Boris had just hugged Skinny Pete, so happy that things would come back together in the Honey Hole, after the demise of the Big Guy. The crime world had just shuddered and collapsed due to a series of wars, his friends were killed, and his life in shambles. Pete seemed like a good fit though, he was going to take the Honey Hole and rebuild it to its former glory, make Tommy's legacy live on. Satisfied Boris sat in a booth and took a long drink of rum, it had been a long couple of weeks. 

A sound unlike anything he had ever heard, shook him to the core. An explosion in the bar, he jumped up, his drink spilling. His ears rang, the room was filled with smoke and dust, he could barely hear the screaming that echoed around him. He went to the center of the blast, the destroyed office of Big Fat Tommy, in the wreckage, chunks of Skinny Pete lay scattered. The large Russian fell to his knees and wept. His life was filled with misfortune, every step of the way. This bar was destroyed, and as far as he knew there was no one left to run this place and rebuild.       

-1 week later-

The funeral for Skinny Pete was quiet, Boris was the only attendant. As it turned out, old Pete only had a handful of friends and they all ended up dying with him. It was a sad thing not to be mourned. Boris decided at that point, funerals were over for him. He was done hiding in the shadows, Boris Fedorov was taking back his birthright. He was going to rebuild the Honey Hole, rebuild Tommy's Legacy and make a name for himself this time. If someone decided to kill him then so fucking be it, he missed his brothers anyway.

The Construction had taken a while, but Boris was happy to be sitting in the same office that Pete had died in. The Honey Hole had kept its name, and its business, but Boris had changed it up a bit. He made it feel a bit more like home, more neon lighting, and black/white/and red coloration in the paints and decor. It looked great, Tommy was a great business man, but he was a shit decorator. Tommy's favorite seat at the bar now had a neon lighting plate of spaghetti above it. Boris was the sentimental sort.

Boris sat at his bar, drinking a glass of rum, far from top shelf quality. He was lost in thought, the bar was running smoothly again, money was coming in. It had been natural for the crew and the girls to follow him, they had always taken his orders anyway, relayed from Tommy. He was still trying to clean up Tommy's loose ends, he needed to speak to the man known as Byrd, and hoped he would show up one of these nights.

Pericles is fulfilling his usual routine, casually walking the streets, sometimes greeting a known face and handing out alms to the poor and homeless that line the streets. After putting a few coins in the grateful hand of some beggar he lifted his head and noticed a most peculiar event. An explosion of fanciful colours distracted his eyes and mind from the usual grey landscape of the city and made him wonder what this could mean.

Byrd hadn't returned to the Honey Hole in quite some time. The explosion had nearly killed him along with Pete. He hid for a while, just in case that was meant for him. It didn't take long for rumors to reach him that the bouncer had taken the place up and rebuilt it. Apparently this Russian was a halfway decent business man. The rumors indicated that he had actually managed bring some life back into the place. Byrd had also learned that this Russian, Boris, was a friend of Tommy and Pete's and that he was looking for him.

Well, I guess its time to leave this hole and get back to the waking world. Byrd thought to himself. 

___________________________________________________________

A few hours later, Byrd was standing on front of the Honey Hole. He wore a new suit, three piece and grey, like his last one. His tie was black, as was the watch on his wrist. He had managed to lift the guns that Sully had found from the police station and now wore them beneath his suit coat. Byrd removed his sunglasses and placed them in the inside pocket of his coat and entered the newly renovated building. He took a seat at the bar and waited.

Boris was no fool, he had learned from Tommy how to bring Johns to the Honey Hole. He had a few of his prettiest dames out front greeting passerbys, attempting to lure them inside. One of those very same girls, dressed provocatively, approached a passerby who seemed to stare at the Neon lights that made the sign int he front. Boris loved neon for some reason. He loved the lights and the color. The only reason there were so many lights in this place, because truthfully, he got a great deal on them. 

"Come in, there are more then just lights inside for you to see." She spoke in a sultry voice, "Let me show you."

She smiled warmly and invitingly at Pericles, beckoning to the door that was flanked by two large bouncers.

Boris shouted loudly, happy to see the man he was looking for, he had sat at that bar everyday this week, waiting for the elusive Byrd to land at his place.

"Byrd! Just the man I vas hoping to see!" He sat down next to him, "Is not much, but vat do you think of the changes I am making. Good yeah?" 

He signaled for Johnny, the bartender, who knowingly prepared a whiskey and a rum, for Boris and his guest. 

"I have been looking all over for you. Your a hard man to find. I vas looking through Tommy's records and Pete's belongings. I am thinking that perhaps we have some verk to be doing at the docs. Vat do you think?"

Byrd took a moment to mull the idea over. He had wanted to finish the job, but that was before all this mess. Now he wasn't so certain. He'd lost some of that sense of duty, as needless as it was. He rubbed his beard, deep in thought. 

Byrd knew he needed to get out again though. He needed something to push him back into the hard stuff. He had an empire to build, and it wasn't going to build itself. Besides, the less competition there was the easier business was going to be. 

"All right, Russian. Lets do this."

"Yes! I vas hoping you vould say this!"

Boris grinned and walked to the door of the bar, and opened it up, beckoning for the man to follow him.

"Come Birdman. We take my car."