Killuminati walks outside of his run down apartment. Times were tough after he lost his father; and his mother died shortly after.

Work is non-existent. Seems like everyone was too busy handling their own problems. After taking a few hits of his cigar, he noticed a soapbox that many people have taken to, in order to express their opinions. 

Kill smiles. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small bottle of brandy. With no hesitation, he takes it to the head, and throws the bottle to the ground. He was in his feelings, and wanted to express them.

"As many other mafiosos have mentioned... It is troubling to see war during a time of rebuilding. What happened to that? I also want to know what happened to loyalty and respect? We are the Mafia aren't we? Why don't we hold true to our values?"

Kill takes a quick break and grabs a bottle of water from his other coat pocket. Cotton mouth was settling in

"I'm not here to cry about my father's death. He did what he had to for his family, and he wasn't the type of person to go against them. I'm here to see IF there are even places to call home? Seems like everyone is still worried about this war, instead of ending it."

This time Kill grabs another homemade cigar from his pocket. He lights it, takes a hit, and continues

"There are many thugs and gangsters on the streets that are unprotected, because no family will pick them up. There are also many, like me, who are homeless because of their ancestors, and do not know where to go. What if this new family judges me because of my father? Or what if there are no opportunities given, because of his past? All I'm here to ask, is... are there any places to call home?"

Kill steps off of the soapbox and walks away smoking his cigar.