Stringer Bell vs. Franklin Saint: a battle of delusion

Both men are delusional. The question is which one more, and the answer comes down to who was standing next to them.

Stringer Bell thought he was better than the drug game and better than Avon. He carried himself differently, spoke differently, and worked at not looking like what he was. At best he was a number two, and the one time he got to prove otherwise, with Avon locked up, he ran game on Brother Mouzone and the whole thing came apart. Then came the print shop, the meetings in the back, the business card he handed McNulty while talking about high rises coming on board. Clay Davis took him for five figures at a time and bled him dry, and Stringer did not see it until Levy spelled it out for him.

Franklin Saint's version was bigger. He believed he could out-scheme the FBI and the CIA and walk off with thirty million. His mother knew it was never happening. Leon knew. Everybody around him knew, which is why they scattered. He killed Teddy's father and grabbed a KGB officer to flip for leverage, chasing a Hail Mary that was never in the air. His delusion came from somewhere real: a predominantly white campus, friends who made him feel special, and a growing sense that he sat above Leon, above his mother, above Jerome and Louis. Expelled and back on the block, another school was beneath him, so he sold nickels and dimes with his uncle instead.

Stringer is still the answer. Avon, the one Stringer looked down on, read the whole thing first. He told Stringer to his face that the street thing was not him, and he clocked the Clay Davis play while Stringer was still handing over money.