Teasley had breakfast ready when I went downstairs. Southern hospitality is delicious—strips of crisply fried bacon that weren’t burnt, basted egg... that had perfectly solid whites and runny yolks, grits with a big pat of butter melting in the middle. Mrs. Teasley suggested that I try them with a little salt and pepper or break my egg yolk and sop it up with the grits. Maybe the best thing was the fresh-baked bread that was still so hot it was hard for her to cut. And the real butter was a. Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = * * * * * * * * * * * * Prologue 01: The Truce is MadeCarlo Benito didn’t want to make the truce, but something had to be done to stop the killing. The five gangs were dropping each other’s members on an almost daily basis and the cops didn’t. More

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