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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 1, 2010 11:51:28 GMT -5
Sunday the 15th 2:08 pmAlthough Massimo Giarrettiera was the oldest of the three brothers, he was also the shortest of them; he had inherited his mother’s low-set, stout build, while muscular Cesare and slim Nico both echoed, in their own ways, the tall and serious frame of the late Don Lucio. This was a point of some embarrassment to Massimo. Furthermore he had never been said to share either the courage of his younger brother or the cunning of his youngest. As a child it had always been Massimo of whom the most was expected and yet to whom the least praise was given. He had resented this habitually until the day that his father had perished and thirty-three-year-old Massimo had inherited the family business. Since then he had come to understand that his brothers’ talents had been more celebrated only because they could not share what had always been his, alone, brighter and colder destiny. Nor did Massimo feel he was completely without his own unique qualities. He certainly flattered himself to possess a fair bit more charisma than either of his brothers. Cesare was given to speaking too much too soon, and Nico too little too late. And without doubt Cesare was too impatient for the organizational thinking required, and Nico too gentle for the forcible aspect. No, it was Massimo, the oldest of them but also in some ways the middle man poised between extremes, who was best gifted to act as Don of the Giarrettiera family. He found it very helpful to reflect on thoughts like these whenever the middle Giarrettiera brother was speaking. “I’m just saying, I can tell you right now what Peverelli’s gonna ask for. He’s gonna ask for blood. He’s gonna ask you very politely for some heads on a plate. And he’s—” “I know.” “He’s right, Massimo! You’re tryin’ to tell me this was a freak co incidence? Those guys were put up to this, you’re tryin’ to tell me they weren’t?” “Cesare, I know that—” “It was those Orsini bastards, I’m guaranteeing you. I am guaran teeing you. Think they can fuck around on our turf like that? Huh?” Cesare Giarrettiera clenched his considerable knuckles. “Listen. Give me Vinnie and his buddies and I’ll go out and prove to you those rat bastards are behind this. And then I’ll bring you some heads on a plate. And you can give them to Peverelli. Great story, huh? Everyone’s happy.” Massimo sighed. “Cesare, I know your feelings on this. All right? You’ve made your point clear.” “Good.” “I personally do not feel this incident was proof of—” “What, so you’re just gonna let them walk after—?” “Peverelli’s here,” came a bored voice from the doorway. At the far end of the dimly-lit office stood Nico Giarrettiera, lean, bespectacled, and looking fully unimpressed at the volume with which Cesare had roared his latest question. “Right.” Massimo leaned forward in the leather chair and rested his elbows on the table. “Send him in.” The youngest Giarrettiera brother vanished silently and returned with a harried-looking older man whose bristly moustache was as disheveled as his receding hair. It was Sergio Peverelli, despite looking worse than Massimo had ever seen him. From his back pocket protruded the apron which Massimo was sure he had just taken off. “Sergio.” The Don arose slightly from his seat in a gesture of respect. “Old friend. I offer you my sincerest condolences.” Peverelli bowed to the best of his ability and spoke in his parched tone, “Thank you, Massimo.” “Serge, I was tellin’ Massimo that you’d be looking for some compen sation for what happened. Am I right? Listen. I know exactly who—” Massimo let his palms drop percussively to the table. “Cesare has been hard at work speculating about the possibility of another family’s involvement in this affair. I have my own opinion on the matter of the men who attacked your restaurant, but I’d like to hear yours first.” “Who?” Peverelli blinked, then waved his hand. “Oh – those guys. No – Massimo, I’d be really surprised if there were something to them. They didn’t seem like hired men. They were nutcases. Anyone who put them up to it would’ve had to be even crazier.” Although Cesare was at least respectful enough to speak normally to a friend of his father’s, Massimo could tell he was bellowing on the inside. “You’re just gonna leave it at that, huh?” “Sergio’s thoughts here are the same as my own,” said Massimo. “But Cesare has one point; Sergio, it seems like you’re taking a… more nonchalant view of the attackers than I expected.” “Well… The thing is, they’re not really why I wanted to see you, Massimo.” Massimo raised his eyebrows, Cesare rubbed his prominent chin, and Nico, still standing by the door, made no visible reaction. Peverelli reached into his other pocket. “You see,” he said, “the people who fought them off didn’t stick around. I guess they wanted to avoid the cops. But the man dropped these off at his table before they beat it.” He laid out three twenty-dollar bills on the table. Massimo bent forward to get a closer look, as did Cesare, who soon declared with a squint, “I don’t see it.” “I see it,” said Massimo. In the upper left and bottom right corners of each of the three side-by-side bills was printed the same serial number: IF 56415810 A. Massimo studied the three bills very, very carefully. “All I could think to do was bring them to you,” said Peverelli. “You thought right,” said Massimo. He looked up at Peverelli’s face, which appeared even more lined in the unflattering light. “Was it the man who made the reservation?” “Yeah.” “And his name was?” Peverelli pulled another item from his pocket, a scrap of lined paper with the name written on it. “Terrian Brogue,” he read aloud, and passed it to Massimo. “You think this Terrian Brogue guy’s got a little operation goin’?” Cesare, who had obviously put two and two together in the time since his last comment, asked. “Seems obvious enough to me,” said Massimo. Cesare beamed. “Then let’s hit him up! I’ll take Vinnie and the boys and go find him. You give me two hours and I’ll put the Giarrettiera family in the counterfeitin’ business.” Massimo looked past Peverelli’s stooped form to Nico. “What do you think?” Nico brushed his curly hair away from his glasses. “Cesare’s plan is simple, hasty, and ultimately, dangerous,” he said at length. “He fails to see the big picture. Terrian Brogue may be a counterfeiter. But there are safer, less direct ways to profit from that knowledge.” Massimo frowned. “I know what you’re talking about, Nico, and I don’t agree with it. You’re suggesting we complicate this matter further than we have to. No, I’m with Cesare on this one.” Nico merely cocked his head to one side and looked at the wall beyond Massimo, which the oldest brother knew was the only response he would get. Cesare, however, was delighted. “You mean it?” “Yeah. I’ll send Vinnie and his friends first thing tomorrow. But not you – you two and I have other things to deal with.” Cesare drooped sulkily as Massimo turned his attention back to Peverelli. “Sergio, I thank you sincerely. Expect reimbursement for your losses the other night. For now…” He counted out three ordinary, non-matching twenty-dollar bills from his wallet and handed them to Peverelli. “You understand.” “Of course,” the older man replied. “Thank you very much, Massimo.” “Always, Sergio,” smiled the Don. “If you would…?” And as Nico opened the door again to show Peverelli out, Massimo scooped together the three twenty-dollar bills on the table, and held them up to the light bulb under the slowly rotating fan blades. ISHKABIBBLE SCENE ONE The False Assumptions which Instigated the Shakedown are Soon Dispelled Monday the 16th 12:15 pm“…people realizing I can duplicate items now; God knows where that would lead. See? So I didn’t want to do that. But still, I wanted backup, so I figured I could just snag a duplicate from somewhere else. ’Cause I don’t care if they think I can, you know, teleport. Like if Alpha and I are a couple of teleporting twins, well, that’s okay, it’s much better if they—” Exactly on cue, Alpha pushed open the door into the parlor, where the original Terrian Brogue was half-sitting on a green-cushioned chair, his elbow propped up on his knee. In fact most of the parlor was green, from the celadon wallpaper to the dark jade-colored marble fireplace. Alpha did not need their mental link to see that Terrian was in a distracted state of mind; the fact that he was gesticulating to their guests with a clock he had picked up off the mantel was enough to show this. “Brandy,” said Alpha, setting the tray onto the tea table. He began to meter the contents of the bottle out into glasses. “Thanks. Guys, help yourselves – I know it’s kind of early, but seriously.” Terrian stood up to take a glass, but failed to put the clock down beforehand and seemed perfectly content to wave both around for twice the effect as he went on. After a swallow, he tipped the glass in the direction of Alpha, who chose to stand nearby in case some object or person fell to the floor. “But here’s the problem. I didn’t want to get Alpha. If I’d been thinking clearly, I would have gotten any of the others except Alpha.” “Perhaps an introduction?” Alpha interjected. “I don’t think any of them understand your meaning. He calls me Alpha,” he said to the others, “because I’m the first of a series of duplicates who’ve been sent to study or train in various fields around the world. I spent long enough away from Terrian, and grew sufficiently different from him, that he can now recall me every year or so and yet recreate my distinct persona afterward.” “Right – thanks. Now, Alpha here’s my polyglot. I sent him on a trip to pick up European languages for a start. Met up with him in Venice to catch what he’d learned so far, and…” Terrian leaned against the mantel. “Well, suffice it to say there were some of the usual goings-on and I ended up asking Alpha to keep a lady named Blaise Euler company for a while, sort of as payment for a debt I owed her. None of that sentence was supposed to have sexual undertones, by the way.” Seeing that his guests were trailing behind all of this clumsy exposition, Terrian pressed on: “And here’s the heart of the matter. We’re there in the restaurant, those guys start wreaking havoc, I don’t want to create any new duplicates, so I just grab the first one who comes to mind. Bam, it’s Alpha. Which means Blaise is probably wondering what happened to our agreement. You know, the really pissed kind of wondering.” He wiped his lips. “I tried writing her in Louisiana to explain, but for all I know she’s probably on her way here already… On her way to exact some vengeance. This lady is serious business, you guys.” Terrian took a deep breath. He was surprised at his own ability to babble so extensively, but all this had weighed quite heavily on his mind over the past day and a half. Also, the consumption of alcohol tended to get his tongue wagging. “So I know this is all kind of off-topic, but… any ideas on a nice quick way to explain the situation to an angry physics-defying woman scorned?”
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Post by ch00beh on Jan 2, 2010 18:42:32 GMT -5
"Blaise Euler? Didn't she try to kill us once?" Rie asked. "We could always kill her back."
The look on Terrian's face said that he didn't appreciate the offer. Rie simply shrugged and took the cup of brandy from Alpha. She sipped it, contemplated the flavor, then just downed the rest of the cup.
Slamming the cup onto a nearby table triumphantly, she continued, "If you want to settle your issue with Blaise without anyone dying, I suggest maybe not doing your usual thing of dancing around a subject and using too many words to say something simple. 'I got attacked and accidentally grabbed Alpha to help me not die.' There. Short, simple," Rie paused and took the entire bottle of brandy from Alpha and poured herself another cup, "and I assume you can make another bottle so I'm just going to help myself to more."
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Post by Hamuu on Jan 3, 2010 14:59:53 GMT -5
Jonathan sat comfortably in his bunk. It was smaller than the others on the ship, but he wasn’t a very big person himself; at full height he only stood about five foot four. His diminutive size compared to the others had led to his nickname – Shrimp. It didn’t bother him though. At twenty-six years old, he’d heard every short joke there was.
He had been in his bunk most of the morning distractedly tinkering with a few electronic gizmos while the bulk of his attention was focused on a dogeared copy of William Shakespeare’s The Tempest.
“Hey Shrimp! Shouldn’t you be working?” It was James, the diving officer.
Jonathan didn’t look up from his play. “Day off.”
“Lucky bastard! You coming to the party tonight? It’s supposed to be a nice night out so we’re bring the sub topside for a few hours.”
“Will there be brandy?”
“Bucket loads.”
Jonathan smiled. “Then I’ll be there.”
***
Jonas was pulled back to the here and now by the familiar smell of brandy. He looked at the glass in distaste as he politely rejected Alpha’s offer.
“Sorry, bu’ I don’t drink anymore.”
He shifted slightly as he turned his attention back to Terrian. It was uncomfortable to sit in normal chairs, so when he entered the parlor Jonas had promptly sat on the floor to avoid being offered one. His head was still a good two feet above anyone else’s but now his butt was beginning to fall asleep.
“I’ll help ya n’ any way ya need Terrian.” Jonas leaned against the wall. “I know ya’d do da same fer me.”
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SV
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Post by SV on Jan 4, 2010 22:22:58 GMT -5
Rhys swirled the amber liquid in his glass in an off-hand manner, eyes flicking between each person in the room. He felt tremendously uncomfortable, something that was showing more than he hoped it would; no matter how much to told himself to relax, he remained sitting rigidly in his chair, feet planted on the floor, one hand gripping the armrest and the other his drink, which jostled on his knee. He glanced down to it now, thoughtfully.
The woman and the large man -- he had never seen them before in his life. He'd only met Terrian once, at the Giguere Estate some months back, and was more than a little surprised that his new acquaintance had deemed him potentially helpful in this situation.
This Blaise Euler aside, the incident at the restaurant seemed to have shaken up Terrian so badly that Rhys wasn't entirely sure what had happened, a detail that made all the journalist synapses in his mind scream for reparation.
The room had fallen silent and he looked up to see Alpha, across from him, watching him with a mix of hope and expectancy. Rhys took a short sip of brandy. There was a pause, and he cleared his throat, an awkward noise.
"Well," he began, "Blaise Euler can't be that big an issue. Can she? The hyperintellectual scientist types aren't usually an imminent threat." Something in Terrian's face told him the he was wrong. He continued. "Rie is right. It wasn't an unreasonable mistake. A simple explanation should suffice.
"This restaurant thing, though. What about that?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. "Whatever thugs attacked the restaurant could be a serious threat. Why the restaurant you were at? What were they after?" He paused for a sip. "And was it just the two of you? How did you and Alpha fight off a squad of armed men and come away unscathed?"
As he ended his tirade, the sensation of discomfort washed back over him. He leaned back in his seat and began swirling his brandy glass again. "You might have mentioned all that earlier; it was a bit hard to follow, is all."
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 4, 2010 23:56:54 GMT -5
"Oh no, I wasn't there alone, I was with--" At this point, Terrian would have readily added "--Helen Mercury, actually. You know her, don't you?" But, proving as always that the gears of his mind were one click ahead of the levers and pulleys of his... vocal chords, Terrian found himself readjusting on the fly. Yes, Rhys and Helen were former acquaintances; Helen had pointed that out when their exchange of stories had led Terrian to the events at the Giguere estate. But when he'd mentioned Rhys' name, there'd been something in the way Helen's features had brightened... Something which suggested that maybe it was better not to mouth off to Rhys about whom Terrian had and had not been inviting out to dinner, platonically or otherwise.
So instead he finished with "--a friend. An old friend. Yeah, okay, sorry, I know, I've been loading you down with enough of those as it is."
He nodded ruefully to Jonas and Rie. The latter was looking askance at him with an expression that said she knew damn well he was covering something up here. The former just looked slightly uncomfortable in a more physical way than Rhys did. Terrian wished he had a beanbag or something for poor Jonas; the hardwood floor couldn't have been too cozy.
A change of subject seemed like just the thing right then, so he addressed another of Rhys' questions. "Anyway, it wasn't a squad, God, that'd've been worse. Well, if they'd all been as savage as these two. As to what they were after... Now, that's something I was hoping to bandy around with you guys. I heard them--"
He trailed off as the doorbell rang. Alpha began to move toward the front hall. "Another guest?"
Terrian frowned. "I thought only you three were coming..." He set the clock on the tray of drinks and the glass on the mantel. "Hang on, Alpha, let me go see."
He padded down the front hall to the door. Through the glazed surface of the French window panels, he could see the dark outlines of three figures standing on the porch. He opened the door.
All three men looked roughly his age, perhaps a bit older, but none of them had quite that boyish buoyance about their faces that Terrian really prided himself on. Actually they all looked a bit worse for wear. The face of the man in front particularly had a tract of stubble that indicated he hadn't shaved in too many days.
"Is this the residence of Mr. Terrian Brogue?" he asked.
Terrian looked the three men over, weighed his options, and started to swing the door shut.
He hadn't gotten halfway before all three of the men on the porch were pointing guns at his chest.
"We ain't interrupting your lunch or nothing, I hope," the unshaven man said.
Terrian let the hand that wasn't on the doorknob cast about a little in the air, but there was nothing within arm's reach that was about to turn the tide of this conversation. Swallowing, he let the door open all the way again. He stepped back into the hallway with both arms raised.
"Okay... we can work with this, where we're all at right now," he said under his breath. "Listen, come on in, huh? We were just having drinks..."
OOC: With three guns ready to unload into his heart just now, Terrian would really appreciate it if the fight didn't start until Vinnie and the boys initiate it.
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Post by ch00beh on Jan 5, 2010 0:38:39 GMT -5
Rie had only given Terrian such a look because she wanted to let him know that he a) was a terrible liar, and b) did not take her advice at all about talking so much. It didn't really matter that much, though, and the look of concern was dismissed as soon as the young man approached the door.
The girl had her back turned to the door. She was pouring herself another cup of brandy. At the rate she was drinking, and due the fact that her metabolism had emptied her stomach at least 15 minutes ago, the alcohol was actually giving her a small buzz. It felt nice.
Then suddenly there were the familiar clicking sounds of safeties going off and guns being cocked. Well.
To join those sounds, a new smell had diffused through the room: ethanol. Rie, with her back still turned to the door, was semi-translucent, but was quickly fading back to completely opaque. She turned around, a pistol in either hand.
Rie frowned when she saw that Terrian was completely in her line of fire. "Terrian, step to the side. I just dumped all of your brandy out of my system, and I don't think either of us are very happy about a waste like that."
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Post by Hamuu on Jan 5, 2010 1:37:47 GMT -5
Years of being in the military had taught Jonas the familiar sounds of firearms going hot. He looked over his shoulder and scratched his beard as he surveyed what he could of the three men standing just past Terrian. Rie had also heard the guns but her mode of action was less methodical.
“Yar a shoot first ask later kinda gal, ain't ya?” he chuckled as he stood.
Unfortunately the ceiling was low and Jonas had to hunch over slightly. He grasped his welding goggles with his meaty fingers and pulled them down over his eyes. His crazy mane of red hair and ragged beard, complemented with his hidden eyes and wide grin almost had the same menacing effect as the fact that he took up most of the living room.
“Now looky, we don’t have ta do dis,” Jonas said addressing the men. “The lot of ya can put down ya firecrackers and just talk, all friendly-like.”
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Post by ch00beh on Jan 5, 2010 2:11:40 GMT -5
Rie had taken three small paces to the left. That had given her a clear shot of one of the guys. More bullets would follow, of course, and Terrian would still probably get shot. He, being himself, would probably duck and try to take cover at the first sign of trouble, but Rie didn't think he was fast enough to avoid panicked point blank shooting from the other two in the door. Oh well. She had only kept from shooting earlier because her pistols didn't have the power to inflict a lethal shot after going through someone.
Just as she was about to pull the trigger, Jonas stood up, and her line of sight was, again, obscured. Rie almost sighed in annoyance, but that would be unprofessional and unnecessary.
"I don't like asking questions," Rie responded monotonously, choosing to ignore the inverted idiom.
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SV
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Post by SV on Jan 5, 2010 2:23:05 GMT -5
Terrian waved his clock dismissively at Rhys's question. "Oh no, I wasn't there alone, I was with --" A flicker of uncertainty crossed the dashing young gentleman's countenance, and there was a hesitant pause that did nothing to alleviate his discomfort whatsoever. "-- A friend. An old friend," his colleague finished. The girl, Rie, shot him a disproving look as he said this, but Terrian continued to explain what had happened without giving her much of a second thought.
The doorbell rang suddenly, and the mild tension that had accrued dissipated into mild confusion. Save for Rhys's; Rhys scowled into his brandy, trying to piece together what had just happened.
His puzzling stopped abruptly with a series of clicks from the front door that he was very afraid had come from firearms. Rhys looked over his shoulder to see his acquaintance on the business end of three unfriendly looking handguns, pointed by three even less friendly looking men. His eyes dropped back to his drink.
"Oh lord..." he mumbled, before downing the rest of his glass of brandy.
Very slowly, he crossed the room to where Alpha was, poured himself another glass, and went to stand by the large, impressive windows in the parlor.
The window was dressed with heavy jade-green curtains. He drew one shut nonchalantly; the anterior of the room fell comparatively dark. He surveyed it, and, seemingly satisfied, Rhys turned his attention back to the intruders in the hall.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 5, 2010 12:59:43 GMT -5
"Hey now would you wait just a second!" Terrian said over his shoulder to Rie, arms still raised. "Listen, we're all doing okay right here, everything's fine, and I am just going to ask these three gentlemen to..." He didn't need to finish his request, as the men were already clumping off the porch into the hall. No reason why anyone passing through the neighborhood should get involved in this.
It really wasn't as though Terrian objected to the fact that Rie had pulled some firearms of her own here. He was just a little upset about being the centerpiece of this Mexican standoff. He didn't have the Mage Masher on him; it was upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Discounting the possibility that Terrian could do the smoothest talking of his entire life right now, this party probably wasn't moving in that direction.
"So..." he said once they were all inside. He smiled. "I guess either the Girl Scouts got a little more rigorous about their marketing, or you guys are here on behalf of some other--"
"Oh, brilliant deduction there, Shylock," said the unshaven man. His gun was still on Terrian, while the other two men had relocated their aim upon Rie. "Whyn't you quit playin' dumb and show us where you got your operation goin'? The Giarrettiera brothers are real interested in giving you their patronage."
Drawing a blank, Terrian mouthed Who? over his shoulder, but Jonas and Rhys didn't look any more plussed than him at the name, and Rie's face hadn't changed at all.
When Terrian wasn't able to fashion a reply quickly enough, the unshaven man grinned. "Strong silent type, huh? Tell you what, let's just start in the basement and work our way up. Probably got the most room down there."
He and the other two men started moving forward down the hall. Terrian backed up, turned around, and started walking toward the others, who parted to let them pass. Standing beyond Jonas and Rhys, then, Alpha was revealed at the entrance to the parlor, holding the brandy tray. He regarded the newcomers without putting down the tray. All three of the newcomers regarded him somewhat less stoically.
"Oh what the hell?" one of the other men asked, the one who wasn't as big. "What the fuck is this?"
"What're you, twins?" the unshaven man demanded. His gun lifted to Terrian's head, though he was still addressing Alpha. "Who the hell are you?"
Alpha looked at them for another moment before saying softly, "Seamus."
"Whatever, fuck it," the unshaven man said. "Come on, we're all goin' downstairs. I hope this's everyone in the house, 'cause I'm shooting the next asshole who pops up outta nowhere like that."
"Fuckin' creepy," the second man added.
Terrian opened the basement door and switched on the lights. The room was mostly filled with stacks of cardboard boxes at this point. He'd barely even begun unpacking. He descended to the foot of the stairs and took a place among the columns, waiting for the rest of them to follow. His heart was pounding. He had no idea what the visitors expected to find down here. A dead body in the walls, probably. Maybe the previous owner of the mansion had left something here that this bunch was after. God, he hoped that was it.
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Post by ch00beh on Jan 5, 2010 19:08:25 GMT -5
Rie had long ago figured out that Mexican standoffs always ended with most of the guns pointed at her. That's why she never liked them. She calculated her options. She could shoot twice, probably hit non-vitals, and then phase out while they tried to fill her with lead. This would probably end with everyone else dead. Tempting, but not ideal.
Her second option was to shoot a couple times to get kill shots on the two she was aiming at. She would have to stay tangible, aka the two with their guns pointed at her could light her up before she had a chance to phase. Less ideal than the first option.
Her third option was to put her hands up and let them poke their guns into her back while she walked down to the basement. The look on Terrian's face said something along the lines of, "Let me do the talking, I don't want to get shot," and that was pretty close to this third option.
Then there was that mention of the Giarrettiera brothers. Rie recalled meeting them on that train. She figured them for the organized crime type, and they way they dressed and acted pointed to them being higher-ups. Now this job by the three guys here looked like a direct order from them. Killing them would probably not be ideal, because then she would be blacklisted by a prominent crime syndicate. At best, this would lead to lost jobs. At worst, the entire organization would be after her, and she really didn't want to move out of the area.
Third option it was. The girl casually put her hands in plain sight, pointing her pistols at the ceiling. Before she could march on after Terrian, one of the men took her guns. Amateurs. Rie still had a third pistol, but the guy apparently thought that three holsters were needed for two guns. The girl was fairly happy about this, especially since she left her knife belt on the coffee table.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 5, 2010 19:19:51 GMT -5
OOC: What's a coffee table?
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Post by ch00beh on Jan 5, 2010 19:31:28 GMT -5
OOC: Something that you leave belts full of knives on.
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Post by Hamuu on Jan 6, 2010 3:30:59 GMT -5
While the situation was slightly better, Jonas still wasn’t comfortable with guns still being pointed at his friends. He was virtually ignored by the goons and was thankful they didn’t ask him to take off his welding goggles. With his eyes covered he could look around easily and study each of them for weakness. Jonas was simple, but he wasn’t stupid.
“Ya ruffians,” Jonas muttered as he was ushered downstairs.
His massive body, as always, fit through the door without problems but he figured the way his body squeezed through it like a mouse under a door would draw attention. He could only hope they’d focus more on the others.
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SV
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Post by SV on Jan 6, 2010 4:00:07 GMT -5
Or the basement. That worked too. Rhys thought briefly of tying the curtain back again but suspected it would be a little too questionable a course of action given the circumstances. One of the intruders waved his gun coercively at him. Across the room, Terrian caught his eye, giving him a look that was at once apologetic and apprehensive. His other acquaintances filed toward the basement door with their hands held up in a tenuous surrender.
Rhys drained the rest of his glass, set it on the tea table as he passed it, and followed his cohorts down the narrow staircase.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 6, 2010 12:59:52 GMT -5
The visitors were the last to enter the basement, ushering along Alpha, who hadn't set down the tray. The unshaven man smiled at the sight of all the cardboard boxes in the basement. "Now what do we have here," he said. He pushed past Jonas' massive frame to get to one of the columns. Without putting down his gun, he tore off the packing tape and lifted the flaps on the top box.
"Do you really have to...?"
Ignoring Terrian's words, the man reached into the box and pulled out an old-fashioned book bound in leather with gold lining. After flipping through some of the pages, he started unceremoniously shaking the book open as though he expected something to slip out onto the floor. "Easy with that! That's an heirloom!" Terrian protested. The man tossed the book aside, picked up the entire cardboard box and turned it over, spilling books onto the tiled floor. "Those are my books," Terrian added unneccessarily. The unshaven man chucked the empty box away and started work on another. More books tumbled out, and whatever else he thought he was going to find, he didn't seem to be making much headway.
"All a front," he was muttering. "It's all some kinda front..."
"Look, at least will you tell me what you're trying to find down here?" Terrian asked, getting the most words in edgewise that he'd managed in a while. "'Cause you know, the crystal meth stash is upstairs. I try to keep it away from my invaluable book collection."
"The money, wiseass," the unshaven man said, picking his gun back up; he'd abandoned the box scavenging for the moment. "Hopefully the machines, too, but the money'll start us off great. What?" he continued as he saw Terrian's blank stare. "I told you you can quit playin' dumb anytime. The Giarrettieras know you got yourself in the counterfeitin' business. We got three exactly-the-same twenties off you to prove it."
Terrian froze. In another second, his lips started working, but he wasn't managing to say anything.
Oh Christ. The restaurant.
"Take a look around," the unshaven man was saying to the third guy, the biggest one. "We'll hold 'em. Check the garage maybe. He's gotta have at least one printing press down here. If you don't find nothin', then--"
"You're making a mistake."
The man looked back at Terrian.
"You're making a big mistake," Terrian elaborated shakily. "You've got no idea what's going on here. I think -- I think you'd better just get back to your bosses and tell them this whole thing isn't as simple as they figured."
The man's eyes widened. He stepped around a column to breach the gap between himself and Terrian, and stared the latter in the face. "Now, that's funny," he said quietly. "I kinda thought I was the one givin' orders here. Situation changed or somethin', pal? Is there something I missed?"
"The situation hasn't changed." Still in the air, Terrian's hands wavered. "The situation just isn't what you thought it was."
"Getting sick of your goddamn talk!" The unshaven man pushed Terrian back heavily against the columns with a rough hand. Arms flailing, Terrian crashed down to the floor, toppling cardboard boxes everywhere. Then the man let out a sharp cry.
Instead of one man lying amid a pile of upset boxes, there were three.
"Jesus Christ!" the second man yelled.
"He's a fuckin' Power!" the unshaven man shouted. He fired wildly at the three figures who were scrambling to their feet. The bullets sent more cardboard boxes tottering off their columns, and there was a sudden smell of burnt paper.
OOC: If it wasn't already clear, these three are Vinnie and his friends, whom Cesare mentioned in the cutscene and who recently bowed out of Scene Three. Vinnie is the unshaven man, the big guy is Dom (not anywhere near Jonas' size, mind you, just strong enough to support Phil's weight without trouble in Scene Three), and the "second man", who's currently holding on to two of Rie's guns, is Phil. (He's the one you should take note of, Choobs.) Just didn't want there to be any confusion as the ruckus commences.
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Post by Hamuu on Jan 6, 2010 14:18:58 GMT -5
The house shook as Jonas barreled toward the unshaven man. Vinnie turned and, upon seeing the massive ogre barreling at him, took a shot at him.
“Compression Form!” Jonas shouted as his body immediately shrank down into a slender five-foot-five version of himself. The bullet struck him in the chest, tearing through his jacket and shirt, and flattening against his skin, unable to pierce him. Jonas let it fall to the ground as he followed through with his charge. He skidded to a halt, pulling his fist back in the process.
“Decompression Punch!” His fist swelled up to its normal meaty size as it made contact with Vinnie’s chest. The unshaven man made an odd sound as all the wind was knocked out of him. He hurtled backward through the air, a mixture of surprise and confusion etched across his face. Jonas crouched and leapt through the air after him.
“Don’ ya ever shoot at my friend again," he said as he soared over Vinnie before adding, “Compression release.”
Jonas swelled back to his normal size, knocking the unshaven man to the floor and pinning him there in one movement. Vinnie struggled but was unable to lift Jonas’s massive form.
“Now hold stil’ fer a min-"
The gunshot was muffled under Jonas’s body but was still loud enough you could tell what it was. Jonas narrowed his eyes at the man. “Shouldn’t a done dat.” Jonas pulled back his fist one more time and struck the man in the head, knocking him out cold.
Jonas rolled over and inspected his fresh wound. The air trapped inside was already expanding, pushing the bullet back to its entry point. A very wet fleshy slurp was heard as the bullet popped out of his stomach. Some blood drained out but he immediately forced a large amount of compressed air into the wound to keep it from leaking further. He stood and inspected the crater of boxes that had formed around his rapid decompression. Turning, he checked to see if Terrian and the others were all right.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 6, 2010 15:07:35 GMT -5
The big one, who looked a lot less fazed than the other visitor at Jonas' size, calmly lifted his gun to take aim at Alpha. Alpha flipped the metal tray up to deflect the bullet, which sent a few glasses to shatter on the floor. However, Alpha caught the green marble clock before it landed, and tossed it to Terrian without a word. Understanding, Terrian absorbed his other two duplicates, then, clock in hand, sent out a few new ones. These new duplicates were carrying green marble clocks too, which they threw at the big guy from behind the cardboard columns.
The big one said his first words so far, "What the fuck," as he fell back under the barrage. One of the clocks took out the light above his head, and shards of glass sprinkled down as that corner of the basement suddenly went dark. Though confused and battered, it only took the big one a few seconds to regain his balance, bruises and all, and resume firing.
The second man, who was carrying Rie's guns, had moved up the staircase to get a better shot.
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Post by ch00beh on Jan 6, 2010 19:23:42 GMT -5
OOC: Oh dammit. I was hoping the second man was pointing a gun at Rie's back and trying to tie her hands with like a zip tie or something. Because trying to tie up a ghost always ends well.
BIC: Action. Rie's hands had shot from their "I surrender" position to "I'm about to draw my gun" position, right above the second, still filled, holster on her right side. She bolted to the left, right into a pile of unopened cardboard boxes, but instead of ending in a big mess, the boxes looked as if they were untouched.
"Can I kill him?" Rie shouted at Terrian. She was behind the second man.
"Jesus Christ!" he yelled, again, while turning around. He was met with Rie's emotionless stare and a gun pointed at his chest.
Rie watched the man's fingers as they were about to tighten on the trigger in panic. No response from Terrian. Silence usually meant 'I can't hear you, which means do what you think I would do.' She almost sighed, then pointed her gun down and pulled the trigger, causing the man's kneecap to shatter into several bloody pieces. In his pain, the man had dropped Rie's pistols. The girl simply pushed him over the railing and calmly picked up her guns.
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SV
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Post by SV on Jan 6, 2010 22:19:49 GMT -5
The man tumbled over the stair rail and landed in a heap some several feet to Rhys's right. Judging from the strangled yelp, he had landed on his injured knee. A moment after, the bare light bulb in the center of the room shattered, raining slivers of glass down on the scuffle below. Now the only light in the basement came from the bulb at the top of the stairs. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Rhys could begin to make out the dusky silhouetted forms of those in the large room. He squinted, trying to decide who was who before he committed to any course of action.
There was a sharp popping noise and then Rhys's arm, just barely above the elbow, erupted with a stinging pain.
The one Rie threw over the banister must have had a pistol still on him, and where Rhys was standing, close to the stairwell, he was illuminated just enough to take a fair shot at.
He melded into the darkness of the basement as he heard the second shot go off. The room around him changed, lighting up like a negative of a picture. He could see Rie on the stairs trying to decide what to shoot at, Jonas and the other big man on the floor across the room, several Terrians and Alpha amidst the support beams in the middle of the room. Rhys could hear the man who'd shot at him screaming and emptying his gun toward his previous location, but the noises sounded like he was hearing them from underwater.
Rhys's glasses glinted in the wan light as he reappeared in front of the wounded man, driving a knee into his chest. The man's head thudded hard against the wall behind them, and Rhys took advantage of his momentary daze to wrest the gun from the assailant's hand. He whipped it hard against the other man's head and let him fall to the ground, unconscious.
Rhys rifled through his pockets to find more ammunition, which he loaded into the gun clumsily. He turned back to the room, hand pressed to his right elbow, gun aimed low.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 7, 2010 0:05:08 GMT -5
The big guy lurched forward, raising his gun to loose another shot. Though he appeared to have lost track of the original Terrian amid the cardboard boxes, that didn't seem to bother him. Perhaps he simply didn't realize that there was only one Terrian in the basement who was legitimately worth firing at; perhaps he'd assumed they all carried equal value. This would explain why he let out a whoop of laughter when his last bullet smashed into the ribcage of one of the duplicates.
The original screamed in pain and fell again to the floor, knocking a few more cardboard boxes over, to clutch ineffectually at his perfectly intact chest. However, while the shot duplicate staggered back a couple of paces and bled considerably, he did not fall down.
In fact, he smiled cheerily, raised an index finger to level between his eyes and the big guy, and, with a sudden movement, threw the green marble clock that was still in his other hand. With an audible crunch, it struck the big guy square between the eyes. His head was knocked back against the concrete wall, and in another instant, he slid senseless to the floor.
Terrian, gasping for breath, quickly recalled the shot duplicate. At once he relaxed slightly: with the bullet wound no longer in physical existence, it couldn't directly hurt him anymore, although his nerves were still in shock. He propped himself up with an elbow on one of the cardboard boxes and looked around. The basement was a shambles. The floor was covered with overturned boxes, splayed books, broken clocks, shards of glass, and unconscious bodies. He pressed a hand to his ribs again and took a few deep breaths.
"Injuries," Alpha said, looking round at Jonas, Rhys, and the man with the shattered kneecap. "Bandages." He was up the stairs in a moment, passing directly through Rie where she sat on the steps, and soon after hurried back down with a first aid kit from the ground floor bathroom. He knelt down and set about dressing the mobster's kneecap, while the other two remaining dupicates attended to Jonas' and Rhys' injuries.
"I... wow..." Terrian managed to sit all the way up on the floor, and crossed his elbows in front of his knees. "Just... Thanks, guys."
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Post by ch00beh on Jan 7, 2010 0:22:12 GMT -5
"I just wanted my guns back," Rie said through the staircase railings. "Plus, they made the first move, so I can pin the blame on someone else if I'm about to lose any job opportunities."
Rie noted the look of question on Terrian's face when she said "job opportunities."
"Right. So in case none of you guys got it yet, these gentlemen were mafia goons. They're working for the Giarrettiera brothers. Nice, sensible guys. Didn't realize they had their own Family, though," Rie paused, to make sure everyone got what she was saying. She then went on to make absolutely certain they understood what could have happened.
"So basically, you should be glad that the fight started with them shooting in surprise rather than us starting it off. I guess we should be glad that they're all just knocked out– by the way, someone should tie them up, and by someone I mean you duplicates. If we had killed all of them and-or started the fight, someone would have probably demanded our heads. Instead, these guys will go limping back and request our heads, but they won't get it because they were stupid enough to shoot first. Despite whatever stereotypes you have about crime lords, they're smart enough to know that declaring blood war on Powers is usually a really bad idea unless it's really warranted."
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 7, 2010 0:41:59 GMT -5
"The Giarrettiera brothers..." Terrian murmured. He hadn't heard the name before today, but he was beginning to piece it together with what he knew about the way the money circulated here in Winstone City. Yeah... He'd gathered there was a Mafia branch in operation around here. He'd just never known the name. Giarrettiera. He mouthed it silently as he finally worked himself up to his feet. Then he looked up to Rie.
"Wouldn't happen to know where they do business, would you?"
Alpha and the other two duplicates had hoisted a coil of rope in from the garage and were busy tying the mobsters up. Terrian, who'd evaded conscription as a Boy Scout, couldn't remember ever learning how to tie a decent knot out of anything sturdier than shoelace. Yet he tended to notice his duplicates bringing out skills he'd personally forgotten about. Sort of like recessive genes cropping up in the children though they'd been obscured in the parents. Okay, he didn't have someone studying biology at the moment.
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Post by ch00beh on Jan 7, 2010 0:49:03 GMT -5
Rie watched the duplicates tying up the men for a moment. "No. Where did you learn that, a movie? Those knots are comfortable and easy to slip if you know what you're doing. I doubt these guys know what they're doing, but still."
Rie took the rope from the nearest duplicate's hands and untied it. She retied it around the man's hands, carefully looping and twisting it snugly around the skin. Just tight enough to be uncomfortable, not tight enough to cut off circulation. Cutting off blood flow was just uncivil.
"I think the brothers mentioned something about the Hotel Ansonia. We could check that place out. I haven't worked out of Winstone enough to know the vibe of that building, though."
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 7, 2010 1:18:06 GMT -5
"The -- The Hotel Ansonia? No kidding?" Terrian ran a hand through his hair. "Well, that explains what a swank place it is. High-end establishment. I... damn, I should have been able to work that one out."
His other hand went pensively to his hip. Then, though still feeling faint from the bullet wound, he straightened up.
"Okay. I guess that's where our friends and I are heading next." He hesitated. "Maybe it's too much to ask, but... can I interest you guys in coming along?"
At the looks he received for this question, he went on. "I mean, what else can I do, right? If they know where I live, the only way to keep this from worsening is to go straight to the source. Okay, or run away. Or... call the police. All right, the best way to... All right the easiest way to handle this is to go see the Giarrettiera brothers myself." He nodded to Rie. "You say they're reasonable guys, I believe you. Maybe I can come to some kind of arrangement with them. But whatever happens..." He looked to Jonas and Rhys as well. "I'd feel a lot safer heading in there with you guys."
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SV
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Post by SV on Jan 7, 2010 3:27:29 GMT -5
Rhys rolled his sleeve up as one of duplicates approached him with a bandage. He grimaced as the cloth pulled away from the wound. Fortunately, the bullet had only grazed him; he wasn't knowledgeable enough about guns to be sure, but he knew enough about anatomy to theorize that, had it hit solidly an inch lower, it could have seriously injured his elbow.
The duplicate secured the bandage snuggly. Rhys looked it over and muttered a thanks to him, then turned his attention to Rie.
Mafia. Well, that did a lot to explain the intrusion. He turned the idea over in his mind. If the Mafia was after Terrian, associating with him could put him at a significant risk. On the other hand, he liked Terrian well enough and would certainly hate to hear he'd gotten Jimmy Hoffa'ed.
His host paused, snapping him out of his internal debate. "Can I interest you guys in coming along?" Terrian asked earnestly after a moment of hesitation.
Rhys stared at him in mild disbelief.
Terrian babbled an explanation; a silence ensued.
Across the room, Rhys inhaled deeply. "Okay," he said simply. "Okay. I can't let you go in alone. I'm in. Whatever you need, Terrian."
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