So, sitting in a bar that resembled a dumpster, Paul told the story to the strange woman that was holding his interest. The story he and the love of his existence, Stephanie, created. The story has a beginning, middle, and an end, just like all stories do. Unfortunately, the ending came too soon for Paul.

Paul told the stranger he and Stephanie's story, and it went a little something like this…

'He who makes a beast out of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man' –Avenged Sevenfold.

Part 1 –The Beginning-

Paul Levesque stood under Delaine Bridge, a cigarette in his mouth and thievery on his mind. He was about 17 years old, the time where any normal boy his age would be into cars, sports, girls, video games, drinking, or sex. Hell, maybe all six. But, no. Paul was that one teenage boy who instead was reading constantly under a bridge, where he could hear all of the cars going by above him. He even got to the point to where he could actually tell what kind of engine and transmission the car had, even if it was only by sound. He had a love for machines, but his passion was probably bikes and no, we are not talking about those little boy bicycles with the little bell on them that you had to rotate your feet in order to get the son of a bitch to move any. No, no we are talking about Choppers and Harley Davidson motorcycles. Paul always had a fetish for motorcycles. He just loved them. If he hadn't gotten kicked out by his pops 6 months ago, he'd probably be working his way to motorcycle construction, but with the way things were now, he probably would be lucky to get a job at McDonald's.

October was the month as Paul sat under this bridge, his ass on a blanket and a book in his hands. He was reading all of the works of William Shakespeare, because he already finished Walt Whitman, Edgar Allan Poe, and Mark Twain. Paul loved to read as well. He would read anything that appealed to him. He didn't have a problem with picking up a Nicholas Sparks novel and watching two people fall madly in love with one another, even though he felt that it was pure fiction and utter bullshit. He didn't really believe in love, or rather he didn't believe in how it was represented. People advertise love as if it is something that is unbroken and untainted. Paul pretty much shakes his head at the thought, telling himself 'If that is so true, then there wouldn't be wives killing husbands, husbands beating wives, parents beating children, children killing parents and sisters and other family members, and there wouldn't be backstabbing friends or cheating lovers.'

Love is a lot like the wind, in its way that it changes its course all of the time.

Paul believed whom you love today, you may hate tomorrow. So, that's why it was better to not love anything for him.

Paul was actually reading Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare, which the whole concept of this eternal love nonsense was making his head ache. He put the book down and took out his cigarette; blowing smoke out of his mouth and making his heart rate go down. Smoking calmed him when his thoughts wouldn't, which was a lot of the time that it was actually needed.

He needed to make a bust tonight. He needed some money for food and to buy a new book because he was meeting his end in this one. He didn't steal things just to do it. He stole because he needed to survive in this damned place. He lived in a city where crime was the top ranking of 'Why People Avoid this Place'. There were homeless people lined up along the alleyways, high off of narcotics and drugs they spent their life devoting to. Other homeless people were crazy from the madness of how they had even got to this low of a position in life. Paul has even seen some kids homeless, dirty, and shaking from the severity of the weather outside. It broke Paul on the inside, made his heart harder and harder to break through. Paul had always had a soft spot for kids. He thought that kids were even smarter than adults. They didn't kill each other over the color of skin or a piece of paper with a number written on it that apparently meant it had 'value'. Paul always thought kids had an amazing innocence about them, and that adults were the real idiots. Paul acted like a kid himself at times, but any person will at times. There wasn't anything wrong with going back to the days where fairies were real and cars could fly, as far as Paul was concerned. He went back to thinking of those kids, quaking at the thought of it.

"Just leave it alone," he muttered to himself. Putting out the cigarette, stomping on it, and breathing the last breath of nicotine, he went back to his original thoughts.

He needed to steal something. There were multiple options bending to his will. He could steal a car and sell it to Pipe, a Hispanic car mechanic who hotwired cars for various gangs in the city. He could do it simply, pick pocketing a necklace or wallet and get a few bucks out of that. Honestly, he really didn't need the cop notoriety of grand theft auto, so he settled for the second option.

He still needed to go to Pipe though, for showering and grooming needs. His hair was greased from a few weeks of the lack bathing that came with this lifestyle. His eyes were dry and he had a bit of acne on his left cheek. His lips were chapped and he had a crazy beard. All of that would need to be fixed if he were going to do what he had planned in his mind. That was, to go to the most elegant restaurant in the city, Juliardette, and steal a fine piece of extravagance from that vicinity. The people there always loved to brag about what they had, although that's just human nature and Paul was quite glad the rich people did such. He wouldn't have gotten the books in hardback edition if it weren't for the women's bracelets that they left dangled on the table. He wouldn't have gotten some of his very warm clothes if it weren't for that Rollex watch the 29 year old billionaire had left in the men's bathroom.

Who would be the victim now?

Smirking at the brilliance, Paul got off of his ass and lit up another cigarette. Pipe and he were close friends, but not as close as Pipe's cousin, Shawn and he were. Shawn was the mouth of any operation a criminal was to pull. He had the charisma and talent of a con artist, which was what Paul needed.

Afternoon turns to nocturnal delight as Paul reached Pipe's place. Along the way, he saw Juliardette, the restaurant he would have to get into in a few days. He had been here before, but the layout of the restaurant grew blurry in his brain as he tried to remember it, and he sighed. Pulling out a bobby pin that he always kept in his pocket, he went to unlock the front door before he stopped. Wouldn't a fancy restaurant have a security system? Yes, of course they would.

They would at the front door…

But would they at the back?

Looking to the left then to right, Paul goes down the alleyway that is besides the building, then goes to another alleyway to the right, coming right up behind the building. Right there was a dark red door that melted in with the brick, along with copper locks and handle. They obviously didn't want people to see it, he thought to himself.

Looking around once more, he went up the tiny staircase and grabbed the lock, getting the bobby pin into it. Feeling around gently so he doesn't break the pin, he finally hears a click and the lock pops off the door, allowing him entry. But, if you are a really good criminal, you know that this may be a trap. Paul opens the door slowly and precautious, looking around the space of darkness as he closed the door behind him. Now that he was inside, Paul did the next best thing. He stood still, listening for any footsteps. It's common knowledge to him that the floors of a fine restaurant were waxed and cleaned at least 3 times per day, making any sound on them easy to the ears. Not to mention he remembered that most of the servers were waitresses with high heels on and chefs had dress shoes with iron bottoms. The owners wanted to know where their staff was at all times. Good thing too, or Paul wouldn't have the ability to be as sneaky.

A few moments went by and Paul started silently walking in the kitchen, sensing his way throughout it by making sure not to bump into counters and such. The air was clean and crisp, along with a bit of stinging as his nostrils inhaled the strong aroma of Clorox and Tilex being put to fantastic use. He wasn't sure where the light switches were, but he could see slightly well due to the moonlight dazing in the window right beside him. Finally able to get to a door at least, he went into what he knew was the dining room. The walls were decorated with pictures that were supposed to give the viewer an image of glamour and luxury. There was a painting of a few showgirls in a line with fake smiles on their faces, each dressed in black and scarlet. The ladies in black clothes had red hearts on them and a giant tophat with a huge heart on it. The other ladies in scarlet had spades sprawled across the scarlet with a red top hat with a giant spade on it. Apparently it was a depiction of a complete Poker Night in Las Vegas. The painting was dated in 1954. Other paintings consisted of Frank Sinatra and Marilyn Monroe. He got a better glance at the two when he finally found the light switch that was next to the aquarium, which consisted of crabs, lobster, shrimp, salmon, and a few other exotic fish unknown to Paul. It was a beautiful place, just like Paul knew it was. Now, to scan the layout.

The restaurant was a three level place, in which there were four sitting areas on the bottom square, then two steps led someone up to the second level which had a few pairs of leather chairs with an ashtray that fit both Virginia Slims and Cuba's finest cigars. He could imagine old men dressed in fine suits, talking about the stock market, laughing. He growled at the thought. He never understood the common rich man. He lived in a world with children dying, people starving, and all he could do was not care and LAUGH? Laugh, you say? Paul had a right mind to steal everything out of this damned place and sell it to Pipe, who would give it to pawn stores.

But what would that accomplish?

Studying the layout, Paul retraced his steps slowly as not to hit anything or get any mud on the floors. He went out of the camouflaged door and locked it back, sticking the bobby pin in his pocket. Now, to Pipes.

The moon was sexy and the stars seductive, all tempting him into being calm for once. Paul was calm.

You had to be calm to make it here.