The Silver Beetle Blues: 1920s Gangster RP

[mauve]

The Silver Beetle was the place to be on a Saturday night, and tonight was no exception. The place was packed wall to wall.

For being a modified basement, the Silver Beetle was quite impressive. A long glass mirror etched in a mixture of art-deco geometric shapes and lotus blossoms hung behind the bar, which was a dark cherry-colored wood. Scattered around the bar were larger tables, each lit by a candle and decorated with a floral arrangement.

The dance floor dominated the center of the room, reaching up to the semi-circular bandstand on the back wall. The pseudo-Egyptian theme prevailed throughout the entire establishment, from the decorations on the bandstand to the large vases holding potted plants that lined either wall. The speakeasy’s owner didn’t particularly care for the decorating scheme, but ever since archaeologists cracked open Tut’s tomb in 1923, the mysterious land of Egypt became a huge moneymaker. And Arthur MacCauley liked making money.

Across the dance floor, directly opposite the bar, were the card tables. Gambling was profitable for Art, so there were always several tables up and running. Booze and betting seemed to go well together. And judging by the crowds, no one seemed to notice that half the games were rigged.

In the corner by the bandstand, at his favorite table, sat Arthur MacCauley himself. He was the owner of the Silver Beetle, and probably one of the most powerful men in Chicago. If this affected his perception of himself, he didn’t show it. He leaned back comfortably in his chair, one hand curled around a martini on the tabletop and the other resting on a silver-headed cane at his side. His fingers tapped against the martini in time to the music, his wedding ring clinking a steady beat on the glass as he did.

“Hallo Art!” Two young patrons pushed past his table on their way to the dance floor, waving at Art as they passed. He flashed a smile and raised a hand in salute.

“Max, Lydia. Good to see you again.” While he was here, Arthur was everybody’s friend. MacCauley the Mob Boss became MacCauley the Charming Host as soon as the Beetle’s doors opened. Only his employees and his rivals knew that other side of him, and quite frankly, he preferred to keep it that way. Better for business.

“The place is packed, MacCauley! How do you do it?” A middle-aged man, leaning rather drunkenly on the bar behind Art, raised his glass in salute. Art let out a laugh.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I must be doin’ something right, huh?” He raised his martini in response, although he didn’t drink. The man at the bar shrugged.

“A bit too much so if you ask me! You’re lookin’ a bit understaffed,” The man was looking at the crowds as he spoke, missing the momentary shadow that fell on Art’s face. It passed as quickly as it came.

“Seems like it, doesn’t it. They’ll have me up there serving drinks next, I promise you,” Art replied with forced joviality. “Nah, it’s nothing serious. Just some bad luck. Two of my waiters are out with the flu.” He nodded towards the bandstand. “My bassist took the season off to go play at some dive in Florida. He’ll be back come hurricane season, I promise you. And Irene, y’know, the brunette who sings and plays ukulele, she ran off with some Romeo to San Francisco.” He shrugged helplessly. “Best of luck to her, I guess. And Sally, my lead singer, has been out sick. Probably caught laryngitis or something.”

The drunk laughed.

“Hey, at least that’s the worst of your problems, right? Thank god for that!” He patted Art on the shoulder and stumbled off into the crowd, whiskey in hand. Art frowned, his mood suddenly ruined.

“The worst of my problems.” he grunted under his breath. He threw back his head and downed the rest of his martini. “Damn drunks.”

[Bard The 5th LW]

The Silver Beetle, as mentioned earlier, was indeed the place to be on a Saturday night. Unfortunately for Jeremy though, he wasn't there to enjoy himself, he'd really rather not be there at all under the circumstances he was in. It didn't matter though, he was there, and this would unfortunately be the situation for many more weeks to come.

Jeremy, his spindly arms full with the bags he was carrying, pushed the door to the Silver Beetle open with a melancholy expression on his face. Gradually,he began his trek through the crowd of the speakeasy. Along the way, he happened to shove into a particularly drunk man, who looked pretty likely to start a bar fight. Before one started though, Jeremy made a motion with his face towards the bag, "hey, I'm carrying the sunshine here, take a swing and none for you!" This seemed to make the man back off, and Jeremy continued to move through the bar.

Finally, he placed the bags of assorted alchoholic beverages at the bar table. 'The bar keeper can handle the rest of it,' he decided to himself. Jeremy had definitely held down better jobs before. One of the things he didn't like most was that now he was in debt and working for the man who owned the speakeasy, he couldn't really gamble all that much anymore, and that was his passion. He briefly gave a longing look at the card tables. There was also the fact that this was a second illegal act he participated in. Gambling and rum running. He also carried a gun in his vest. Although he hadn't needed it, in fact he planned on getting rid of it.

It was then he noticed that he was just a few feet from his 'boss' Mr. Arthur McCauley. "Oh hey boos," he said nervously, "just unloading the most recent shipment, don't me." He then skittishly made his way back towards the entrance, there was only a little left to unload, and it probably wouldn't take too long, but he didn't want it to seem like he was slacking off, especially if the Eels guy was skulking around the place.

[batgirl]

With The Silver Beetle being as busy as it was, Jules had her hands full at her packed table. Between keeping her eyes on the drunks, the patrons' respective piles of chips, and her own cards, she was multitasking with the best of them. But then again, multitasking was what she did best and the three things she was keeping an eye on was why Art hired her in the first place. A half drank cranberry vodka sat at her right elbow and a cigarette hung out of her mouth as she flourished and shuffled the cards fast enough to make the players' heads spin. She cut the cards and surveyed the scene before she dealt the next game. The fat businessman to her left had accumulated a large enough pile of chips for her liking, so it was time to slowly break away at his small mountain. Sure, she'd let him keep enough to make him a small profit, but she'd skimmed enough off of all of the 7 men at her table to make Art a nice haul for the night. She stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray next to her drink and smiled, her dark red lips parting to reveal her enticingly white teeth.

"Now boys, what shall we play for our next game?" The large Irish man sitting in the middle chugged his beer and gave her a rotten toothed grin which bespoke of his desire to get lucky tonight with Jules. "Oy, dealer's choice aye?" The others clinked their glasses in approval, "yea dealer's choice!"

"You pick lovely Jules!"

"Boys you flatter me," she said as she saluted them with a raise of her glass, taking a small sip. "Texas Hold' Em, no pre-flop raises, and don't forget my cardinal rule," she raised her finger and the men answered, "you muck, you're fucked!" They answered in unison. She smiled and nodded, beginning her dealings, her manicured red nails flicking cards with practiced ease, her briain carefully counting the cards, ensuring that the large man would get the best hands for the first 3 rounds or so, and then lose badly once he starting upping his bets; losing to her of course. She caught Art out of the corner of her eye, and winked ever so slightly in his direction. It would be a profitable night for both of them.

[Overcast]

At his own table sat Adin, close to the boss as usual. If not noticeably. He was dressed in the suit today, finding it suitable for the crowd. To himself he kept one glass of wine, that he sipped from softly and tried to appreciate the taste of. The common idea of taking your drink till you could take no more didn't quite set his interest. He preferred a bit of art in anything he did for leisure. Of course he was also thinking of business, not ever being too far from Art himself in case a plan came up. After all he couldn't always be by a phone and the boss might not always know the number to it. It was better to be close, to be ready.

He eyed the rum runner moving his goods with the nervousness of a man who was still dancing on the edge of a needle. It was the debted man, basically an indentured servant forced to crime. An amusing investment if anything. He himself didn't know if he completely trusted his work or not, but then it was always better not to trust anyone in this line of work. Else you'd find that soft spot ripped out as a brand new asshole.

The key at the time was just to be easy. To chill. Downtime was as important as any other time, because if you don't take what time you are given, you'd find your debt taxing to the mind.

[krogothwolf]

James stood by the door and nodded as Jeremy went by. He like the little man, even though his vices got him in tremendous trouble. He only ever had to throw him out once, when he was arguing about some gambling issue he got himself into again. He didn't enjoy throwing out Jeremy, the little man was a nice enough fellow. He did notice the guy bump into a guy who seemed to want to fight. Didn't, but he did want to.

Although everyone seemed to be behaving lately, Fifi did have the joy of throwing out a few rowdy morons today. It was always fun throwing people out by the scruff of the neck. One of them was lying in a dumpster right now feeling very much like he was in hell, he did make the mistake of calling him "Fifi" and not be a friend after all. He nodded to Jeremy again as he came back.

"Ya know, ya should be more careful next time," James whispered to him as he walked by, "Best be careful with the goods, if you damage em, or draw attention to them the boss ain't gonna be happy if ya thrash the goods somehow."

It was a friendly warning, he really didn't want to have to see the little guy getting hurt. He was a nice enough fellow after all. He looked around the place again and figured most people were behaving well enough, for now anyways. Losing money plus booze can make customers angry sometimes, and that was why he got paid to rough people up.

[Krylo]

Eels sat away from the other patrons of the bar, on the end near Art. His location was as much Art's choosing as it was his. It allowed Eels to stay away from most of the customers, who preferred an area they could more easily watch the stage from, and keeping Eels away from the customers was always good for business. Even when he behaved there was still something... wrong about him. The way he smiled at the customers perhaps... a predatory smile, completely opposite of Art's welcoming smile, that just seemed wrong. Like he wanted something from you... or from inside you.

His eyes flicked over the crowd, sizing up each person in turn as he sipped from some plain soda water--no alcohol. He didn't like to dull his senses... it was so much better when he was awake for it. Sharp.

'Sharp,' the thought made him smile as he ran his thumb over the edge of one of the knives in his pocket, feeling the cold steel, and the sharp point. His eyes centered in on a young woman, as his smile grew. He could almost feel it... sliding between her ribs, cutting slowly...

But he couldn't. That kind of senseless violence is what got him put away, and this time it'd be worse than juvie, especially if he were to start cutting some of Art's customers.

The smile ran away from his face as he glanced towards James, and then back at Art. He knew, as well as anyone in the bar, that ones urges must be controlled. One must not act upon every thought of pleasure, no matter how tempting... but the urge was there. Floating about in the back of his mind.

He turned back to the bartender and requested something stronger. Perhaps it would be ok to dull his senses a bit tonight. The alcohol helped to push back the urges, sometimes. Sometimes it made them harder to control... he hoped for the former, as he sincerely doubted he'd be able to partake of his... vice, tonight.

[Geminex]

Johann entered through the back door, unlocking it, then locking it behind him. He could have gone through the front entrance, but that would've meant interacting with the crowd, having to greet his associates, pretending to enjoy himself, but he was in no mood for social interaction. So back door it was. He paused as he entered the Speakeasy, letting his eyes adjust to the light, seeing who was present, who wasn't.

He spotted a few Contacts sitting at the bar, near the door. They weren't directly involved in the Speakeasy, but they could be useful to those who were. The fact that they were here usually meant that they either wanted to make him an offer, sell information, or report on an assignment. He'd have to meet up with them later. But first, a report of his own. He had seen Art sitting at his table, and now, moving silently, went over and sat down next to him.

"Good evening. I'd comment on how the night seems to be going well, but I bear... regrettable news. You are familiar with the... account I'm working on at the moment?"

The "Account" in question was a former customer, now a competitor. He ran a Speakeasy himself, but up until a few weeks ago he had been buying the booze he sold from Art. There had been some competitive pressure, but since they were his suppliers, they had still made money. No more, alas. The Account had found his own contact in Canada, and decided it'd be more profitable to run his own alcohol. Johann had met with him twice so far, had not managed to elicit any concessions. He was scared, Johann could tell, but he was still standing up to them. Very annoying.

"It seems as if we're not making any progress... We could either simply close the account" (This would mean giving up on the customer and involve murder (owner) and arson (his Speakeasy) "Meet his challenge" (engage him in a price war, sabotage him, bankrupt him, buy his premises, and then kill him) "or, of course, target the source directly..." (He had good information on the identity of the individual supplying the competing speakeasy with booze. Elimination of this source would force him to keep buying from them, or put them out of business. "I'd prefer the latter option... Perhaps we could send Eels. This job calls for inefficiency."

[mauve]

"Oh hey boss," A nervous greeting pulled Art from his dark mood. He looked up to see an armful of bags moving towards the bar while not-so-subtly trying to avoid Art.

"Well if it ain't Blackjack Jeremy!" Art greeted Jeremy. "I wondered where you went off to. Looks like you're starting to get the hang of this job, eh?"

He smiled, in a sort of condescending way that he was sure was made more ominous by Adin and Eels' presence on either side of him. Art was just messing with the poor guy. He knew James was smart enough to know not to double-cross him or try and get out of repaying his debt. But the fact that the unfortunate gambler was visibly terrified of Art made it hard for the boss to resist tormenting him a little.

As the poor guy made his escape into the crowds, Art caught Jules give him a wink from her spot at the card tables. Art grinned in response, pleased. Jules was a master at counting cards-- Art had no doubts she'd pull in a small fortune with the crowds tonight.

"Well gentlemen,"Art said, looking over his shoulder at Adin and Eels, "Good night, eh? Enjoying yourselves?" He already knew the answer for Eels. That fellah wasn't happy unless he was ripping someone's innards out. But between the promise of gambling winnings and the amusement of tormenting the new guy, Art was in a much better mood.

"Boss..."

Art looked up as Johann approached his table. He sighed and gave Adin and Eels a shrug.

"No rest for the wicked, eh? Oh well, back to business I suppose."

Johann went into a detailed account of his conference with one of Art's customers. It was in code, obviously; discussiong this in the open was bad for business, and Johann was nothing if not professional.

"Hm." Art stared down at the table as he contemplated this newest turn of events. Johann had already spoken his opinion, and Eels would probably jump at the chance to get out of here and do some "work."Attacking the dealer might just bring the ire of his other loyal customers upon Art, and that might be a problem. But at the same time, attacking the speakeasy boss who bought from him had its ups and downs too.

"What do you think, Adin?" Art asked.

[rapter200]

The moon shone in the night sky silently as Rolls Royce Phantom pulled up near The Silver Beatle. The man who stepped out though dressed in his best garb did not look like he should even be in spitting distance of the beautiful vehicle. Though Walter made quite a profit selling arms to Arthur and a number of smaller gangs, he most definitly did not have the money to own one of these. Truth be told, it was a vehical that he indefinitly borrowed from his father's estate, and he never drove it around. But a night like this demanded luxary, and this car screamed that. He had hid it in an old abandoned barn far from the city when he had made his trek up to Chicago. The reason why he drove it today was because he had just closed on a huge deal for the MacCauley Family. Soon a large shipment of Thompson Submachine Guns and more would be pouring in straight from the factory. More than enough to arm Arthur's footmen..... and more.

As he exited the Phantom he took one last drag of a Lucky Strike and threw it on the ground. The walk to the entrance was quite uneventful, giving him time to think about how he should break the news. When he entered The Silver Beatle he took quick note of who was inside. Arthur was the most obvious, he had an inviting aura around him. Then there was Jeremy, he seemed uneasy today. Jumpy some would say. Jules was handling her table quite well, those men didn't stand a chance. Adin sat by himself sipping what looked to be a glass of wine. James was right next to him as per usual, making sure no one got out of hand. The big man Eels seemed to be getting drunk, that won't end well no matter how you look at it, and the German sat at Arthur's table talking to him.

It was the usual crowd, everyone Arthur had on his payroll someway or another. As he continued on in he greeted James with a hello, and then made his way to Arthur's table. “What do you think, Adin? " he heard Arthur ask Adin when he got close enough to make out what he was saying. He quickly responded before Adin could. “I don't know what you are talking about because I just got here” he said with a slight laugh in his voice. “But, what I do know is something that will make you very happy.” he said as he eyed the entire room. “Though I think it would be best told in private.” he finished off in a hushed tone.

[Toastburner B]

Mickey sat at the bar. He was idly sliding a full shot gas back and forth between his hands on the counter.

On one hand, he thought to himself, I don't have anything else planned for the night. So why shouldn't I just enjoy the weekend and get plastered?

The shot glass slide across the bar, where his other hand deftly caught it. On the other hand, the boss looks like he's getting annoyed. He might want to go somewhere, and you can't drive the boss around drunk.

The glass slide to the other hand. So? The boss has enough cash, he can get himself a cab if he wants to go for a drive. I'm not his personal chauffeur. Slide. He pays me enough to be, though. Slide. I've done enough work this week! I deserve to have a night off. Slide. But if the boss wants me and I'm sauced, what's to keep him from finding someone else to watch the cars? Slide. Just one drink. I deserve that much. Slide. When was the last time you stopped at one drink?. Slide. "Mickey." Two drinks, then. Two shots won't work you over that much. Slide. "Mickey!" How long before I talk myself into three? Slide. "MICKEY!"

Startled, Mickey looked up, his shot glass gliding past his unmoving arm. The barkeep was glaring at him. "If you ain't going to drink anything, don't tell me to pour you something!" the man barked. "If I had known you just wanted to play with your glass, I would of poured you water!"

With a mental shrug, Mickey picked up the glass and drained it. With a grimace, he put it back on the bar. "I think you did just pour me water. Didn't you put any hooch in there?" Mickey asked.

The barkeep shrugged innocently. "You want another?" he asked with mock concern. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boss talking with Eels and Adin...maybe there was something going down tonight. "No thanks," Mickey relied as he threw a dime on the counter as a tip. However, the barkeep had already moved on, and was schmoozing other patrons with drinks and chatter for tips.

Muttering under his breath, Mickey picked up the coin and stepped away from the bar. Better to remove the temptation of another shot, even if the barkeep hated him enough to water down his drinks.

[Overcast]

Adin had heard the business going on with Johann. Competition was a fun item in the real world because with combined efforts you could jack prices up to ludicrous degrees. At the time though this form of the invisible hand of capitalism was just going to make them cost each other until one of them went out of business and the other would have to seriously work to get back to where they were before price wise.

A depressing thought.

Of course before he could get a word in there came the arms dealer cutting in about his personal deals. Now the man was a valuable asset, but Adin had been asked a question. In a situation like this there were many ways you could deal with the situation. Be aggravated and talk him away so you could finish this one item at a time. You could also just kill him, therapeutic and fun for his rudeness.

Course he would deal with it professionally, by ignoring his input like it never even happened and forcing the conversation to continue just as followed. It wasn't a guaranteed plan like blasting him away, but it cost less money and really just put whoever was least important at the time, whether it be Adin or Walter, in their place until it was necessary,

"This competition is hurtful. If the man won't listen to reason it is proper that we handle this quickly. I'd prefer that we find some way to force the account into more agreeable hands than to just close the thing, but trying to meet the challenge or taking out the source are far too costly in the long run and for the latter in the case of local business could be potentially futile."

So murder and arson it was, at least if they couldn't find a way to get that property to someone who would play ball.

[Geminex]

Johann sighed. "The inefficient option again. You'll start acting like Eel, if you're not careful. I very much doubt that the repercussions of brutal murder would outweigh those of assassination, albeit messy. But Art's the boss, he makes the call. If you're determined to kill someone... close to home, there is one further option we could take.
The man has a son, I believe. If we... eliminate the owner, the business would fall into his hands. And unless I am mistaken, he will be far more easily... influenced than his father was.
It'd be a gamble, of course, if it looks like our doing, there will be... repercussions. War, most likely, the young man is proud, and would not let his father go unavenged.
Though that's yet another two-edged sword. I understand our existing competition employs killers as well. Buy one off, have him do the deed. I shall walk in on him, congratulate him, give him a hug." (The hug would involve ice-picks) "I will alert the boy to his father's demise, endear myself to him. I will... advise him. We will benefit." He looked at Art. "This is acceptable?"

[PyrosNine]

In the midst of the usual, the business, and the common, Nein entered the establishment called the Silver Beetle.

He'd been there before, a few times before, enough to be a semi-regular, but he'd didn't know anyone in particular there, at least as far as he knew. He justed tended to keep a low profile, order a drink, keep his eyes to himself, and not look like anybody important, anybody shifty, anybody that would get shot.

Sure, he didn't know anybody, but that didn't mean he couldn't read the signs: There were types of his 'ilk'. Of course, it was hard to say that anybody was like him, but there were at least a few willing to kill a man over baser principles like money, and who knew when some slick son of a bitch tells you that you owe him money for a non-existent debt and that you need to kill a few people? Or the organizations that seem to believe that if you help them once, you're a permanent cog in their works until you're dead.

When you walked that scene, it was best to keep a low profile, a modest footprint, and keep moving when things started to get built up. Like that one train ride, Flying Quirrefoot or something, with that crazy guy.

Beyond the door, beyond the bouncer, and beyond the table, he walked up to the bar and sat down. Raising his hat a bit, he shot the barkeep a glance.

"Barkeep, something cheap that ain't water."

"Oh hey chinaman, nice to see you splurging once in a while."

Nein wasn't sure what he disliked more, being mis-identified or the sarcasm. When you were cleaning people's basements, doing cheap plumbing, and doing whatever work you could find piecemeal during the week, you had to be careful with your cents.

Nein was pretty sure he was hearing the tail end of some mafioso lingo. How silly. It was his own opinion that cheapening the act with such codewords was a degradation, of both killer and the killed. Sometimes the mafia was just the adult version of the schoolboy's clubhouse.

He took the glass set before him and took the first drink of his day, and the first drink of his night.

[mauve]

"Hmmmmm." Art said, contemplating both Adin and Johann's thoughts on the matter. "We've done good business in the past with that account. It'd be a real shame to burn that bridge prematurely. Gimme a bit to look over my other accounts first, alright? I might have some ideas to run by you gentlemen later on the matter."

He looked up at Walter and his showman's smile returned.

"And I'm being an inconsiderate host, neglecting a guest. How'ya doing, Walt?" he extended a hand in greeting. "Always good to see you when you say you've got good news for me."

He rose from his chair, leaning heavily on his cane for support.

"Well boys, what say we all move back to my office? No need to ruin the club's atmosphere with business talk, eh?"He waved for them to follow, and walked to a door to the left of the bar.

He nodded at the bartender as he left the Beetle's main room. Through the door was a dimly-lit hallway, leading to a small office. Art unlocked the office door and entered, slumping down into the chair behind the desk. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and twirled it between his fingers.

"So what's up, Walt? What have you got for us?"

[Geminex]

Johann nodded and followed Art. He should have known better than to initiate this discussion in public, but he had flared up at Adin's contradicting him. The man was useful, and even Johann was impressed at the solutions he could find. He quite liked working with him, since often he'd know someone who could solve a problem... delicately. No inefficient loss of life, or, more importantly, no loss of Business. But for all his connections, the man was no salesman, didn't know the market or their customers as well as Johann did.
He declined a seat, preferring to lean in a corner. The boss was in conversation with Walt, which he didn't care too much about (weapons didn't help him, though their reputation could), so he turned to Adin.
"With all due respect, but your profit-and-loss calculation seems... flawed severely. If I were to arrange the demise of our Competitor, and the destruction of his business, even if I was sufficiently... subtle, the cost of convincing the police that nothing was wrong would outweigh the benefits. Not to mention that when one Speakeasy burns down, customers realize something's wrong. Everyone here has some connection to the underground, and when people start having accidents, bars start burning down, they stay out of the line of fire, stay at home for a week or two, have a drink there. We'd be running at a loss and that, my friend... that would be a liability. Kill their contact. He's small time, he doesn't have influence. Our competitor will see it as the warning that it is, our own suppliers will thank us for eliminating competition. Canadian police will investigate, but they wouldn't get much help. We'd be safe, retain the business."
His piece spoken, he leaned back again, watching Adin, waiting for a reply.

[rapter200]

Walter extended his hand to receive Arthur's greeting and gave him a firm handshake. As Arthur stood up Walter backed up a little to give him room to move. He then followed Arthur and his men into the office, a place he had been many times before. "So what's up, Walt? What have you got for us?"

“Well first I would like to thank you for your great hospitality. It's always a pleasure coming to the Silver Beetle for a meeting with you. Now onto business right. Well then. For the past week or so I have been working in conjunction with a bunch of my friends in high places to acquire a large shipment of equipment. This shipment contains all kinds of weapons. From Tommy Guns to Hand Grenades and TNT. There are even some military grade surprises in the bunch, such as a few M1917 Browning Machine Guns that were developed during the war but didn't see action so they were just gaining dust. Of course it would be only used for home defense. No need to go public with them.” After he was done talking Walter paced the room while regaining his breath.

“Now onto the best part, this shipment is a gift to you from my friends. They know the MacCauley family. It seems they want to get on your good side. They believe that all of Chicago will be yours, and trust me when men like these make bets it is best to follow their examples. There is also one last part to the shipment, a brand new machine gun that has just been developed. Its called an M2 Browning Machine Gun, something to add to a collection. It uses 50 caliber ammunition which is large enough to completely tear a man apart. Now I know that such a weapon wouldn't be useful for your operations, but they wanted to give it to you anyway.” With all that said Walter leaned on the wall closest to him and fished out a Lucky Strike. He put it in his mouth while waiting for an answer.

[krogothwolf]

James took notice when he saw Art lead 4 other individuals into his private office. He knew who they were of course, and it's always wise to keep notice of what the boss is doing. At least he took Eel's with him. Of all the people on Arthur's employee the only one James figured he would never be able to take down was Eels. Sure he was bigger and stronger then the guy, but that means nothing to someone like Eel's. He had an air about him that disturbed anyone within his vicinity, and generally affected the mood of the club sometimes.

He scanned the club again to make sure things were going well, although it was fairly busy tonight it was relatively quiet. He did send a few people over to join Jules game whenever someone left. She always tended to make the most of the dealers here so keeping her table full made Arthur a happy man. Plus it was always fun to watch someone's reaction when the lose everything to the attractive dealer. Most of them leave with a heartbroken look at having to leave her table.

He cracked his knuckles loudly, which made a few people pause and look nervously at him, then leaned back against the wall with his arms folded across his chest silently watching the crowd. Today could be a long night, with Arthur apparently doing business tonight.

[Bard The 5th LW]

Arms slightly less full than the first trip in, Jeremy once again made his way to the bar with the shipment of liquor. This time around, he managed to make his way to the front without aggravating anyone in the place either.

He let out a brief sigh of relief when he noticed that Art and the other men around him had gone somewhere that wasn't around him. "That's the last for today," Jeremy informed the bartender, giving a curt nod before walking off. He briefly looked around the speakeasy to get an idea of where everyone was. It appeared that Eels and Johann, the most intimidating of Arthur's employees, had gone off somewhere else at the moment. Mickry, the driver guy, was just resisting the urge to take a drink. Jeremy could sympathize with that, seeing as he was surrounded by card tables. He would chat with James, but he didn't want to take the man's attention away from the bar in case something goes down.

He then turned his attention towards the aforementioned card tables. He knew that he couldn't get away with playing a round, as he was technically an employee, and already in debt to the guy who owned the speakeasy. Instead, he decided to content himself to simply watch as he made his way over to Jules table. He kept a distance that made it clear he was merely spectating, as he was already somewhat well known around the place. 'Well who knows,' he figured to himself while watching, 'maybe it'll be as fun as they say it is to watch some poor sap lose his money.'

[Overcast]

Adin stared over at Johaan as he said his piece. He shrugged a bit and let him have his way, after all this had just been a short judgment call he had taken without any prior knowledge. If the man thought he knew better he could have it,

"If that is the case than sure. Change my answer to the preferred one. Though understand that if I find that you did not do a background check on this boot legger, that you only assumed he was small time, that he in fact has friends that could later mess our business up royal, whether it be a Jewish gang in Detroit or the damned Cosa Nostra I will offer you up to them to tear apart however they like."

It was his risk to take. To be honest when it came to business like this Adin much preferred if somehow THEY could own both facilities under the facade they were two competing groups. You couldn't always get what you wanted though. He would let this settle and see the business with Art, after all as second in command he had plenty of reasons to care exactly how their gun business was going.

Hearing about the arsenal they would be receiving was...interesting. Assured the group wasn't particularly set on violently forcing their way under pain of death and by extension most of the gunplay was for intimidation and defense. A Tommy Gun typically served the purpose right, and sometimes just having a terrifying enforcer like Eels even eliminated the need for a thing like that. Still that high tech item at the end might give their enemies one hell of a wake up call if it ever came to that. Now the explosives...those were another story entirely. Assured making a boom was a bit of an attention grabber and may just get you caught, but to get a big score in record time he imagined they would need more than a quick car and a safe cracker. Explosives made opportunities. He kept his mouth shut, figuring Art had plenty to say, but if you looked his way you'd see a very rare thing crossing his face.

A grin.

[Krylo]

Eels had waved away the bartender as talk of 'work' started, sliding his drink to a nearby drunk. Couldn't waste it, after all. Alcohol wasn't easy to come by these days, though Art would probably prefer Eels not interact with the customers at all, even to buy them drinks, judging by the look on the poor man's face as he took the drink from the grinning enforcer.

In the office, he played with a small pocket knife, flicking it open and closed. The metallic clicking of the blade as it snapped back into place presenting a constant backdrop for the conversations, as Eels smiled at the prospect of 'dealing with' the new competition.

"Johann," he said glancing up. "always so interested in efficiency. Never any time for some good old fashioned... fun." A small chuckle escaped his lips as he slid the knife open once more, and stared at the blade's edge. "Let me handle his family... I promise there won't be anyone left to take revenge. I can be at his home... waiting. Just me, his handsome little boy, and his pretty little wife, waiting to welcome daddy back home..."

His voice trailed off as he started flicking the blade open and closed once more, a predatory smile plastered on his face.

[Red Mage Black]

Since the rest of the band wasn't out playing tonight, Ben pretty much got the message that he needed to make haste to the speakeasy. When your best customer and practically employer asks you to do a favor, you generally can't refuse. Besides, Art was his best customer and he couldn't refuse the man that paid for his valuable information. He might have just been a musician, but he made a lucrative business off of selling this stuff. Information was power, more so then money when it concerned those with so much more of the green stuff. Even better when the rich folks don't want this stuff getting out.

So, he strode through the bar, with his multipurpose violin and fiddle case. It was a little cumbersome, but he dealt with it. Tonight, he was wearing his snazzy dress suit. He walked up to the stage and took the nearest seat. Tonight, he was going to use both instruments. Though first for the happy tunes. He knew he should have checked in with Art first, but the man was nowhere to be found. Probably in his meeting room. So he unpacked his fiddle and bow and took position.

"Hello Silver Beetle patrons! As some of you might remember me, I'm Benny Harmons. For those of you that don't, I'm the guy that gets called in when other people just aren't good enough. This music may be a little old, but certainly something to drink to. So just sit back and enjoy the music and more importantly, your drinks." When he was done, he put the bow to the strings and started up with a more lively number.

[mauve]

Art was visibly stunned by Walter's news.

"You're kidding me!" he said. He composed himself quickly, picking his unlit cigarette up off the floor from when he dropped it in surprise.

"Well," he said after a moment. "That's, uh... That's some gift." He brushed an invisible speck of dust from his sleeves. "I like these friends of yours, Walter. Charitable folks. Of course, I assume they'll be wanting some favors in return." Art would need to get some more info on these "friends" if he could; try and figure out why they were so keen on helping him out. That would be a job for later, though. Right now he might as well not look a gift horse in the mouth. Even so.... It never hurts to be cautious.

"Okay Walt. Any small print items I should be aware of here before I go accepting this gift?" he asked. To be perfectly honest, his gang probably wouldn't use all the weapons themselves. Like hell he was going to turn this offer down, though. He could always turn around and sell them to someone else for a nice profit.


Behind Walter, the trio of gangsters continued to voice their opinions on Johann's "account problem." As usual, they were at odds. Sometimes Art wondered why he had made two people who disliked each others' methods so much as his second- and third-in-command, but he liked to have a variety of opinions when he made important choices. And Adin and Johann had no shortage of those.

"Aw, calm down, all three of you," Art said, waving a hand dismissively. "I told you I haven't made up my mind yet. And Eels, what have I told you about discussing your hobbies when I have guests?"

He smiled and returned focus to Walter.

"Okay Walt. When and where do I send the boys to pick up this gift?"



-------

Back in the Silver Beetle, a dark-haired man in a blue jacket watched the card tables. A smirk crossed his featues. Time to make a few bucks, he thought. No harm in that.

"Hey there," he greeted Jules. "Got room for one more at this table?"

[Geminex]

Johann turned away from Adin, nodding at Art's suggestion. The boss'd make the call, as always. Though later tonight he might mention to Adin that threats were best left to those who knew how to make them. Though perhaps not. He didn't want conflict, and as long as Adin left him to manage his own affairs, he didn't have a problem with him.

He turned as the boss spoke to the delivery boy again. This was... fascinating. Weapons were of little use to him, unnecessary at best, counterproductive at worst. But not everyone thought so, and on the streets more guns meant more power. Shock and Awe, gentlemen, Shock and Awe. The Thomsons were interesting enough on their own, and if word got onto the streets that that sort of quantity had just been gifted to their business, that would give him... leverage. Particularly with the customers that were still too small-time to really know how the business worked. But far more important were the heavy machine guns. Again, utterly impractical, but dammit, if people knew they had that kind of firepower, military firepower at their disposal, that would go a long way to changing peoples minds. He liked this news a lot, and was already considering how to maximise its potential.

[Krylo]

"Sorry, Boss," Eels said with a bit of a breathy hiss, the grin never leaving his face as he glanced at Walter, placing his knife back in his pocket.

"And I apologize to you as well," he said, removing his hat and bowing his head slightly. He straightened once more and placed the hat on his head. "I assure you, dear sir, that you have nothing to fear from the likes of me. I work, exclusively for Mr. MacCauley. His friends, are my friends, and I would never, ever, hurt a friend."

Though Eels words were as friendly as possible, there was something about his inflections, the movement of his body, that said his leash was only held so long as the man, and his associates, remained friends of Arthur MacCauley.

"I will excuse myself," Eels half-said/half-whispered with a short bow, and a wry grin, his teeth poking out a bit from the corned of his mouth. "Before I further disturb you fine gentleman. I am afraid matters of... socialization," he hissed out the s, like some kind of snake, "are beyond the purview of my abilities."

Reaching behind him, Eels placed a hand on the door, and gave one more short bow toward Arthur, waiting for a signal that it was, indeed, acceptable for him to re-enter the club. He would leave once he received it, or stay if that was what Mr. MacCauley wished. "With your leave, of course, sir," he said, with the same breathy hiss that he generally used when speaking.

[rapter200]

Walter smiled, when someone like Arthur was happy it meant that he would be happy. “Well, to tell you the truth there is no small print. They want you to know they appreciate you and what you do. I am assuming that they will be asking for favors in the future though. They never tell me about thing like that. So if I were you I would expect a call in a decade or so asking for a favor, political or otherwise. When it comes to people that rich they always make their plans for power grabs years in advance.”

With all that said Walt lit his lucky strike and took a long drag. When he exhaled he continued talking. “The shipment is coming into port two days from now during the cover of night. They will be using a covered ford truck so as to not catch any attention. They will stop in-front of the Silver Beetle, you should have one of your men out their waiting for them. They will ask you for directions to a certain port acting as if lost, your man will give him the directions they need. Then they shipment will be delivered wherever you tell em to go.” He took another drag from the cigarette.

“Make sure your man is out there, that is extremely important. They will deliver the goods wherever they are told.” he then turned to Eels “Don't worry about me good sir. I have nothing to worry about from Arthur's employees.”

Walter was done talking, he didn't like being around Arthur's goons for to long. Arthur himself was a respectable man but everyone else in the room seemed to have something off about them. He was glad to see Eels excuse himself, though he waited for Arthur's permission to leave. Walter had no idea where Arthur got these monsters, the Colt hidden under his Jacket gave him some comfort, but then again who knew if a bullet could pierce that Eels. Bah a bullet can pierce any man.

[Geminex]

Johann raised a finger politely. "I would... interject here, if I could. You desire secrecy, and this is... understandable. You are helping a powerful man, throwing in your lots with him, a very wise thing indeed. However, powerful men have... powerful enemies, and it would be most regrettable were they to learn of your cooperation and seek... retaliation. Your course is logical.
What you have failed to consider, though, is that these weapons are going to be making, literally, quite an impact. A shift in the balance of power of this... magnitude will not stay secret for long. I am responsible for... public relations in our firm, and I would advise us to proceed differently. Instead of secrecy, why not use misdirection? You say that many of these weapons are of military origin? Then let us make this public.
Not too public, mind you, but if people on the street see Arthur Mcauley (or one of his lieutenants) meeting with a military Colonel in the dead of night, shake hands, receive the keys to a truck and the next morning word gets out that Arthur Mcauley is now very well armed, they will draw conclusions that are... extremely favorable to both us and you. We will supply the uniform, and either I or Adin will come to meet your representative. This would be acceptable?"

[mauve]

In the main hall of the Silver Beetle, a disgruntled couple pushed past Fifi as they entered the building.

"You'd think someone important had died, the way the police had the street blocked off," complained one of them, a young woman who looked to be in her early 20's. "Can't they do anything efficiently? I mean, some of us have places to be! Now we're late. Roy and Betts are probably already gone."

Her partner, a man in a battered driving jacket, shrugged.

"It looked like a car was on fire. The fire department should have been handling it. What were the police intending to do, blow the flames out like a birthday candle?"The girl laughed at his response, and they made their way to the bar.

"Scuse me, mister," the young man said, edging past Nein. They took a seat at the bar next to him.

"Well, I don't know," the girl continued. "All I can say is that it had better have been something pretty darn important to clog up traffic like that. I hate being late."

The man took off his hat and laid it on the bar.

"Eh, probably someone dropped a cigarette on the floor. People are stupid. Looked like it had been burning for a while, though. Hope nobody got hurt."

-------

Art's smile disappeared as Johann spoke up. He didn't like being interrupted, and he didn't like people making decisions for him. But losing his temper now might cost him the shipment.

He turned his attention to Eels as the man left the room. He gave him a nod. Art liked having the guy around when he was conducting business deals-- his presence was usually enough to persuade people to see things Art's way. Walter wasn't someone Art ever needed to worry about, though.

"Yeah, go ahead." Art said to Eels. "Oh, and keep an eye on things out there, will you?"

He turned back to Walter.

"I'll accept the gift. Tell your client I said thanks."

He stood from his chair and extended a hand to Walter. Details could be worked out later. For now, best to just accept the shipment.

"Well, you were right about this being good news. Hey, drinks are on the house if you want anything." Art the Charming Host had returned.

[rapter200]

Walter had ignored Johann, he was speaking directly to Arthur himself anyone else and it would be an insult to Arthur himself. He was right about his choice to, the ever-present smile that Arthur had on his face disappeared after Johann had interrupted. In that short moment of time Arthur had shown him the relationship between Johann and himself. A dog must not upset the one who feeds him. Of course in the world they lived in they were all dogs, some more important than others. Walter was sure that the German would get an earful from Arthur later, he hoped that Arthur would go easy on him, Johann was just trying to help.

“Well then that I will do” He said while extending his hand and shaking Arthur's hand firmly a great big smile on his face. “I think I will be taking your offer up on that, I will be drinking tonight. Drinking a lot. Now if you'll excuse me I think I have a date with a certain glass.”

Walter finished off his cigarette and ashed it out on a nearby ashtray. He then left through the door Eels had left through and walked up to a barstool. “Hey bartender, Arthur says drinks are on the house tonight. I plan to take him up on that offer. So start me off on some of your hardest stuff and then I don't know your choice I guess. But make sure I don't go dry.” Walter said, hoping that would be the last coherent thing he would be saying tonight. It was time to let loose.

[krogothwolf]

James was half tempted tp grab the couple and shake them down when they rudely entered the speakeasy, but their conversation made him stop. If the cops were out on the street, the boss would need to know. He'd probably need more information then what he could get out of the man though. He figured he should send someone out that's at least trustworthy and somewhat decent enough to get some information.

Scanning the bar he picked out Jeremy and walked over to him and put his massive hand on his shoulder before leaning down to whisper into the little man's ear.

"Heard a couple complainin' 'bout cops blockin' off the street and a car burnin'." James said quietly to Jeremy, "Can ya go check out what's goin' on topside? If the cop's are nosin' around the Boss'll want ta know, he doesn't like surprises. I'd go myself but someone's gotta watch the door."

He kept an eye on the couple that came in though, encase they were needed in th future.

[Bard The 5th LW]

Things wer about to get interesting. Some poor schmuck was about to lose a couple of bucks to Jules, and Jeremy finally gets to see what it looks like from a third person point of view. Jeremy always knew that Jules cheated in some form or another. But that kind of added to the fun of gambling with her a bit. She had to let people win on occasion to make it slightly less obvious, so it added to the risk. Although he still generally steered away from a table when she was at it, aside from when he felt lucky.

Then he felt James hands grip his shoulder. He was about to say that he was only watching, but James had already started talking about something different.

"Heard a couple complainin' 'bout cops blockin' off the street and a car burnin'." James said quietly to Jeremy, "Can ya go check out what's goin' on topside? If the cop's are nosin' around the Boss'll want ta know, he doesn't like surprises. I'd go myself but someone's gotta watch the door."

"Uh, sure thing pal," he said. It wasn't really his job to do it, but he supposed he could go in and out before he missed anything. It would turn more heads anyways if Eels were sent out to handle it anyways he supposed. But the rum runner wouldn't draw the eyes of many.

Trying to remain inconspicuous, Jeremy made his way to the door out of the cellar that was the Silver Beetle and made his way upstairs. Silently, Jeremy walked out of the door of the speakeasy and up to the surface of Chicago, where he examined the scene outside, praying that it was nothing too serious.

[Overcast]

Adin shook his head when Johann interrupted. The two of them were middle men, representatives of the boss. It was fine to play that role when he wasn't around, but trying to play that role when he was in the same room was ludicrous. The best you could try was counselor, but this wasn't some old king's court where you whisper suggestively in his ear. You wait. You talk when it is proper and shows no insult to the authority of the man you serve.

Really Adin was fine with being the one who served. It let him take in so much while never being the primary target. He could lead this place, but he would rather just get paid. After all the weight on the shoulders of a king of crime is a damn annoying thing.

He took his leave, figuring that there might be a bit of private forum to occur between the third in command and the bossman,

"I'll be nearby if you need me Art. Just like always."

The situation had granted him an opportunity, near him he had a weapons dealer with enough connections to make him drool, if only a little, and he was about to get smashed. Oh the things you could get out of a man when he is drunk. He slipped into the chair beside, his own glass of wine still not yet empty, and hopefully he could keep it that way all through the night,

"Mind if I sit here friend?"

[Toastburner B]

Mickey heard the couple complaining as we lurked near the bar.

He quietly sighed. The last thing they needed was a bunch of cops prowling around the area. While it was true that all the right hands were greased, there was almost always on hero in the police department who wanted to make a name for himself by cracking open a nice target like a speak-easy.

That, and Eels was coming out of Art's office. Either the boss hadn't ordered to Eels to kill anyone tonight, and the man would be sulking about until he found someone to knife or strangle or decapitate or whatever struck his fancy, or the boss did order him to go kill someone tonight, and he would be looking for a ride to go find the person that he was supposed knife or strangle or decapitate or whatever, and Mickey would be the likely choice for that. And Mickey did not look forward to spending the night with Eels.

So, putting on his hat and straightening his jacket, Mickey worked his way out of the speak-easy to see what was going on out on the street.

[batgirl]

Jules looked at the man in the blue jacket. He didn't seem like much, and really she wanted to work with the high rollers, but looks can always be deceiving, as she had learned in her other line of work. She looked at the businessman to her left and saw that he was running low on chips, and she had just noticed that Jeremy had sidled around to watch her table. She didn't mind Jeremy too much, though she knew he had bad gambling debts and wouldn't bother with him too much. She didn't mind scamming the upper crust of their money, but poor Jeremy had less than a pot to piss in, and was not virtually enslaved to Art for his debts; she wouldn't enable him. Granted, if he'd come to her and ask, she'd probably help him win a few hands...She shook her head slightly, it was best to not get distracted.

She looked at the portly man and cooed, "darling it looks like you're running a string of bad luck. Why not go sit at the bar and relax a bit and come back in a little while? I'll be sure to hold you a seat." She winked at the man devilishly, and he blushed and stammered something to the effect of an affirmative while getting up. He tipped his hat to all the players and waddled over to the bar, Jules gesturing to the now vacant seat. "Seems like a place has opened up, how much would you like in chips?"

[Geminex]

Johann watched Adin leave behind Walt, close the door behind himself. He should probably tend to his own connections, as Adin was no doubt tending to his, but first things first.

Art seemed to have disapproved of his interjection, he had worked long enough with the man to tell when he was pissed, and Johann found that unless you addressed Art's annoyances while they were fresh, they'd come back to bite you in the ass when you could least afford it.

He faced Art again. "I have... offended you, yes? My advice was unwelcome, impertinent? My apologies."

[rapter200]

Adin had walked up to a seat next to him and sat himself down. "Mind if I sit here friend?" he asked. Walter didn't really mind Adin, he didn't have the aura of a maniac that Eels did nor was he a foreigner. The perfect drinking buddy.

“Sure sit down, enjoy a few drinks with me.” Walter said right before downing a shot. The strong alcohol burned all the way down but it didn't bother Walter at all.

“So my good sir, how is life. Working right under Arthur must be lucrative right.” Walter said quietly so that no one else but Adin could hear. While waiting for him to answer he threw back another shot. “Let me tell you, I got quite a few groups that I sell to, but Arthur is the best. He knows how to treat a person”

Walter threw back shot after shot and he started to get visibly drunk.

[mauve]

Mickey and Jeremy stepped out onto the street. The immediate area around the Beetle seemed no busier than usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, one could almost assume that the disgruntled patrons had made the entire story up....

....if it wasn't for the plume of smoke and ominous orange glow illuminating the buildings several blocks away. Police sirens wailed in the distance.

Yeah, this didn't look good.


A dark figure slunk through the alley across the street. It looked hesitantly both ways before darting across the street towards Mickey and Jeremy.

"Hey!" the figure gasped, out of breath. He stumbled up to them, grabbing Mickey by the shoulder. "You... You're that cabbie." It wasn't a question. "Where's the boss?"

Apparently this guy worked for Art.

"We got problems," he said, looking nervously over his shoulder. "The whole street is crawling with police. They found a dead body in that car. It looked a bit like that girl who sings at the club. They pulled her out a while ago-- burned somethin' awful."

It would appear that Sally wasn't out sick after all.

"The fire's got everybody preoccupied now-- it spread to the news stand on the corner. But if the cops start looking around for leads, who knows how long till they decide to notice the cellar fulla drunks?" He jabbed a thumb at the speakeasy's door.

Things could soon become very unpleasant. Poor Jeremy picked a bad time to associate himself with the Silver Beetle.

------
The man sat down at Jules' table, grinning as he made his bet. Jules could probably tell by the look on his face that he planned on winning.

Shortly into the game, she'd discover why. He magically wound up having cards in his hand that Jules didn't give him.

He was cheating. And by that irritating grin on his face, he figured Jules wouldn't notice.

-----

"Offended." Art echoed Johann. "No."

He opened the top drawer on his desk.

"Annoyed, yes." He pulled out a silver flask. "I'm the boss, Johann. When I'm in the room, I'm in charge." He unscrewed the cap and took a drink.

"Suggestions are always appreciated. Making deals with my clients while I'm sitting right in front of you is not." He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Keep that in mind."

The flask was replaced in the drawer, and Art made his way to the door.

"Well, that's enough work for one day," he said cheerily, as though the prior conversation had never occurred. "Better get back out to the party."

[Bard The 5th LW]

A look of pure hysteria shot upon Jeremy's already nervous face. "Shit," he muttered to himself, "Mick, you may want to rev up the engine, I'll go and get the news to the others." Still jittery and panicked, Jeremy opened the door and went back down into the cellar of the Silver Beetle.

When he was down there, Jeremy once again sprinted his way across the br ina similiar manner to earlier, not even look around at who he was dashing by. He then came to a full halt after colliding into James. "James!" he shouted, "things are going on outside, person's dead, shits about to go down, might want to clear house!" He then went on his way to Art's office again without another word.

When he arrived at the door, Jeremy grabbed the nob and yanked it ope, to see his boss directly on the other side, and about to leave. "Arthur, Sally was found dead in her car, it was on fire, police are looking around!" he informed him, speaking a mile per minute. Needless to say, the Silver Beetle may soon become the place to steer clear of on this Saturday night.

[krogothwolf]

James liked Jeremy, he really did. The little guy wasn't a bad person, a nice enough fellow and would do things you asked of him. But today he was regretting asking him to check what was going on outside. He should have gone himself. Coming in and shouting out about the fire and police was idiotic. Hysteria had clearly grabbed the poor man. Shouting, in the speakeasy, about cops crawling around. Mentioning that Sally was dead was even worse.

James sighed, straightened up and then went to the door and parked himself beside it, if people didn't leave with at least some order he'll smash a skull or two till people calmed down. Hopefully anyways. And hopefully not everyone overheard the hysterical Jeremy. Panic was not something he wanted to deal with tonight. The idea of Sally being killed did make him sad though, he always like the singer, she had a good voice.

James cracked his knuckles and set himself up with a very menacing glare. He might not be as creepy looking as Eel's but he could intimidate people.

[Overcast]

Adin hadn't been paying attention to other patrons enough to have gotten the forewarning about the scene outside. Instead he had simply been looking to catch this man who was getting drunk so fast he may as well be handing him his usefulness on a platter. He wouldn't complain either, just eat it all. Of course when Jeremy came in yelling out like Armageddon was about to happen his personal buzz was killed hard. He raised his finger up to his current drinking partner and bit his lip,

"...we'll have to do this later."

He looked back to see if there was anyone about to deal with what may occur when you throw around such words so carelessly and saw James at the door. Well at least that was reliable, hopefully he could get them out slowly enough that the police outside wouldn't notice them scattering like cockroaches under electric light.

He stood up and tried to figure out all the ratios in the crowd, his hat came off, his pocket produced some hair treatment and a comb, his hairstyle shifted backwards and perhaps a little bit disheveled, he stepped on his nice shoes a little to scuff them down. Then he began walking towards Art's office.

Even without the boy screaming the news when you saw Adin messing with how he looked to look like everyone else you always figured that something very bad may be about to go down. He raised a hand up to smack the kid one on the back of the head for discipline, but hit or miss he would continue on to alert the boss very simply,

"I'll be on my way out Art. I'll be close by, but don't expect to notice me unless you look real hard."

For now he stuck to the crowd, no matter how riled up they got, they were now his biggest advantage. Hopefully that didn't earn him a crack to the skull by James.

[Toastburner B]

Mickey could only sigh as Jeremy ran back into the Silver Beetle, screaming bloody murder. Did that idiot just do that? he thought to himself, trying to figure out any way that Jeremy's actions could be seen as wise.

...He couldn't.

Trying to clear out the place while the police were wandering around was pretty much hanging a big sign that said "HEY! THERE'S SOMETHING FISHY GOING ON OVER HERE!" with a great neon arrow pointing at the entrance. Unfortunately, it was a good bet that the crowd would panic at any hint of a raid, and get out as fast as they could.

And nothing brought attention like the rats abandoning a sinking ship.

The boss would likely want a clean escape for himself and a handful of his selected minions, which was, of course, what Mickey was paid for. Thanking his foresight for not getting drunk (and conviently forgetting the bartender who gave him a watered down booze), Mickey started to walk to where the boss kept his car, calm-like. If he started running, he'd just attract the attention of any copper who was on the street.

[Geminex]

Johann frowned. He had been about to leave (though he'd let the boss step to the door first, just to show he knew which of them was, in fact, boss) and had almost run into Arthur, who had stopped dead.

"Oh. Oh dear. And you yelled about this in the bar, yes? Vhere everyone could hear you, yes? Nicely done." He shook his head, both at the boy and at himself. He shouldn't be taunting the kid. "You said they vere heading this way? Bad. Very bad. Tell me, did you see or hear who was in charge? I've had contact with a few force members before." He glanced at Art. "I could try to stall them. I'm not officially affiliated with you, they couldn't book me for anything if I'm careful. Or d'you want me to leave with you?"

Johann's accent tended to fluctuate when he was nervous, one of the few ways you could tell that he wasn't feeling self-assured. This could go bad rather quickly, if they weren't careful.

[mauve]

TL : DR VERSION: Art talks a lot. Jeremy gets sent to the office so he doesn't get himself killed. The rest of you are told to GTFO and meet Art in half an hour. Walter gets invited to join the escape party.


"DAMN IT," hissed Art, slamming a fist into the wall. "DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT GODDAMN SONOFA... Why?!?! Why tonight?!! The club is packed!"

Jeremy continued his hysterical rambling. The poor guy really wasn't cut out for this kind of work. Johann frowned.

"Oh. Oh dear. And you yelled about this in the bar, yes? Vhere everyone could hear you, yes? Nicely done."

Art slapped his forehead with an open palm.

"Oh, for the love of..."

Jeremy would be no help at all trying to clear out the speakeasy-- this was all too new to him. The poor guy would probably give himself a heart attack. Art grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into the office.

"You wait here," he growled. "And don't touch anything. We'll be back."

Adin appeared in the hallway, his hair disheveled and his shoes scuffed. Art knew that look. It meant Adin planned on disappearing for a while.

"I'll be on my way out Art. I'll be close by, but don't expect to notice me unless you look real hard."

Yep. He was as good as gone. Well, if Adin was concerned, it must be bad. Art threw his hands into the air helplessly.

"Dammit!" He cursed again. "Just when we were starting to make a profit this evening-- Fine. Fine. If you’re headed outside, Adin, keep an eye out for cops. I want to know the instant they start moving in on the Beetle. We're gonna try and clear out the place, hopefully with as little mass hysteria as possible.”

He looked back over his shoulder.

“Oh, we’re gonna be having a chat with some officers, all right, Johann. But right now, it looks like they don’t know enough to connect the body to the speakeasy. Either that, or one of your ‘friends’ on the force is buying us time to get the hell out before they close in. Otherwise we’d be surrounded by now.” He walked back to the desk and started scribbling something on a scrap of paper. “I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. We’re getting out while we still can. Whether they suspect us or not, I’d rather not sit around and wait for someone to notice us.”

He moved back to the door, swiping his hat from the coat rack in the corner as he passed it.

“Let’s go see what we can salvage out of this mess.”


The mess, as Art called it, looked bad. Jeremy’s warning had whipped the patrons into a nervous frenzy. People in various states of inebriety pushed for the doors, the threat of spending a night in jail for drinking hanging over their heads. A handful of people bickered over paying their bills or collecting their gambling profits, and the beginnings of a fistfight over a spilled whiskey smoldered in the corner. A crash resounded through the bar as someone tripped over an overturned chair.

“This is a nightmare,” groaned Art. He grabbed a passing waiter by the sleeve.

“Where’s Mickey?” he asked quietly. The waiter nodded nervously at the door. Art shoved a scrap of paper into his hand. He muttered some directions to him before pushing him towards the bar.

“Johann.” Art said, looking over his shoulder. “I take back what I said. This is a mess. If you can keep the cops’ attention away from the bar, do it. But keep it quiet. Distract them, but don’t give them any other charges to press on us.” That meant not increasing the body count.

Art jabbed a thumb back at the office. “Once the Beetle starts to clear out, I’m gonna go escort the new guy to the car. Guy’ll pass out if we leave him on his own. Mickey’s got the car out back. If you’re not back by the time he leaves, meet us at the warehouse in half an hour.” Art owned a large building on the Chicago river; a warehouse where he conducted business deals and stored all manner of merchandise.


He pushed his way through the throng of people and climbed up onto the bandstand. He patted Benjamin on the shoulder reassuringly and grabbed the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began with a smile, and the sea of nervous patrons turned their heads. “It seems that our good friends on the police force have some late-night business to conduct down the street from us. Nothing involving our little party here tonight, mind you, but it’s probably for the best that we close shop for now. If they decide to drop in, I doubt we’d have enough booze to go around for the entire squad.” There were a few nervous laughs from the crowd.

Art began directing the crowds to available exits. Not all of them, mind you—there were several secret doors in the Beetle that he preferred to keep available to staff only.

------------
“Well…” the cheater at Jules’ table said, nervously. “Guess this game is over. I’ll.. uh… I’ll take a rain check on my winnings, then. Best to get out while the getting’s good.” He started pocketing the chips in front of him, presumably to cash them in at a later date.
-----------

The waiter made his way through the crowds, approaching each of Art’s employees and passing along the message written on the note.

“The boss says get out while you can,” he said quietly. “We’re meeting up at the warehouse on the river in half an hour. Be there. Mickey’s got a car out back, if you need a ride."

------------

Walter felt someone tap his shoulder. The waiter was standing next to him.

"Mr. MacCauley offers his most sincere apologies for the abrupt ending to the celebration."

[PyrosNine]

Nein sighed. His day sucked enough already, and now there was something going on. He still had money to spend on cheap drinks! He only slightly felt in his cups, after all, and this was one of only two bars he ever bothered to visit. Going to the Asian themed bar felt wrong, somehow.

Nein, emptied his final glass, dropped a few pieces of payment, and walked out of the bar with the rest of the patrons, and turned down the road back to his-

Huh. This was interesting.

A car was on fire. Cops in the streets. Now was the time to get while the gettin's good. He had a bad history with fire, and one case of blowing up a tavern...or was it an inn, and it wouldn't be good to get grabbed with the usual suspects dredged from the undercity for the inevitable investigation.

He hobbled off to his next job, and if anyone asked him where he'd been before work, he'd been sleepin'.

Or...maybe he could hit up that Asian bar...

[Bard The 5th LW]

Jeremy did just as Art had said and stayed inside the office not touching anything. He made sure to take a few deep breaths to cal himself down and think for a moment.

'Did I seriously just do that,'was the thought that immediately came to him. He was rather embarrassed at how poorly he handled that situation. He considered himself lucky that Art didn't punch him in the jaw for his antics.

He decided to just continue to wait until Art came back for him and to lead him to Mickey's car. His boss's slight show of mercy towards Jeremy made the little man began to slightly reconsider his terror of the man. But only a little.

[krogothwolf]

James stood by the front door as the patrons funneled out. He saw Adin slip out and pretended he didn't. As the order restored somewhat and everyone seemed to be doing it at a somewhat peaceful pace he walked away from the door and checked for any stragglers. He nodded towards Jules as he walked past her table and towards Art.

"Boss" James said as he came up in his quiet voice, "Things seem to be quieting down."

He then looked around the Bar again and noticed Jeremy wasn't around.

"You didn't hurt Jeremy for being moronic did you boss?" He asked him quietly. "Am I going to have to carry him to the car?"

[mauve]

(Oh wow, this is still alive! Synopsis: Jeremy finds stuff! Benjamin gets offered a job! James is told to apprehend Nein! Nein is in trouble!)

Jeremy was abandoned in Art's office while the rest of the gang's never-do-wells went to clear out the bar. If he wasn't too terrified to look around, he would notice the office was actually rather bare.

The desktop was fairly clean, save a stack of old newspapers and a writing set with a half-empty bottle of ink. On one corner of the desk was a framed photograph of a dark-haired woman, which seemed to be acting as a paperweight for a stack of news clippings. Most of the articles were about horse races, but a few were reports on the police's inability to catch various gangsters and rumrunners, many of whom were in Art's employ. Apparently these articles amused him, or maybe he just liked reading about himself. He did seem a bit vain.

Halfway hidden under the articles was a list of names. Some of them were scratched out. Jeremy wouldn't recognize many of them, but there was one that might catch his eye. It was Sally's.

------
"No, no, he's still alive. For now." Art grumbled to James. "He's back in the office. Figured it might be best for him to stay out of the way for now."

He held up his hands defensively at James' skeptical look.

"Hey, come on. It's not like I'm gonna leave him there. We'll get him to the car after we start clearing out the customers. I'm not completely without morals, you know. I wouldn't leave the poor guy for the cops to pick up and tear apart. He owes me too much money."

He turned his attention back to the retreating crowd.

"Well Benny, unfortunately it looks like your show got cut short tonight," he said to the musician who still sat at his spot on the stage. "I'm sure it had nothing to do with you being off-key. Most of these guys were too drunk to notice." It was just a joke. Benjamin was a top-notch musician and Art knew it.

"If you need a lift, there's a car waiting out back. Oh, and I might have a job for you if you're looking to make an extra buck." Benjamin's information gathering skills (and the fact that he technically wasn't a member of Art's gang) might just come in handy. There was trouble afoot, and Art needed information.


Art scanned the crowd.

"Well, at least no-one's been trampled in the mad dash for the door," he grumbled. "The last thing we'd need tonight is a---" His voice trailed off. His eyes stopped on a strange-looking man leaving the bar.

Art's eyes narrowed. The slightly Asian-looking features, the long hair, the unfashionable hat.... Art recognized him. He had been at the Beetle once or twice before. The last time Art saw him around was the night when... Art's brow furrowed as he put two and two together.

"Eels." Art said suddenly. "Eels, where are.... Dammit. Where'd he go?" He looked through the crowd, but the man was not immediately visible. Maybe he had already left.

"Oh well. James, see that fellah over there? In the hat?" He pointed at Nein. "I've seen him here before. I wanna ask him some questions. Show him to the car, would you? Before he gets away?"

Poor Nein was about to regret choosing this speakeasy tonight.

[batgirl]

Jules didn't like cheaters. The only cheater allowed at her table was her, and that was because she had style. This guy was good, but an amateur. She noticed that he had an unusual way of flicking his wrist when he pulled his cards to him. Usually that meant that he was pulling and pushing cards in and out of his sleeves. Jules couldn't wait until she had a good opportune moment to out him and to get James to beat him out of the bar.

Of course everything had to go to hell.

Jeremy, the hysterical moron himself, came in yelling about a fire, some cops and a murder. Apparently Sally had possibly been the poor victim, which didn't sit too well with Jules. As people started to get up and leave, Jules saw her players getting up and taking their chips, leaving a bunch at the table for Jules to scoop up as a tip. The cheater was trying to stuff his pockets with chips, but Jules wasn't going to let a cheater like him take his "winnings" and run. She reached into her boot and pulled out a knife, stabbing it into the table an inch from his hand. "Now, now. We both know what's been going on here tonight. You didn't come here to play fair. So," she leaned in close to him, a menacing look on her face, "what say you take what's in your pockets as what you put down to start and call it a night ok? Wouldn't want this to get messy now."

[krogothwolf]

James nodded at Art

"Sure thing boss." James said and turned and headed out the door after the man. Not to quickly, but quick enough to catch up to the man.

As he got outside he looked around. The mass of bodies made it somewhat difficult to stop, but an Asian man wasn't to hard to find. He walked off down after him. He realized he towered over the guy and that might make him nervous but he didn't have many options as he quickly caught up to the hobbling man. He placed his hand on the guys shoulder, firmly but also gently so it seemed as less threatening as he could make it.

"Excuse me sir," James said quietly to the man, "My boss, the owner of place you just left, would like to ask you a few questions. If you wouldn't mind coming with me, we can get this over with quickly and you can be on your way. And before you ask, I don't know what its about he just told me to show you to where he'd be."

He tried to make himself not so menacing to the guy, he didn't really want to cause problems in a crowded street with cops all around. He just hoped this guy felt the same way.

[Krylo]

Shortly after James left on his errand from Arthur, Mr. McCauley felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, that slight niggling of something not quite right, that so many children with over active imaginations transcribed to 'ghosts' or 'monsters'. Of course, there were no ghosts in the Speakeasy tonight. Monsters however...

"Yes, boss," came a breathy hiss from just behind Arthur's right shoulder. "Did you require my assistance?" he continued, the voice easily recognizable as Eels. "It seemed that James had things under control."

[Overcast]

Then again it all depended on your description of the word ghost. Slipping out was easy enough, he took one of the secret exits and crouched down to give himself a nice dirty look, he tugged his shirt ragged and wrinkled, he tore off a bit of cardboard and slathered a desperate message in shoe polish.

Homeless and poor was one of his favorite disguises, no one ever cared about these people because they were literally nothing to everyone. Not workers, not consumers, not even proper drinking buddies. Lost souls. Ghosts of society. He tried to stick to the alleyways, but kept his eye open for Art making his exit. As he said he would stay close by, after all it was a time of crisis, when the information rolled in he was sure he'd have to call in a few favors.

Hell he might even put a few more people in debt today. It would make him feel better after losing that golden opportunity from the drunken arms dealer. Either way he was stuck waiting, another cold windy night in Chicago.

[PyrosNine]

Nein didn't like this turn of events at all. Something had happened, and now someone wanted a talk with him. And not just someone, because Nein was no idiot, and the only boss he could be speaking of was that mafia Boss, the notorious one. This couldn't end well irregardless of why he wanted to talk to him.

Nein warily checked for other thugs in the wings, and saw that only the departing guests from the establishment were out in the streets, and so were the police-oh, this made things easy.

Nein smiled, and with his nearly closed eyes, gave a very peaceable expression.

"Oh, your boss huh? Did I forget to pay my tab? I guess in the rush of leaving, I must have forgot to pay for my last drink. Sure I'll go sort this out with you."

Nein gave a mock-bow and moved in the direction of the Silver Beetle, doing as told. But as he got closer to the Beetle, his walking speed increased, so slowly as to be barely noticeable-well, barely noticeable until he reached the Silver Beetle and kept on running down the opposite direction of the street, towards the burning 'mobile.

Before he ran into the cops themselves, he bolted down an alleyway.

[krogothwolf]

James groaned as the Asain man run off. He hadn't really meant to let go of his shoulder, he probably should have just carried him, he was light enough. He did sort of chuckle that the man seemed to understand the situation he was in decided to run down an alley way near the silver beetle. You never know what can be around a corner after all.

He chased after him and turned down the Alleyway. He didn't really have a chance to holler. But generally if there are guys under Art's empolyee down this alleyway they'll stop someone who's running down them, especially if they see James chasing him, after all he was a fairly large man.

[Overcast]

In the alley was of course Adin, still trying to be homeless. And when he saw the Asian fellow being chased by James down his current hiding place he had one of those split decisions. A. Ruin your disguise and stop the man, with the honest knowledge that James wouldn't be chasing him unless he actually did something to either piss off Art or get his personal attention. B. Hide. Forget this happened. If asked about it later. Lie. Lie very well so everyone can hear you lie and think it is true.

To be honest he would typically pull B. The situation was too tense to blow his cover, and yet that was also driving his personal thoughts in the opposite direction. Art might want this man, and if the scene was to get better it would be best to try to get everything Art is looking for in order. Besides if it got around that Adin was popping out of the woodwork it was good for morale. Made folks nervous enough not to do anything wrong.

So split decision made. He pulled out his revolver and stepped into the way, pulling back the hammer with a grin on his face,

"Slow down there chinaman or else you may get a new hole to show off to your friends at the railroad."

[PyrosNine]

Instead of finding a stopped Nein, Adin found a running knee coming at his face. Nein did not take shit from hobos. Especially after that last crack. If Nein had time and wasn't being chased by the big guy, Nein probably would have shown his full displeasure at that statement.

Instead, he hoped he'd knock this fool down and still have enough time to escape the big guy.

[Bard The 5th LW]

Jeremy instinctively backed away from Art's desk, thankful that Art had not seen him looking around. What he had found was not good in the least bit. Maybe he was overreacting and it was nothing, but it still seemed like a bad omen to the man.

'Better be watchful either was though,' he decided, leaving his hand in his pocket, gripping the small knife in there. This just mounted upon already existing suspicions he had, and if Art really had ordered the death of Sally, then he doubted that Art wouln't bat an eye at sending Eels in with a length of wire to dispatch of him.

Jeremy shuddered at that. He hardly considered Eels to be even human. He barely knew the man, but he had . . . heard things about the guy, which he hoped were hyperbole. With the image of Eels barging in and ripping him apart, Jeremy found himself slowly flick it open and closed in his pocket. He doubted he could really take on anyone who would want to do him harm, but it helped give him some sense of safety.

[Overcast]

For a moment Adin lost his cool. It wasn't that he didn't know how to scrap, it was just it had been a while since someone was staring down the end of his revolver and didn't...stop. So rather than doing what he should have done, ducked out of the way and try to pistol whip the fleeing Asian, he instead did something one hell of stupid.

He fired.

Then he got hit by a knee pretty much directly in his face. He couldn't tell you if he hit the guy with the shot. He pretty much couldn't tell you anything. The impact of the knee was hard and all his senses were on the fritz and to make matters worse the hard ground was coming rather fast. If he wasn't completely unconscious yet that second impact would do it. Whatever semblance of rational thought he had was cursing everything that was worth thinking about. Because he was about to be fucking dead weight with a revolver that had just screamed out for the whole city to hear only a short distance from a crime scene where cops with prior knowledge could stare at his rap sheet of acquitted offenses that stretched a mile long.

Should have just fucking hid and lied.

[Red Mage Black]

Before he could finish up with a crescendo, Benjamin noticed all the commotion going on. With the cops around and this place being... very illegal? It wasn't a very nice place to stay. Cops gave him the creeps anyway. So instead, he packed away his instruments for the night and while he was doing so, the big man in charge in appeared. A job? That was an interesting proposition. Though for him, a permanent job meant only having one client and that client would need to pay rather well. He didn't pay any mind to the off-key comment, as he knew it wasn't possible for him to miss a note, whether he got if Art was joking or not wasn't seen.

"I think I know a few spots around here to get out without it being obvious. Don't worry about me." Ben told him before stepping off the stage. It wasn't exactly the best exit, but a few years worth of info gathering gave him insight into a few things, including exits and pathways out as well as in to the Silver Beetle. Nobody ever bothered to ask for them, but it wasn't the most valuable information he had anyway. Either way, he took a trap door under the stage and down a dark pathway. It very conveniently came out a sewer grate in the back, where indeed Art's getaway car would be.

Once there, he waited outside for the boss man and whoever else was going with them. He leaned against a wall outside and kicked the grate shut with both instruments in tow.

[Geminex]

Johann pondered for a moment then shrugged, sighed. "I think I'll take my chances, boss. The less customers get arrested, the more likely they are to return. Means more profits are us. I'll buy us some time." He headed out the back door, and then looped around, to approach the site of the burning car. Perhaps the officer in charge could be persuaded to stay away from the Bar for another few minutes. He had the necessary resources to sweeten the deal, if necessary. He had left his weapons in a dumpster, no need to risk getting searched and being charged with carrying concealed weapons. He was now technically innocent, which is what you wanted to be if you were going to approach police sergeants.

Higher-ranking officers were fine, they knew how things worked, but the case was still young, it'd take a while before a pragmatic captain took over. Right now, it was still a sergeant, and probably an idealistic one at that. He'd have to step lightly.

Police forces had secured a cordon around the burning vehicles, but the individual (young man, clean shaven, immaculate uniform, this looked bad) Johann was heading for was standing off to the side, conversing with witnesses. There were a few civilians around, probably either more witnesses, or plain nosy, and that suited Johann fine, as he was able to approach the sergeant without raising attention.

Of course, just as he reached the individual in charge, a gunshot was heard. Very loud, very hard to miss. Aaand right in the direction of the Speakeasy. Goddammit. Advising this individual that the Speakeasy did not concern him would, right now, probably get him arrested. Not charged with anything, but he didn’t like taking chances. Leaving now might look suspicious. He froze, torn between the two. What the hell were they doing back there?

[Toastburner B]

Mickey was sitting behind the wheel, waiting for the boss to arrive, when he heard the shot.

Now, this was not the first time Mickey had heard a gunshot, and it certainly wouldn't be the last...but Mickey was pretty high strung at the moment. So, while the shot was still echoing, Mickey got out of the car, making sure it was still in park with the break on since the engine was getting nice and warm for a quick get away, and went around to the back of the car to fetch his Browning automatic rifle. Once he had the weapon in hand, he worked his way back towards the driver's door. Making sure the weapon was loaded, Mickey stood just outside the car, the rifle in his hands, ready to handle anything that came to harass him.

Or, at least, ready to fire off enough shots to make it look like he put up a fight before he jumped in the car and drove off.

((OOC: Yeah, that was pretty bad, but there wasn't much less for Mickey to do, so this was pretty much a "I'm still here!" post.))

[mauve]

The cheater in the blue jacket stared slack-jawed at Jules. "Stunned" was something of an understatement. He apparently wasn't expecting the pretty card dealer to pull a knife on him.

"Wh.. I ain't... uh... buh..." he stammered. He dropped the chips in his hands, pulling his fingers away from the blade still stuck in the table. "I, uh... I dunno what you're talking about, lady, but uh..." He looked at the retreating patrons, desperately wishing to be one of them.

"I don't want to cause no trouble!" he said. He dumped a handful of chips from his pocket on to the table. "I'll just.. .uh..."

He turned sharply on his heel and made a dash for the door. Better to lose the money than lose a limb.
----

Art involuntarily jumped as Eels' voice came from over his shoulder. That never ceased to be creepy.

"Oh, there you are." He suppressed a shudder. "I figured you were gone already. I was gonna send you out to have a chat with someone." The corner of Art's mouth curled into a smirk. "Found a guy hanging out around the bar, near the office door. He was in that same spot three nights ago." Funnily enough, that date coincided with the last time Art sent Eels out to "have a chat" with someone. Eels was quite the social butterfly.

"But seeing as how you had disappeared, I sent the bouncer. I'm sure he's got things under control."

At that precise moment, several things happened.

From outside the bar came the distinctive crack of gunfire.

From inside the bar came the distinctive sound of half-drunk people falling into a panic.

"What in the hell..?" Art didn't know what was going on out on the street, but it certainly didn't sound good. He cursed. There was no way the police could have missed that sound. It was only a matter of time before they came to investigate.

It was probably a good idea to leave.



"Dammit, dammit, dammit." Art made a break for the office. He threw his weight against the door and stumbled down the hallway, reaching the business office and throwing the door open with his shoulder.

"We're leaving. Now." he informed Jeremy. "If you fall behind, you're on your own."

Not waiting to hear Jeremy's reply, Art took off down the hallway.

-----------

"What was that?!"

Not even the sounds of a raging fire could completely drown out the sound of gunfire.

"Gunshot. This night gets worse and worse." Sgt. Andrews sighed. By now the fire department had arrived to control the flames, but the police were still investigating the crime scene. They weren't accomplishing much.

"Meyers. Take several officers and go investigate."

Meyers saluted the sergeant, but looked nervous.

"Sir, isn't that part of town where.... uh..." His voice trailed off.

Sgt. Andrews' eyes narrowed.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No sir!" Meyers saluted again and departed, several other officers in tow. They were moving in on the side street where the gunshot came from. And they were moving fast.

-------------

Johann found himself being confronted by an officer.

"Hey buddy, this is a crime scene. Unless you have official business here, you're gonna have to stay back," the officer said, waving him aside.
-----------

Art cautiously opened the back door. All seemed quiet in the back alley.

"All right," he said. "Let's go." He pushed the door open and walked out into the night. The door belonged to the house two buildings down from the Beetle-- a hallway connected all three buildings.

As promised, Mickey's car was parked there in the alley, ready to go. Art saw the cabbie standing guard nearby, gun in hand.

"Good work." Art said as he approached the car. "Looks like a quick escape might be just what we need." He climbed into the back seat, putting his hat on his lap. "But don't drive away just yet; I'm expecting company." At the first sign of danger, Art would give the signal for Mickey to step on it. But until then, he planned on giving the others a chance to catch up.

[Geminex]

Johann grinned, cocked his head. "Of course, officer. I consider myself a witness. I think I could be extremely... helpful to investigations." With that he stepped past the man, towards the officer in charge. This would be tricky. Money wasn't an option, neither were threats. Subservience might be effective, the mob didn't have many polite representatives, the sergeant would welcome the change. And, of course, idealism. Remember to hide accent, hunch shoulders, smile kindly.

"Sergeant... Andrews, was it? I will talk quickly, but I'd advise that you call your men back. You can always send them out again when I've spoken my piece. I have told your... second in-command? that I am a witness, and I am, in a sense. I'm afraid I cannot give you information on this case, but I can assist in solving it. In any case, I can advise you how to best solve it. And your current course of action is not one I would recommend.

You just sent your men to investigate a gunshot. A very natural course of action. A murder has occurred, a horrible murder, and any indication of further violence might lead to this murder being solved. And if, on the way, your men should happen to come across a den of lawlessness and corruption, and arrest some of the vermin that inhabit it, all the better, yes?

Only that's not the way it'll happen. Because that den of lawlessness and corruption is paying a lot of people a lot of money. You may raid it, and perhaps even take some prisoners, but those prisoners will be, at best, everyday individuals who came in for a drink. The individual who just fired a revolver will be long gone also. You would, in short, achieve nothing, even if that hypothetical den was responsible for this crime. And one of your superiors would take you off this case in the morning, you might even get demoted. Your chance to solve this, to bag the guys responsible, would be gone. So perhaps... reconsider. Unlike your replacement, you might have the... potential to solve this case. Picking your battles might allow you to realize that potential, using this brief moment of power will waste it. Take your pick, Sergeant Andrews."

[batgirl]

At the sound of gunfire, Jules knew to get while the getting was good. She grabbed her chip sack, stuffed as much as she could from the table into it and ran in the opposite direction of the cheater, towards the back. She knew that Art would have left the door to his office open, and she could get out through the back door and hallway. Thanking whatever diety there was that she could run in high heeled boots, she stopped off at the office to grab a large backpack of hers that contained all of her ids, some poisons, a small poison kit, a change of clothes and some personal effects, she then bolted outside and was relieved to see Art's car still parked there. She stuck her thumb out in a mock hitchhiking pose and went to the window. "Room for one more?"

[PyrosNine]

Nein was pretty sure he'd been shot, but he was also pretty sure he'd just kneed the hobo in the face, and therefore if he had a fatal wound in the side, it was worth it. What's next, down the next alley some Flapper with a tommy would tell him to stop running or she'd send him back to Yum-Yum in a origami handbasket?

Nein kept running, and felt the warm blood running down the leg. He had leapt up in the air around the time that the guy shot, but he was pretty sure he didn't leap over the bullet. A thought had occurred to him where he'd been shot and what he'd feel once the adrenaline of being shot at wore off, but for now he put it off his mind, as if it would ensure all the little smiling but not really smiling faces yet to be born.

[krogothwolf]

James pretty much swore at the sound of the gunshot. Stupid chinaman, damn Adin! Why would he fire a gun with cops crawling around.

His options where follow the chinaman or pick up adin and run. He decided to screw the chinaman and grab Adin and book it out there. He bent down, picked up Adin's gun and tossed it in his pocket and then picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. The man wasn't to heavy, nothing compared to the steel he used to carry around anyways. He then ran out the alleyway the opposite way they came and then when he cleared the alleyway and was sure no one had followed him, he ran to Art's car.

"Ya coulda tackled the bum Adin instead of firing your gun." James said quietly to the groggy man, "Not with a dozen or so cops around the corner. A stupid chinaman isn't worth getting arrested over."

[Red Mage Black]

A gunshot, a Chinaman and the police. Just that would make a great song on it's own. Well, once this is all over, maybe then I'll think about it. Ben thought to himself as he heard all the commotion going on. Wasn't the point of this all to get away before they got caught by the cops? Then they were making all this noise. He wasn't about to spout all this out though with a few of Art's men around. With Jules there, he put on his charming smile and walked over to one of the passenger doors and placed his violin case down, holding the car door open for her.

"Even in a time like this, ladies first. I won't rush you, but if we don't move soon then we may have some misunderstanding folks to confront." He said, straightening his tie with his other hand. Once she was in, he would get in right after, carrying his own case.

[Bard The 5th LW]

At the sound of the gunshot, thousands of obscenities buzzed through Jeremy's head. This jackass was going to get them all arrested. He was also a bit angry at himself, for actually being in this situation.

Then Art came in, causing the skittish gambler to jump a little. "We're leaving. Now." he informed Jeremy. "If you fall behind, you're on your own." Deciding to beat himself up for his vice later, Jeremy followed his boss outside to Mickey's car, a bit nervous at the sight of Mick's gun. It reminded him of the shotgu in his vest. If the cops found them, Jeremy would be in quite the conundrum.

'Well,' Jeremy mused as he climbed into the car after Art, 'I may have yelled in the bar, but at least I'm not the guy who shot off a gun with the police around.'

[Overcast]

But I didn't mean to fire the gun, was what he tried to say. Though with the facial pain and the multiple concussions it came out a bit more like,

"Bafuglternavsgn..."

He was fading in and out, putting gaps in his memory he'd have a great deal of trouble trying to fill later. Really it was good he was so messed up or someone might have been able to translate something in his ramblings that might give them some edge on someone else. After all his tapestry of connections was the only thing flashing in his head, anyone that could help him in this situation. Though at the time he couldn't reach a one, and now he owed someone for the first time in a long time.

Really this was a day full of surprises for the man, and that was just never a good thing. He didn't know how many strings he'd have to pull just to get his reputation in order again with the men, or how many jobs it would take before Art would forgive him this one stupid moment.

He was pretty much gone now, his last grip of consciousness was leaving him. He hoped he woke up someplace safe. With something for his face. Maybe a nice girl or guy by his side to ease the pain. Yeah...that would be...nice...

[mauve]

Sgt. Andrews looked rather surprised for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed.

"I see," the sergeant said slowly. "So the speakeasy gang is responsible for this. I was afraid of that." Whoops. Looks like the police hadn't interpreted Johann's warning quite as Johann had intended.

Andrews looked hard at Johann. If this guy is associated with the Silver Beetle gang, he thought, who knows how much information we could press out of him. Police Sergeant Nabs Gangster; Breaks Notorious Crime Ring. Wouldn't that look good in the papers? Andrews was obviously not the sharpest tool in the shed. It was a mystery how he managed to get promoted to sergeant.

"Sir," he began. "I'm gonna hafta ask you to come with us to the station. I've got some questions I'd like you to answer, on record."

Johann was still on the edge of the crime scene. There was a crowd gathering behind him, but no officers. Most of the remaining police were occupied with the wreck, but there was Andrews, and he was armed. Johann could try and make a break for it, or he could go quietly. The choice was his.

-----------

"Room for one more?"

Art's nervous scowl disappeared and was replaced with his signature charming smile.

"For you? Always!" He moved in his seat to allow other people to get past him. "Oh, and I suppose we can let the musician come too. You didn't happen to see James on your way out, did you? No? Hmmmm. He sure is taking his time."

He looked out the window, hoping to see the bouncer return with his prey. Sitting here was making him nervous. He absently scratched at his knee. The dash to his office had aggravated his bad leg. So far, this night was nothing but a collection of disappointments.

"Ah!" he said suddenly. James had appeared at the end of the alley, carrying someone over his shoulder. "Here he comes. Hmm, looks like he was bit harder on the guy than I had.... wait. That's not the guy. Why is he carrying a hobo?"

James ran over to the car, hobo in tow, and Art made a startling realization.

"Good lord. That's Adin." Art pushed open the opposite door on the car, waving James over. "Sit him down, sit him down. What the hell happened, James? Don't tell me you punched out the wrong guy." He leaned forwards, getting a better look at the unconscious man.

"Hoh. That shiner's gonna be murder on his 'man of a thousand faces' act." He looked back at James. "What happened? Our Asian 'friend' had a posse with him? How badly were you fellahs outnumbered?"

One thing was clear. This mystery man was trouble. And Art had a pretty good idea where he came from.

Mr. Bale, my dear friend, Art thought to himself, naming his bitter rival, I just found one of your little spies. And you thought you could get the better of me. Art had a new target on his hit list.
----------

The man in the blue jacket shuffled nervously down the street. He had lost his money, he had his perfect cheating strategy ruined by some crazy lady with a knife, and now he got kicked out of the bar he was supposed to be watching. Things couldn't get any worse.

"HURK!!" A hand grabbed him by the collar and dragged him down a side-alley. He let out a gasp as he was slammed into a dumpster.

"What the hell are you doing?!" hissed a voice. "The boss told you to stay put, and here you are gettin' your arse tossed out onto the pavement!"

The unfortunate man struggled in his attacker's grasp.

"Not my fault!" he wheezed, grasping at the fists on his collar. "MacCauley cleared out the bar! Cops everywhere-- Somethin' about a burning car and a dead girl... That's all I know, I swear!"

The attacker let go of the man, and he slumped to the ground.

"That's all you know." the attacker echoed flatly. "What the hell does Mr. Bale pay you for, huh?"

Blue Jacket didn't answer, but looked nervously down the alley. He didn't like the sound of gunfire that had rang out before he was dragged down here.

"Forget it," came a third voice. A shadowy figure lurked further down the alley. "We'll figure out what's going on later. Right now, we should clear out of here before the cops move in. This chump ain't the only agent Bale has in the Silver Beetle--Someone will have heard something useful."

--------

Nein made his way down the alley, bleeding as he went. Well, at least he got away from the bouncer and the crazy hobo. Now all he had to do was get home and hope the bullet hadn't grazed anything important.

"Hold it!" A silhouette of a figure appeared at the end of the alley. Oh joy, was this someone who could help? Nein was probably hoping for someone who had medical experience. Three more figures appeared behind him. A whole squad of medics, maybe?

"Hands up! Police!"

"Don't move!"

Dammit.

[krogothwolf]

james shook his head as he got in the car.

"Sorry Boss, the Asian was just a slippery Eel." He explained. "Didn't want to draw attention to it so was trying to escort him quiet like, didn't want to rough him up and someone screaming and I didn't want to bring the cops over. Was slippery then I thought he'd be, didn't hold him strong enough and he bolted down an alleyway and Adin here saw me chasing him in the pulled his gun on him. Guy could leap like no tomorrow and kneed him full in the face."

He pulled out Adin's gun and handed it to Art. The looked at Adin's face again. He still couldn't believe the guys knee actually smacked him in the face. Damn chinamen are flexible buggers.

"Adin decided to take the knee and shoot the guy, did hit him though, as there a bloody trail leading away." James mentioned annoyingly, "Not exactly the greatest idea. I decided keeping Adin out of jail was a bigger priority then catching the wounded man. I'm fairly sure the chinaman knew exactly who you are by the way he ran. It was escape or die for him."

[Geminex]

Johann smiled, but the kindness was draining out of his expression rapidly. "Am I under arrest, officer? I have committed no crime. I know nothing about this case. I was merely attempting to remind you of the realities of life in this city. If you choose not to accept this advice, that is your, highly regrettable choice. If you arrest me, that is again, your choice, and I would come quietly... though that course of action would be even more... regrettable. If you have any questions for me, I gladly will take the time to answer them here and now... But coming along to the station? I'd prefer not to. Again, look at the situation. I'm a respectable citizen, a furniture salesman. Arresting me would look utterly arbitrary. Not very good at all for your department's public image. You would achieve nothing. You would be demoted. And I bet you already bring in barely enough to feed yourself, let alone your wife and son. Be reasonable, Sergeant Andrews."


-----
((Would it be ok for Johann to actually own a furniture business, inherited from his parents?))

[PyrosNine]

Nein smiled to the police officers.

It had been a while since they had caught him, and time had passed, but passed rather slowly, especially to Nein. He was pretty sure it was the bloodloss. Of course Nein had stopped for the police, because there was at least some chance they'd get him some medical help on account of being shot, especially if they thought he knew something.

Also, in case some mugs decided to rough him up, he'd have police with him. Even if they were crooked, it wouldn't do for some mafia man to just breeze up the pigs and say "hey, can I have 'em? I need him for something."

It had been rather uneventful, truly. There had been some advice passed around about dealing with bullet wounds, and questions that Nein didn't have any answers for. At least, no answer he'd give in his own tongue. What the officers would get instead....

"I am vewy sowwy, Sirs, I do not know any'hing abou' wha' you awe asking me. I wish I knew, because I wourd vewy gradry terr you because you gave me hewp when I was huwt vewy badry." He held his hands clapped together and bowed with every major point said, with his eyelids so close he couldn't even see.

There were times you had to take a stand against what other people thought you were, and then there were times you had to milk it for all it was worth. Double Standards meant at least one of them were your friend, some times.