In a clan, real clan, nobody will hurt each other. In a real clan nobody will give each other away. In a real clan everybody will protect each other. Otherwise.... you´ll lose each other.

Sometimes he does that, goes to his own room and locks the door, room that is even smaller than this one here and is only his, everything is inside and nothing is outside.

Many voices. More grumbling. He doesn´t hear. If you have decided not to hear you wont.

Peoples security was only an illusion, people didn´t think about that, chaos and discipline were like two snakes wined together. These switched places when somebody crossed the line, that they weren´t even aware of. Vilonce was the intermediate space.

Older brother, who had always been there. And who now raised a hand to microfon on overalls collar, covered it with his palm, leaned forward, took the headphone from Vincent´s head. "Vincent?" and whispered "Remember that I love you." Then turned to the bank.

17 year old who hadn't even been to army yet, 21 year old who went to army comussion, but was declared unfit, 22 year old, who acted as if he was training marines.

He had taught his sons at least one thing: how to hold together and and out best everyone, even him.