In 1778

The streets of New York City or bustling with somewhat life of the wealthy and scumbags alike. The wealthier classes are gathered in the town square listening to young youths as they express their opinions on the revolution of the upcoming War.

What beneath it all stands group that lives, strives and survives for the passion of this very revolution. Seated it in a local bar is a scrappy, yet we'll put together band of misfits. Amongst them is Alexander Hamilton, John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, Marquis Dè Lafayette, and in the back behind them is Aaron Burr, who silently reads a book of nothing in particular. These young men are excitingly chatting. They were no more that in their 19-23 years in age. But they were like any other man, busy with a beautiful discussion about the—LADIES!

John: "I'm telling you fellas, she was the damn prettiest thing I've ever gotten bedded with," the latter casually boasted.

Hercules: "Ain't that what you said last week, you dog!" He chuckled out and smirked.

Lafayette was busy downing down a few shots of good booze, before he rests his head in his hand, elbow on the table, as he speaks up in a rough french accent.

Lafayette: "Escus'è sè moi, but that isn't as half as exciting as when Burr's fell into that damned puddle on Tuesday."

The group bursts out laughing, causing Aaron to cringe and flip them off without looking up from his book.

The bar was rather chiller than usual, Alexander was gazing out the window, probably thinking about getting rich or which book he'd buy to continue his writings.

Their conversation continues on, loud, and damn boastful. The day almost felt too peaceful—