TheTripleDeuce walks along the streets of Detroit with a cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth, stopping every so often to watch the workers heading in and out of the factories. The sound of machinery can be heard in the distance as trucks haul supplies through the streets.

Y'know, there's something about Detroit that makes a man feel like he oughta be doing something productive.

Everywhere I look somebody is building something, fixing something, or moving something somewhere else. Back home I've seen plenty of businesses, but this place seems to run on people getting their hands dirty and making things happen.

TheTripleDeuce takes another drag from his cigar and continues down the street until he comes across an old building sitting beside a row of warehouses.

Now that's interesting.

TheTripleDeuce walks up to the building and looks through one of the dusty windows before trying the front door. After a little effort, it finally swings open.

Well, I suppose nobody's using it.

That's usually when I find the best opportunities.

TheTripleDeuce walks through the building, looking over the empty offices and dusty workrooms.

I've been thinking about expanding the Legitimate Businessmen Union into Detroit for a while now. After seeing how much business moves through this city, I figured there was no reason to keep waiting.

A place like this could make a fine meeting house for businessmen who need somewhere to sit down, talk shop, and figure out how to keep their businesses moving.

TheTripleDeuce looks over the building again and pulls out his cigar cutter.

First thing's first.

We need to make this place look like somebody actually works here.

TheTripleDeuce stands outside and looks up at the newly hung sign.

There we go.

I think she'll do just fine.

Detroit seems like the kind of city where a man's word still means something. You shake somebody's hand, agree on a deal, and then you get to work.

That's the kind of business I like.

TheTripleDeuce looks toward the factories as another truck rolls past.

Now, I suppose I should find somebody around here who knows something about automobiles.

I've got a feeling I'll need a few vehicles if I'm going to keep opening branches all over the country.

TheTripleDeuce takes a long drag from his cigar and starts walking down the street.

Besides, after watching these fellas build cars all day, I figure I can at least learn how to keep one running.

How hard could it be?

A truck pulled up to the curb about half a block behind TheTripleDeuce, engine coughing like it had smoked more cigars than he had. The door on the driver's side read V&S Cartage — Local & Waterfront Hauling, the paint chipped from six hundred miles of road.

Angelo Vitale climbed out, stretched his back, and wiped his hands on a rag he kept in his coat pocket.

"Mr. Deuce."

He walked up slow and stopped at a respectful distance, looking up at the new sign before looking at the building itself.

"Word got around Philly you were heading west. Figured if you're opening a branch out here, you'd need somebody to haul furniture, supplies, whatever else needs moving." He glanced back at the truck. "She doesn't look like much. But I've had her apart and back together more times than I can count. Learned it the hard way, on a gravel lot at two in the morning with a flashlight in my teeth."

He tucked the rag away.

"You said you need somebody who knows automobiles. I'm not a Detroit man. I can't build you one." A small shrug. "But I can keep one running, and I can tell you when a fella's selling you a lemon."

His eyes drifted down the street toward the factories, the trucks rolling in and out, the men in work clothes crossing at the light.

"Lot of trucks in this town," he said, mostly to himself. "Lot of drivers. Lot of loads nobody's watching too close."

He looked back at Deuce.

"Whatever you need me doing out here, I'm around. I got a room at a boarding house on Michigan Avenue and nowhere else to be."

Behind him, the truck gave one last shudder and went quiet.

Angelo didn't turn around.

"She does that. Give her a minute."