change is needed for the day!" Enricho reached his hand out for another shake, turned towards the tailor and started skipping his way there like a young man eagerly awaiting a first date. It helped lift his spirits. Yelling back to Hiro, "the rest under the bush is yours good sir!"

Hiro watches EnrichoLives skip off down the street like a kid. Shakes his head, can't help but crack a little smile.

"Crazy bastard."

He looks down at the bush. Reaches under and pulls out the remaining beer. There's a few left. He holds one up toward the direction Enricho went.

"Thanks, Enricho. The Great Enricho."

Hiro sits down on the stoop. Pops the cap. Takes a sip. Looks out at the rain.
He thinks about his old man. About the painting, about the card. About the call that didn't go through.

"Guess I got work to do."

He finishes the beer and heads back inside.

Hiro stares at the matchbook on the table. It has been a few days. He tried once and got nothing. But he ain't got much else going on right now. He picks it up. Turns it over in his hand and reads the number again.

"Alright. Let's try one more time."

He walks to the payphone down the street. Drops a nickel and dials.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Click!

Someone picks up.
Hiro freezes for a second. Didn't expect it to actually work this time...

"Uh. Yeah. Hey. This is Hiro. BOYSON's kid. Got this number from a guy named Tussy. He said you might have work."

He waits and listens.

"...Tussy? That you?"