• The wind was cold and bit sharply through Alexander’s jacket. The Dappy Dandy was a finely tailored piece of work, but didn’t do much in the way of keeping him warm. Like most luxury wear, its form was elegant, not functional.

    Should have brought a cape, he thought, and grit his teeth against a shiver.

    The Gambino memorial was currently empty. His polished urn sat unattended on the bare concrete squares. The majority of the Gaian populace had already come and gone, leaving their offerings strewn about the area--flowers, cards, photos, and oddly enough, unused vials of green liquid. Others had placed anti-Gambino picket signs, but these had been taken down by Gambino loyalists as soon as they appeared.

    Alexander shook his head. Loved or hated, Gambino had been a powerful man, indeed. Gaia would feel his loss.

    He strode over to the urn and knelt down beside it, or at least, as close to it as he could get amid the surplus of remembrance items. Clearing a little space for himself, he added his own bouquet of Alruna’s Roses to the pile. Extravagant, maybe even tasteless in how stupidly expensive it was, but it struck Alexander as the just the sort of thing a man like Gambino would have approved of.

    Alexander could see his reflection in the high gloss of the urn. Behind the gaudy gold and red masks, his eyes were worried.

    He shivered again, but not entirely from the wind.

    Everyone had heard the rumors that Zhivago was back, that he had been the one to finally end the life of Gaia’s richest man. Such words were only spoken in hushed whispers, behind the security of locked doors. Alexander didn’t know what to believe, but he wouldn’t put it past the vampires to do something like that. It made him worry even more for the safety of his own master, Don Kuro.

    If a man as powerful as Gambino could be taken down so easily, who might be the next to fall?

    In such uncertain times, no one was safe, anymore.

    Rising to his feet, Alexander dusted off his knees and straightened his attire.

    Speaking softly to the urn, he said, “Though we never formally met, you were an icon to which I aspired to be. If one day I wield even a fraction of the power and wealth you commanded, I shall be a lucky man, indeed. I only hope your son,” and here Alexander sneered the word, “finds the strength within himself to continue your proud legacy, else the name of Gambino shall surely languish into obscurity.” Softening his tone, he added, “May you rest in peace amid your piles of Gold in whatever afterlife awaits a legend such as you. You shall be sorely missed.”

    He bowed to the urn and held that position for several long seconds. Then he straightened, turned on his heel, and left the memorial without a backwards glance.