"Pops always said there'd be a war in the streets of The Fens"
----------------
Besides name, Georgie had taken a lot after his father. Built tall and wide, the guy was a beast, yet his warm, jovial laugh had a way of easing all tensions.
He leans his massive frame over the counter, jamming his finger on the remote's power button, but the television won't catch.
"These g%@ d~~n things don't ever wanna work, " he says. He shoots Father Ivanovich a coy, wiry smile "heh sorry Father. 'Ey Rocco! Can y'get the TV for me? We're probably missin' out on the trial!"
Rocco, Georgie's oldest son makes his way into the dining room of "Gorgeous Georgie's Pizza & Beer". Years and years ago, the pizzeria was a gym dedicated to the old American art of boxing. Times had changed, and the Genovese family needed a better way to make money. Rocco shuffles out to the big screen and clicks it on. You've seen the kid here before, always working, yet you can't seem to remember if you've ever heard more than two words from him. On the screen, a news reporter stands out in front of the Freedom City Courthouse. Plenty of police officers are seen standing at attention in the background.
"Amy Feng with News Channel 3 here at the courthouse where Ray Park is on trial." Georgie needlessly shushes everyone in the establishment. They weren't open for another hour or so, but it was a habit he developed. "Tensions are high this morning, as this will be quite the momentous occasion. Perhaps we may get answers for all of VIPERS wrong doings. For now, the cameras are off within the courthouse, but be sure to stay tuned to News Channel 3 for all your Ray Park trial updates. For News Channel 3, I'm Amy Feng."
A strange silence comes over the pizzeria. Georgie glances back at his son and then at you, the five men seated in the corner. He finally breaks the silence with a cough.
"Well, ain't that some s&@@? They practically got a whole precinct, maybe two, sitting right outside the courthouse yet we can't get us more than TWO cops at a time. They let us fend for ourselves, yet they still takin' our tax dollars. That is some S#%*. It makes my blood boil. If it wasn't for the Knights, this place'd be g&# d+&n 'No Man's Land'." He throws his hands up in defeat and heads towards the oven where he pulls out a fresh pizza made especially for the group. "It's kind of early, but it's always a good time for pizza."
From the dining room, a door can be heard faintly closing.
"Jeez Rose! Lookitya! You call for a meetin' and you come lookin like you've been drinkin' all night. Sheesh"
"Can it, Georgie, something's going down."
Detective Rosemary Alcorn makes her way out to the dining room by way of the kitchen. Her hair is tousled, outfit disheveled, and she seems to be in need of coffee.
"Georgie, let me get a cup of coffee, please? Black."
She sets down a file on the table before taking a seat. She slouches into the booth. Though a tiny woman, she typically radiates confidence, strength and energy. Obviously, something is different now. She folds her arms, leans back and closes her eyes.
"Good morning, boys."
For the Reverend Pavel Nikolai Ivanovich, or "Father Pavel" to most, this had been a pretty typical morning. The youngish priest wasn't new to Freedom City; the Fens had been his parish for going on about 5 years now, but the truth was that he had pretty much stepped off the boat the day before that, as far as his experiences with America were concerned.
He'd lived in Vatican city for most of the six years prior, coming from Romania previous to that, but hailing in a long term sense, from a rather colourful region of Siberia, in Russia. At the Vatican he'd spent his time attending seminary schools, though most of those were actually outside the city and within the territory of Rome, and studying to achieve the qualifications needed for his present vocation. His life before that, was a bit hard to explain. It came up from time to time of course, but it was always a challenge to be able to talk about those days without the details starting to overwhelm the work he was trying to do in the here and now. Nevertheless, it was sure to come up again, and again, and showed no real sign of slowing down.
His introduction to the USA, to Freedom City, and in particular the Fens, had been very dramatic. He'd not been one of the dreamy Eurasian folks, enamored with the idea of America, the American Dream, and wishing beyond hope to be able to bask within the glow of its fabled unrestricted prosperity, and limitless opportunities for all. Quite to the contrary, he had wanted to go to the places he felt were thirsty to hear, who needed genuine spiritual help and guidance, and from what he could tell, that place was not America. He had expressed interest in returning Eastern Europe, to the countries now separated from the USSR, or to the former Eastern Bloc. He'd volunteered for Africa, Brazil, Papua New Guinea. However, the mentors he'd found within the church had other ideas for him. They had oft told him that they did not think him typical of his brethren, and had said often that they felt God had a singular and special mission in store for the then Brother Pavel. They delayed his assignment, saying the right opportunity had not yet arisen.
When the assignment came, he'd responded with shock; America? He had never expressed any interest to see it whatsoever, and had generally avoided aspects of his education that focused on the mission there, as he found little about the place of interest to him. While this separated him from his peers in some respects, who in general, regardless of their country of origin, had been reared to a degree on American cultural exports. Pavel had never even seen a movie until his twenties, living in Romania, and his first American movie years later after moving to Rome. There was something about him that felt that a place that represented such a polar political opposite to his own country could possibly be any less stagnant and repressive. Some people tended to the belief that opposites will reflect virtues where their rivals show vice, but philosophy (and life) had taught him that the virtues usually lay somewhere in the middle, and what the opposite extreme would present was an inverse ideology that would result in similar or reciprocal vices and failings too their enemy. He'd wanted to be as far away from that quagmire as possible. And now, the calling he had been waiting for had arrived, and the docket was labeled: Freedom City, United States of America.
His arrival had been nothing short of a baptism of fire. He'd had less than a year to try and master the English language before he arrived, and his knowledge of American culture, idioms and traditions could not have been more scarce. The senior priest he had been coming to assist was initially planning a retirement for approximately 2 years after Pavel's arrival, once his replacement was ready to take over as sole spiritual counsellor for the parish. Naturally, a rapid change in his health had forced him to take an early retirement, merely 6 week's after Pavel's arrival. Events after that had gotten... rocky. He was actually arrested around the two month mark for attempted murder. He'd come across a man, white, tall and built like a fighter, severely beating two young Latina women in the alley by the Cathedral's loading dock. His English still a little sticky, he'd tried to intervene and offer assistance to the girls, only to find himself being attacked by the big bear, now wielding a knife. A few quick blows and the man had folded like a jackknife. Seemed like the man had been banking on his size alone for a long time, and had never had to face someone who fought back.
One of the girls had called the cops, and by the time they showed up, Pavel found himself being arrested. The girls told a story about how a wacked out John had sucker punched her boyfriend, and then tried to beat him to death on the ground. To his utter shock, the other girl backed the story. To the police, the strange looking Russian guy, covered in monochromatic tattoos of the prison variety, acting confused and barely speaking English, seemed like a safe bet as the cause of all the trouble.
The Bishop had come down personally to set his bail, which was at the time only their second meeting. He matter of factly informed the new young cleric that he had the honour of being the first active duty ordained priest on the Eastern Seaboard arrested for a violent felony in the last 200 years. Things didn't go as far as a grand jury, as it turned out when the girls found out their benefactor was actually a genuine Priest, their stories flipped around in record time. Turns out they'd both grown up in the parish, though it appeared the practice of their faith had likely lapsed since then. However, sending up a priest when he was just trying to help, was a little too much for even their jaded lives.
And that was just his introduction to the Fens.
Of course, looking back on it now, he could laugh about things like that. He even still kept in contact with Maria and Alejandra. Alejandra had quit the business and moved to a small town upstate. She'd married, and now helped run her husband's family hardware store. Maria had quit as well, finished school, and had just recently graduated as a Social Worker. He'd attended the graduation ceremony and was considered a close friend of the family. He'd been putting out feelers through his contacts to see if he could help her land a good job. Of course she wanted to help girls like her, and so chances were, the Fens were going to be seeing more of her soon.
Father Pavel turned to Georgie, an eyebrow arched above pale blue eyes. "Pliz, Georrgie, I'v isked you to call me Pavel. Und ass for the tevee, if you like I kin bliss it for you later. I'v got some incense, holy vwater, und I kin probably git you som kindles to go vith, but if you rreally sink Godt has damned it, sere is probably wery little I'll be able to do about it."
He finished of with the sign of the cross with one hand before bringing to two back together in mock solemnity. Georgie cracked first, letting out a wry honk of a laugh before taking a swing at the Russian with a rolled newpaper. The Russian's shaved head was absent from the path of the paper as it swished over him, as he'd conveniently dropped his napkin just as the restaurateur passed by with the swing. He resettled back into his chair as Georgie went back to the television once again.
Father Pavel was eating breadsticks, made with pizza dough of course, but with a little cinnamon and powdered sugar, they made for a pretty good imitation of pastry, and a damn fine breakfast.
His mouth was full of the warm bread as the detective walked in and ordered coffee.
"Georrgie! Anoter coffee for me is well. Blick."
"I know how you like your g$~+#&n coffee, padre. Oops; sorry Father."
"Oh no, not da coffee too! Sat settles it, I'll be bringing my rosary and incense dis afternoon!" He looked around the dinning room absently. "Do you sink you hiv room for a choir in here?"
Georgie seemed to think better of throwing the towel he was carrying, tossing it over his shoulder instead, and marching back towards the coffee pot.
"Goodt morning Rose, Godt bliss." He smiled at the diminutive woman, talking with his usual cheer and upbeat tone. When the pizza arrived on the table however, his gaze followed it instinctively, even with the unfinished bread sticks on his plate. Halfway to the the pieplate his hand stopped and he gestured to it instead. "Pliz, Detictive, ladies first."
The Dustman had a bad habit of staring into his coffee for so long that it cooled. Now he was staring at the congealed bits of butter fat that had formed on the surface. For some reason he had been nostalgic this morning and had put butter in his coffee. He had heard that this was becoming popular among coffee snobs. He laughed to himself, remembering scooping a long curl of goat butter into coffee made over a fire in a far away desert long ago.
He did not eat with others, but he was willing to share coffee with them. He had eaten a lovely piece of cured saba discarded from a sushi restaurant near the theater district only a few hours ago, so he would not go hungry. He had realized early on in this strange group that a boogie man should not be seen scarfing breadsticks. The coffee humanized him a bit, but food was too much.
All of those police will not be enough, I think. An organization such as VIPER will not allow its secrets to be uncovered.
He gazed across the room at the television as the talking heads debated whether enough was being done to secure the courthouse for the trial.
Ah, good detective, what fresh hell can this be that you have brought us this morning?
He studies the screen with an odd feeling. "Captain Thunder isn't at the courthouse. He would have been on camera by now." Left unsaid was that they wouldn't be going there. Their group wasn't as photogenic as the League. Not as powerful, either. But some missions needed discretion and finesse that Thunder just couldn't provide. He didn't ask. Alcorn would say what she wanted on her terms. And if she wanted to hold back, badgering wouldn't help.
As he brought the cup to his lips, the surface changed angles, pouring a sip into his mouth. This was completely unconscious as he watched the footage.
Come on Padre it’s not that early. with a chuckled as he passed on the coffee like always.
The morning had started a lot earlier for Ray like it did every morning. Up at 3:30 to start his run with Jack around the Fens to gather up his five students to take them back to the gym and train before school starts. These five kids had bought into his rules and ideas, they didn’t bring in enough money to even pay for the gym but he was helping save these young men. More will come because it’s a way out of the Fens.
Once they made it the gym he got the call from Detective Alcorn, and he knew what that meant it was time for his other job.
Hey Jackson I got a call from the other job, can you run things this morning?
Come on Ray who do you think really runs this place? Get where you need to be. As Jack holds the heavy bag for one of the kids.
Ray made it to the Pizzeria how he makes it to most places in the Fens running from rooftop to rooftop always moving always aware.
"Oh, thank you Father, but I already ate. Please, help yourself."
A brief flash of confusion shows on Rosemary's face as she looks towards The Dustman. She shakes it off. It took her awhile to figure it out, but once she did, she kept reminding herself "the fifth knight is Dustman". She kept the name,his outfit, even his distinctive scent, in mind, constantly referencing it when she felt that strange sense of déjà vu. For the most part, it worked. At least she hasn't shot him yet.
"It's not even a discussion. That court room is compromised already. It'll be swarming with even more cops until the League can get on the scene. Well, unless some of these other heroes can do something about it."
She takes a slow sip of her steamy coffee. Her tension seems to ease a tiny bit with each sip.
"Fresh Hell. I like that. It's been an interesting few days."
She takes another sip, sets the mug down and does a tiny stretch in her booth seat.
Rosemary leans her diminutive body forward and slides the file to The Dustman.
"Check it out.
The file contains a mugshot of a man by the name of Lorenzo Ruggiero Rodarte. Included with the mugshot is a track record. A brief read through shows that Rodarte has been jailed multiple times for financial crimes, mainly money laundering and financing the purchase of illegal narcotics and weapons. Each time, his bail has been set extremely high and each time it's been met.
The priest next to Dustman leans over to get a better look at the file before his colleague. His eyes scan through it it barely an instant before turning back to the petite policewoman.
"You have... bad feeling about court case? Or somesing is happening already?" Not really expecting an answer,or at least knowing the answer won't concern them, or she'd have mentioned it already, he gestures to the file absently with one hand, the hint of indecipherable cyrillic letter just visible under the cuffs of the black suit jacket he was wearing today. "'Vhite collar' criminal? Not kind of sing you usually bring to us; and not usually top of list for troubles in Fens." He left the question dangling, instead reaching for a slice of the steaming pizza, almost like the issue wasn't important enough to await the answer. To those who knew him though, they knew it was just the Father's method; he had patience in spades, and he knew she'd tell them why she'd brought it to them when she was ready.
Jason got the text from Alcorn late last night. G.G.'s. 8am.. He sighed inwardly as he rolled onto his back, Angel curled into the hollow of his arm, he stroked her hair softly as he remembered back to when he first returned to the Fens.
He'd ran from Freedom almost ten years ago, ran as fast as he could. Thing was, you couldn't outrun your own guilt, your shame, and so even as he wandered from place to place, he forced himself to face them. His own guilt, his own shame. The only way he could do that was by playing the good guy. He'd learned to harness his abilities, to use them responsibly, he'd been to Chicago, Detroit, New York, Seattle, Los Angeles, San Francisco. He'd helped out where he could, met others like him, learned what they had to offer.
He'd been looking into the Syndicate in Chicago when the Authority first came after him, after a dust off they figured out he wasn't Syndicate, he helped them track down Dr. Sin's organization in their city, and left with a measure of their respect, though cautiously given.
He'd left Chicago for New York, within weeks trouble found him, he stumbled into a human trafficking ring, a worker at an underground gambling den had asked for his help. Huiliang was a chinese illegal and working at the gambling house to pay off her debt, with the hopes her employer would bring her son and daughter to America as well. Jason quickly found out that Huiliang's children were already being shipped to New York, but they weren't going to be returned to their mother, their fate was going to be far worse. Looking into the trafficking ring, he came to blows with a masked vigilante in Hell's Kitchen. In the end, the two discovered that their goals were the same, and worked together to bring down the ring, as Jason left New York with Huiliang and her children, the masked man continued his pursuit of the man behind the operation, a figure he referred to only as the Kingpin.
They travelled to San Francisco, and Jason was able to help Huiliang and her children disappear into the much larger chinese community there. From there he continued his journey, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, New Orleans, eventually ending up in Seattle. Truly a wandering spirit, Jason never stayed in any one place too long.
An old contact from his time in juvie had reached out, apparently Tomás' sister was in trouble, and so he found himself on his way back to Freedom City, and found himself in the Fens. Angelique, Tomás' sister, had developed a habit, and had shacked up with a guy who considered himself a distributor, when in actuality he was a jumped up thug with an addict cook distributing without the consent of the local dealers.
Before Jason could deal with the situation, he needed to get Angel somewhere safe, where she could dry out and clean up. The only place he could find in the Fens was a small church whose pastor had a good rep with the locals. Apparently the man, a small, wiry russian guy, was both a bad ass, and a soft touch, something that Jason found more than a little odd. Still he approached him, and explained that he needed the Pastor to look after Angel while he got her out from under the yoke of her boyfriend, and the s~#~ storm the idiot was about to bring down on himself and anyone close to him.
The Pastor and Jason worked well together, and eventually they were both contacted by Alcorn. She was no FCPD rather than AEGIS, Jason was a little freaked out at that first meeting, concerned that his old file was going to be cracked open, but that wasn't the case. She needed people like Jason and the Pastor to clean up the Fens, and she was willing to throw them information, even a little funding here and there, to help them.
That's where he was headed now, to a meeting of the so called 'Knights'. He still didn't consider himself much of a hero, he wasn't above using his talents to settle some debts, or get by. He was just more keenly aware of the cost of those decisions, and tried to keep the books balanced.
He shook his head, his phone blinked 7am at him, he disentangled from Angel, kissed her forehead and got ready for his meeting. Damn Alcorn for making him get up at this ungodly hour, she knew he didn't operate before 11am, she was always a hard ass, though a good looking one at that.
After a quick shower, he picked out his italian leather shoes, a pair of fitted slacks. He put his ballistic shirt one, and then buttoned a wine colored silk shirt over it, before finishing his outfit with a black vest. He concealed several silver dollars throughout the outfit, as well as a deck of cards into each interior pocket of his vest.
The front door was closed, locked and chained, and as he didn't want to let Alcorn wake both of them up, he stepped between to leave the small apartment. He re-appeared in the hallway, deep purplish energies swirling around his frame, and began the walk towards Gorgeous Georgies.
~
He walked out of the back room, and smiled over at the assembled crew. He still didn't know what to make of the Dustman, it was like a nagging migraine at the back of your head, never growing into the bright flashes of pain, but never truly subsiding either. He always remembered him when he was around, and he remembered what they had done together, but he could never recall anything he'd ever done. He knew Jaxson, they'd met at juvie, but Jaxson had never really talked about how he came into his abilities, and Jason wasn't going to push him on it. Word on the street was that Ray had done some time for something or other, turned his stuff around, Jason could respect that. Hell half the knights he was aware of had records, so no room to judge there. They were all gathered around the table, including a disheveled Alcorn.
As he walked by the bar he produced a coin from Rocco's ear and flipped it towards his father, "Thanks for the coffee Georgie-boy." As he grabbed his coffee with his left hand, he grabbed a barstool with his right, and pulled it to the table, placing it down beside the Detective. As he perched on the edge of the stool he turned and flashed one of his killer smiles at Alcorn, "Suitably disheveled, but you should get yourself cleaned up before people start to talk m'dear." Taking a sip of his coffee he leaned forward to peer of the document, listening to the Father's comment he turned, "Just remember father, that guys like that profit from all the s*~! the runs through the Fens", turning back to Alcorn, "This our next dance partner darling?"
Dustman extends a long lithe hand, sprinkled with a few pockmarks and lined with scars from the slash of blades. He takes the file and opens it, leaning back to allow his allies to see. Strange to have allies
He reminds me of a fat thumbed man who changed money in the market in Asila. The governor had him arrested for having false weights, and his compatriots needed to prevent him from sharing things he knew with the French. I had intended to kill him swiftly, but when I saw his face I realized that he was also a man who had beaten a child to death for stealing a coin, and so things went more slowly.
Would you like for Mr. Rodarte to die, or to suffer?
As the Dustman's words Jason looked up sharply, the gaunt man's features wavered some before taking on the solidity that meant he had his attention.
His hand went shot out to grasp his scarred wrist. "Listen, I am almost positive we've had this conversation before, we are here to balance the books. We. Do. Not. Kill. Ever. Got that?"
He could never forget the images of a woman clutching her stomach, her night coat stained a deep red, as her life's blood seeped through her slender, elegant fingers.
Rosemary half heartedly raises a middle finger and playfully retorts "F#*$ off, Kwon." For a married woman, she had a knack for flirting, especially with Jason.
"Yeah, sure. Put him back together and he'll be whatever partner you want, Kwon."
She finishes off her coffee.
"He was kidnapped, then rescued. My source says that he was all out of sorts, scared for his life. He kept talking about getting out of town before something big came. He wanted to go home to gather his passport and cash. Once he walked in, the house blew up."
"Vhile is true 'The wages of sin is death', there is no other punishment on books, and so it is payment ve all hiv earned. Our's is not to judge; ve are here to protect, yes?" He looks hard at the Dustman's face, as if trying to memorize it, probably for the thousandth time. "Memory is foggy on such things, but am sinking our friend knows this. Let us let Godt vorry about punishment, and see vhat ve kin do to protect our flock."
Listening to Rose's pronouncement of his fate, he nods and concedes, "So he vill meet Godt for his judgement after all. Vhere vas home? Not in Fens."
The Dustman was an odd case; it was disconcerting not to be able to remember someone. Still, when he concentrated, he seemed to be able to bring up some memories of the man, something his comrades never seemed to be able to do - perhaps it was something to do with his own particular gifts. Thinking back now, he could not recall the death's of any of the villains or criminals that had been involved in the exploits of these so-called Knights. He was grateful that in all his time in Freedom City, he had never yet been called on to take another life. At the thought dozens of faces started flickering through his mind's eye. Hard faces to think about; impossible faces to forget.
Mr. Kwon was another interesting case, but then all the Knights were. The young man had demons of his own. Pavel made another quick prayer for the man in his mind, asking that he might find peace and relief from his struggles. He and Kwon had made an interesting team; men driven by guilt, amongst other things, and they seemed to share a bit of an understanding that needed no words; a shared life experience.
As Ray continued to watch the news from the trial, lost in thought of what happened with his time in court.
This trial is such bullsh!t! Slamming his fist on the table.
What are they really going to do to this guy if they even find him guilty slap him on the wrist? When some 17 year old kids comes into court for beating the man who killed his mother what do they give him 10 years for agrivated manslaughter. You know damm good and well Park won't get nearly that long of a sentence.
Nightstyker's passion is met by calmness from Escher. "It doesn't matter how long the sentence is. I doubt VIPER is going to let Park finish it. They've found people in witness protection before."
Turning back to the other conversation he notes that someone new has joined the group. "Did they find any evidence in the wreckage of the house?"
"From what I'm told, whoever made the hit was a professional because the house was brought down. Havent heard of anything important has been recovered. "
Det. Alcorn grabs the next sheet and points at specific names. "We dug around a little in his records. Check this out. Bail set at $1,000,000 matched within hours by 'Safe Bet Shipping'. 2 mil, matched in a day, 'Cavendall Holdings'. You don't even want to know the specifics, but it was put up by a company by the name of 'Brighter Futures, Inc' who claim to offer scholarships and grants to children of deceased supers. Seems like Rodarte's an important person if these companies want him out of prison so badly."
Turning to the Father, she finally grabs a slice of pizza and speaks while chewing.
"No, not Fens. Up on the north side."
Allowing his wrist to go limp in Kwon's grip, Dustman's other hand went idly to cover his breast, a motion of apology that also brought his hand close to the knife concealed beneath his jacket.
Mr. Kwon, I meant to you no offense, but you are not the customer here. It is for the Detective to decide what her desires for us are.
Forgive me, Detective, but it seems that he has passed beyond our ability to help or harm. What, precisely, does any of this have to do with us
"I find it strange that someone would go through all the trouble of kidnapping the guy if they were just going to blow him up once he got home any way. Leads me to think that Mr. Rodarte got himself in trouble with one too many people.
Given his criminal background and expertise in finances, he must've been a hot commodity.'Safe Bet Shipping' is located here in the Fens, along the South River. They posted bail for him in the past, so he meant something to them. Check them out for me. Keep it quiet though. Besides Murtaugh and a few others, we're still in the dark."
Amy Feng pops back up on the television. She seems hurried as police officials motion bystanders back.
"Amy Feng, News Channel 3. We are at the Freedom City Courthouse where VIPER has taken the building. Sources inside claim that Ray Park has been murdered. I repeat, Ray Park is dead. If you are in the area, we urge you to stay indoors. There's no telling what the turn out may be. No response from The Freedom League yet, though we're certain they will be here shortly."
Amy reaches for her ear-piece.
"This just in! It seems a new team of heroes are inside apprehending the VIPER members! Hopefully The League can get here in time before anyone else gets seriously injured."
Rosemary tosses her pizza down as she jumps to her feet.
this is bigger than expected. I gotta go. Call me if anything."
She grabs her jacket, gives Georgie a kiss on the cheek and runs out the back door. Lorenzo Rodarte's file remains on the table.
"A new crew? Interesting." He keeps watching the television to see how this shook down.
The implication that they, the Knights, were mercenaries irked Jason also as much as the fact that on of their number had such a callous disregard for human life. He withdrew his hand, and committed this moment to his memory, fighting through the fog that the man was able to create around himself.
As Rose grabbed her coat and dashed out the door, "Watch out for snakes my dear, they could be anywhere, look like anyone." He paused, picked a piece of pepperoni off of the pizza and nibbled at the crisp edge, "Now gentlemen, lets see what we can find out about this Shipping company. Hopefully, if they can front Rodarte's bail, they can afford attractive receptionists." He smirked as he hopped off of the bar stool, and seemingly produced his cell from nowhere and began texting rapidly.
After a few moments, he reached over Georgie's bar and picked up the house phone, "Hello, my name is Kirk Jameson, and I am a parishioner of a local church here in the Fens. I've convinced the father that the church needs refurbishing to suit the congregations needs. Well, I reached out to a sister church located in the Dominican, and they are willing to supply us with some beautifully hand crafted Caoba pews. They are very beautiful to look at, but are cumbersome, and we are looking for a local firm that can handle the needs of ..."
He continued on speaking with the secretary, arranging a meeting with a transport manager, while also smooth talking the young woman, getting as much information as possible, both personal and business.
Well Jason that's a good start I have someone at AEGIS I can talk to that might be able to give us a little help. Knowing his A$$ its going to cost me something but lets get the job done.
Jason's phone call rings for what feels like an eternity. Finally, an automated directory answers.
"Please listen closely, as the options have changed:
For Gardner Security, please press 1.
For Murphy Brothers Restaurant Supply, please press 2.
For Hidden Gem Industrial Realty, please press 3.
For Safe Bet Shipping, please press 4"
The phone rings even longer than before. This time, a cheery woman is heard.
"Thank you for calling Safe Bet Shipping. Madeleine speaking. How may we assist you today?
Oh? From the Dominican, sure. Uhhuh. Caoba! That sounds pleasant. Well we here at Safe Bet would like to believe that, given our small "mom and pop' beginnings, we are right for any job, no matter how big or small. Yes. Yes. Well, unfortunately, due to our most recent acquisition, our Director Mr. Albert Bet is tied up with business meetings. If you'd like to swing by our offices later today, I can set an appointment up with our general manager James Bet. Would noon work for you? We will see you then, Mr. Jameson. We are looking forward to doing business with you!"
Mr. Anderson's phone seems tied up at the moment. Every attempt to contact him goes straight to voicemail. Seems that he may be busy with important AEGIS work.
Yeah I do
Its Ray Call me when you have a few minutes
"I kin go along vis your plan, but only so far. You know how I feel about deception. My story vill be sat information came from you, so if exposed as false, I kin play innocent. I vould raser more honest approach, but sis vill do."
He turns for a moment, looking off as though considering.
"If excuse comes to touch him, I kin find out vat he knows about Rodarte; a hindshake at meeting, anoser ven leaving vould be good start. Of course, if he tripped or fell, I vould also hiv to help him up..."
It might be best if we do not all show up for such a meeting. Perhaps Mr. Escher would like to accompany me in observing the company's operations at the dock.
He will nod. "Sneaking is more my specialty than face-to-face." As he says this, he'll press a button at his wrist and a three-quarter inch industrial steel bearing will roll upward into his palm. He'll idly manipulate that with his gloved hands as he continues. "That should be close enough to support while not raising too much suspicion."
Georgie leads you all out through the back kitchen door, giving each one of you one of his signature hugs.
"Be well. Fight the good fight. If I had it in me still, I'd probably be right there with you guys, swingin' away. God bless you, Knights. Take care."
Setting plans in motion, the team splits up.
Traffic proves tricky as streets are closed due to VIPER activity near the courthouse, yet you arrive with time to spare. The Gardner Business Center is a modest complex towered by skyscrapers in the downtown area. As you approach the lobby, you find a directory sign on the wall. Safe Bet Shipping is on the 12th floor.
Once there, a polite young woman, in her early twenties, who you suspect to be Madeleine, the receptionist, greets you. She turns to Father Pavel and gives him a curt bow. A cross can be seen worn around her neck. "Father."
She extends her hand for a shake "Mr. Jameson, pleased to meet you. Mr. Bet will be able to see you shortly. Please, have a seat. Can I grab you any refreshments?"
The lobby seems clean and well taken care of, and very modest.
You get to the Safe Bet Shipping warehouses in no time. Along the river, men are hard at work unloading shipments and moving them into three of their four warehouses. With the hustle and bustle, no one seems to notice you.
I say we go with the frontal approach let's walk up and talk to some of the workers. See if any of them are interested in coming down to the gym and going a few rounds to let off some steam.
He raises an eyebrow. "They are busy working. They won't be able to take off in the middle of the day."
Its just about lunch time I can offer them a free visit and get some information, now and at the gym. What do you guys think?
I did not come here to talk, but you can say what you wish. I think perhaps we should look more closely at what they are doing in their warehouses, but that can wait until tonight.
"If you must. I will not join you."
If you guys have a better idea I'm all ears.
As the Father and Jason made their way to Safe Bet's offices he chided the pastor. Holding a hand to his heart he smirked, Deception father? You wound me! Wasn't it you who told me about the grasshopper and the ant, one wiling away his days in pursuit of an easy life, while the other gather materials he would need for the coming winter?"
He raised an eyebrow at the pastor, perhaps surprising him that he had actually listened to some of his sermons. "Your parish needs pews, Caoba pews would be nice. We're looking into options father, we're not committing to anything. But if we ever FIND a Dominican carpenter then we know where to find a reliable shipper."
With that he shot the father a s~&# eating grin, and clapped him on the shoulder.
~
He nodded at the receptionist, clasping her hand in a firm, friendly handshake, "Thank you, Madeleine I presume?" He flashed a smile and took in the office, "Coffee if you please, black as night." moving closer to her side while looking for the coffee brewer he spoke with concern, "Traffic is a little heavy out there, what with the courthouse incident. You do have security here don't you?"
No, Striker, you should go speak to them. We will observe from here the patterns of the work and provide for you back up if you should need it. We could likely infiltrate the warehouse even here in daylight, but why take the risk until we have reasons?
"You listened in part, but missed point, I think; gospel says, "Let your message be 'Yes' for 'Yes' and 'No' for 'No.' Anything more than that comes from the evil one."" For some reason his accent is noticeably less apparent when he is quoting scripture.
"Vhat matters here I sink vas sat the lie vas not necessary; you could easily hiv told sem ve do not yet hiv source for pews, but are looking for price, to see if import is practical. Effect vould be same, vis no lie needed. Point of sermon is intent, not result."
"Besides, I hate sat story; sermon was Bishop's and asked me to repeat. Is too easy to misinterpret. Moral might be, Goof off all you like, and be leach off hardworking neighbour. Is from Aesop, not from God. I sink is, how you say, broken Aesop. But Bishop is Bishop."
He smiles back warmly at the receptionist, and offers his hand in turn after Kwon. "Good afternoon; I am Father Pavel."
During the brief contact, he makes a quick scan of her memories, seeking out the answer to a simple question, Is your company a cover for criminal endeavors? The receptionist may well not know, even if the company were deeply involved, but then she might.
"Yes, coffee vould be goodt. Also blick, please."
From an alley, Escher scales the warehouse across the way. Crawling along the roof, he heads to the edge to watch.
The workers take notice of Night Stryker as he approaches them. A man standing about 6' 8", in his late forties, steps off a forklift and speaks up in behalf of his coworkers.
"'Ey, there something we can help you wit? A gym? You inviting us to your gym? Look, if you got some pamphlets, I'd gladly stick 'em in our offices, but my men are tryin' ta work here, we don't need no solicitors."
A wiry man shouts out from a fork lift a few feet away
"Hah! A boxin' gym! Like you need that, Bruno!"
Bruno replies "C'mon now, get back ta work fellas."
Someone else yells out "Don't be so modest! C'mon Bruno!"
And another "Yeah! Show 'im you don't need no stinkin' gym!"
Suddenly, everyone's interested and a circle is being formed around both Bruno and Night Stryker.
Bruno raises an eyebrow at Stryker and speaks under his breath.
"I take it that you got some chops on ya, huh? How's about a quick lil bout? Give the guys a lil excitement while on their lunch break? He sticks his hand out to shake.
With both the hustle and bustle of the warehouses and Stryker's distraction near the Safe Bet compound, Escher manages to scale the wall unnoticed.
He spots a building with it's doors closed and very little activity around it. Escher makes his way from one roof top to another until he reaches the warehouse. Down below, lunch whistles can be heard and workers are scurrying over to see what's going on by the docks.
A quick peek through the roof top window shows eight groups of four tables lined out with chairs and hanging lights above each table. Along the walls are shelves stocked with wooden crates of various sizes. From his location, he can also see a few metal lockers.
Escher gives a thumbs up down below and within seconds, Dustman is inside the warehouse.
Madeleine gives both men a sturdy shake and shyly smiles at Jason. "We share the building with Gardner Security. You could say this building is 'swarming' with security-- and you'd be right!It's a shame about the courthouse though. They could've really used Gardner. Black and Black. You've got it."
As Jason looks around for security, he notices various frames hung up on the walls. Portraits, paintings, advertisements and statistics on what makes Safe Bet a great option. All strangely placed in a way that, if they were cameras, there would be no blind spots.
From their brief physical contact, Father Pavel doesn't seem to gain much knowledge from her.
She returns with two mugs of black coffee. The two of you feel a sense of thankfulness as though you are happy to see her again.
Here you go, gentlemen, and right on time! Mr. Bet is ready to see you. Right this way."
Madeleine leads you down a hallway. After passing five rooms, she stops in front of the door labeled "General Manager James Bet". She opens the door after two quick knocks and introduces you to James Bet, general manager and son of Albert Bet. Rather young, James is dressed in slacks and a button up.
"He-hey James Bet, nice to meet you. So I hear you two are looking to have something shipped in from the Dominican. Th-thats the Dominican Republic?"
Jason smiled as he took the coffee from her hand, "Thank you Madeleine." He took a small sip of the steaming coffee, "Mmm, just what the doctor ordered." Smiling he inquired about her earlier statement, "Gardner you say? I can't say I've heard of the company, though judging by your automated message, I'd guess same owners?"
He followed her down the hallway, noting the placement of the frames he assumed that their every action was being recorded. Perhaps by the security firm next door.
~
Jason responded to Mr. Bet's inquiry about the source of the shipment.
"Yes, we have an affiliated church in the Dominican Republic, fortunately a member of their congregation is an businessman whom works in wood, carpentry and cabinetry." Jason placed his coffee cup and saucer on the edge of Mr. Bet's desk, as he did so he looked at Mr. Bet, with mild shock on his face, "My manners! I apologize, I am Kevin Jameson, and I look forward to working with you." He extended his hand and shook Mr. Bets hand before taking his seat. "Now this parishioner has offered to make twenty four pews of Caoba hardwood for our humble parish. Each of the pews would measure 18 feet, by 4 feet high and 2 feet deep. Weighing I believe, close to 600 pounds. But here's the thing, our congregation is very particular about whom we do business with, typically we receive referrals from within our own parish."
He paused again, taking a sip from his coffee and while he did, looking over Mr. Bets office curious if their security had installed cameras in managements offices as well as the lobby and reception area.
"So we've reached out to you, and would love to see a quote as to what you think the cost of shipping would entail for this delivery. We would need to ensure that your firm is sufficiently insured, as well as authorized for international shipping. Secondly, we'd need a list of your credit references. You see one of the members of our church. Mrs. DeLuca, used to be married into the Oliverti family, she's our treasurer now, and wants to make sure that any financial dealings are on the up and up."
Yeah, now I'm out right lying, Father Pavel is gonna smack me when we leave the office! Couple things, . Secondly, a bluff check for spinning my story. , and then a Sense Motive check as I casually bring up organized crime, and finally a Notice check on his office . And that's it for this morning!
I place My hand out and give him a good shake and nod and look him up and down.
I accept lets give your boys a good show.
The Dustman exhaled and focused his attention. He listened intently, hearing the murmur of the crowd outside, their excitement at the coming battle. He listened carefully, searching for signs of life within the warehouse, then looked up at Escher and gave him an awkward thumbs up.
Escher nods back, ready to observe the "friendly" match. In particular, he's watching to see how the others on the dock react. He taps his wrist and lets a bearing roll into his hand just in case somebody decides that this isn't going to be a friendly match.
Wildcard From what you can recall, Gardner seemed to be a low-key security company, usually supplying construction sites with 24 hour guards. Within the last few years, their focus has shifted to a more tech-based demographic, often utilizing high-tech, state-of-the-art surveillance equipment to monitor buildings. You remember reading that Gardner Security was bought out by another company within the last year or so.
Your other checks all seem to go over his head.
Same owner Madeleine replies.
----
From the introductory hand shake, Father Pavel's mind probe comes up blank. Pavel is certain that James Bet knows nothing.
Mr. Bets takes a seat at his computer and begins plugging in some numbers. He prints out two copies and hands them over to both men. It seems to be an estimate for the shipping of the pews. The total cost is $25,000. As you can see, he begins, it will be a bit on the pricier side. As a man of faith though, I am willing to waive the supply fees for packaging, and add a skim a little. How's a 10% discount sound?" He flashes an awkward smile as his poor attempt at a joke fails.
"Tithe? Um, anyway. Our company is fully insured and international shipping is standard for us. If anything does happen to your pews, we will cover all costs. Our credit references? I've never been asked for those, but I'm sure I can get Madeleine to grab you a print out before you leave."
A large painting is mounted on the wall behind James and a set of three smaller paintings on the wall to the left.
The large painting depicts a lighthouse shining over stormy waters while the three portraits are of ships. Jason can't readily tell if these are monitoring the office, but it would seem so.
Inside the warehouse, The Dustman finds signs of trouble. Bullet holes in concrete poorly patched up, bleached spots on the ground indicating bloodstains. Something happened here, and it could've been as recent as last night.
Escher watches as the crowd gathers down below.
Bruno turns to the crowd and yells ALL RIGHT, THIS IS YOUR LUNCH BREAK. YOU BETTER HOPE THE MATCH LASTS, BECAUSE AFTER THIS, WE'RE GOIN BACK TO WORK!. He removes his work shirt and hands it off to an employee. Through his white undershirt, a tattoo of an anvil broken in two is visible.
Initiative
Bruno reaches out for a handshake.
All right bud, let's give 'em a showHe then lifts his index finger up and a crude bell (really, someone rapping a wrench against metal) is heard.
Round 1 Init 10.
Bruno massive form towers over Night Stryker as he circles around the "ring" in boxing stance.
He dips down and telegraphs a body shot, but goes for a hook.
Jason leaned forward and shook Mr. Bets hand again, "That sounds like a fair price, I'll be glad to take the credit references and quote back to our treasurer, so she can have a look at it and compare to the other quotes we've received."
He paused and looked at the Father, "Unless you have any other questions, Mr. Bets has answered everything that Mrs. Deluca had been concerned with."
As he stood and shook Mr. Bets hand, he made one last sweep over the office trying to commit camera angles and security to memory in the event he needed to return to the offices after hours.
Dustman observed the familiar signs of violence, taking time to collect what evidence he could. The blood evidence was likely ruined, but perhaps something else would be useful. He dropped bits of floor and pillars into evidence bags provided by Alcorn.
Moving around the warehouse, he took note of entrances and exits, locks and security, knowing such things would be of interest to his team mates.
Father Pavel follows along with the tour, and receiving the quote, appearing outwardly calm, but beginning to seethe more and more as his companion's fabrications grow more and more in both scope and depth, while remaining completely unnecessary. He begins to put the conversation out his mind a bit, allowing himself to extend his senses in other directions, and perhaps enabling him to become privy to more than just his eyes and ears could make him aware of.
He extends his mental senses outward. As his mental awareness expands outwards, he becomes aware of the layout of the facility, it's general disposition and floor plan. A moment aside has him checking all the available spaces, to see if any of them, even those he is aware of even through his senses, are meant to be concealed from observation.
Next he scans the number of minds within the facility and its grounds. As his mind focuses on each, he becomes aware of each one's physical state, the presents of injuries, their emotional state, as well as an assessment of their combative abilities, and any major weaknesses they might possess. He is expecting their might be a few dozen souls around, and that due to the security forces presence, many of them might be mentally familiar with combat and the like. Truly what he looks for the most is the presence of anyone nearby that is fearful, injured, or in pain. Such things might require immediate intervention, and take this recon outing into something with more teeth. Such a place, if what they had been led to suspect turned out true, might be involved in human trafficking, and have a cargo crate full of trafficked immigrants, transported in poor conditions but hopeful; unaware of how much worse things might be about to get.
You give the warehouse a good inspection. Within the metal lockers, you find handguns and ammunition among more mundane items like work jackets. In the pocket of one of the jackets, you find an address with the name "Trivel" written under it.
You spot a splatter of dried blood on the crane hoist's tackle above.
From your scan, you deduce that there are at least 33 people on property. You don't seem to find anyone in any sort of distress outside of the typical office work environment. Two particular minds stick out to you: One seems very very annoyed. The other is in physical pain. It does not transfer across as immediate pain, but perhaps pain from a past injury. They both emanate from a floor above your current position.
Without an emergency, Father Pavel has no real excuse regarding how to get upstairs; he also has no real way of gaining more information about the person upstairs via his limited powers.
"Mr. Bet, if you do not mind question, how are dese offices set up? Do different offices or floors handle different duties? Did floor werses one above, for instance?"