November 13th, 1989

Vienna, Austria

19:31

A small patrol of three black cars drove down the streets of Vienna, a light rain coming down. At the front of the convoy was a 1970s Cadillac, painted a reflective, polished, clean black. At the head of the car were two small flags sticking out, one the red and white of the Austrian flag and the other the red white and blue of the American flag. At the back were 2 large windows, both covered by white curtains. A black Rolls Royce followed it slowly behind. Behind the Rolls Royce was Dimitri Vincent Jones' 1966 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, painted black. Inside of it was Jones and another middle aged man.

The other man had almost long, brown hair, pushed up and to the sides. From the front, his hair looked almost completely grey, but the rest was a dark brown. His bushy eyebrows and stubble was also starting to turn grey. His eyes were even grey, but that wasn't a recent feature of his aging face. They both had cigars in their mouths, and smoke was gathering at the top.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jones and his middle aged friend looked down at the black stained casket. It was impressively polished, although that may have been due to the falling rain. Jones was dressed in a black suit, his friend in a navy blue one. A short, young woman stood at the head of the 6 foot hole, citing a quote from the Old Testament,

"A... reading from the book of wisdom... 'The souls of the just are in the hand of God and no torment shall touch them. They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead; and their passing away was thought an affliction and their going forth from us, utter destruction. But they are in peace," she read, with her head down and crying softly. Once she had finished, everyone around clapped lightly and the priest took her place,

"Thank you, Mrs. Redding," He finished the ceremony and when he was just about to give the nod to fill up the hole, Jones stood up,

"Excuse me father, would you mind if Alistair," he pointed to the middle aged man next to him, "and I say a few closing things before you fill it up?"

"Of course, would you like to say it privately or to the group?"

"I'd prefer to say it in private."

"Very well then, let us go in peace to live out the Word of God." After a quiet murmur in the crowd, they all left to go back into the church. Jones, Alistair and the casket were all that were left.

"Well this is just depressing," Alistair said flatly in a thick, Scottish accent.

"Jeez, what tipped that off?"

"No, I don't mean the funeral itself, it's just..."

"So the funeral's not depressing?" Jones interrupted.

"I just mean, the whole old gang's dropping like flies."

"You're not wrong about that..."

"I mean what, we were at... 8? Now what?"

"Well, Walter and Marco are still up in Minnesota. The way those two act now I'm glad I got out of there when I did."

"Amen to that, Vinny."

"There's also this toothless cunt they started hanging out with but I won't count him. Uh... Kathleen's living in Pittsburgh I think."

"Come on, does she really count?" Jones paused for a second,

"Why wouldn't she?"

"You still count her as one of us after what she-"

"I'm well over it Ali, Jesus Christ it was 10 fucking years ago." He interrupted

"Okay, alright, who else?"

"David and I are in Miami and uh... that's it."

"Just 6?"

"Just 6."

"Fucking hell." They both stood there for a minute or two, not making eye contact, instead opting to just stare at the casket. Alistair looked at his watch.

"You know I doubt some people in the group would count you. Considering you took off so early and all."

"Fair..." In the distance, Heroes by David Bowie started playing. They both looked over,

"Woah, who's playing Bowie?" Jones asked. They looked over to see their dead friend's wife in the car, playing old songs.

"Oh, its Janet."

"Should we do anything?" Jones asked.

"Nah, she seems fine." Alistair responded. Jones sat there for a bit and nodded. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Isn't that a sin?" Alistair chuckled. Jones finished his cigarette and flicked the butt out onto the ground.

"Now, Jones I've been meaning to ask you..."

"Yeah?"

"You still into doing jobs?"

"Depends."