Standing in the doorway stood a tall and handsome young man lighting a cigarette.  The flash of light revealed his face for a spilt second.

Frank walked in looking around slowly as he took a seat at the bar.  He ordered a bourbon as he sat at the bar wondering his next venture.  The bourbon sat there for a few minutes breathing.  Frank was a man of class coming from wealth and his way of life was chosen for him many generations ago.  He stood to inherit power and wealth at some point as he was making his bones in America.

As he sat there he thought on these things and the present day mafia of 1931.  He also thought on his life and that of his children and wanted more for them.   

John waltzed into Dirty D's. All of the writing around inspired him to write of the people he'd heard of from this great, now mostly desolate city...

The smell of smoke is still heavy on the air, even as the times and upkeep of the building fades. The history of the world in which these gangsters lived in, these Detroit...what was it written in the window? These 'Dead Poets' of Detroit? It seems fitting from the stories heard of days old and gone. An ethnic melting pot of extremely dangerous men and women. Anyway, the history they lived in was rich in tragedy, adventure, drama, comedy, love, and legend.

Kate Logan - The southern Gunslinger who rose from the ashes of a pissing match between cities across a river. She was a strong leader and one hell of a shot. She always tried to do what was best by her people. Also ran the Logan Review; the most successful newspaper of the time.

Christian Gato - A fearless Italian, headstrong, intelligent, and frightening; Godfather Christian Gato was taken too young. His intentions were great, and it was probably those intentions that got him an early swim.

James "Bishop" O'Shannon - An Irishman who had come to the new world for a new start. He found purpose under the Gato Regime. He also quickly found death under the Gato Regime, mere days after being made.

Thomas O'Shannon - James' younger brother, an IRA Soldier, Arms Dealer, interrogator, and all around crazy Irish bastard full of piss and powder. He stayed after learning of his brother's death in the crossfire that killed Christian Gato. Thomas did all he could for the city his brother had learned to love. With time, he worked his way to being Kate's left hand man before the tragic slaughter of Detroit.

Mercedes - One of the best bosses in Detroit before stepping down and joining Kate's side as lovers. She was ruthless, and known for making a damned good martini. The girl knew her cocktails. Drugs, alcohols, even the mixtures to put you to sleep or kill you as you talked to her.

Mavis Beacon - Hell of a marksmen, rumored to be the reason the other cities trembled when the Detroit Lion roared. Mavis ran his own crew out of Corktown once he left Kate's side as her right hand.

John Noto - Designer and owner of Paragon Tower, owner of the Royal 313, all around savvy business man with a temper like a Honey Badger (Seriously, hot headed like the Sun itself). Noto was a lover to Billie Faegan, and a frightening mobster to any other that crossed him.

Billie Faegan - A light-skinned sister from southern New York, Billie was possibly the sweetest gangster you'd ever meet (until she was mad), and the most melodic out of the group. Often Billie would serenade the crowd at the 313 with her weekly performances. On top of it all, she was a vindictive gangster from the Bronx who made her big move to Detroit and gained status.

Then there was peaceful Jennie - she was Kate's Right hand, savvy to all the knowledge a Don would have. Frighteningly peaceful. It was truly worrisome when she walked into a room with her smile and sass; like she could snap in an instant.

Mikhail - Mavis' right hand man. Russian. Heavy accent... He liked to shoot things. Not much is known of him... Aside from him running a Russian bath house.

Countless others roamed these streets as well, but their escapades were not ingrained into the stories from my childhood. I hope this sheds a light onto the way Detroit was... For those of you who remember, "Slainté". Cheers mates.

With conclusion, John folded his paper and stuffed it with the other notes left. "Mm. If only't walls could gab." He poked around through the bar itself and happened across a stash of old bourbon. He dusted off a glass from the bar and poured a drink, taking a shot, then poured a second before placing the topper back into the decanter of brown gold. "T'is ones for you, boyos" He raised the shot glass high, then left it sitting on the bar top, filled to the brim for the spirits that watched. He swore he heard them give thanks for the drink and the memories from which they were able to live through.

With a solemn, grim look on his face and a sobering feeling sweeping over him, John made his way to the door and left the memories with the ghosts.

It had been a busy day for ShadowGangster. He decided to go have a drink and unwind. 

"Hello there. I'd like the tallest glass of beer you got."

Unsure what she was seeing, and why, Ilaria sat quietly on her crumbling wall and continued to watch as bizarre scenes played themselves out up and down the block. This had been her first trip away from her home in Philly, on her own, no less. She was beginning to think Detroit had been a terrible choice...were all cities like this?

As she'd watched, several cars were stolen from an abandoned car dealership down the block to the left. Across from that, she'd passed a sad, crying man obviously three sheets to the wind while he screamed obscenities at a smoldering building. There appeared to be a lady making the most out of an empty hotel and casino, and Ilaria considered doing the same herself, but she also noticed a ransacked gun store and worried the woman might be carrying. 

The oddest thing of all, though, was this bar. It had been closed for years, yet people kept going inside anyway. A couple of them had even sat down and tried to order drinks from...no one. 

She lit another cigarette and continued to wait for a flight, swinging her legs against the disintegrating concrete underneath her, and wondering what the hell was wrong with this town and the people that passed through it. 

Was it contagious? She certainly hoped not...

Kate walked through Detroit. She'd been on the train for hours, heading west until Las Vegas, but felt the irresistible desire to stretch her legs. The city was intimidating to her; she tried not to seem like a farm girl as she stared up at the buildings and down the widest streets she'd ever seen. As she wandered, she noticed a burned out lot in the business district. Something had been there once, but now there was only a burned out husk of a building. Leaves of grass shot up intermittently where the floor had burned through, but her eyes were drawn to a flash of red.

Tilting her hat back on her head, Kate approached to get a closer look. A single rose grew in the midst of the grass and concrete.

Smirking, she looked at it for a few moments before turning on her heels and pointing herself westward once again.

Tired of reading newspapers, Briya steps out of Pike Place and walks aimlessly for a while, lost in thought. A flash of red caught her eye, and in amongst the rubble of a burned out building, she spotted a rose struggling to survive both the elements and the abused landscape it found itself in. Briya shook her head and kept walking, wondering at the futility of it when her heel struck something on the sidewalk. Looking down, she saw a singed journal. Huh.

Picking it up, she flipped through the yellowed, smoky pages. After the first paragraph, she was so enthralled with it that she found herself sitting right there on the curb and reading through what amounted to the first chapter.

Hello There

Chapter One

Stealing. Stealing is bad. Stealing for your government? Maybe not so bad. Stealing for your government and then selling what you stole to the highest bidder? Bad. Not that I'm feeling any kind of bad about it. The documents I've been hired to steal are questionable, at best. Transcripts of hours and hours of illegally recorded telephone conversations between several of the city's top tier Mafioso. Boring stuff, if you ask me. But I suppose if who's doing who interests you, in whatever version of that verb you feel like conjuring up, interests you, then maybe you're one of the people lining up to pay me top dollar for these pages.

But first, I need to get my hands on them. I've been scoping this rat's house since the job came down the wire. He's not much to look at or speak of, this rat who's doing what I'm about to do, holding out for the highest bidder. He's got decent enough digs, though, and what looks like a nice family, so it doesn't come as any big surprise that he's hired someone to watch his back while he's still holding the goods. A woman, which many would immediately shut down as a non-threat in their narrow little minds, but seeing as how I'm a woman, too, I know better. 

After I study the house, the routines, the habits, and can tell you how many times a night this guy gets up to urinate or when to expect the paperboy to miss the front porch by a solid seven feet every morning, winging the paper a hard left and decapitating a few of the red roses that the missus is trying to maintain, I study the hired gun.

Brown and green, a bit taller than average, and on the thinner side, like she's missed a meal or three. She wears it well, though. With her sleeves rolled up, there's no mistaking the lean muscle. I have to assume that her whole figure is assembled that way.

The gun seems to be her specialty, but I'd be stupid to assume that's all she's carrying. Something in the boot would be a fair assumption, but you can't ever assume in my business. And women are crafty...we'll use our hair to hide shit that can kill you. Men rarely think about the hair.

By the time I'm ready to make my move, I know where everyone in the house is (asleep, except for the gun), where the papers are (wall safe in the study), and how much time I've got (no more than two hours before that prostate wakes him up). When I see the gun's silhouette enter the kitchen to freshen her coffee, I slip through the side window that I've made sure to pop the lock on earlier that day. Up against the wall, and all in black, I'm difficult, if not impossible to see by the untrained eye.

Unfortunately for me, the hired gun is not an untrained eye. As silent as I am, as efficient as my movements are, I've barely laid my hand on the dial of the safe before the overhead light flicks on, and I find myself staring down the barrel of a revolver held by a very steady hand.

***

Briya looked around, trying to find where the rest of the pages had gone. Standing up, she began a painstaking search...

Freelancer ran into the bar, his day had been really long and he just needed to calm down. Walking straight up to the bartender.

"I need a few shot glasses and a bottle of tequila."

He puts down a decent sized stack of dollars on the bar.

It was a cold and wet Saturday night in Downtown Detroit. Nexus had a busy week and was well in need for a good drink. Word around town was that Dirty D's Bar was the place to go for a good drink on Saturday night, many of the punters either end up going for the strip club or drug den, but Nexus had planned to have a few drinks with some of his close associates. 

So, he arrived in Dirty D's Bar, just short of midnight. Surrounded by a associates they enter through the back door of Dirty D's Bar and head straight up to the VIP section of the bar. There sits a large circular table with sofa chairs around it. 

Nexus takes off his jacket, and ask's the hostess to bring couple of bottles of whisky and some glasses, so he and his associates can have a few drinks whilst talking about some important matters, or more fittingly talking about sports and women..

He needed something to drink but wasn't sure where exactly would be a good place to pull up, that was until he noticed Dirty D's Bar situated only a few feet from where he was currently throwing up the mornings fun. Maybe he would just get a few more glasses of vodka, just to make himself feel better and to stop the world from spinning.

"Yeah this will do just... okay.. fine."

Stumbling his way inside, he walked over to the counter and looked at the assortment of alcoholic beverages. Which to try first? He would need a bit of a mix to really enjoy himself - can't just settle for something simple and boring, now could we? Looking around at all of the bottles he felt his feet stumble beneath him.

"Oof."

Falling onto his ass, he sat there for a while and thought hard on his next move.

Tony walked into the famous Dirty D's bar with a smile as he was ready to wet his beak.  He walked up to the bar as he lit his cigar.  Taking a heavy puff to get the cigar to burn bright orange.  He then blow out the light puff of smoke and ordered a shot of their strongest bourbon and to leave the bottle.  He looked around as then men that where their to protect him sat mere feet from him at the open tables. 

He sip on his drink as he smoked his cigar he was there for business but he was currently killing time until his meeting started.  He looked over the establishment and noted that this place brings in a nice looking penny and a good class of customers.  Tony though that something like this would be good in Vegas.  He then realized that to copy something like this out west just might do for him what this place does for its owner.  Tony didn't have the time to talk business with the owner but thought after his family business was concluded he might return and talk personal business.

Freelancer walks in needing a refreshment after a long day in the motor city. He heads up to the bar and sits down on a bar stool.

"I'd like a beer and a shot of tequila, please."

He picks up his shot of tequila and chugs it, before he starts to slowly enjoy his beer.

“I’ll take a gin on the rocks, how much do I owe ya?”

Jack plans on forgetting this night ever happened. When he noticed Freelancer sitting to his right. 

“What’s up man, my name is Jack_Mcgurn I just traveled 6 hours from New York just to get stood up.  I was suppose to meet a lady friend at the hotel room at 6 o clock, what time Is it 8:30.  Anyway you probably don’t want to hear my saab story, how is it going with you?”

Jack finishes his first drink and waives the bartender to get him another. The smell of Freelancers tequila is over powering anything in the bar.  

Jack lights his cigar and takes a huge puff 

Napster had a busy day running errands around town. It had been a long a tedious day for the young man.

He'd been to Dirty D's bar was just round the corner from where he had just been. He'd been to the bar several times now, and he could think of no better place to kick back for the evening.

He lit up his cigarette and slowly made his way over to the bar. It was a cold and wet Tuesday evening, so expectedly the place wasn't so busy tonight. 

He made his way through the doors, on his way up to the bar, he noticed few regular drunkens seated around, he briefly nods at them, before continuing on to the bar to order his drink. 

There behind the bar was a lovely bar lady, he hadn't seen her here before. 

Nice to see a new face around here. I'll have a glass of whisky if ya don't mind. Thanks

He reaches into his pocket, only to pull out a big wad of cash. Pulling out some notes, he leaves the money on the bar, and grabs his drink. 

He spots a nice little seat tucked away in the corner of the room, walking over slowly, he takes off his hat and jacket and makes himself comfortable as he sits.

Still completely flabbergasted at the phenomena, Briya watched as patrons kept trying to drink at a nonexistant bar. Eventually she came to two realizations...money could be made, and you can't fight the tide.

Shaking her head, she took a cab to city hall. A few minutes spent perusing through deeds, and she had a name. Sarah. Looking at the dates, she realized then who that Sarah must be. A distant relation of Briya's, Mercedes, had once led a crew here in Detroit. Her best friend had also stood as her Right Hand. It was that Sarah, of course it was.

With no claim on the lot, Briya purchased it, and two weeks later, she returned to find that the construction crew that Brancer had recommended had done exactly as asked...build a simple bar, nothing fancy, just the facts, Ma'am. 

As the sign for Dirty D's (she never could figure out who 'D' was) was hung in place outside, Briya uncrossed her arms and stepped inside to harass the new bartender.

"Negroni. If you don't know what that is, this may not be the job for you," she grinned as she took a seat on a barstool and watched the kid sweat it out.

The Bibel came in Dirty D to relax, it's enough for today, he said. As he was waiting for bartender, he saw a lot of beutifull jung ladys and quite few big shots and few new faices. 

Hmmm, I'm old ofc what did I expect. he said and cracked a smile :D

The bartender came and asked politely, What would like to order, sir?

I would like wiskey with ice...., you know what bring the whole bottle, today was a good day.  he replyed with very relaxing voice.

Briya watched as TheBible ordered a drink, then decided on the whole bottle. Off to a good start; this place should pay for itself in no time.

Taking a sip of her Negroni, Briya's eyebrows raised in surprise. It had been made perfectly. As she looked up at the bartender, she opened her mouth to say something when a dish of snack mix landed on the bar between her and the other patron. Blinking, she looked up at the young tender, who was standing there, arms crossed, looking rather proud of himself. Deciding against a dressing-down that he didn't really deserve, Briya instead cleared her throat and smiled at the man next to her. 

"This kind of service, I need to come back more often," she laughed, taking another sip of her drink.

*sits back and grabs a bucket of popcorn* o.o

Nexus had a long tiresome day, and nothing sounded better than to go to Dirty D's Bar and drink his sorrows away. 

He had already had a few shots of tequila from the previous joint he was just at. 

Stumbling towards the door of Dirty D's he nods at the bouncer by the door, who recognises him and lets him straight in.

Making his way to the bar whilst glancing around the place trying to spot some friends

I'll have a bottle of rum 

The bartender nods, and goes to fetch a bottle of rum, for the drunken man.

LillJack decide to have a drink,and orders whisky on the rocks

he saw many young mafiosos that were just soliders of his friends trying to impress young ladys

after minute whisky arrived with cuban cigar

"Mr.Jack that drink and cigars is from guys over there"pointing finger at bunch of young ones in corner

"they say that they hear lot of one of head guys from Vegas"waiter ends

"well damn I dont like when they think they know me,but they are young,say them I thanked for the drink"

LillJack light cigar and take few smokes before he drop her in the ground and smash it with his feet

"cigar is good but I want some more privacy"

he take the shout of whiskey and leaves the bar