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Jake Fenton
Jake Fenton

Aug-19-2005 17:38

<Jake Fenton slammed the door lazily behind him and poured himself a bourbon. No ice. Rather too casually, he slung his jacket and shoulder holster down on the cot in the corner of the room, and slumped tiredly into his chair.

Almost by instinct, he reached to the breast pocket of his shirt and brought a cigar up to his mouth. He chewed off the ends and spat them onto the floor, where the detritus of the last few busy days had been building. What the heck, it was somewhere to lay his head.

His expert fingers flipped the zippo alight, and casually tossed it in the air to light the cigar, before catching and closing it in one movement. He took a sip of the burning liquor, and turned to gaze out of the window at the rain-sodden streets, below. The streets teemed with people, covering their heads with newspaper as they scurry their way home to their wives or off to their mistresses. He found himself idly wondering who they all are, what they all do... What makes them tick...



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cfm
cfm
Nomad

Aug-29-2005 15:27

She scurried from the bar, through the nearly empty lobby and past the doorman so fast he didn’t even have a chance to open the door. As soon as she was outside, she found the nearest alley and slipped into the shadows, pressing her spine and the back over head into the rough bricks behind her. Tears began to stream down her face followed by heavy sobs from deep in her chest. This is exactly why she didn’t go out in public often, why she was always in a hurry. Not so much because she was busy but because of the people. People made her nervous and nervous made her vulnerable, and vulnerable lead to unpredictable anxiety attacks. She should have stayed in her pool instead of trying to fit into a world she didn’t belong.

She had attacked and insulted Fenton without cause. She’d made up some wild story off the top of her head just to get away from him. Why? She knew why, because he was being kind and a gentleman, and if flipped her out. Fenton was going to turn into a fine detective. He already had his fingers on the pulse of the city and connections on the far coast. The detectives who didn’t take the time to learn their way around, those were the ones who truly had no passion, who were just trying to slide by making a quick buck finding lost car keys and kittens. No, her cruel words would sting; they would have torn her own heart out if someone had said them to her.


cfm
cfm
Nomad

Aug-29-2005 15:28

The moon was nearing a quarter phase and its yellow light spilled on the cold earth at her feet. “GAH! Nice one, cfm.” She wiped at her teary eyes and followed the narrow alleys with looming walls back to the outskirts of town. The stench of the city was strong in the dank passages and she paused to hike her skirt up her thigh far enough to pull her dirk from her garter. She knew what kind of characters lurked here, and the closer she got to Thomas’s the less comfortable she was with her surroundings. She wanted to forget the past few nights, forget Fenton, Giry, Shepard, Shady, all of it, at least long enough to wrap her emotions back into a tight, safe little package again. Her footsteps were taking her to her own awaiting opera house, once she picked the lock, along with her weeping willow, simple pool, and countless memories. She began to hum between sobs without even realizing it; if she hadn’t been in such a crumpled mess it would have been recognizable as “In the Wee Small hours of the morning.” As it was, the only one who would know her whimpers were related to music at all was herself, and maybe Angela.

Jake Fenton
Jake Fenton

Aug-29-2005 18:33

Jake stood wide eyed as he felt the sting of her fingers slapping across his cheek and watched her disappear from the bar the way Giry had gone. He was left stunned. He'd had women walk out on him before, but not when he was being so... charming.

"That's twice in two days now, ya lug," he scolded himself. He ordered himself another beer and went back down to his seat for the second half. Fortunately, there were few people immediately near him - he always hated that shuffle to get past people already seated at the theatre. It also meant he could check the contents of the envelope Giry had given him. There was a lot in there. More than he'd expected. Maybe five grand, and that made him a target. There was no way he was going to relax any more until he got back to his apartment. He finished his beer and went to the men's room before the end. He padded the envelope in tissue to mask its shape and hung it over a loop of string he'd sewn into the inside of his pants for just such an occasion. He wasn't going to get frisked there.

Jake Fenton
Jake Fenton

Aug-29-2005 18:33

It was dark outside. He knew he should get home straight away and fix himself some whisky and hot lemon, but he was restless again. His feet took him into a seedier part of town. Somehow, even amidst all the worst of the dirt and the grime he liked it here - he had a strange notion of honour among the darkest souls in this cesspit. A girl, maybe 17 years old, wearing last year's dress and too much makeup beckoned him over into a doorway. He didn't know what to feel most - pity or anger. He wanted to give her the money. He wanted to give her all of it. She was young, too young to be selling herself so cheaply, he wanted to take her away from it all, or at least give her a way out before it was too late. But it was already too late for her. He knew the make-up was there to hide the bruises from the fists of her partner, or whoever it was that her wages went to. The opium he was feeding her was making her compliant, willing. She'd never be able to use that money, and if she tried she'd probably end up dead.

Jake resisted the temptation to duck into the first gambling den he could find and put all that dough on black. That'd be no different to spending it at the brothels. The money all went the same way. It was all tied up with the mob, la cosa nostra. Those Sicilians seemed to run the show out here, fingers in every pie. Whenever something was going on, these scum seemed to be behind it all.

It was an uneventful walk home and for the first time in a week, Jake was asleep in his bed before midnight.

Makensie Brewer
Makensie Brewer
Super Steeper

Aug-30-2005 08:22

*sits back and eats popcorn at this interesting story*

Madame Giry
Madame Giry

Aug-30-2005 17:16

ooc: I know what you mean M.B.!

As Giry walked home, now getting a sense of who everybody was, she began to wonder... who was she? A stupid wannabe? A young detective? No. She was none of those. She was nothing. No talent. She just burned Fenton for having no passion in this career, and look. She had no passion as well. No money. No life. No joy. But, as she began to ponder the essence of life, and whether to end it, she heard a knock at the door. The door only opened a crack, due to te security chain. In a flash, her door was knocked down. "What the hell is going on here?", she asked with a frightened glance. It was the La Cosa Nostra. Damn those Sicilians. "We've heard you's is doing work for the Brotherhood. But what we's is wondering, if you's is a sister, why is you treating them like family?". But before she could answer the question, two of the gorillas behind the leader gagged her, and dragged her down the stairs. She couldn't utter any sounds with that greasy rag in her mouth. She needed help- and fast. No more wonder, it was all ending... or was it? If only somebody could see her now...

R Anstett
R Anstett

Aug-31-2005 10:40

He liked this city. Lots of places to be seen and even more places to hide in. The gritty underpinnings rubbed him the wrong way sometimes, but "sandpaper smooths the plank" grandpa used to say.

Wandering down the street contemplating his future he notices the so stereotypical stooges from La Cosa. Bulls in a china shop, anyone with half an eye open could see them coming a country mile. But that didn't mean he needed to let them see him. A quick duck into the bookstore, casual browse of the historical fiction. He chuckled to himself, most of what people called history these days was the fiction the factions like the Brotherhood fed to the newsies.

He watches out the window as they enter an apartment building. Pondering, is this what I want to spend my time on? Watching small time thugs shake down petty criminals for a few pennies? He had been in town for just over a week. Found a few jobs, been steered to a few more. So far a tidy bit of cash, a handful of favors, and a chance to sharpen his skills. This might have been the place to come to build up quickly, but did he really want to stick around this city? There were a lot more exciting places out there, places that involved the sun and beach.

That was a good thought; New Orleans might be a nice change of pace. Lots of sun, good food, great music. No weather problems to speak of, must be better than this dirty city.

Just as he steps over to the travel section to grab a book on the Big Easy he notices the goons from La Cosa coming out of the apartment doorway. The one looked like he was carrying a package of some sort over his shoulder. But the look the third one gave up and down the street told him that there was more in that package than a rolled up Persian rug.

Quietly slipping out into the street he followed quietly behind to see where they were going. Maybe a quick big score of a case was what he needed to head south for good.

(ooc hope for the best for those in the effected areas)

Madame Giry
Madame Giry

Aug-31-2005 16:28

"Mph, hmph!", mumbled Giry from under the rug's layers. How does she get herself into these things? "Hey, hold on guys!", cries Jake. "Finally," thought Giry...

Lady Emerald
Lady Emerald

Aug-31-2005 21:16

*laughs as she walks in, goes up to the bartenser ans asks for a Red Bull and Vodka. "Here's $1000, put in on the bar. Drinks for anyone." Strolls up to Jukebox which is hidden discreetly in the corner. Turns up Violent Femmes 'Blister in the Sun' and starts dancing.*

Jake Fenton
Jake Fenton

Sep-1-2005 13:33

<Sunday morning. I was on my way to the church to pay my regards to the priest. I ain't ever been a churchgoer, but Manfred

was a genuinely good man. His orphanage had helped get a lot of kids off the street. Shame there weren't more like him

around. But I'm being sidetracked - which was just what happened to me that day.

As I rounded the corner onto 54th there was a ruckus going on. A couple of goons were struggling with a lively looking roll

of carpet. Yep, that big ol' Persian rug was struggling real good, and I was damned sure it weren't no magic doing it. Now I

ain't stupid, I know not to get involved with a couple of thugs going about their work... If there's any money in it I'll get

the info from the other prople in that tenement. But it was Sunday and I like to hedge my bets. I reached them just as they

got down the steps onto the sidewalk.>

"Hey, hold on guys, you ain't making me watch a kidnapping..."

They walked away from me, the little guy at the front was facing me. "Shove off." He barked back at me. These fellas weren't

to be reasoned with. I cracked the big guy in the back of his head with my dusters. He was unconscious before he hit the

ground. Good thing the carpet was pretty heavy and stiff, that coulda hurt too. But I didn't have time to worry too much. The

other one had dropped the carpet and drawn a knife on me. He was swarthy looking, and his thick bushy eyebrows seemed to move

independantly.>

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