St. Louis. 1924. - Before Atlas May's death.

Atlas walked through the dark, poorly lit streets of a poor area of St. Louis. The rain fell lightly on the umbrella in his gloved hands, protecting him from the rain, his tail swaying slowly behind him. His attentive and calm eyes looked from side to side on the streets, searching for something specific.

He was looking for a stray cat, one that would actually be worth working with and bringing along with him to his speakeasy. He promised when he found the stray he was looking for, he would provide everything they will need, food, water, a room, bath, everything for the need to the stray's comfort.