After making plans to kill the next person on the list of Heiman's associates at a gala in Manhattan, Luca and the gang decide to make a stop at Central Park.





"Remind me again why we're here, Luca."

Annoyed, Mero trudges along aside Luca as he and the rest of the group walk through Central Park. Staring into what appears to be space, Luca falls back into reality for a moment. Just in time...

"Uh, what?"

"Dammit, Luca! You've been off in space since we've been here! What are we after?!"

"I gotta see something. It's important."

"I swear to god, if it's those two dead people..."

Luca stops, turns, and grabs Mero by his un-tucked buttoned up shirt.

"They're why we're going after Heiman in the first place, so why is it such a big deal that I want some damn closure on their deaths?!"

Mero pushes Luca's hand off his shirt and lazily straightens it. He then places his hand up to Luca's ear and whispers into it.

"Look, real closure will come when you see the douchebag who ordered it laying dead at your feet."

Mero pulls away, and Luca goes back to leading the group on their way through the park. After a few more seconds, the leader of the group stops at a bench. Dropping to his knees, Luca reaches under the bench and pulls out an envelope. Written on the front is simply...

Luca

"What is that all about?"

"Victoria and I would sometimes leave things under this bench for each other. Mostly when it wasn't safe for us to see each other in person. We'd tape the letter to the bottom of the bench, where no one would think to look."

Renee nudges Luca, who had just went back to his daydreaming state on his shoulder to send him back to the real world.

"Wha- oh yeah! The letter!"

Carefully opening the flap on the envelope, Luca pulls out a piece of lined notebook paper. His eyes dart to the top of the page, and he begins reading.

By the time you read this, I'll probably be "dead." Kyle's coming to Central Park to fake Nari's and my deaths. You were right, Heiman was likely going to go after us to get to you. He took Kyle under his wing after you left though, so he's not going to go after him. That's why he's helping us with this. Come find me in the safe house on 7th Avenue.

-Victoria

"Guys. Change of plans..."






"No, I've got to do this alone."

Luca steps out of the passenger's seat of Mero's car, a 2012 Mitsubishi Lancer. He shuts the door behind him, the sound echoing as he walks up to the house. Waving his left hand back at the car, he signals for Mero and the rest to get the fuck out of there. After seconds of standing there, awkwardly shaking his fist at the douchebag driving the fucking car, Mero finally drives off. Luca takes a deep breath and steps up to the door. Three knocks in a distinct pattern, and Victoria should know it's him. The door swings open, but there's no one there...

Stepping into the darkness against his better judgment, Luca hears a voice coming from the living room.

Weird. It's a man's voice, no doubt about it. It's way too deep to be Nari's, maybe it's his boyfriend or something. Probably should get closer to where it's coming from to hear what he's actually saying...

Sliding from the hallway into the dining room, Luca presses himself up against the wall adjacent to the source of the voice.

"Where the fuck is Luca? I'm going to kill you if he doesn't walk into this room in the next 10 minutes!"

Stepping through the open door that leads into the living room, gun drawn, Luca gets the drop on the assailant.

"Be careful what you wish for!"

"Finally. We got him!"

Three other men step into the room from the opposite end of the house.

Oh fuck, oh god! This isn't good.



"A chance to rename the title I'm going to easily win? This should be fun!

I mean let's face it, the only possible challenge I have is Donatello BillAlphonso Francis Avec du Sodomy. Even him causing issue is wishful thinking at best.

Let's look at this prestigious list of fucking names, shall we?

Ann Thraxx, Sophia Sanchez, Alex Richards, Bryce's Mom, and Donnie Damage.

This isn't a fucking joke. This is way past that.

This is fucking embarrassing.

All of these cunts are worthless, insignificant, lowly pieces of refuse that are even stupider than those who joined De Sade's band of gypsies. At least they had someone mildly successful to fall back on.

What do you have, Sanchez?

Who's pulling for you, Richards?

Where's your ace in the hole, Thraxx?

I could win this in my sleep, with both arms nailed to a block of fucking wood.

However, I assume people would like me to tell them just why all of these losers are just that. I guess I'll do it.

Ann Thraxx - Clever name, too bad that's all you got. It takes having a roided out muscle mountain in your corner to get a win against NAZI. Am I supposed to be impressed by your completely lackluster performance? Why? Because you're a woman? Fuck you, and fuck all you represent.

That isn't madness and evil, Ann. You represent the ideology that women should be treated with kid gloves and given praise for insignificant accomplishments, yet should also be equals. You can't be both. But I digress...

Sophia Sanchez - Hahahahahahahaha, is that it? Are you pulling a Sheckler and coming off as something completely innocent to throw everyone off? If not, then you should stay out of this. There's too much at stake for you. Like your life.

Alex Richards - I fell asleep listening to you speak, so I can honestly not recall anything you said about your big Shove It debut. However, I'll bet it was just the same generic 'I'm going to win this because everyone is a but me' spiel that so many others have done. What was your name again, Dick Tracy? No, can't be. Dick Tracy was somewhat memorable. I seriously cannot remember your name. Oh well, not like you're giving anyone a reason to remember it anyway.

Bryce's Mother: I have no idea what I'm even supposed say about this monstrosity. Fuck it. Go back to whatever playground your infantile son is playing at, and get him tested for AIDS, you cunt.

Donnie Damage - Oh look at me, I'm so cool! My name has damage in it! That'll make people take me seriously! Go back to the 90's, when shit like that would fly. It doesn't here, and neither will you're idiotic ramblings. Like I said, this current crop is embarrassing. If I wasn't trying to add legitimacy to this with my mere presence, this would be probably be the comedy hour.

I guess it's time to reveal my name for the title once I inevitably win it.

It's a monument to who really runs this show, whether or not you like to admit it.

After Saturday, it'll be known as...

The Black Circle Championship

So, see you fucking on Saturday."