((In case you missed the other threads, check out: The USS Sleuthetania, the any location place ;), and The Expecting Miss Violet Parr.))
Ah, France. Not just France, but Paris, France.
Scarlett, Clift, Ace, and Vivienne decided to cut their wonderful trip to New York short. They had lost Violet, but they were to meet her when they got into Paris.
Clift picked up a newspaper. "MURDER IN THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT!" was emblazoned across the top of the page. Clift red it for a few moments as Ace chattered with Scarlett and Vivienne. They waited for Violet outside of a little cafe, knowing they'd be waiting for a while.
"Wow!" Clift interrupted his friends, "Guess who's dead?"
"Who?" Scarlett jumped.
"Bane is dead?" Ace inquired.
"Apparently he murdered a man and was shot down by police."
"Who was the man?" Vivvy asked.
"I don't know. It doesn't go into it."
"What happened?" Scarlett asked.
"Foot pursuit on the docks. They shot him and he went over the rail into the ocean. They didn't find the body for several hours."
Just then, Violet's cab pulled up. The group hadn't yet reserved a table, so they grabbed one now.
"Remember, Ace." Scarlett asked, "No ketchup!"
"Ha ha ha." Ace mocked, "And no soda! Especially not in Italy."
"We are in France, not the boot of Europe." Violet spoke up from behind.
"Hey, Violetta!" Ace teased.
"Hey, Tonail." Everyone laughed at the comeback.
Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter
I was thus stuck, as all my efforts to retrieve that information failed and Yoyo was already out of France. My only option seemed to be the stranger I recently had the pleasure of meeting: Abdur Rahman Ahmad. Even though he did seem trustworthy, considering the “luck” that I had in the past months, I have decided to handle things alone and try a bluff.
I figured if the French would’ve wanted something from me or Yoyo, they wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of staging me false charges. Having me in prison would’ve served them for nothing, unless they were actually trying to keep me away from something or someone. I had thus decided to inform the English inspector that I have managed to trace down some information he would be interested in from Yoyo and I would be willing to pass it to him in exchange for my freedom. Luckily he believed me and again, luckily he also did have enough power of influence to take the blue suits off my tail and bury my file. After two weeks I’ve spent in hiding, I was finally free. I met him on the ship to New York and handed him Yoyo’s key. He did not disclose to me any more details regarding the case and…actually…I didn’t even wanted to know more.
Now I’m all clear and back home. Since this last trip was so “full of events”, I have decided it’s going to be some time before I’ll step out of New York again. It’s safer for me here.
[End of quote]
Yoyo waked up in the early hours of the morning the party still in full force. He found the crumpled note in his hand. His sweaty hand had smudged the ink to the point where the letters were unreadable. 'Morocco' he thought 'The Orient, the harems the desert, solitude...Morocco'.
Yoyo made his way to his attic apartment, opened up his bag and threw all his possessions inside, including wads of cash. Credit never solved a problem like cash did. With absolutely no recollection of what had happened the night before he shrugged off the events of the night to the usual. He made his way to the train station to get a train to the South of Spain from there he would take a boat crossing the Straits of Gibraltar to Morrocco and from there he had no idea. But like usual he would fall on his feet.