The gang, acting under Luca's direction, went to a small club in downtown New York City. After shooting their way through the security and patrons on the premises, they came face to face with the club's owner, Gary Lewis. Renee was the one to kill him, much to everyone's surprise. After sending a picture to Jeffery Heiman, the gang left and decided to celebrate...





The darkness of the house's living room is dashed out with the flip of a switch, flooding the room with blinding light. Luca pulls himself up from the couch he was sleeping on to see Renee standing in the doorway next to the lightswitch, covering her face in her hands. He staggers over to her, looking away from the lightbulb in the middle of the roof. Still half asleep, he walks into the wall next to her, cracking his head against the drywall. Shaken awake by this however, he turns over to the woman who's still hiding her face in her palms.

Renee puts her hands down at her side, squinting at the light emitting from the bulb. Her left hand shoots out, meeting the wall. She slides her hand down the cold, wallpaper less wall until it meets the plastic edge of the lightswitch covering. Without hesitation, she pushes the switch back down, plunging the room into darkness once more.

"What the fuck was that all about?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were here, I want to talk to you about something."

On her breath is the distinct smell of alcohol, she didn't stop drinking after they got home. An audible foot step, followed by a gasp escapes from the still intoxicated woman as she falls forward right into Luca. Not expecting the sudden force from the falling woman, he stumbles backward and manages to trip over his stumbling feet. Falling down to the wooden floor, the air is knocked out of him when Renee's knee drops down on his stomach.

"Holy shit! Are you alright?"

"Just fine! Y'know, having someone's knee driving into your fucking kidneys is a great experience!"

"Kidneys? I always figured you for someone who'd sell a kidney for drug money!"

"Real funny... Now can you please get your knee off of me?"

Using his shoulders to push off, Renee climbs up to her feet and sticks her hand out to help Luca up. Luca wipes his shoulders as he rises to his feet. Coughing a few times, he looks right where he assumes Renee's eyes would be.

"Hey, I was meaning to ask you something when we got here. However, getting some fucking sleep took priority. What's up with that other tattoo?"

"What other tattoo?"

"Не забувайте вашого будинку. Tattooed on your ribcage."

An audible gasp escapes the woman's mouth.

"You speak Ukrainian?"

"Yeah, my mom was Ukrainian. In fact, she had that very same tattoo."

Through the darkness, their hands meet and their fingers curl around one another.

"So did my mother before me."

With that, the two separate their hands. Renee turns back into the hallway, heading back to her room. Confused and pondering whether or not what had just transpired was just a dream, Luca opts to return to the couch and go back to sleep...






Gathered, albeit hungover, the gang sits at the large round table in the middle of the kitchen. Luca walks to the center of said gathering place, making an awkward bit of eye contact with the woman he shared a rather interesting conversation with just 12 hours prior. Not a word was spoken between them since, but he isn't about to let a bit of awkwardness between his co-conspirators and himself get in the way of a foolproof plan.

At least he hoped it would be foolproof...

"Now is time for us to plan for our next target-"

Luca's suddenly cut off the whining, nasally voice of an incredibly hungover Lenny.

"Do we have to right now? Can't it wait like a few more hours? Or days?"

"No! We have to strike them while they're in disarray. If they start to catch what's going on, they'll be able to defend against it!"

"Won't that just mean more for us to kill? Isn't that what you want?"

"I don't want to kill anyone who doesn't have it coming to them."

"What about all those club-"

Shouting, Renee makes everyone in the room jump.

"They had it coming!"

"You okay? Is it that time of the month?"

For his wise ass remark, Lenny is greeted a slap to the face that makes him do a damn near 360 and fall out of his chair.

"I get it. No menstrual cycle jokes. Period."

This time Jared is the one to hit him. A hard slap to the back of his head, bouncing Lenny's face off the floor as he was trying to get up from the ground.

"OW! What's up with you guys always picking on me?"

"Easy. You're a fucking . Moving on, our next target is Donovan Ellis-"

"The head of that environmentalist group who protests at slaughterhouses and whatnot?"

"Precisely. Where do you think he gets the money to organize those rallies?"

"Touche."

"He's headed to a gala in Manhattan, it's our best chance to take him down."

"Those things have an exclusive list of guests. How are we going to get in without being noticed?"

"I've already thought of that..."



"Tyler Decker. A cretin in disguise as a halfwit with a decent message to share to us all. He wants us to all know he and his group have found enlightenment, whatever metaphysical meaning it has. All I know are what's right there, black and white, plain and simple. I don't care to know much else when it comes to this business, because it's unnecessary.

As far as I'm concerned, true enlightenment comes from your own fucking thoughts. You cling to the preaching of a backward ass, delusional shithead by the name of Donathan Alphonse Francois De Sodomy, or something to that effect. Fitting, since he likely rails you and Satellite every night to keep his sorry ass safe from anyone who poses a threat to him. A list so large that even an ant can take him in a one on one fight.

Fitting comparison actually, that of an ant to Donathan.

Why?

Because that's precisely what you are to him. A blind, unquestioning worker to Donathan's queen. You only do what he says because that's all you know how to do, and that's really a fucking sad sight to see. A grown man bowing down before another, his own fucking equal as if he were God.

What does it take for someone to become that deluded as to follow every single breath this man takes?

Do you have daddy issues?

Or maybe you're just a weak willed individual who thinks standing beside a wimp and his colleague will make you look tough by comparison.

You, and your little band of nomadic shamans will fail like all other obstacles placed before the Black Circle.

Because we have one thing your army of inadequacy does not.

Intelligence.

A half functioning brain.

Free will.

People who aren't utter losers.

Well, shit. The list goes on and on.

So keep talking about enlightenment, Tyler. I'm sure knowing how one asshole with a god complex assumes the universe works will help you get anything in life except a bridge in Brooklyn.

This is the best Donathan's got?

This won't take very long..."