Amsterdam Vallon

When you kill a king, you don't stab him in the dark. You kill him where the entire court can watch him die.

It's a funny feeling being taken under the wing of a dragon. It's warmer than you'd think.

In the end, they put candles on the bodies so's their friends, if they had any, could know them in the dark. The city did this free of charge. Shang, Jimmy Spoils, Hell-cat, McGloin, and more. Friend or foe, didn't make no difference now. It was four days and nights before the worst of the mob was finally put down. We never knew how many New Yorkers died that week before the city was finally delivered. My father told me we was all born of blood and tribulation, and so then too was our great city. But for those of us what lived and died in them furious days, it was like everything we knew was mightily swept away. And no matter what they did to build this city up again... for the rest of time... it would be like no one ever knew we was even here.

There's more of us coming off these ships each day. I heard 15,000 Irish a week. And we're afraid of the Natives? Get all of us together, we ain't got a gang, we got an army. And all you needs is a spark. Right? Just one spark. Something to wake us all up.

…And no matter what they did to build this city up again, for the rest of time, it will be like no-one even knew we was ever here.

Lord, place the steel of the Holy Spirit in my spine and the love of the Virgin Mary in my heart.

The past is a torch that lights our way. Where our fathers have shown us the path, we shall follow. Our faith is the weapon most feared by our enemies. For thereby shall we lift our people up against those who would destroy us.

Our name is called "The Dead Rabbits" to remind all of our suffering, and as a call to those who suffer still to join our ranks. However far they may have strayed from our common home across the sea. For with great numbers must come great strength in the salvation of our people.

That was the Five Points alright: hangings of a morning, dancings of an evening.

It wasn 't a city really. It was more a furnace where a city someday might be forged.

Ah, the Five Points! Murderer's Alley. Brickbat Mansion. The Gates of Hell.

Every year the Reformers came. Every year the Points got worse. As if it liked being dirty.

Some of it I have remembered. And the rest I took from dreams.

For every lay we had a different name. An Angler put a hook on the end of a stick to drop behind store windows and doors. An Autumn Diver picked your pocket in church. A Badger, gets a fellow in bed with a girl and then robs his pockets while they're on the go.

Every year the Natives celebrated the killing of my father all over again. At Sparrow's Chinese Pagoda in Mott street. The chinks hated the Natives worse than we did. The drum rolls and the Butcher drinks a glass of fire.