In the dancing dark of a candlelit room he scribbles furiously into the massive leather bound tome. His ultimate design was nearly complete. It had taken him more than a century of unwavering willpower and meticulous planning, but with just a few more songs everything would come together.

He paused for a moment. It saddened him that he’d never been able to make Crowley and the rest of that lot understand the mythical nature of what he was doing. They were only interested in the flashy stuff and had no time for the slow and deliberate nature of the grandest magics.

With a snort of disdain, he returned to his scribbling. It was the songs that made his plan possible. They were the perfect confluence of aether resonance and power invocation. Songs were perfect three and a half minute spells.

He’d spent the entirety of the twentieth century seeding an ancient word into the minds of songwriters across the globe. The word is a name, a name of a place. Each time that word is used in a song, magical ley lines shift toward that place.

And soon enough, Memphis would be the crossroads of all magic in the world.

Memphis Note
Memphis is the most named checked city in music. Seriously. Now imagine if some one was doing that on purpose.

When Tidy Boy saw the car creep around the corner, and knew trouble rode with it.

It wasn’t unexpected. Since he’d taken a step back, given away his corners, ditched his cells, he’d been waiting for it. He might be done with the game, but the game might not be done with him.

The long sedan slid into place in front of his house. His old crew got out. There was silence on the street as they looked at him, and he looked back at them.

“Ain’t seen you round, Tidy Boy.” Came the first words, barked by his old boss.

“Ain’t been round much to be seen, cuz” Tidy Boy responded, trying to play it cool.

Silence again. Tidy Boy spoke next.

“I got kids. I got a girl.” His mouth dried out as he talked. “One thing I ain’t got no more is the game. It just ain’t in me. I’m out.”

His boss took a step forward, Tidy Boy took a step back. “You know there ain’t no out.” He said. “Not for people like us. There’s jus’ breaks.”

Then he tossed a bundle down on the lawn. Tidy Boy’s re-up.

“Hope you enjoyed your break.”

Memphis Note
One of the sadder facts about Memphis is the high rate of crime in the city. We’ve managed to claw it down over the last decade, but it is still an ever present spectre over our great city.