Dietrich Enshi Cooper

Beautiful as the pure white dove may be

So white that snow becomes grey

We still capture and put it in a cadge

We throw away the key

And sometimes even clip its wings.

Though now I think a bird with clipped wings cannot fly

A cadged bird can and longs to fly,

So through its smile

The dove of happiness cries.

Dearest New Cooper,

In this story you will find terrifying facts about me, myself, and I. Some of my crimes I am not proud of; nevertheless, I will not hide from you that I had created a bit more than a gang, and found my way into being excepted by the Mafia's very first Families, and also, the most dangerous. Soon I worked my way up to a don, and was giving my own family, but I chose to do my thieving on my own accord. With out the help or with out notifying any of my 'people' in advanced. I think that you will find upon reading this that I was not the kindest of people. And, for that, I apologize.

Preface:

Tonight there would be an unavoidable bloodshed. Tonight the rich would unwillingly and unknowingly (until waking up, if they weren't in a permanent sleep.) give to a secret vault, or a secret 'charity'. Tonight "The Veil of Decay, The Shadow of Death, The person from whom the bell tolls tone brings forth. The reaper, Death" would strike again.