Leaving a cheerful Elijah and a comatose Danny at the hospital, the group traveled back to the mechanic's shop.

The boys settled themselves on the worn couches in the basement, and Paul sat opposite them in a chair. He sighed heavily, rubbed his eyes with one hand, and began his tale.

"I was born to a middle class family of German immigrants. My name was Viktor Haas, and I had a little brother- Adler. We lived comfortably until my mother died in childbirth. Neither her or the baby made it, and my father was devastated. He left my brother and I with our grandfather, and we never heard from him again. Our Grandfather was good to us, but quite distant…"

Paul voice trailed off as he became lost in thought. The boys were waiting attentively until Paul jumped back to reality.

"Uh, where was I? Oh. Yes. My grandfather. He was a gambling man who loved a lavish lifestyle. I believe once his money ran out, so did his will to live. He died when I was 15 or so. My brother and I were left penniless on the streets of Philadelphia. I wanted to get him through school at least, so I started work at a steel mill. It was backbreaking labor and I hated it."

Paul chuckled bitterly. "It was hell for a pampered kid like me. I couldn't handle the sweat, the heat, the illiterate immigrants I had to work with. I hated all of it, and I began to resent Adler for eating up my hard earned money. I convinced him to drop out of school, and we began stealing. We conned people out of their money. I remember stealing a lady's purse, and then Adler would pretend to stop me, and steal it back. I'd run off somewhere. Returning it to the lady, she was so thankful, she'd give him a generous monetary reward."

Paul's fond smile faded slowly. "Criminal life agreed with Adler a little too much. Pretty soon we were involved in gangs, political demonstrations, and our crimes got more and more serious. We got rich, and we got complacent.

Adler met a girl, Bett. She was a spit fire and Adler was head over heels in love with her. They had a son in the winter of 1919. The next year, the gang we were caught up in was involved in some pretty intense arms dealing. It was a violent summer, with shoot-outs, kidnapping, and revenge. In the end, two young cops were dead on the street, and 5 of us were arrested. Adler and I were among them. We were sentenced to 15 years at Eastern state penitentiary."

Paul's eyes became still and haunted. Looking up at the boys who were staring at him, he asked, "Do you boys know anything about Eastern State?"

All the boys shook their heads, but Joe nodded.

"What do you know about it, Joe?"

Joe spoke, "Well I don't know a ton about it, but Al Capone did time there, right? It's a really big, really famous prison, well known for its practice of solitary confinement. Charles Dickens wrote about how awful it was."

Paul nodded, but was staring at the floor. "Dickens got it right, even though the solitary system had long since been abandoned when I was there. Cells that were designed to hold one man now held three or four. It was crowded, it was smelly, and it was dark. Men went mad in there. Mad with bloodlust and hate. Illicit drug rings were everywhere, guards would thrash you at the slightest sight of trouble."

"I kept my nose down, did my work, and tried to get parole. I was patient. It wasn't so bad for me."

Joe sensed that Paul was holding back the worst. "How did Adler fare?" he asked quietly.

Paul took a great shuddering breath. "Adler expected Bett to visit. Visits were allowed every three months. He was optimistic for a bit, but she never came. She never wrote, she just left him forever. He was so happy and fun as a kid, but prison broke him slowly. He fell apart."

"While I implored him to keep his head down, he looked for an escape. He became friends with the worst kinds of people, who fear-mongered everyone to get their own way. I hardly spoke to him after a while. Then, one day, he covered himself in machine oil and lit himself on fire. I wasn't his cell mate at this point, but prison authorities had me identify the body. Or what was left of it."

The boys were staring at Paul in horror. He continued, "I was tired of prison, of crime and of hate. I became a model prisoner and they let me out early on parole. Since then, I've never done anything to jeopardize my freedom. I moved to Bayport, changed my name, and never looked back."

He raised his eyes to stare at Joe. "I don't know who's attacking these boys, or why. I haven't remained in contact with anyone. I can't think of anyone who'd have it out for them or me."

Joe nodded sadly. "Thanks Paul. I'm sorry about your brother. You never tried to contact Bett?"

Paul shook his head. "I did, actually. She died about ten years after we went to jail. Her son was adopted by a family up north. He died in the war. I'm the only one left."