Death is sweet. It is the end and the begging of one's journey. It is the blissful void, the conduit for which we travel through in our purist, most spiritual form. But it's not as final as you may think. Some say a ghost walks the world, a man that was assumed dead, and they say he will never leave until his business is done. He has a mark on the mob that killed his family. Finally, this blood war will end by his hand. Remember this: never wrong a person, for they will always remember even in the kind euphoria that is death.