One Way Or Another...

Summer 2021, Week 3

Thursday evening

The Port, Port Victoria

The Burned Man

The darkness surrounded the man, casting a vague silhouette of him from the small amount of light that crept out from the port. If anyone could see him then they would notice the overcoat flowing in the light breeze as well as the fedora that the man had to hold at certain times to hold onto. Yet, the darkness was the man’s friend here. Hunkered stop the warehouse, he crouched. Reaching for his night vision binoculars.   The scene before him was that of the Manoley Crime Family. More specifically the men they paid to guard and to store and move the weapons that were brought in and distributed through their portion of the docks.   They numbered ten in total. The man could see. Four were used to carry the goods. Two at a time. Three watched them do so. Ciggies in hand, chatting. The remaining three all stop guard. In a triangle around them. One covered the bridge from the trawler. One covered the warehouse while the last one overlooked the road heading out.   He was the man’s first target.   Heading down from the roof from the outside stairwell he made his way swiftly but quietly by foot. Crouching low as to not be seen. He headed for a slight alley way adjacent from the man. Checking his weaponry, pulling out his 9mm for ammo before perfectly rearming it, his knife was next, a slightly cute bed blade with a mahogany hilt. He was ready. Knocking the side of a bin to attract the unknowing dead man.   After a short shout from the man “I’m checking this out lads” which was meant with laughter and fun poking at young lad being an “anxious bastard”. He may well have been, but the man did not find out. For when he stepped close a collective move of his mouth being held by the man’s hand, whilst stepping on his left foot, dragging the top half of his body forwards towards the ground and then a sharp knife jab into the back of his throat. It was not long before the man’s body went limp. Which was quickly stuffed into the large bin by the mans gloved hands.   Now his thoughts dwelled on the others, the main four where clearly old timers who had been here done it a thousand times. Only without the man’s interests. It was those he wanted alive. Though they all held iron. Hmm. He needed a show. Carefully he stepped out into the open street. His black overcoat masking him as he stepped into range. He took his time. Carefully planning his movements.   He took 4 shots in total. Two aimed at an oil drum, the other two at the guards covering the bridge and the warehouse. Headshots. Instantly falling, one to the ground and the other with a splash of the water. The man stepped forwards as the drum exploded, his image now coming into view as he pulled out the second of his pistols that had been bolstered at his right side of his body.   As the four elder members Went for their weapons the man spoke in a calm, cool, collected and deep voice. “I wouldn’t if I was you. One move and you’re all dead.”

[x2 minor 13 EP Remaining]

 

Storyteller

"Ya say that after taking out me boys and expect me to listen to ya?" The oldest man says. He's dressed finely for a worker. Nice boots, a good jacket to keep off the bay's chill, and a hat to top it off that looked and was designer. His skin and hands told another story. A hard-working man who had started from the bottom to climb his way up, clawing through the grit and filth, spilling blood and sweat, only to have some fuck twit step into his op and make a mess of things. But all that crawling taught the man not to be stupid, so he let his hands hang, the other three following suit. "Who the fuck might you be? Making a mistake walking in here and causing a mess."   Reaching into his jacket pocket, slowly, other hand raised, he held it open to show a pack of smokes and removed one, lighting it up and taking a puff. Giving a nod, "Get on then." Death came for everyone, but William O'Maddy knew that when death didn't just hit ya from the dark like it did to his boys there was always a chance to escape it one more time. Talking seemed like the way.  

The Burned Man

He kept his guns high. Not letting any of them get some ideas. The man knew better than that. Far better. From the amount of times he had been at either end of this scenario. “A mess? No, just saved you from relying on those fools when you really need ‘em. As for my name? You don’t need that yet. But I need something from you. I’m after Bolt. Whoever the that is. Some Evo that thinks he can run around causing problems. Well, I’m the answer to problems, see?”   The man lifted at his two weapons emphasizing them as the solution. It was clear as he talked this wasn’t some lies. The man believed everything he said. “When bolt is down well... someone has to take over his place see? And I need people. Ones that know this city. Ones that can get me the things I need.”  

Storyteller

"Oh? Big bad wants to take the heat to the human lightning rod. Hear this, boys." The man gave a quick smile to his counterparts and looked back, face stern again. "You still ain't tell me why that's me problem. You want Bolt, go off an get 'em. But ya ain't using your head if you don't think there's a reason we've kept out of that mess. The Family wants nothing to do with that maniac. 'Sides boy-o, making promises you can't keep don't getcha things you need. You want business, you offer compensation. Simple and done."  

The Burned Man

“It’s your problem because I’m here. See, bolt is getting attention. Problem with that is... where does it stop? What if other supes target your men thinkin it’s bolt? Not to mention that once he is gone, I’ll make sure you keep everything he’s got. It all. I do not care for humanly possessions.”  

Storyteller

"Pretty story, mate. But not one I can deal with. You want help, want the Maloney on your side for your little feud. You'll need to talk to the big man, not me." taking a long drag, he stomped out the butt and mulled over what the man said. "Figure what you're saying makes some sense. So, I'll make you a deal. I'll arrange a meeting, you have a chat, you sort things out. Fair?"  

The Burned Man

The man smiled. Though no one could see through his bandages. Holstering his weapons dusting himself off he then clapped his hands together. “Agreed.”  

Storyteller

Slowly taking out his phone. "Figure ya want me to call now rather than risk leaving you in the dust, ay? Nothing funny from my end. I'm wanting a pint after this without a bullet in me chest. That square?" Waiting for approval, the man called a number and waited a moment. "Oi, it's Willy....Yeah at the docks....Had some business, came with an offer for more business....Deals with the Lightning....Yeah....Yeah the big man, if he can spare it....It's...Bring who ya need but don't be funny. Man's got arms but seems reasonable nuff....Got it....Kay then, we'll be here."   Hanging up the phone, the man looked around and found a seat on some pallets. "May as well rest a bit, they be about 15 minutes."  

The Burned Man

“Fraid I don’t rest. You won’t have no guns at your head... “ The man took of his hat almost to inspect it “For now, but remember what I did to you mates, aye.”  

Storyteller

“I assure you lad, that’s not something we will be forgetting.” The old man grits out. “Business is business. But the family has a long memory too.”   And from there they waited in silence for 20 minutes, only the sounds of the night to keep them company. Until the night was broken by three pairs of headlights that came to a stop 30 yards away. Doors opened, and while many got out the three figures walking towards them were clearly the ones they were waiting for as the old men waiting stood up.   He was nearly 40, very well dressed and a decently big man with a full brown beard and hard eyes. Beside him was a woman in business suit and a slightly smaller man also well dressed.   “Sir, thanks for coming out. This goes above me head and I can’t be asked to handle it alone.” Willy said quickly, his focus shifted to the man.   “Let’s just get through this quickly, William.”  

The Burned Man

The man stays quiet as he arrives. He does not move. Only the swaying of his overcoat in the sea breeze. The man’s eyes pierce in on the man who he assumed was in charge, one of the family. Though the darkness covered it, his eyes fluttered everywhere taking in everything he could. Trying to see though the lack of light. Potential shooters, enemies or anything that could cause him danger. After this they focused back on the middle-aged man. Once more speaking in an elegant way. His voice very deep.   “Are you one of the family?” He enquired while making sure his overcoat was slightly opened unleashing the sight of his two side arms  

Storyteller

There were plenty of men standing at the ready by the cars. Standing tall and firm but having taken positions behind open doors and cargo containers that stuck out. The ones that radiated danger were the two with the main man speaking through. Both stood with hands crossed in front of them. The woman, though, she seemed to be focused elsewhere.   "That I am. Liam Maloney, pleasure to meet ya after your antics dragged me away from a quiet night with me misses. Best get on with what ya want from me, 'fore I take notice of my men you decided to paint the streets with and decide its best to return the favor."  

The Burned Man

The man smirked. Unlike him really. But he did like the no nonsense attitude... he would need that for certain. The two brawny men didn’t worry him, the girl did though. Of course, the man was going to bring in the big muscles. That was obvious. What was not, is why a woman would be here. Yet alone that she would seem to not be bothered.   These thoughts raced in the man’s head, before realizing that he had yet to reply.   “I want Bolt dead. You also want Bolt dead. Don’t lie to me, he is a nuisance. More want his stuff. So, I offer a deal for ya. Help me get rid of bolt, I’ll help you take this city’s underground. I ask for nothing more than the man dead”  

Storyteller

The man paused for a moment and sighed. "Friend--I'll refer to you as that until you give me cause not to--taking out that psychopath won't win me the Underground. Most it'll do is open up a vacuum in the Wards that needs to be filled. And one doesn't tangle with the Prince's dog and get away with it." He took out his phone and scrolled a bit. "That said....I wouldn't be the one tangling with him then, would I? Let you take the heat...get rid of the dog...have him only see you...Yeah." Closing his phone, the man smiled. "What do ya need then?"  

The Burned Man

“Information mostly. I do not know this city. But you do. Where to get at bolt, where it hurts. What kind of person is he? Who follows him and why?” The man reached for a cigarette, knowing the danger is over he lights it and takes a long puff “Oh, and potential allies, people I count find to help me. Unless you’re willing to give me pretty lips there” He gestured to the woman.  

Storyteller

The woman speaks this time, her voice low and soft. "Blood Bolt runs the Sixth Street Sparks. Higher echelon is full of unknown Evos, and lower rungs are junkies, crazies, whoever he found on the street. He also commands the smaller groups in the Wards. Deals primarily in drugs, petty level. But it's a cover." Liam goes next. "He's a distraction. A nuisance to keep eyes off of the bigger threat that's the Red Prince. That much we've put together." Jumping back in after her boss spoke, she continued. "As to why people follow him, it's because he's powerful. Some say right under the Prince but the gap is closing. Power seekers follow the powerful, even if they're lunatics."   "As for allies" Liam said, "You're on your own for that, friend. Resources I can give you. Allies." He shook his head. "I'm not picking a fight with the Prince. This city underground is old, a few families left. And we are happy with the balance we have on this side of the Center. And Georgia doesn't leave my side. Lord knows there's enough of you out there that an insurance policy is always useful to have."  

The Burned Man

He nods I’m understanding at each sentence. Mentally taking note of each all whilst taking a puff every once in a while. But the time they had finished, he throws his butt to the ground and stomps it. “Fair enough, how do I contact you if I need you? I’ll speak to you more about the Red Prince later. For now bolt.”  

Storyteller

"There's a business card in your pocket." The woman said, and sure enough there would be one in one of his various pockets with a simple number written on it. "It'll work three times. That's how many times I'll let you call on the family for this suicide mission you're on." Liam said. "Oh, let me also be clear, I don't want to see you in my turf again unless I authorize it. If I do, I won't be calling you Friend." It wasn't a threat or spoken with menace, just more no-nonsense discussion. This insult would be forgotten in exchange for a chance to be rid of the dog of the Wards.  

The Burned Man

The man simply gave a swift nod. No words where needed now. They each understood their positions and the man understood his goals. He had a date, a date with God to determine his next move.   As he turned his overcoat flew behind him. Spots of rain hitting his fedora as the sun rose behind him. The rain giving way to a clean slate of a new day and a new era. One without Bolt.