Death is inevitable in this line of work, the things we do day in and day out led way to a hazardous environment. The pay is well, however, hell, with the money I made in my first month of simply running drugs, I was able to buy an entire house for my family. It wasn't the best place, I guess you could call it quaint, but that was only the beginning. It was good to be on top of the world...

January 23rd, 1922

This was an important year for me, '22. It was the first time I ever was complimented by anyone for anything I'd ever done, granted it was opening a car that wasn't mine with tools that I would later shove in some guys throat who was asking too many questions, but I still remember it to this day, even after all of the haze that was the past ten years.

"You did well, Sfdef. You're not bad."

Okay, so it wasn't exactly the most glorious praise and maybe I didn't remember it perfectly but fuck you. Point was, it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me, and it drove me to go even further than I possibly knew I could. After that, I went on to do hundreds of things, most of which illegal, and all of them I knew my father wouldn't be proud of, but fuck if I wasn't in control for once.

March 18th, 1931

It had been nearly an entire decade and I was closing in on being old, at least in my mind. No one else seemed to see it that way, but what the hell did they know? If I was going to run this city then I had to begin making my moves and fast, soon I'd not be able to outrun the cops and they would be moving on to the next 19-year-old with nothing but dreams and a willingness to kill shit. That's when the idea sprung into my mind, the dumbest fucking idea one had ever come up with, but I couldn't sit around twiddling my thumbs any longer, it was time to act.

The Day of My Death

Explosives and body parts don't mix, you'd think they would teach you that the first day you're on the job, but it's something that every young man has to learn on his own. Either through logic or, well, the hard way. I guess I always chose the hard way in most things I did, but generally, the consequences were something to laugh about later. This time though, there wouldn't be a mouth to laugh with once everything was said and done.

It was late, dark. Really thinking back on it, I'm surprised I hadn't had this happen to me sooner, I was always taking stupid risks, and I suppose at some point they did have to all catch up with me. Once the lights went off, it was kind of obvious that a mistake was made with the wiring of the bomb. There isn't really much to say after that... I guess this is where the story would normally end.

Today

Eyes were a tough thing to reopen once you forgot how, but eventually, after a bit of work and coaxing of the muscles, the light shone on them for the first time in what was seemingly a long time. Everything was different, not very, but enough that one would realize that things weren't how they should be. Small peculiar feelings here and there that wouldn't go away and would eventually have to be gotten used to, but that was the least of his problems -- not only were his feelings different but after a quick look in the mirror, he noticed that he too had changed drastically.

"Fuck me..."

and at that exact moment, mother nature was more than happy to oblige. The door swung open and four police officers made their way inside of the apartment room, the only thing he could do to escape was to jump out the nearby window, which he had admittedly forgotten was on the seventh floor of the complex. Shit.

The fall was long, but the landing was... nothing. There was no pain, no loud crunching sounds, in fact, this was the best he had felt since the incident. Brushing himself off, he cleaned up the mess of glass and garbage and propped himself up using the wall before finally taking off down the nearest alley.

Squeak. Squeak.

There he was. His new best friend, the only one who wouldn't question him, the only thing that wouldn't run away in fright at the very look of his new body, or lack thereof. Scooping up the mouse with both hands, he held him up to his face. Now staring into each other's souls, they made a connection. A bond that could not be...

"Yo! Rick! Is that you, man?!"

He had to think fast, pulling a newspaper in front of his body, he hoped it would be enough to hide the disfigurement.

"YoRick... yes, me. That's... me."

The ruse did not work because while Yorick was able to hide the top of his body, the bottom was still in plain view. Reaching down for a moment and feeling around, he smiled upon realizing that death did not take everything away from him. Even though he wasn't able to convince the now screaming man, he had a new name and an idea. This body wasn't to be seen by anyone ever again, it was time to go under covers. Creating a makeshift cloak, it was time to go back to the only thing he had ever known.

"Yorick needs... work."

Placing the mouse onto his shoulder, they set off to create a new life for themselves. It would be neat.