"Let me tell you the story of all the men's," the older man began, leaning back in his chair. His voice was calm, but there was a weight behind it, like he was about to share something important.
"It all started in a poor city called Bastone. It wasn't a nice place to grow up. The streets were cracked, the buildings were old, and people were just trying to get by. That's where our four men's grew up—John, Mark, Robert, and Jack. They were just kids then, but you could tell there was something special about them. Something that set them apart."
He took a sip of his drink before continuing. "Their families didn't have much. John's mom worked long hours as a seamstress, sewing clothes for rich people who didn't even know her name. His dad wasn't around much, always off working odd jobs that barely paid the bills. Mark's parents both had jobs, but they were barely getting by. Mark's dad worked construction, breaking his back every day, while his mom worked long shifts at a diner, always on her feet. Robert's parents were in the same boat. His dad was a truck driver, always on the road, and his mom cleaned houses for a living. And then there was Jack… poor Jack. He lost his parents when he was young, so he lived with a distant relative who didn't really care about him. They all had their struggles, but they stuck together. They had to."
The older man paused, remembering the details. "Every morning, the four of them would meet up at John's house before school. It was always busy there—John's younger siblings running around, his mom trying to keep everything together. She'd call out, 'Don't forget your lunch!' as they headed out the door. John always made sure to smile at her, no matter how tough things were. It was his way of showing her he was okay, even if he wasn't."
He continued, "Mark's house was a little quieter, but you could feel the stress. His dad would be up early, drinking coffee before heading to the construction site. He'd give Mark a few dollars and tell him, 'Make it last.' Mark knew what that meant—there wasn't much to go around, and they couldn't afford to waste anything. His mom would kiss him on the cheek and tell him to stay out of trouble, but she knew he was a smart kid. He just needed a break."
"Robert's place was cramped, and it always felt like they were just getting by. His dad was gone most of the time, driving long hauls across the country, and his mom was always cleaning up after other people. She'd look at Robert with tired eyes and tell him to focus on school, to make something of himself. But Robert? He was always thinking, always planning. He wanted more for his family, and he was determined to get it."
The man sighed, his voice softening. "Jack…he had it the hardest. After losing his parents, he bounced around until he ended up with an uncle who barely acknowledged him. The guy worked nights as a security guard, so Jack was on his own most of the time. He did what he could to get by—mowing lawns, delivering newspapers, anything that would put a little money in his pocket. But you could see it in his eyes—the loneliness, the sadness. His friends were the only family he really had."
He leaned forward, his voice lowering a bit. "But for all the tough times, they had each other. After school, they'd hang out at the park, shooting hoops or just sitting on the swings, talking about their dreams. John would always say, 'I wish we could leave this place. There's gone be something better out there.' And Mark, he'd pull out some book he found, talking about cities where people actually made something of themselves. Robert would just nod, his mind always working, always planning. And Jack? He'd say, 'Let's just make the best of what we've got. We'll figure out the rest later.' They were like brothers, those four."
The older man's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, lost in the memory. "Then one day, something changed. They were finishing up a game of basketball when a man approached them. His name was Tony Caruso, but back then, they just called him Tony. He looked out of place in Bastone—sharp suit, nice shoes, like he didn't belong in that part of town. 'Hey, you boys,' Tony said, like he was just another guy from the neighborhood. 'Mind if I have a word?'"
The man's voice took on a more serious tone. "John was the first to step forward. He was always the one to take charge. 'What do you want?' he asked, suspicious. Tony smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. 'I've got a job for you. Simple delivery. You'll find it worth your time.' The boys were curious—money was money, and they didn't have much of it. Mark asked, 'What's in it for us?' Tony handed them a small package, said it was easy work. 'Just drop this off, and you'll get paid. Don't worry, it's nothing illegal.' But they weren't stupid. They knew Tony wasn't just some friendly neighbor. Still, they needed the cash, so they took the job."
The man shook his head, remembering how things started to spiral. *"That was the beginning. One job turned into another, and before they knew it, they were hooked. The deliveries got more frequent, the packages got bigger, and the money started coming in. They were just kids, but they were making more than their parents ever had. It was exciting, but it was dangerous too. They knew it, but they didn't care. They were finally getting a taste of the life they'd always dreamed of."
He paused, letting the weight of the story settle in. "Then one night, everything came crashing down. They had just finished a delivery when they got home to find cops swarming their neighborhood. Their parents were outside, looking scared and confused. 'What's going on?' John asked, but they already knew. The cops were there because of them. Their parents were being questioned, their homes were being searched. It was a nightmare."
"Jack was the first to speak up. 'We can't stay here,' he said, and the others nodded. They knew their lives in Bastone were over. Seeing the embarrassed face of their parents they couldn't hold, They had to leave before things got worse. Tony was there, watching from a distance. He stepped forward, like he'd been waiting for this moment. 'You boys need a way out?' he asked, and they didn't hesitate. He told them about a place, a city far away called Darkden, where they could start fresh. Leave Bastone behind."
The man leaned back, his eyes distant. "Darkden was nothing like Bastone. It was bigger, louder, and a whole lot meaner. But they fit right in. John, Mark, Robert, and Jack—they weren't just kids anymore. They were something else, something the city needed, but also feared. As they entered the Darkden a new chapter was opened"
He took a deep breath, as if the story had taken a toll on him. "And that, my friend, is how they entered to this field. And that's how the emperors of Darkden began their reign. But that's just the start. The real story? That's something you'll
have to wait for."