Amsterdam pressed his paw against the tavern's cracked doorframe and squinted at the empty room inside. The Dead Rabbits would rise here, in the heart of Five Points Crossroads. He'd defend this place with his life and build something that mattered. His ears swiveled at footsteps behind him. The work started now. He stepped through the threshold and dust puffed up from the floorboards. The place reeked of stale beer and rot. Broken chairs lay scattered across the floor like fallen soldiers. A brass nail jutted from the bar's edge, bent and tarnished. Above the bar, faded letters spelled out "Hellcat Maggie's" in peeling paint. Amsterdam ran his claws along the scarred wood. This run-down Irish whiskey pub would become their fortress. From here, the Dead Rabbits would control Five Points. He'd need fighters. He'd need loyalty. He'd need to turn this wreck into something worth defending. Amsterdam pulled his red bandana tighter and grabbed a broken chair. Time to clear the place out and make it theirs. Outside, the crossroads stretched in four directions. Anyone could walk in from any street. Amsterdam dragged wood planks and scrap metal to the nearest corner. He hammered and tied until a crude blockade took shape. Vegetable-shaped sticks of dynamite hung from hooks on the side. A hand-crank carrot Gatling gun sat mounted on top. The blockade looked mean and ready. It would stop whoever needed stopping. He wiped sweat from his brow and studied his work. The tavern stood behind him, waiting to be filled with his crew. The blockade guarded the approach. This was just the start, but Five Points would know the Dead Rabbits had arrived. Amsterdam cracked his knuckles and headed back inside. Tomorrow he'd find his fighters. He climbed to the tavern's second floor and found what he needed. A wooden spike leaned against the wall. A rabbit skull sat in a crate, hollowed out and shaped like a megaphone. Amsterdam lashed them together with rope. He carried the banner outside and drove the spike into the ground near the blockade. The skull faced the crossroads, ready to boom his voice across Five Points. When challengers came, he'd use it to answer them. When his crew gathered, he'd use it to lead them. Amsterdam stood back and looked at everything he'd built today. Hellcat Maggie's Brass Nail Irish Whiskey Pub stood behind him, cleaned and ready. The blockade guarded the entrance. The banner marked their territory. Five Points Crossroads belonged to the Dead Rabbits now. His dream had a home, and he'd defend it with everything he had.