Day 2

Chicago: The ruins of the Van Dyke Auto Plant

"Let me tell a sad… oh so sad story."

The plant was finished. The walls were blackened, the third floor virtually nonexistent, and the second sinking into the first. Most of the cars were either smoking skeletons or melted hunks of metal. Thankfully no one died, but the plant itself was not going to be used anytime soon if at all. The fire had incinerated everything.

A small fire, made from the few remaining unburnt rubble, lit up the exposed factory floor casting shadows on the group of youths gathered there. Even in the dim light however, the clear blue of a mechanic's outfit was still plainly visible among the grey of the others.

A wrench caught the moonlight as it spun toward the earth, glimmering as it fell back into the hand of the youth in the blue outfit. The youth himself did not look very significant. He was about 20, on the thin side and had sandy blond hair covering his eyes, which were the same clear blue as his uniform.

No, what was more significant was his wrench. It was, by the looks of it a monkey wrench that you could picture being used at a construction site or a mechanic's garage and would have seem normal for the youth, naturally in the mechanic's outfit, to wield save two things.

The first was its size. It was safe to say it was almost half the youth's height and resembled more of a medieval knight's mace than a mechanic's tool.

The second was the red stains across the wrenches jaws, as if it had taken a bite out of a person.

Graham Specter, brandishing his wrench, continued to talk.

"A wise man once said home is where your heart is."

Whish. The wrench twirled in the air again, around and around.

"So my heart was in this very auto plant." The wrench fell back into his hand with a thump.

He pointed the wrench at a patch of floor.

"I took apart my first car there."

He pointed to another.

"I broke my first person there."

He pointed to yet another.

"I was beaten by Boss Ladd for the first time there."

Whish, the wrench flew back into the air…

"What does it mean if this plant was burnt down?! Was my heart burnt with it?"

Thump, and back into his hand.

"What am I if I no longer have a home or a heart? Some kind of monster? A homeless monster at that?"

Whish.

"What do I charge the perpetrator with… arson or murder?"

Thump.

"It's sad isn't it? I don't even know what to accuse the villain who burnt down this place… That makes me scum doesn't it? Or am I lower? What kind of human leaves both his home and heart to be destroyed by a stranger?! And what kind of world allows such a sad event to transpire?! Damn! Its way to sad! Not only am I getting mocked by this criminal but also by the world itself! Or is it fate that's mocking me?! Or karma? Either way it makes me so sad, sad, SAD, SAD, SAD, SAD, SAD, SAD, SAD!"

Whish, thump, whish, thump, whish, thump, whish, thump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump.

Thud.

Graham threw the wrench that he was juggling quicker and quicker in the air at the plant's wall. It embedded into the brick radiating cracks from its impact. He cocked head was pointed at the sky as he continued to yell.

"SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAA…!"

"Um… Graham you ok?" Shaft asked in a slightly worried tone.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaAAaaAA aAAAaaaaAAAaAAaaaaa…. aaaa…. Ah… much better."

"And here I was concerned…" Shaft muttered.

"Forget the sad story! What kind of depressing wretch would say one in the first place? I'm too happy for that and this situation has no shred of sadness in it at all! A happy story! That's what this is! A happy story!"

"I really don't think anything about this is… oof!"

"Your too narrow minded Shaft!" Graham retorted, taking his fist out of Shaft's gut.

"This is a new beginning! Why stayed tied to the same old place and dusty memories? That's not a home it's a prison! Home is where ever you happen to be! You know the saying a bird's gotta leave the nest?"

The youths around Graham looked at this complete reverse of mood with no particular mind. One of them muttered "There he goes again."

"Maybe," Graham continued, "this was a sign by the world to tell us to broaden our horizons! Brilliant! Genius! What a kind world! Caring so much about our spiritual wellbeing! Let's obey the worlds command! I can feel the winds of adventure already." Graham frantically ruffed up his own hair, "This happy anticipation is killing me!"

Graham wrapped his hand around his wrench and yanked it out of the wall.

"Guys, we're going on vacation!"

"Where too?" asked Shaft recovering from the blow.

Graham grinned at him.

"New York! Where else?!"

Day 3

Chicago: The bar Dolce

"Sir your tea is ready." The kindly owner of the store placed a steamy cup of tea on the table in front of the man in the black long coat.

The man looked in his late 20's. He was thin in stature, about 6 foot and the glasses on his face made him look like a scholar, or they would if it wasn't for the long scar extending from above his left eyebrow down to his left cheek.

"Thank you." he said to the owner smiling which was warm despite the stagnant monotone of his voice, more appropriate of a robot than a man.

He put the tea to his lips…

And a hand slapped his back.

Casimir Dziedzic, professional hitman tagged the "Mad Reaper" by the newspapers, chocked and sputtered on his tea.

The man who slapped him scratched his chin.

"You've gotten rusty; if this was a job you'd be dead."

Casimir franticly beat his chest, coughing till he regained his composure to mutter, "I'd be dead at the point you got a job to kill me."

The man laughed and ran his hand through his red hair.

"You got that right Cas."

Casimir shook his head, "Don't call me Cas, Claire. Just because you can't deal with the fact your pop gave you a girl's name doesn't mean you can take it out on me."

The red head laughed even harder.

"You really have no fear, don't you?"

Casimir shrugged and took another sup of tea.

"Actually though," the man continued, "I got a new name recently, so from now on call me Felix Walken."

Casimir raised an eyebrow, "That's strange, it's the name of one of my other pals."

Felix sighed, "Yeah, I get that a lot but I guess that's what you get for buying second-hand name, right?" He sat down opposite from Casmir with a thump.

He was still smiling but his eyes narrowed slightly. "So how is he doing?"

"The real Felix?" Casimir asked, "Don't know, haven't seen him recently."

"No, no. How is HE doing?"

Casimir put down the cup that was raised to his lips. He sat silently for a minute looking at the steam rising from his cup, tracing out spiraling patterns as they rose upwards.

He looked back up at Felix.

"As well as someone like him can be. Why?"

"I always like to know how my particularly nasty nightmares are doing." Felix laughed.

Casimir shook his head, "You're still sticking to the 'the world is my dream' theory?"

Felix wagged his finger, "Fact not theory."

"That's your opinion."

"Therefore it's a fact."

Casimir sighed, "You really should get yourself checked out by a doctor."

Felix put his hand on Casimir's shoulder and cocked his head to the right, "You shouldn't be talking."

"I guess you're right." He said as he removed Felix's hand. Even though he was smiling his voice was still flat and inert.

"So why are you here?" Casimir asked.

"Business."

"By who?"

"Secret."

Casimir stroked his temple, "Normally I would tell you to not start a mess in my city…" He took a sip of his tea. "But seeing I'm about to make a mess in yours… I won't complain if you don't."

Felix scratched his chin, "Which one?"

"New York."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Whay are you going to New York?"

"Someone did a hit and run on the Russo family. Actually two people did, but one of them we know hightailed it to New York."

"And you're going to…"

"I'm not doing anything." interrupted Casimir, "HE is."

"Since when did you start working for the Russo family?"

"Ever since you threw Ladd off a train." He took another sip of tea but looked up in time to see Felix smirk. "But only when they offer good pay." he finished.

"And I'm assuming they offered good pay?"

Casimir shrugged. "An angry Placido Russo always offers good pay."

"Just make sure you get paid." Felix laughed, "Those guys are on their way out."

"I could say the same about your friends at the Gandor family." Casimir retorted, "I hear they picked a fight with the Runorata family."

"They won't lose." Claire said with a refreshing smile.

"Cause you'll kill all the Runoratas?" said Casmir as he put the tea cup to his lips.

Claire laughed, "That's part of it."

He looked at the package next to Casimir. It was a long, brown leather rucksack with multiple cuts and stains over its exterior.

"You still using your weapon of choice?"

"No," Casimir replied, "HE is still using HIS weapon of choice."

He finished off the rest of his tea in one gulp.

Soooooo... this is a long chapter which should have been split in two but really what's the fun in that? Nothing. So here it is in its 1637 word glory, (please refrain from sleeping while reading DX). Rest assured this (hopefully) is the last introduction chapter so the story should start cruising when it reaches NY by next chapter. Being still young and inexperienced in the world, I am not good with accents so if you find anywhere I can do better with them please send me a message and I will fix it.

Suggestions, comments, concerns are welcome as long as they do not consist of only the two words YOU SUCK. That would make me cry.

Thanks for reading!