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Realistic or Modern Empire City: The Irish Mob - IC (Closed)

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Mystery, Realistic, Romance
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Enzyme

The All-Powerful Enzyme!
Jackson McCarthy

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The first question, silenced Jackson. It seemed almost ridiculous to ask, as he assumed everyone had at least once. He then realized, despite his friends age, Conor was a true novice in the act of taking ones life. Jackson shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Eh, if I had anything to say, it would've been back then - when I needed to tell someone." Feeling for his emotion, he found a discrepancy in his heart. It were as if the emotion for killing had been redacted. He had certainly felt something when the integrity of his morality was brought into question; when he held onto the image of humanity in its most absolute form. He would often shake from violent nightmares, unable to move from a stiff, locked position. In the corner of his room he'd see the figures he had killed, their faces stretched with horror as it was the last emotion they would muster before he took their life.

Now, killing had become little more than an after thought. Time wasn't the catalyst of his healing wound, it only served as an interval for his thoughts. It was the acceptance of his duty and purpose on this Earth that granted him peace. Running from his problem would leave him a shell, so instead he turned around and stared his trauma in the eyes. Coming to terms with his reality, the same solution for a heartbreak - for at the end of the day, that all it was. He was heartbroken over who he had been forced to become.

"I'm sure this'll seem a bit... Eh... Pretentious, but I guess it's not somethin' you can really talk about." He moved for the bottle on the table, using it as a segue for the conversation. "We grow up, we do things, and we learn from it," he said as he filled his glass. "Some better than others," he chuckled, jabbing Conor for his criminal record.

"Be honest, though." He raised his index finger around the glass to Conor. "All this," he said, motioning to the building they were in. "Is it meant to fill that Dublin-sized hole in your heart?" He raised his brow, taking a sip of the glass. He assumed the major reason Conor was struggling with his morality was because a piece of him was lost. Some people could adapt to their new climate with ease, but from what Jackson knew about his friend, Conor was not one of those people.

@Misty Gray (Conor)
 

Pyroclast

Add alcohol and stir!
Steve Kelly

1579189277701.png Droplets of sweat were flung from the tips of his hair as Steve hurried to throw the packaged white bricks on the tarpaulin and up onto the deck where Kaladin stood guard. Although the cabin provided some shelter from the flames themselves, the heat of the encapsulating fire was suffocating without the breeze on his face. The stabbing pain in his arm hindered his mobility; he tried to move it as normal, but the buried shrapnel felt like it was tearing through the muscle and the pain was so bright that it momentarily blinded him. Steve gritted his teeth and did his best to work faster to compensate. Kaladin was shouting something as he opened fire into the distance, so Steve assumed the man had them covered for now.

The heat in the cabin combined with the deafening roar of gunfire was sickening and each brick seemed to weigh heavier as Steve piled them up. Panting heavily, he dropped to his knees and dug a finger through a tear in one of the packages where some cocaine had come loose, bending forward and running it past his nostril with a sharp inhale. The bitter taste and electrifying burst of energy overrode his senses and when he looked at the near empty crates, he knew with confidence that he would be leaving with a fortune under his arm.

Galvanised by the drugs in his system, Steve leapt to his feet and swept the remaining bricks onto a few other sheets of tarpaulin, which he proceeded to hastily tie into makeshift sacks. Once again, the adrenaline had kicked into gear and he began to throw the sacks up onto the deck at Kaladin's feet with surprising ease. Slinging the last and largest one over his right shoulder, Steve let out a victorious laugh as he leapt up the steps of the companionway. The fire had tripled in size since the two had first reached the yacht, its flames reflected in the stinging tears that the smoke brought to his eyes. "Cover me while I run these over!" he ordered Kaladin, kicking one of the sacks in his direction.

Without the ability to hold his gun, Steve's only option was to use the load as a sort of shield while he sprinted between the yacht and the truck. He had to be quick and careful, only taking time to look towards the source of the firing when it was safe to stop. The fight was beginning to die down and he had long since lost sight of those who had entered the maze. It put him on edge, not knowing how many he should expect to return with them nor how many enemies they still had to watch out for. On his third run, Steve hesitated beside the yacht, heart pounding heavily in his chest, and looked over to the maze of containers. A bitter taste dripped down the back of his throat and he sniffed, reaching up to wipe the dust off his nose. He couldn't see anyone anymore. Was Tony alive? Was anyone alive? His eyes narrowed as he watched anxiously for signs of movement. But he saw nothing. His confidence wavered as he got the feeling that they were being watched.

In the end, it was the distant crescendo of sirens that kicked him back into gear. He gave Kaladin an energised nudge before swooping to pick up the remaining sacks. "Just run these last ones over with me and we'll get the fuck outta' here. The others can make their own way..."

Interactions
@Enzyme Kaladin, Mitchel
@RayPurchase Tony

@Misty Gray Adam
@Bella:D Rebel, Peter
 

Misty Gray

Things and Stuff
Conor Sullivan

Untitled.pngConor watched Jackson closely as he waited for some kind of answer to his question. When his friend did speak up, it was clear he wasn't able to talk about the the past and any feelings he held about his actions. Conor wasn't entirely sure which way to take it. Would he become indifferent to taking the lives of others or would his feelings about it become yet more bottled up emotions, destined to fester in the back of his mind, until eventually influencing his destructive behaviours?

On Jackson's teasing, Conor couldn't help but let out a chuckle, deciding his friend perhaps wanted to lighten the mood. "Well, shit. Look what's happened to me? Wanting to talk about feelings and all the serious shit," he drily remarked. "I guess I have my counsellor to blame for this crap, huh? Dr. Parker has a knack for making people talk about their feelings and all that shite. Despite my protests, I've gotta admit, I wouldn't be out on parole now if it wasn't for him getting me to talk about all the things that I'd let eat me away. If you ever find yourself struggling, I totally recommend giving the bloke a chance."

Jackson went on to point out that the pub was Conor's way of compensating for not being in Dublin. Conor looked away and poured himself another drink. "Fuck, I guess I've been wasting money paying for that shrink when I could have just got you to analyse me..." he commented. Having not taking so much as a sip from his fresh tumbler of whiskey, he slid the glass aside as if the alcohol didn't interest him. "Can't deny you're right, though," he relented, looking to Jackson as he displayed a soft, small smile.

After letting out a deep groan, he quickly nodded his head. "I do miss Dublin, but my family's here and home's always going to be where they are," he told him. He couldn't imagine not living close enough to his sisters and their families. "Only, New York doesn't feel like home. It's cold and unfeeling. Everything's on such a big scale and there's no community spirit. Even Chicago had its charm. The small-time gangs around here, they get eaten alive and there's no choice but to put them out of business before they have chance to take even small pickings. I'd rather give them young lads a chance and get them working with us, but it just doesn't work that way over here. In Dublin, it would have. Jack and Liam always had it rougher here than it was back in Chicago and Dublin, and now Jimbo's inherited this shit." Conor shrugged his shoulders. "You'll be wishing you'd stayed in good old Ireland. Still, i'm made up you're here. With the others so stressed, it's good to have some energy around the place!"


@Enzyme (Jackson)
 

Bugsy

Welcome to the wasteland
KEEGAN LYNCH

To say that Keegan wasn't distracted was an understatement. His brain had gone through thousands of ways to have avoided the situation that he had found himself buried in now, but he was coming up short for anything that he hadn't glossed over already. He took another drink of scotch, allowing the burning sensation to find its way down his throat. Pulling out his cigarette packet, he thumbed one out, and went back to dig around for his lighter, both of which he had thrown onto the table in front of him as he took a long drag - maybe it was that placebo effect he had heard doctors throwing around but the nicotine had managed to push aside the intrusive thoughts, if only for a moment. And like for most people who had come to offer him condolences, they followed up with not much.

His eyes flickered up from the floor to the door opening, his body going tense until the door was opened and the familiar face of one of the Porter's guards walked in. The other Irishman's attention was on him, locked on. Keegan's blue eyes stared back - unwavering until he found out why they had walked in.

Warren.

"Italian fuckers can't get enough." He grumbled, words chewed by his cigarette clenched between two teeth. But even his irritation had been cause for his movement, getting up off his seat and nodding. He had done enough moping around for the time being; time to get even. Keegan nodded at George and Finn. "Thanks for your condolences." And, with that, he followed the guard out of the house.

He adjusted his coat, looking at the guard. "So, who was it?"

"I don't know, some Italian fucker."

"Helpful." Keegan shot back, blowing out smoke as he got into the awaiting car to head to the hospital.

Keegan had mostly sat in silence, clinging onto the end of his filter as they finally approached the hospital, dropping it by his foot as he exited the car. The hospital loomed above him, making him stifle his hesitation and press forward. The cleanliness, the doctors and nurses in white were all too recent reminders of his own loss. Keegan walked in, directed to the floor that had guards posted outside, looking out for any threats. "Lads." Keegan greeted them briefly as he indicated that he was going to go inside to see how Warren was holding up. He made sure to knock before going in, closing the door behind him.

"Warren." They hadn't spoken since the attack, nor had he wanted to broach the subject of it as he settled into a seat. "Holding up alright?"

@Misty Gray (Warren)

Mentions: @Bella:D (Finn)
 

Misty Gray

Things and Stuff
Adam Harper

Adam had been preparing to advance forward and get the yacht back in his sights. Instead, Rebel caught his attention as she shouted for him to get away from the scene altogether. Looking between her and the directly of the yacht, it was clear he was torn about fleeing the scene. However, seeing she was now injured as well as Peter, he decided the wisest thing to do was make sure they all got away from the docks in one piece. He knew James would value their lives over the shipment. He caught up with Rebel and still fully focused, he made sure to cover both of their back as they followed in Peter's footsteps out of the maze. "You got hit in the back?" he repeated, briefly allowing his eyes to fall onto the woman's injury. "Fuck sake..." he grumbled. "They'll keep," he muttered to himself, annoyed about losing the drugs and also about letting those responsible get out of it alive.

Once reunited with Peter, Rebel found them a car to make their escape in. As the woman broke into and hot-wired the vehicle, Adam offloaded the AR-15 from over his shoulder and tossed it onto the passenger seat. As soon as he heard the engine kick in, Adam rounded the vehicle to the driver's side and tapped Rebel on the shoulder. "You two cripples can get in the back and stop each other from bleeding out during the journey," he firmly suggested. "I'm driving."

With Peter and Rebel in the back of the car, Adam set off and drove at a normal speed as he pulled out of the docks and onto the main road. On the opposite side of the road, two police cars sped by with their sirens screeching out around them. Adam maintained a casual speed so as not to draw attention to himself. As soon as they were onto the main road and away from the docks, he put his foot down as he headed into the direction of Hell's Kitchen. "If I recall, your family doctor is all the way out at the Porter Mansion with his boyfriend," he pointed out, having been informed Finn and George were looking after the kids while the Porters were staying in the city. "I'll take us to Lloyd instead and get you both patched up by him. It'll give the lazy bastard something to do for a change," he drily remarked, oblivious to the fact the medic had already been busy that morning tending to Conor's and Jackson's wounds.


@Enzyme @RayPurchase @Pyroclast @Bella:D
 
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Pyroclast

Add alcohol and stir!
Syd Porter

1579371341371.png While it saddened him to hear that Roxie didn't feel at home with her parents, Syd was relieved when she told him that she would be moving back in with him when he was released from the hospital. A smile tugged at his lips, which broke into a soft chuckle at the thought of his dogs sleeping on her side of the bed. "Well, it did used to be their spot," he pointed out, only half-joking. When he had first moved to New York, the dogs hadn't slept in his room at all, but the periodic bouts of depression had since drawn them closer and closer until he grew lenient enough to let them sleep on the bed with him. After all, he made the rules in his house - of course he was going to break them.

With his thoughts wrapped around the prospect of seeing his dogs again, Syd hadn't noticed that Roxie's expression had grown serious. Her mention of his suicide attempt brought him back to the present and the brief feeling of hope was replaced by one of shame and discomfort. He looked away with a sigh, struggling to put his thoughts in order. The memory of that day had been shaken into a blur; it haunted him when he was trying not to think about it, yet when he did try, the pieces seemed to break apart and disappear into his unconscious mind. He stayed silent for several seconds as he tried desperately to figure out an answer. Then he lost the question, too, and that took even more effort to remember. "Uh..." he started, just to prompt himself. He straightened up and ran a hand through his bedraggled hair, locking his distant eyes onto Roxie. "I had to kill myself," he slowly drew out, more to keep himself on track of what he wanted to say than to remind her. "Because I couldn't trust myself anymore."

Maddox's face worked itself into the front of his mind and he twitched, his hand spontaneously jumping to his scar. The counsellor's demonic eyes bore into him as he loomed over the couch. Syd opened his eyes, not realising that they had been closed; the sight of Roxie's hands on the table reminded him where he was, but he was already trembling. "Roxie, it's not going to happen again," he told her. "'Cause I'm going to kill him, and I'm going to kill everyone working for him until there's no one else that can -"

"Who are you going to kill, Syd?"

His head snapped up to see the nurse standing behind Roxie. He stared at the man with the wild eyes of a cornered dog. Every instinct told him to run, but there was no escape. His chest tightened and it became increasingly harder to control his breathing. "I'm just trying to h-have a conversation," he insisted, gritting his teeth to stop them from chattering.

The nurse took a step closer and Syd leaned away, glaring up at him in defiance. "Then why don't we continue this conversation in the doctor's office?"

"No!" he snapped, slamming his hands down on the table and launching himself out of his seat. "You said I was allowed visits today, you can't put me away when I haven't FUCKING DONE ANYTHING!"

The paranoia of being overheard lingered beyond his memory of what he had actually said; amidst his temper, his focus pulled away from Roxie and instead fixed itself on the threat. Syd picked up his chair to create some distance between them, and when the nurse took a step forward, Syd swung it at the man's head. In such close proximity, he was unable to dodge it and was instantly knocked out, landing at Roxie's feet with a heavy thud. Soon the room seemed to swarm with white coats, arousing distress in many of the other patients and even some of the visitors. Syd was grabbed and pulled to the ground, his face pressed into the cold, hard floor with force. He continued to shout and rave, fighting to make himself heard even though, of course, no one was going to listen. He was sick of being confined, of the lack of independence and the constant watchful eyes of the nurses. None of them had earned his respect and therefore their authority meant nothing to him.

Suddenly the fight became impossible - he was too worked up to realise that his restraints were on, too furious even to feel the long needle be thrust deep into his neck. When eventually he was pulled to his feet, he noticed that the chair Roxie had been sitting in was now empty. He attempted to ask where she was, but it came out as an incomprehensible sob and was cut off when one of the security guards blindsided him with a harsh smack across the face. Without the ability to speak, move or think straight, all he could do was submit once again to the control of the hospital staff, who would make sure he spent the rest of the day in his cell.

Interactions
@Bella:D Roxie
 

Misty Gray

Things and Stuff
Warren Taylor


Warren's attention was already on the door when he heard someone knocking. Despite expecting a hit-man might not have the manners to knock first, it still made his heart skip regardless. He sat up again grimacing at the repeated pain in his chest that his movements insisted on causing. Seeing Keegan enter the room, he sent him an acknowledging nod. "Keegan," he replied. "Growing a beard, huh?" he remarked, the man's unshaven appearance not escaping his attention.

"I'm holding up alright," he replied, his eyes following the man as he took a seat nearby. "Arm's not causing me too much hassle, but the chest pain is causing me some trouble," he told him. "Still, I don't think it's something I need to stay in hospital to recover from. I'd be much safer resting at home, but the doctors are having none of it."

Warren was fully aware of Quinn's death, but he couldn't help but wonder if condolences and sympathy were all Keegan had heard over the last few days. He wasn't sure if the man would appreciate it from him too. "How have you and Declan been getting on?" he asked him. "As soon as I'm well enough, I intend on finishing those guys for good." When he thought about their enemies, it was Steve's face that stood out to him. Having seen the way the man terrorised Savannah, the woman he'd been tasked to protect, he wanted nothing more than to kill him. It didn't help that being stuck in the hospital was putting him in the worst mood. "I'd say the other bloke is yours, yes?" he asked, referring to Tony - Quinn's killer.


@Bugsy (Keegan)
 
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Enzyme

The All-Powerful Enzyme!
New York Harbor

Through the roaring flames ravaging the yacht and the Columbian cocaine ravaging his mind, Kaladin's shots were less than accurate. By the time he stuffed his sweaty hand into his pocket and clumsily loaded brass through the slide, Rebel was long gone. He froze momentarily as his mind stuttered to recall his secondary objective. The sound of the cabin collapsing refocused his thoughts like a laser. His eyes frantically searched for Steve as his surroundings slowly withered away. He could hear the clambering of Steve's shoes on the brittle wood, on the other side of the boat, prompting him to push through the heavy smoke.

Kaladin complied with Steve's order, practically throwing himself from the deck, onto the shore. He slung the SKS over his shoulder and began gathering as many cocaine bricks his hands could hold. The sounds of sirens blaring in the distance echoed throughout his racing mind and sent his panic into overdrive. His heels barely had time to float off the wood before he was sprinting towards their extraction.

"Tony! Get the fuck in the van!" He shouted as he sprinted past the torn freight containers, having no interest in respecting the ranking hierarchy. His feet beat against the concrete as he came to screeching halt, wasting no time in tossing the cocaine inside. He climbed in after it and clambered over the nylon seats to the steering wheel. The sound of the engine roaring to life caused a wave of relief to flow over his senses. With how much bullet damage the van took, it was far more than a gamble.

The Porter's vehicle passed the police cruisers on the way off the private property, with the police showing the unsuspecting car little attention. Kaladin knew their exit wouldn't be as subtle, so as the passengers loaded inside, his eyes swayed desperately across the enclosed shore. With the haunting sirens only getting closer, he was certain no clean escape would be possible.

Throwing the vehicle into drive, he slammed the pedal down until he felt the floor. The van shot forward, skidding across the asphalt and leaving two distinguishable black streaks behind. He spun the wheel around as if it were a bindless tourniquet, until he was met with the corner of the property. He shot forward, with only a single prayer that the engine wouldn't give out before they could collect enough speed. Sure enough, the hood of the vehicle tore through the side fence without so much of a hiccup in their speed. Suspecting even the most remote amount of resistance, Kaladin had to sway to avoid colliding head on with a container.

The side of the van slammed harshly against the freight container, throwing the occupants around. He, however, was quick to accelerate off of the hit, propelling them down the open road until the sirens were nothing more than a distant murmur.

@Misty Gray (Alex) @Bella:D (Peter/Rebel) @Pyroclast (Steve) @RayPurchase (Tony)
 

RayPurchase

Senior Member
Tony Harris
Tony lowered his pistol. Shehe had disappeared from view, but he'd heard the scream. As much as he wanted to go and make sure the job was finished he knew it would be a death sentence. Effectively one armed and down to his sidearm if he encountered trouble he wouldn't have lasted long. With the Magnum still in his hand, he pressed it against his shoulder, keeping steady pressure on it even as it screamed in protestation. The sound of sirens was now beginning to fill the air, they'd had their fun, now was the time to bug out. The smoke from the boat was now thick in the air. He hacked a wad of phlegm onto the ground, attempting and failing to clear his irritated airways. He stumbled against one of the crates, blinking back tears as his eyes reddened, burning from the smoke. He shook his head, clearing the looming fog that was growing. Instead he focused on the pain from his shoulder and cheek, the shooting pain giving him something focus on. One foot in front of the other until he was out of this mess. Each step he took felt like was carrying some ever increasing weight, his legs heavier and heavier. Until finally he emerged from the shadows of the godforsaken shipping crates and emerged into the light of day.

Standing there, swaying slightly in the breeze as the smoke rolled behind him. Sucking in a lungful of clean air cleared his head somewhat, and he stumbled forward. The van finally came into view, the backdoor already open and filled with a good quantity of sacks from the Yacht. A good haul by his estimate, and this brought a smile to his face. The sweet taste of victory, even if it hadn’t been an easy one. He clambered into the back of the van the door swinging shut behind him with a thud as they raced away leaving devastation and destruction in their wake, and near enough collapsed against the interior wall. His eyes closed. His chest steadily rose and fell, his pale face streaked with ash from the smoke and his cheek stained with blood. He had certainly seen better days. He frowned as he examined his hand, it appeared almost ghostly white. The frown morphed into a smile though as he rubbed a finger against his gums, the overwhelming tiredness that had been wafting over him replaced by a sudden electronic buzz, his heart rate increased, and his pupils dilated as the sounds of sirens faded. He began to laugh, for now the pain was slipping away in a new rush of adrenaline, even as he knew it was only temporary, and the red smear against the wall of the van told him this wasn’t just a flesh wound.

“Gents… this is some good fucking merchandise we’ve got here”

His hand flopped back against one of the sacks, a small cloud of white dust arose from it once more, and his manic laughter continued, filling the back of the van.
 

Misty Gray

Things and Stuff
Sinead and Savannah Callahan
James Porter


2445144-bigthumbnail.jpg"Seriously. This will be done with quicker if you help me pick this money up!" Sinead persisted to complain at Regan. Reluctantly, the armed man crouched down and began scooping up the notes, managing to balance keeping hold of his pistol as he did. Sinead watched the man from the corners of her eyes as she tried to work out how she would get out of the mess if the other men in the main area of the club got trigger happy. What if Regan turned on her too? "Ugh, my nails!" she grumbled, still playing on the ditzy woman act to make sure she came across as harmless. She placed a pile of notes on top of her desk before getting back onto her knees to collect the remaining cash from the floor.

"Fuck your nails and get on with it!" Regan impatiently ordered Sinead as he continued to retrieve the dropped cash. Suddenly, the sound of two distant gunshots was heard as Aliana shot at the men in the main area of the club. Sinead froze, wide-eyed as she feared Aliana or Gwen had been hurt. What if she was next? She knew she had to act, but her focus was broken when the sound of a female gasping close-by caught both hers and Regan's attention. Sinead didn't know the source of the gasp was Savannah, but she did know someone was hiding behind her desk and they were now in danger too. As Regan's head snapped towards the desk and he stood ready to walk around it, Sinead discreetly slid her hand up the outside of her thigh and retrieved the pistol that had been hidden beneath the skirt of her dress. With barely any hesitation, she aimed the gun and fired a bullet into the back of Regan's hand, causing him to drop the firearm he'd been holding as he yelled out in pain. As he turned to the redhead, she fired another bullet just below his right knee, causing him to fall backwards and land on his butt as he clutched at his leg as he failed to hold in a pained groan.

Sinead heard Savannah scream out in shock as the blonde watched the scene unfold through the hole in the backboard of the desk. Thinking fast, Sinead kicked Regan's dropped gun aside, sending it sliding underneath the desk and safely out of the man's reach. Savannah retrieved the gun, but had no intention of using it, not quite sure if she even had the confidence to do so, never mind actually aim it at all well.

As Regan yelled at Sinead, calling her more expletives and threatening to kill her, Sinead took a couple of steps back but kept her gun trained on the man. "Stay hidden, sweetheart. Keep out of the way!" Sinead reassuringly called to Savannah. Something about her daughter being in a dangerous situation filled Sinead with more confidence and though she didn't want to kill Regan, she would not hesitate if he came any closer to Savannah. "You stay down on the floor and learn some damn manners, Mister! You don't get to come into my club and start calling the shots." As the man hobbled up to his feet, she was sure he was going to advance on her. "You'd better stay back, because I'll aim for your head next time and I won't miss." Her fingers hovered over the trigger, ready to squeeze it the second the man took a step towards her.

04c57c02da61f4b1058b4b16f7284947.jpgThere was a tense stand-off as Regan and Sinead stared daggers at each other, the woman not wanting to back down or take her eyes off him. Eventually, the man raised both hands in the air as he seemingly gave in to the club owner's commands. "Alright, love. You win..." he told her lowering his arms as she relaxed her own and began to slowly lower the gun. Using the opportunity whilst she had the gun lowered, Regan reached back with his good hand and grabbed the nearby vase, tossing it at Sinead. She immediately cowered, managing to only just dodge being hit. As she screamed out, Savannah scrambled from under the table, but she fumbled around as she tried to hold the gun tightly in her trembling hand.

Before Regan could make a limping advance on Sinead, the door swung open and James rushed into the room, having been trying to judge the right moment so as not to startle Sinead and end up getting shot by her in the process. James delivered a heavy right hook into Regan's cheekbone before slamming the heel of his boot against the bleeding wound of the man's shin. Regan collapsed as the impact of James' boot against the gunshot wound in his leg caused unbearable pain. Regan made the mistake of putting his bleeding hand on the floor, inviting James to crush it beneath his foot. James brought his handgun into view and pressed the muzzle of the gun into the side of Regan's skull. "You'd better start talking before me and the ladies start fighting over who gets to put a bullet in your head," the Boss furiously threatened Regan. He doubted very much that Sinead or Savannah would want to do such a thing, but his sister-in-law had apparently already stepped out of her comfort zone.

James briefly glanced towards the door, wondering if Jackson and Conor had managed to deal with the others. Having entered through of the back door of the club to gain immediate access to the office and get Savannah out to safety, he had yet to join with the others in the main area of the jazz club.

@Bella:D (Regan)
Mentions: @Enzyme (Jackson)
 
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Misty Gray

Things and Stuff
James Porter
Sinead and Savannah Callahan

9febe0a42e4f6897271b6a8f9a32aa41.jpgEven with the gun pressed against his skull, Regan wasn't willing to answer any of James' questions. He knew telling James he was working for Stefano was out of the question. When it came down to it, he was certain that Stefano would have his head if he told the enemy anything, whilst he believed the the Porter boss wouldn't pull the trigger himself. Maybe he'd have some employee do the deed, but that at least bought him some time to attempt an escape. "I'm not telling you a thing," he finally answered. "You won't shoot me in here and my friends will kill your lot out there if I don't leave this office with that cash soon," he confidently assured James.

James allowed his finger to toy with the trigger as he stared Regan down. A gentle knock was heard at the ajar door before one of the Porter guards took a single step into the office. "The others have sorted the rest of those wankers out in the main area. Gwen and Aliana are both okay," he informed James.

"Good," James flatly replied as he kept his focus on Regan. "Escort the two ladies out of here to safety," he asked his employee, nodding his head towards Sinead and Savannah. "Don't worry, Sinead. I'll arrange for your office to be cleaned up before tomorrow," he reassured his sister-in-law, apparently just referring to the blood-stains on the carpet from Regan's wounds.

Sinead reached her hand out to hold Savannah's hand so she could lead her daughter out of the office behind the burly Porter guard. James kept his eyes and gun trained on Regan as he backed away from the man to close the office door behind the two ladies. He stopped by the door and watched as Regan proceeded to struggle to his feet whilst taking a moment to dwell on the hole in the back of his hand. He seemed to believe James wasn't going to shoot him, but he wouldn't get time to realise his assumption was wrong. James swiftly lifted his arm, his gun trained directly on the man's head. Without hesitation, James pulled the trigger. The gunshot filled the room as the bullet embedded itself in the centre of Regan's forehead. A second shot was fired, the bullet ripping through the man's right eye and making a bloody mess of half of his face.

James calmly returned his smoking gun to its holster as he watched the man collapse into a bleeding mess on the floor. After waiting a short time to give Regan time to finish dying, he stepped out of the office and closed the door behind him. The guard who had escorted Sinead and Savannah away was by then approaching the office again. James sent him a nod before thumbing over his shoulder to reference the office. "Arrange a clean-up crew for in there, would you?" he asked, not only referring to removing Regan's corpse, but also to giving the room a fresh coat of paint and a new carpet!
 

Bugsy

Welcome to the wasteland
KEEGAN LYNCH
Keegan scoffed some as Warren noticed that he had let himself go the past couple of days after the attack and after Quinn's death. The beard was as much significance of that as was the heavy amounts of alcohol he had consumed within the first twenty-four hours. He was better off distracting himself with something else - someone else. Keegan was glad that the kid was alright, or at least was putting on the front that he was alright. His eyes narrowed as Warren mentioned about his chest pain, hoping that it was nothing that he couldn't recover fully from. "No safer place than home comfort, right?"

The Irishman's tone held an edge to it, somewhat embittered about the whole situation with his sisters and his ma. Not to mention how it looked with his remaining brothers that Quinn was dead. Keegan was not a welcome face around the family home any more, for he only caused heartbreak; or so his mother had told him. It hurt him more than he was able to admit but, he knew it was coming. Another scoff, slightly lighter and softer as Warren mentioned how he and Declan had been getting on.

"As much as I'd like to say I know what Declan's been up to, my brother doesn't really want to talk to me at the moment." It worried him at the same time of the extended silence between the both of them, he hoped Declan was alright - that he wasn't trying to get into any further conflicts; for he much preferred if Declan drowned his sorrows every night rather than looked for the fight. That was Keegan's job. "How's your side of the family handling it?"

Though when Warren admitted that once he was well enough to function on his own two feet, finishing the men was his first priority, Keegan gave a more genuine smile (though one that bordered on predatory as he thought about the hunt and how much he was going to make them suffer).

"Let's make sure you get out of here in one piece first," Keegan replied, nodding in response. "Then yeah, the other blokes fucking mine."

Tag: @Misty Gray (Warren)
 
Chapter 11: Pushing for the Truth

Misty Gray

Things and Stuff
Chapter 11: Pushing for the Truth
Monday 27th September 1971
...6 days later…
Late Afternoon - Mild, Breezy, Clear Sky

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Midtown Medical Center
~ Midtown, Manhattan ~
Maddox Parker

1579808299332.pngEver since his last meeting with Gabriel, Maddox had struggled to get his next session with Conor out of his mind. Like he had done with Syd, the counsellor knew he had to unravel all of the hard work he'd put in to helping Conor. Despite his ill-intentions, he'd felt proud and happy with the progress he'd made with Conor. Despite the man's crimes and his part of the mob, Maddox had to admit that he'd grown to like the Sullivan man. He'd suffered losses which had helped him to become a prisoner to his aggressive impulses, but underneath it all Conor was a kind and compassionate man. It's what made it so hard to now use Conor's suffering against him to draw out the dangerous and self-destructive emotions in order to push him to the brink. It had to be enough to push Conor into snapping and to ensure there was enough evidence to end up back in prison having broken his parole. From there, Moretti had his own plans and they all ended with Sullivan's gruesome death.

He hadn't slept much the night before, not only through worrying about his session with Conor but also through his concern for Ani. Maddox had hoped she'd accept his offer to move in with him, where he would know she was safe and where he could have had some of his own friends keeping watch over his apartment. The thought of what Gabriel had ordered him to do to Syd and Conor was tearing Maddox apart. If he didn't do as he was told, Ani's life was at risk. If he did, he wasn't sure how he would be able to look her in the eyes - how could she still love him after that? He knew it would be so much easier to finish what he'd set out to do had he not fallen for Ani and had his eyes opened to a better life. Despite that turmoil, he loved her and no matter how much he considered it, he couldn't push her away. He'd offered her the opportunity to step away from him a few days ago and she'd declined, instead choosing to stay with him.

The day had seemed to drag as he anticipated seeing Conor. As he saw his client, Philip, out of the office he knew the time was upon him. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks, Philip. Stay out of trouble," he added. Though said as a joke, the former soldier was working for the East Harlem lot, so he was fully aware that job invited trouble. With his client gone, Maddox looked around the empty waiting room before approaching Laura at the reception desk. He was fully aware he was the only doctor left working on that floor of the medical center. He'd intentionally arranged for Conor to have the last session of the day so he knew his colleagues would be out working in their external surgeries and institutions. "Mr. Sullivan is my last appointment of the day, you might as well finish up early, Laura. There's no point waiting for me to go home," he told her. The GPs on the ground floor would still be working, so he knew security wouldn't be an issue. It was simply better that Laura wasn't dragged into this one...

Mention: @Bella:D (Ani)



The Emerald Pub
~ Midtown, Manhattan ~
Conor Sullivan and Rachel Harris

1579808316787.png"Conor Sullivan, you've been in a shitty mood all afternoon!" Rachel berated her boss as he emerged behind the bar having just slammed his office door on his way out of the room. She turned to the big man and studied his distant gaze for a short time. He then proceeded to fasten up his jacket as he apparently ignored the woman. "Well, I suppose you're going to the right place if you're in a bad mood. Make Dr. Parker earn his fee and all that..."

"It shouldn't be too busy for you tonight, Rach. I'm sure you'll get plenty of time to show Jenny the ropes back here," Conor said, clearly trying to ignore what Rachel had said. He took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders. "Can't say I want to give the shrink any more of my money, but it's not like I have much of a fuckin' choice, is it?"

"I thought you liked your counsellor? Not so long ago, you were raving about him being a 'top bloke'."

Conor shook his head glanced to the door. "That was before Syd tried to top himself again. I don't understand how he could go downhill so suddenly nor how Dr. Parker couldn't see it coming. Maybe I do like the bloke, but come on, it's Syd... I've got a bone to pick with Dr. Parker!" Before there was chance for further argument, Conor marched off out of the pub to attend his counselling session.

Rachel awkwardly bit her lip as she deliberated over whether or not to be concerned about the man. Whilst she trusted he knew what he was doing by now, she worried the counsellor was one of the last people Conor should be taking his frustration out on. Without further delay, she moved to the back office and dialled the number of Mitch's law firm. After eventually getting through to him, she couldn't help the small smile that appeared when hearing his voice. Though they'd been out for drinks together a few times, she had admittedly been stubborn about her attractino to him, waiting to see how long it would take for him to speak up if he did feel the same. "Mitch, it's Rachel. We're still on for drinks tomorrow, but that's not why I'm calling." She paused before deciding it was better to be cautious. "Conor's just headed out for his appointment with Dr. Parker and he's in a foul mood about it. I'm probably looking into it too much, but he's upset about Syd being sectioned and his words were that he's 'got a bone to pick with Dr. Parker'. I'm concerned he might do something to screw up his parole and wondered if you could get over to the medical center, seeing as you know the shrink."

@RayPurchase (Mitch)



Martínez Barber Shop
~ East Harlem, Manhattan ~
Gabriel Moretti
~ Luis Martinez ~


1579808333608.pngWith Tony and Tatiana seated in the back of the parked car, Gabriel sat in the front passenger seat with their driver, Paolo, sat the the wheel. The vehicle had been parked up on the street for five minutes. In front of them was a vehicle that belonged to two of Gabriel's bodyguards; one waiting in the car whilst the other had headed to the row of businesses across the road. The place that was of interest was 'Martinez Barber Shop', located between a bakery and a jewellers. Gabriel looked to his watch after briefly squinting as he looked to the door of the bakery. "Closed already? Shame. I was going to treat us all to some doughnuts once we were done with the Puerto Ricans," he remarked.

The purpose of their visit to the barbers was not a social call. Gabriel had been noticing a decrease in weight in the drug supply by the time it reached his own warehouses. The men tasked with delivering the drugs in question were led by Miguel Martinez - leader of the Martinez Crew and owner of the barber shop. Gabriel had very recently learned from Luis Martinez that his cousins, Miguel and Carlos, have been stealing a portion of the drugs to sell on for themselves. Tony and Tatiana had been briefed on the information Luis has so kindly offered to Gabriel. "We get the three of them down in the cellar so I can take stock of what we have. I would like to keep quiet about what we know to give Miguel and Carlos the opportunity to come clean." He turned to look between Tony and Tatiana. "Confession or not, both of those traitorous thieves will not be leaving the cellar alive," he said of Miguel and Carlos. He had his thoughts on Luis too, but he would be the easiest to deal with. Gabriel briefly glanced to the healing wound on Tony's cheek and smirked. "We'll all try to make sure you don't further jeopardise your modelling career," he remarked. Despite the light-natured remark, he wasn't going to ignore the fact the Porters had managed to injure one of his best men. Outside of his family, he took a special dislike at the thought of Tony and Teddy being injured.

The guard returned from checking out the barbers shop and approached the vehicle, waiting for Gabriel to lower the window so he could speak to him. "Luis is in there with his last customer and I saw the two brothers head towards the back office." Gabriel nodded his head and proceeded to step out of the vehicle, expecting Tatiana and Tony to do the same. Paolo would remain in the car ready to drive the group away at the drop of a hat. The two bodyguards retrieved their firearms from the car in front and followed the Morettis and Tony towards the barber shop, but the two men dropped back for the time-being.

Upon entering the barber shop, Luis was handing the customer his change before the freshly groomed man left the shop. "I hope you gave him a discount, Luis. That wasn't your finest work, I have to be honest," Gabriel told him. He looked over his shoulder as the two guards stepped into the salon, one of them twisting the sign in the window to read "Closed" before locking the door from the inside. "We're here to check the inventory," Gabriel knowingly told Luis. "Lead the way and collect your cousins from the office, would you?"

"Yeah... sure..." Luis awkwardly began. He had a feeling he knew things wouldn't end well for Miguel and Carlos. They'd been stealing drugs from the Morettis and he knew damn well the kind of punishment they would be facing. It would be difficult to witness, but he was tired of being treated like dirt by them and he was eager to take over the Martinez business. This was Luis' time to take some power and riches for himself. He walked to the back of the shop and pushed open the office door where Miguel and Carlos were sat talking. "Guys, we've got visitors. Mr. Moretti wants us in the basement to check inventory on the special deliveries," he said, clearly referring to the cocaine.

As he followed Luis to the back of the shop, Gabriel had casually swiped his hand along one of the styling stations and discreetly taken one of the cut-throat razors from the unit, slotting it into the front pocket of his trousers. He turned to Tatiana and Tony, sending them an approving nod that signalled it was show time. Gabriel didn't like being betrayed and the cost for such a crime was most severe.

Present: @Misty Gray (Gabriel, Luis), @RayPurchase (Tony), @Pyroclast (Tatiana, Miguel), @Enzyme (Carlos), NPCs x2 Bodyguards



The Callahan House
~ Forest Hills, Queens~
Savannah Callahan

1579808348554.pngThe attack at her mother's club had been another terrifying experience for Savannah, but there had been much to take from it and the blonde knew she could use it to her benefit. When approaching her parents to ask to be trained to defend herself and to use a gun, she knew she'd had something to use against any protests they - or specifically her mother - would make. Whilst she'd been hiding under the desk in her mother's office, Savannah had seen the way Sinead stepped up against the man and even managed to shoot him twice to make him back down. Though Sinead always played it down, Savannah knew her mother was strong-willed and had courage, so it was comforting to see the woman put it into action. Despite the fear the violence brought her, Savannah was proud of her mother. Still, when Sinead initially refused her daughter's request for Peter to train her, Savannah reminded her of what had happened in the club and how she wanted to be able to defend herself in the future, rather than hide underneath a desk. With a little persuasion and admiration from Savannah, Sinead finally caved in and agreed. After all, she would rather her daughter was a fighter than a victim.

As she waited in the lounge for Peter to start their training, Savannah entertained Emery's cat with a toy mouse. Hearing her mother's voice, she looked up to see the woman retrieving her car keys from the coffee table.

"I'm going into the city to pick up my new dress... Gimme a hug seeing as you're at your Mama's house for once!" Sinead said, beckoning her daughter towards her. The two women hugged each other and Sinead placed a kiss on Savannah's cheek. "Alright, be careful and make sure you stay for dinner. I'll make something special for us all," she excitedly told her. She was hopeful Braden would show his face and make it a full house, but she knew it was already a miracle Savannah was staying for dinner.

"Dinner sounds great, though I was hoping I'd be able to stay overnight too? We could all watch a movie on TV," she suggested to her mother. Of course, Sinead excitedly confirmed her daughter could sleep over. Once her mother had left, Savannah set about tying her hair up ready to train with her father. She was already kitted out in a vest top and some jogging bottoms - a rare sight for the young woman who was almost always wearing a dress.

When Peter joined her, Savannah sent a smile his way. She was looking forward to spending some quality time with her father as she hadn't had much opportunity since she'd moved into her own place. Even when she did live in the family home, it was difficult to have one-on-one time with Peter when Emery and Braden were present. "Alright, Dad. Don't go too easy on me, yeah?" she joked. "Unless we're going straight to the guns while Mum's out of the house. Not that she's got room to talk these days..." she remarked, referring to Sinead getting a couple of shots in at Regan, the previous week.
@Bella:D (Peter)

Currently Active Cast: @Misty Gray @Bella:D @Pyroclast @Enzyme @Melanin-Gxdess @RayPurchase @Bugsy @Fletchawk
**Sinead, Adam, George and Valentina are all open for interaction. Let me know if you want to arrange anything...**
 

Pyroclast

Add alcohol and stir!
Chapter 11: Pushing for the Truth
Monday 27th September 1971
...6 days later...
Late Afternoon - Mild, Breezy, Clear Sky

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Hudson Psychiatric Hospital
~ Morningside Heights, Manhattan ~

Syd Porter

received_483131092626740.png After the violent outburst in the visitation room in which a nurse had been seriously injured, Syd had forfeited his right to have any more visitors until he showed significant behavioural improvements. Even the slightest possibility of not seeing his loved ones again terrified him. There was so much for him to do on the outside, so much that to be locked away forever was simply not an option in his mind. He had to get better. He had to get out.

Unfortunately, despite his efforts to hide them, he had unconsciously exposed his paranoid beliefs - what the staff only knew to be delusions - during the same outburst. While they refused to take him seriously in that state of mind, the accusations that he had cast upon the doctors and nurses for conspiring to kill him had made their way into Doctor Peralta's medical notes.

The medication did begin to settle into his system over the course of the week, however, and his extreme mood swings lessened as a result. Still, Syd received no sufficient evidence that the staff members were not allied with Dr. Maddox Parker. That was still a strong possibility and something that he was constantly watching out for. Although his mind grew steadily more stable, the doctors had grown wary of him due to his past violence and aggression and assigned more nurses and guards to monitor him. Syd knew he had to appear sane if he wanted to see his family again, but he couldn't let his suspicions go. The extra surveillance made it harder for him to keep them to himself, but he held onto them as best he could, going over them in his mind when he was in a clear enough headspace just so that he didn't forget.

Now ten days in, Syd was sitting on the floor of the recreation room with his back to the wall and a pad of paper in his hand. Despite the supervision, it was the best time for him to write down his own honest observations without anyone looking over his shoulder. His refusal to eat or keep anything down had not escaped Peralta's attention and before he could lose too much weight, she took measures to force-feed him. Of course, he still strongly suspected that they were poisoning him, so for the tight physical restraints and nasogastric tubes his paranoia only escalated into a traumatic experience. It became part of his daily routine and so, as a way of taking back some control, he had tasked himself with monitoring any changes in his physical or mental health. Then, if there were any unexpected or unfamiliar symptoms, he would at least be able to gradually ascertain whether or not the food was safe to eat.

Deep in thought, Syd didn't notice Peralta take a seat in a chair a few feet away. "How are you doing today?" she asked him, and to her surprise, his startled look softened into a calm half-smile. "What's that you're drawing?"

"Nothing," he answered, looking back to the page. His grip on it tightened, shielding it from her view. "Just tracking some things."

Peralta nodded, and as she sat there she noticed that Syd appeared to be waiting for her to leave. Yet, since he also appeared to be in a calm mood, she decided to press on. "The effects of the Electro-Convulsive Therapy?" she asked nonchalantly, as though it hadn't been a big deal. Syd had already had his second session the previous morning, but so far, despite the evident increase in calm behaviour, he hadn't yet opened up to her about how he felt. Now, he only nodded, a small smile fluttering across his face. In hopes that he wouldn't fight her in this state, she boldly leaned down and pulled the notepad from between his fingers.

The page was blank. She stared at it for a few seconds, briefly wondering if the treatment had caused some minor brain damage like it had in some of her other patients. But then she returned his smile and passed the notepad back to him. "Take some time to decide how it's working out. You've got a few minutes now before visitation. Let's keep up this good mood, okay?" He must have given her a look, because she went on to add, "It's the same people as before, Syd. If you don't want to see them, just let us know before you go in."

When she left, Syd scanned the room. He didn't have to tell anyone a thing. Of course, if he wanted to appear sane, he still had to comply with the rules, eat what he was forced to eat, and undergo agonising shock-induced seizures. But for the first time, he felt like he had a real chance of getting out. All he had to do was fool them. Returning his attention to the notepad, Syd picked up his pencil and wrote, 'Power'.

Some heads turned when he walked into the visitation room, his presence a reminder of what he had done last time. Syd made an active effort to not make friends within the institution; when he left, he wanted to leave all of it behind. Whenever anyone would try to strike up a conversation, he would instantly shut it down. It was isolating, but he couldn't trust anyone anymore. At least in the visitation room, he got to see the people he loved.

Suddenly a pair of hands slammed down onto his table and Syd looked up to see a patient glaring at him, teeth bared and sweating. Without breaking eye contact, Syd leaned away from the man. "Yes?"

"Don't you fuckin' start," he growled, gripping the edge of the table and rattling it. "My granddaughter's comin' again and I don't need you in here all fucked up, throwin' your weight around. This is a safe place, got it?" As though he hadn't listened to a word of what he had just said, he grabbed the back of Syd's collar and yanked it, bunching the fabric into his fist so that he choked. Syd stood up from his table and took a step back to lessen the pressure around his throat, causing his chair to tumble to the ground. Despite not caring enough about him or his daughter to deem it worth getting angry over, it was Syd's first instinct to fight him off. One of the nurses spotted him reaching up to twist the man's hands out of their grip and immediately caught up with the commotion.

The man was dragged out of the room and Syd was allowed to sit back down, avoiding the eyes of the other patients. He tried to subtly clear his throat, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Just as he was beginning to wonder if the man would ever see the irony of what he had done, a nurse called out his name and alerted him that his visitor had arrived.

@Bella:D



East Harlem Headquarters
~ East Harlem, Manhattan ~

Alistair Sawyer

received_486397422059494.png The operation to secure the shipment of cocaine from the Porter's Colombian suppliers had been an enormous success. It not only brought in huge profits, but also gave them hard evidence of the Porter's lies and secrets. Alistair had suspected that the list of contacts they had handed over to Steve several weeks ago had been missing a few names, simply because they wouldn't immediately know any better until further investigation. Now that the Porters had lead them directly to the source of their drug supply, there was little investigation needed.

Despite their success, the meeting in Moretti's apartment the previous week had been weighing on Alistair's mind. Specifically, the situation regarding Ani. Her relationship with Maddox Parker was troubling him, especially after the way the man had acted.

"It was a defence," he said to Ethan as he carefully tipped a measure of water into the potted peace lily on his filing cabinet. "Putting on an air of confidence so desperate it was insulting. I know Moretti has put a lot of faith in him, and so far the work he has done has been carried out with perfect success. But it's not enough for me, Ethan. No..." Alistair set the watering can down and ambled around the office with his hands behind his back and his head down. "No, I see through it. I can always tell a man who acts and speaks out of fear, as I'm sure you can too. Under enough pressure, most people will tell you what they think you want to hear. And that counsellor knows exactly how much pressure he is under. We made damn sure of that. But beneath it all..." Finally, he slumped into his office chair and leaned back, dragging a hand across his face. "He wasn't telling the truth. And ever since, I just can't stop thinking about Ani and her involvement in all of this. Their influence on each other could tear our operations wide open..."

Alistair heaved a sigh before reaching into one of the drawers and retrieving a box of cigars. He took one, then slid the box in Ethan's direction should he decide to join him. "You'd tell me if you thought I was bat shit crazy, wouldn't you, Ethan?" he asked after a moment, looking to the ceiling as he puffed on his cigar. "I've called her in here, just to talk. Her and the halfwit. It's always good to have some leverage up your sleeve." Alistair cast his eyes over to Ethan and spun his chair around to face him more directly. "While we're on that subject, Ethan, do you have anything you'd like to report regarding Ammon's behaviour? You supposedly see the elusive manchild a great deal more than I do, so I'm keen to hear from you on this. The time for any due discipline is now."

@Misty Gray Ethan
@Bella:D Ani, Ammon



The Porter Mansion
~ Bayside, Queens ~

Jason Costello

received_2981501348535008.png Jason told himself that he shouldn't be surprised, but he was left with an unexpectedly strong feeling of helplessness in the aftermath of the incident at the jazz club. Not only had he been unable to help her at the time, which he was struggling to forgive himself for, but he had also been unable to reach out to support her since. No matter how many times he called the mansion in Bayside where Gwen lived, he was always denied access to her. She wouldn't turn up to rehearsals, either, so Jason felt he had to make up excuses for her every time. The two of them had fought hard to keep her drug habit under wraps, which was becoming increasingly difficult as it wore her down and consumed her. There had been times recently where he had wondered if she would even make it to opening night, but with her unexplained absence, it seemed like perhaps this time she wouldn't return at all.

After so many rehearsals had had to be cancelled as a result, Jason decided that it was time he made more of an effort to reach her. Of course, he didn't want to invade her privacy, but he was worried about her. Despite the drug problem and the stress she had understandably been under, their relationship had been reaching new levels, deeper and more mature than it ever had been. He wasn't ready to throw it away now, not without hearing a reason why. She needed help and even if she didn't want it from him, he had to let her know that he cared.

Turning up at the Porter mansion was a big deal, but having been once before, the guards at the gate let him park his motorbike in the driveway. The knife he had started carrying - something he hadn't done for many years - was confiscated, but apart from that, he was let in without much fuss.

Once he was up on the front porch, Jason took a deep breath to steady his nerves. The incident at the jazz club wasn't the first run-in he had had with gangs, but it was the first time he had ever been caught up in Irish Mob business as well as the first time he had ever seen James Porter himself. He was finally beginning to see Gwen's family for what it was - and yet, here he was on their doorstep. Their reputation wasn't enough to keep him away anymore. Despite the effort it had taken him to go straight after his second prison sentence, the possibility of getting mixed up in criminal business again was far less threatening than the thought of losing Gwen.

As soon as he knocked on the door, he was answered by a cacophony of barks from the mansion's many guard dogs. When it eventually opened, Jason found himself face to face with a heavily built, well-dressed man whom he presumed to be a guard.

"Is anyone expecting you?" he asked, which immediately threw Jason off. Nobody was expecting him - or perhaps they were, given the number of times he had called them on the phone, but that wasn't the same as being invited.

"Yeah, probably," he said, trying hard not to say something that would get him sent away. If he said he was here for Gwen, they might assume he was one of the men from the jazz club. But who else could he ask for? "I'm Jason, Gwen's, uh..." He wasn't sure what to call himself. The guard continued to stare him down with a deadpan expression. "From the theatre?" he continued. "She's been missing rehearsals and hasn't been answering any of my calls. I'm very close with her and it's not like her to be this...reclusive. I'd really like to know how she's doing. Please."

Interactions
@Bella:D Lorelei, Gwen
 
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Enzyme

The All-Powerful Enzyme!
Chapter 11: Pushing for the Truth
Monday 27th September 1971
...6 days later…
Late Afternoon - Mild, Breezy, Clear Sky

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Little Italy

In bustling New York, gangs had to fight tooth and nail for territory. The most powerful crews only had a few plots of land they could truly feel safe in, and even then to let your guard down in public was beyond foolish - especially in times where being on high alert could mean the difference between life and death. With that being said, Kaladin felt pretty safe in Little Italy. The neighborhood in Lower Manhattan was run by Italian blood and Italians had a pack mentality. They took care of each other. If you wanted to pick a fight with one of them, you better get ready to meet both the immediate and extended family. No one would cause trouble in Little Italy, it was completely unheard of. Even rival Italian gangs kept their conflict elsewhere out of respect. When you were on that block, you were in Sicily.

Kaladin kept his arm reclined on the railing, tipping back on his chair to push his face out from under the umbrella. He squinted behind his glasses, yet his head remained staring up at the sun. "Go ahead and eat the rest, I'm stuffed," he told Teddy, taking a drag of his cigarette. Kaladin always felt bad leaving food untouched at a business meeting, seeing as the tab was always picked up by the Morettis. It was disrespectful, which was why he usually only ordered something he knew he could finish. If it were an intensive meeting, he wouldn't order anything at all. This meeting, however, was relaxed. He was simply updating Teddy on the score they had hit, so the informant could calculate their profit accordingly.

Kaladin sat back up, pushing his chair back to the ground. "But, yeah, everything else is tied up in the Bronx. That Porter shit is down on 82nd and Kaiser, in a storage unit next to some Asian convenient store. The eh..." He stubbed the cigarette into the ash tray on the table, fixating on the name as he could feel it dancing on the brim of his tongue. "The Yi- Yings... The Jins... I don't fuckin' know... Somethin' Japanese or eh... Chinese I think." He blew the remainder of the smoke from his mouth, adjusting his sun glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

Kaladin looked at the people around them, most were Italian families enjoying lunch, none were tourists. He moved to check his watch, raising his sun glasses and squinting his eyes. "I gotta' be upstate in an hour, so let's wrap this up," he said, raising his finger to capture the waitress' attention. "You got anymore questions, though?" He asked, directing his vision back to Teddy

He was too focused on the informant that he failed to notice the screeching tires of a white minivan, missing it's plates, making an abrupt u-turn at the intersection. The vehicle slowed down once it reached the pizzeria, it's bulky tires rolling up onto the curb. The customers dining beside them seemed to notice, their conversations shifting to quiet, confused mummers. Suddenly a figure materialized from the back of the van. The figure was dressed in warm attire, every spot of skin covered in fabric. Their face was covered by a wool ski mask, with only two holes for their eyes. The man was followed by another, dressed in a similar attire.

Kaladin's eyes fixated on the waitress as the color seemed to instantly drain from her painted face. His smile faded, her terror-ridden eyes locked just a few inches above his head. He snapped around, seeing the masked figures approaching their seat from the other side of the railing. His hand instinctively moved for the handgun in his shoulder holster. Before he could even manage to unbuckle his safety clip, a revolver was primed and raised to his skull.

Without a seconds hesitation, Jackson fired the snubnose .38 and unplugged Kaladin, sending his mangled head to the table and adding a few new toppings to the margarita pizza. His steel eyes slid to Teddy, who was sitting opposite the fresh corpse. "Bag him and grab him!" He ordered Keegan, his aim wavering to the dining customers. He didn't like putting families in the line of fire, but he assumed just about everyone in America was armed. If any of them were, one might decide to act what some would consider brave, but ultimately stupid.

@Melanin-Gxdess (Teddy) @Bugsy (Keegan)
 
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Misty Gray

Things and Stuff

Midtown Medical Center
~ Midtown, Manhattan ~
Maddox Parker and Conor Sullivan

1579819619411.pngMaddox sat at his desk, keeping the door of his office open so he could keep an eye out for Conor's arrival When the man did arrive, the counsellor stepped out to the reception area to greet him. His smile was seemingly natural and his handshake firm as he greeted the man. "Come on in," he said, holding his arm out to signal for Conor to step into his room. "Monday's are always quiet, so Laura's headed home early," he explained, seeing Conor had looked back to the reception desk in a curious manner.

Once they were both inside, Conor looked around the room he'd spent so much time talking about his feelings inside of. He wondered if Syd saw it in the same peaceful and warm light as he always did. Syd had made accusations about Maddox, which James and Lucy had in turn asked Conor's opinion about. He'd promised them he'd follow-up up on what his nephew had said and would do some digging with the counsellor directly. Still, standing in the room with the man he'd grown to like and respect made it all seem hard to believe. Syd had been showing signs of paranoia and deep psychological anguish, but he had to give Syd the benefit of the doubt. He couldn't forgive himself if he hadn't followed up on it as promised. Conor sat back in his seat and looked around the office, gazing out of the patio doors to what was left of the day's sunlight and then shifting his attention to the framed certificates that hung on Maddox's wall.

The session began as normal, with Maddox pouring Conor a glass of water and the counsellor then asking what had been happening since their last session. Even without Syd's suicide in the mix, a whole lot had happened. Killing the Italian in the hospital bathroom had been a pretty major development, but that was the last thing he could tell the counsellor about. He wasn't even sure how he could approach discussing his emotions about the matter without giving too much away. Maddox prompted him again and Conor massaged his temple before quickly shaking his head. "No, i can't do this yet..." he began, sitting forward. "Can i ask you some questions for a change? I've got something I need to ask before I can start waffling on about myself."

"Well, that's not how this usually works, but you know I don't follow textbooks," Maddox agreed. He also sat forward in his seat and displayed open body language to encourage Conor to continue. "Ask away..."

"My nephew tried to kill himself over a week ago and now he's locked up in a mental institution. It doesn't make sense. He seemed to be doing so well and you're a spot on doctor, from my experience. You've been treating Syd for years and he's always been full of praise for you. How can he have spiralled so quickly? What happened to him, Dr. Parker? Did you even see his breakdown coming?"

1579819642367.png"I know he's your family, but you know I can't discuss other patients with you..." Maddox began. He fell silent as he considered the orders Gabriel had given him. The session was meant to be about unravelling the work he'd done on helping Conor to deal with his past traumas and the aggression he struggled to contain. He wondered if he could use Syd's present state to achieve that. He knew if he admitted to what he'd done to Syd, it would cause Conor to erupt there and then. It was a risk to his own safety, but not baiting Conor into a reaction was also a risk. Gabriel was very serious about killing Maddox should he not deliver results. Maddox had spent so many nights awake deciding how to act and one thing he'd by now realised was that he didn't want to do it. He didn't want to kill Syd and he didn't want to get Conor sent back to prison.

"You can answer me as a friend. Give me something, please," Conor firmly insisted, though his tone remained calm. "I can't let my nephew rot in that place any longer. I need to know what went wrong. I need your help. He's going to be a dad soon and that baby could grow up without him in its life. We can help Syd together. Just help me out, would you?" he asked, the tears in his eyes reflecting his sincerity.

Maddox bit his lip and quickly nodded his head. He already felt immense guilt for what he'd done to Syd and seeing Conor affected by it only brought the struggle to the front of his mind. He saw no win for himself in any possible outcome. Seeing James Porter distressed had done nothing to give him closure - there had been no joy in watching the Porters and Sullivans suffer. His loved ones were still dead and he'd never know who it was that pulled the trigger on his father. There was no closure for him. No matter what he did, Maddox knew there was nothing to gain. Suddenly, he felt like he was in his client's seat being spoken to by his counsellor. "I need to tell you something, but I need to you be patient and to hear me out before you react. Listen to the whole story and think before acting, like we've spoken about before."

"Yeah, yeah. I remember. I'll hear you out, mate. As long as I'm not paying for this session..." he lightly joked. He hoped his relaxed behaviour would be encouraging to Maddox. On the inside he was eager to hear what the counsellor had to say. He hoped he'd give him answers about Syd.

Maddox sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he looked Conor in the eyes. "I was born in Dublin and I lived there until just a few years ago. I lived with my mother and stepfather, but I tried to see my biological father as much as I could. My dad wasn't a rich man and he didn't have a fancy career. He owned his own pub and he struggled to make ends meet with it. He tried so hard to make more money; to do everything he could to make my sister and me proud of him. He didn't realise I was proud of him no matter what." He could see that despite Conor's interest, the man was wondering why the counsellor was telling him about his past. "My father and uncles got mixed up in breaking the law, with him seeing it as his only way to survive. You see, he took out a loan from James Porter to help him buy the pub and that meant he was always in debt to your family. He was stuck paying the loan back whilst also having to pay out insurance for his business. He couldn't move without James sending the heavies round."

"What's your dad's name?" Conor asked, a lump forming in his throat as he realised the counsellor had kept quiet about being connected to his family from as far back as Dublin.

"My father and uncles took a lot of beatings from your family and their employees. They were pushed towards the IWU in order to survive. Only, your brother-in-law caught wind of that. In one night, my father and two of my uncles were gunned down whilst they tried to get on with their lives. That same night, I was beaten up by a group of men acting on Arlene Sullivan's orders, as she decided I was cheating because I was good at playing poker. I went from coughing up blood on the sidewalk to identifying the bodies of my loved ones, all in the space of a few hours." Maddox looked to the floor as he forced himself to hold back his emotions. He heard Conor press him for his father's name once more. He looked up to make eye-contact with the man. "Richard Duncan was my father. Richard, Patrick and Vernon were all murdered that night..."

"The Duncans..." Conor repeated, slowly nodding his head as the names were familiar to him. He remembered them and the pub they ran. He recalled them running an underground casino that broke the contract they had with James. He recalled kicking the crap out of one of them - Vernon, he believed - on one particular occasion, but that was more because the bloke got cocky and said some crude words about his mother. In all honesty, he'd quite liked Richard and one or two of the man's relatives. It was easy to see why they ended up seeking the IWU's protection, but they crossed the line by setting James up to fall into the IWU's trap. "You're Richard Duncan's kid?" he asked, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. If that was the case, then Conor was fully aware of the hit that was put on the Duncans' heads and he also knew for certain that Jackson had been the one to kill Maddox's father.

"Yes, I am," Maddox admitted. He looked to the other man, trying to gauge his reaction but it seemed like he was piecing everything together in that moment. He knew it was time to come clean and tell him the rest. There was a chance he could still help Syd and to do it he needed to tell Conor the truth. "I wanted revenge for that. Your family murdered them and ruined my family's lives. Like many, they were bullied and beaten because they didn't have the power to fight back. You know what it's like to lose loved ones in these wars. The Romanos murdered your father right before your eyes." He could see Conor gradually beginning to lose patience and so he jumped to the main point he was trying to make. "For the last four years, I've been working with the Morettis. Syd had his breakdown because I pushed him over the edge. Whilst it was on Gabriel's order, for years it's what I thought I wanted too--" Seeing something snap in Conor's eyes, Maddox got up from his seat, anticipating the very kind of reaction Gabriel had ordered him to drag out of Conor. But was it what Maddox wanted now?

Conor had felt for Maddox, knowing all too well what it felt like to lose his family in the mob's wars. He understood the need for revenge and how Emmet's death had eaten away at him for some years, but that didn't mean it excused Maddox. As he learned Maddox was working with Gabriel, everything seemed to become clear. He'd been using him and Syd to gain information. The Porters had wondered how their enemies knew so much about the torture Conor, James and Lucy suffered two decades ago. But now he realised it was because he'd given the counsellor enough details to work with. That meant Syd was right to accuse Maddox. "For years you've..." he began, through gritted teeth. Seeing Maddox stand led Conor to do the same. Before giving the counsellor chance to wriggle out of it, Conor grabbed him by the collar and slammed his back against the wall. He let go of Maddox, but only to grab him by the throat, wrapping his hand tightly around his neck and he lifted his arm, forcing the counsellor to stand up on his tiptoes. "You fuckin--"

"Conor..." Maddox struggled to speak as he felt his airways being restricted. He reached out to try push Conor away, but he found his attempts rendered feeble as he struggled to breathe. "Think of Leo... Ali..." he reminded him of the parole that remained looming over his head. "Please," he gasped.

Conor loosened his hold on Maddox's throat. He remembered the counsellor's very advice about taking a step back and giving himself a time to process everything before reacting. There was a lot to process and he wasn't sure how he was going to keep his cool in the man's presence. He made the conscious decision to grab Maddox again and forcefully push the man back towards the seating areas, causing him to stumble and fall over the wooden coffee table...

@RayPurchase (Mitch)
Mentions: @Pyroclast (Syd) @Enzyme (Jackson)
 

Misty Gray

Things and Stuff
Ethan Turner

hrj6n6iuyvn11.pngThe previous three days for Ethan had been ones he'd rather have skipped over. He'd spent the weekend in New Jersey with his mother and siblings, attending his sister's wedding. He knew before he went that there would have been no enjoyment from it and he was right. The relationship he had with his family was one that lacked sentimentality and he was more than happy with a phone call once in a while, yet he still felt a surprisingly fierce level of protectiveness over them too. If someone threatened any of them, he knew he'd be over there in a shot to slit the throat of whichever idiot was responsible. Perhaps his relationship with his mother and siblings was more along the lines of being possessive rather than actually caring for or loving them.

What had made the wedding more unbearable than the nauseating sentimentality was the fact that Ethan's father, Norman, had shown up to watch Maria walk down the aisle. It had been 24 years since the crooked man walked out on the family and Ethan hadn't seen the man since. It had transpired that the man had been getting into contact with the rest of the family for some time. Worming his way back into their good books, from what Ethan could conclude. Given that Norman never discouraged Ethan's violent ways and if anything, encouraged them, it was fair to say the older man shared a great amount of responsibility for the cold-blooded man his son had become. Ethan hadn't reacted or lashed out at seeing his father getting cosy with his siblings, but on the inside he had been calmly picturing slaughtering Norman. For the sake of the wedding, Ethan had remained his usual cold and indifferent self. He'd returned to New York on Sunday with the knowledge of his father's address and the exciting prospect of finally getting to plot Norman's grisly demise.

Being back in the East Harlem Headquarters was like heaven in comparison to the time he'd spent with his family. As he sat in Alistair's office, he couldn't help but think of how much more at home he felt. Most normal people wouldn't find anything homely or remotely welcoming about the location, but Ethan wasn't exactly like most people and certainly wasn't guided by emotions. He'd already been updated on the operation at the docks before departing for New Jersey. It had been music to his ears hearing of the relative success they'd had against the Porters. Steve was rapidly entering the territory of respect from Ethan and his success that day had certainly boosted his reputation in the butcher's eyes.

Something Ethan was only now being updated on was the specifics of the meeting Alistair had attended at Moretti's office/apartment the previous week. The idea of having someone like Maddox Parker on side had seemed like a stroke of genius to Ethan. A man who could not only manipulate people's minds but also had direct access to members of the Porter Family. Ethan had to respect that kind of commitment and the hard work that went into maintaining such a facade. Ethan's own gratifications and rewards were far more instant, even in the instances where he insisted on dragging out the torturing of his victims. He couldn't imagine waiting years for the pay-off. Maddox, however, was a different kind of person and it was because of that that it was at times difficult to understand him. The counsellor was gifted and cunning, which led Ethan to question if the man could betray them without them even realising he was doing it. It was difficult to trust a man who was so good at acting. Not to mention the more shallow fact that Ethan had an aversion to pretty-boys who'd been lucky enough to have a fancy education paid for them. Granted, he was aware the counsellor had suffered enough as he got older, but Ethan believed he'd been the kind of snooty kid he'd have smacked around in high school.

Alistair spoke about the relationship between Ani and Maddox, but also about how the counsellor had been putting up a defence at the last meeting. Alistair expressed his suspicions that Maddox had been speaking out of fear and that he was being dishonest with them. Ethan remained staring forward whilst Alistair potted around somewhere behind him. "So, Mr. Perfect managed to let his mask slip in front of you all?" Ethan remarked. Alistair came back into view to return to his seat at the other side of the desk. "I thought Ani was smarter than to get involved with a man like him. I thought both were smart enough to not get emotionally attached at all. You're right to be concerned about this. If they're getting lost in each others' eyes, then they're never completely focused on the tasks at hand. If a man as cunning as Parker has let enough of himself to show and in such a way to have you concerned, then I believe there is good reason to be suspicious."

Ethan accepted the cigar and retrieved his own silver lighter to light the stick up. "I think we're both pretty fucking crazy, my friend. However, on this matter, you're perfectly reasonable." He took a long drag of his cigar and sat back in his chair. "Just to talk..." he repeated Alistair's words about inviting Ani over. When Ammon then came up in conversation, Ethan let out an aggravated groan. "I've given the halfwit the chance to get into line, but he simply doesn't learn. He still goes on those disappearing acts and I'm not sure he takes a blind bit of notice to what I tell him. I'm all for the kind of skills he has but it's difficult to keep a leash on him. If he doesn't get the message soon, he could lead the wrong people back to us. If Ani really is distracted by the shrink, then she's not fully focused on cleaning up her brother's messes. They both need discipline, but Ammon the most. I had hoped to get him into line, but it's not working and he desperately needs to get the message or be put down... before he becomes a liability."


@Pyroclast (Alistair) @Bella:D (Ani, Ammon)
 

Bugsy

Welcome to the wasteland
KEEGAN LYNCH

Keegan had been locked and loaded for a long while, his beard now shaved and his focus returned to him as he looked over the weapon in his hands. It was a revolver, enough to cause someone to have a rather bad headache. They were encroaching on Italian turf - not that it made a lick of difference to Keegan at the present moment. He wanted answers, he wanted the quickest way to get under Tony's skin. Little Italy was bustling with people in the afternoon, sellers flogging their goods but they weren't interested.

Keegan lowered his mask as soon as he could see the pizzeria. "Fucking showtime." He said, more to himself than anyone else who might have been listening.

Moments later, the scene came to life, with Jackson exiting the vehicle first, neutralising Kaladin - spreading his brains across the pizza and checkered cloth. But, Keegan wasn't focusing on just one man, he was dealing with the next target. He felt the pressure building in his finger as he itched to pull the trigger, instead told to bag and grab the man opposite. Keegan grunted, lunging over to grab hold of Teddy, yanking him upwards by the scruff of the collar, marching him unceremoniously back towards their vehicle. He leaned close to the man in his grasp, "You move out of line, I'm going to get excited."

Though in actuality, Keegan didn't care about sticking to his word - not when his brother was dead and the man was still at large, Teddy would be one of the few who'd make it out but not unscathed. "Let's go!" He shouted back at Jackson.

The quicker they were on the road, the quicker this could get the ball rolling. His eyes were fixed on Teddy as he shoved him into the vehicle, following in after him, revolver still in hand as he tilted his head, a wicked smile forming under the ski mask.

Tag: @Enzyme (Jackson), @Melanin-Gxdess (Teddy)
 

Misty Gray

Things and Stuff
Earlier that day...
James Porter and Warren Taylor

1580040003873.pngWarren had been certain he'd be able to talk himself into being discharged from the hospital by the weekend, but after an infection took effect in his chest he'd found himself having to undergo further treatment and before he knew it, another weekend had passed. The longer he spent in the hospital, the worse he felt in his head. It was difficult to rest in the hospital knowing there was a price on his head and he felt guilty knowing his brother's resources were being stretched to guard him at the hospital. Finn was due back in work following day and Warren was hoping he would discharge him so he could recover in the safety of his own home.

In the meantime, James had stopped in to the hospital to pay him a visit before he had to attend to mob business. As the man updated Warren on things with the family and the business, it became clear the Porter boss had been in need of someone to offload to. With Syd's ongoing situation, it was clear that James hadn't wanted to burden Lucy with his frustrations, knowing she had enough weight to carry on her shoulders worrying about their eldest son. Warren sat up in the bed and looked to James who was seated to his right side. "Damn, I'm sorry Syd's not showing improvement yet. As for Gwen, I thought she was getting off that shit," he admitted. Hearing Sinead and Savannah had also been caught up in the attack at the jazz club further concerned Warren. "All the more reason for me to get out of this place and recover at home, where your guys can focus on real work and not having to protect me in here."

"Shut up, Warren. You're only coming out of here when the doc says you're well enough. I ain't pulling any strings and risking you dying on us. Besides which, you won't be going back to your place to rest. You'll be staying at my house until all this bollocks in the city blows over. Moretti wants you dead, so the safest place for you to recover is back at my house." Warren was about to protest but James raised his hand and continued. "Don't argue. If you want to help me and free up my men, then you will stay at my house. Your dad already blames me for you getting put in hospital, so I'd rather not be blamed for you dying too."

1580039991382.png"Ah, come off it. He already had it in for you when you let me start working over here. According to him, I had a bright future ahead of myself before I got dragged into your business. This hasn't made any difference."

"I don't know. He was pretty vocal over the phone about how it's my fault if you die. I don't like your dad and he doesn't like me, but I do care about Mum." James slumped back in his seat and let out a deep breath. "Maybe he's right, though. Mum's really happy back in Italy and you're smart enough to build up a decent career over there or even in Australia, away from all this shite. Your Dad hates me, but that's only because he knows you're better than all of this. I might rip the piss out of him for being some kind of saint and a do-gooder, but he cares about you. With a dad like mine, I was always destined to live this kind of life, but you can do better, Warren. I seriously think you should consider getting out of all of this while you can--"

Warren quickly shook his head as James spoke. "I appreciate the concern, but fuck that, James. I chose to come to New York and I'm choosing to stay here. Mum and my dad are the best parents I could hope for, but I didn't want to stay in Italy. I want to be here helping you. This is my choice, so whatever happens to me is on my own head. Ignore what my dad says. I'm a grown up who is capable of thinking for himself. None of this is your fault, so don't start thinking you're responsible for me being in here." Warren quickly shook his head. "The other week I told you to take a break from all of this and let someone else deal with it for a change. You remember what you said? You told me you couldn't even consider leaving your family and friends to deal with the mess in this city." He looked James in the eyes. "Guess what? Neither can I. I'm not leaving you to deal with all this crap. I'm going to get back on my feet and help you sort out those bastards for good. My dad will just have to accept that."
 
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Bella:D

Yes, I put pineapple on pizza. Sue me.
Peter Callahan
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Peter had been recovering most of the week after the attack on the loading docks. He had taken a bullet in his calve muscle so walking was out of the question for a few days. Finn advised him that it would take longer than just a few days to heal, but Peter was stubborn. Peter hobbled down the stairs just in time to see Sinead heading out the door, "Be Safe!" Peter called to her before turning his head to smile at Savannah. "Go easy on you? I would never." He chuckled but winced as he stepped down the last step. "Hold your horses, missy, its useful to have a gun in a sticky situation but it won't do you any good if you freeze up. So we are going to address your fight or flight instincts first before we place a gun in your hand."

Placing an arm around Savvy's shoulders, Peter led his daughter towards the large backyard where they would be testing her skills for a good majority of the day. Once they were outside, Peter removed his arms from around her shoulders and walked in front of her out into the large grassy area. He stopped and turned to face her with a small smile on his face. "You know your mother and I are really proud that you have taken the initiative to want to learn how to defend yourself. I always knew that it would be important for you kids but your mother was on the fence about it. I'm just sorry you had to go through that again."

After a moment of silence, Peter cleared his throat and nodded his head, "Alright, let's begin. Lesson number one, always find your base. What I mean by that is you want to be in a position of stance where you can easily get away or are prepared to fight. It's important to know that when you aim at someone with a gun, you want to have the proper stance for optimal aiming capability. If you are in an awkward position where it would cause you to be unsteady, you will likely miss, and in a situation where you cannot afford to miss, you will likely be killed before you could even blink. So...watch me." Peter pulled out his gun from his back pocket and took it into his right hand before unloading it, letting the magazine fall to the ground. Then he took the gun and aimed it towards a tree which was only about 10 or so feet away.

Shifting his feet about a shoulders width apart from one another, he straighten out his back and took the gun in both of his hands before lifting it to aim. "Now, naturally you are not going to always be in this position to fire, there are other positions for different situations but we will get to those later. Let's just assume you are in the position of power and are ready to shoot your intended target. See how my feet are a shoulders width apart? How my back is straight with shoulders back? This is the position you want to be in. Now..." He said before lowering his gun and relaxing his position, "Your turn. Pretend you have a gun in your hand. Like this." Placing his gun in his pocket, he then grabbed one hand and making a pretend gun shape with his index finger and thumb before steadying it with his other hand underneath.
with: Savvy @Misty Gray
 

Bella:D

Yes, I put pineapple on pizza. Sue me.
Roxie Carriveau
Screen Shot 2020-01-26 at 3.20.54 PM.png
After the outburst that Syd had displayed during her visit with him, Roxie was told that she wouldn't be allowed to see him until he was stable again and the brunette was left outside of the hospital feeling helpless, wondering when exactly that would be. Roxie was patient and understanding that Syd needed time, but it was beginning to worry her that maybe he wasn't ever going to get better. Roxie had spent some time at the Porter's after what Syd had said about them being family. Lucy surprisingly accepted her with open arms and even went as far to send dinners to Syd's house so Roxie didn't have to bother with cooking.

Today, Roxie had first stopped by the Porter's place to pick up a gift that Lucy had for her. Even though she had started to trust Syd's family, she still felt like she was somewhat walking on eggshells, not wanting to be surprised by anything. Once she arrived at the house, she noticed that James Porter's car was missing. That relieved her a bit, the man intimidated her. Walking up to the front door, she knocked and a guard answered the door. Recognizing her, he let her in and Roxie was greeted with the scent of food being made. Her stomach growled and Roxie followed the smell into the kitchen, where Lucy and the three kids were busy making pancakes for breakfast. The blonde noticed the woman in the doorway and offered a smile. "Good morning!" She chirped before wiping her hands clean on her apron and opening her arms to Roxie. Roxie smiled nervously and hugged the woman before letting her go and taking a step back, "It smells amazing in here." Roxie commented before Thomas walked up to her, unexpectedly giving her a hug as well. "Hi Roxie!" He said and Roxie wrapped her arms around him, "Hey kid! Do you have that drawing for Syd? I'm going to see him today." The boy nodded his head enthusiastically. "Let me go grab it!" He said before running off to his room upstairs. Lucy smiled before turning off the stove top, placing the last of the pancakes on a plate. "Alright girls, I'll fix you a plate and then I'll be right back." Once Lucy finished fixing plates for the children, Thomas met them at the bottom of the stairs and handed the picture to Roxie. "Please tell Syd that I love him, okay?" He asked and Roxie nodded her head.

Once the boy left, Roxie and Lucy headed to the lounge where she was invited to sit down on the couch. Taking a seat,Roxie's leg bounced nervously up and down. Lucy went to her knitting bag and pulled out a pair of white booties. Seeing how small they were, Roxie smiled widely, "Oh Lucy, you didn't have to make these." She murmured as the blonde handed them to her. "Oh but its a tradition, I surprised James with booties for Thomas and now I give some to you." Roxie looked down at the small booties in her hands before closing them around the pair.

***​
Roxie entered the familiar psychiatric hospital and led herself to the reception desk where she was pat down for weapons and sent on her merry way to the visitation waiting room. Roxie kept her head down as she sat in her seat and it wasn't long until she was called in. Taking a deep breath, she was prepared to see Syd in the same miserable state he was in last time. Her chest ached as she slowly inched closer to the door that was opened for her and once inside, she scanned the area. There was quite a few more patients in the room than last time. Her eyes searched the room until she found the man she had been looking for. Her heart sank taking in his physical appearance. He looked thin, hollowed. Willing her feet to move, she walked until she was standing before him. "Hey." She murmured hesitantly before taking a seat and setting her purse down beside her. Clearing her throat, Roxie offered him a nervous smile before digging through her bag for the few items she had for him. Pulling out the drawing Thomas made for him, she slide it on the table for him to see before pulling out the booties and ultrasound picture. "You're brother says he loves you." She murmured softly, "He's quite the artist, I'd say he's got your hair down to a tee." After a moment she put the booties and ultrasound picture in front of him, "Had a doctor's appointment this week and it was a cool experience. That little circle on the picture is the baby. It kinda looks like a bird to me but the doctor's just laughed. And your mother made these for us...which I thought was very sweet."
with: Syd @Pyroclast
 

RayPurchase

Senior Member
Mitchell Van Gerwen
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The best way to describe the notice was as a bomb site, but even then that was an insult to some bomb sites. Boxes were piled high, each teeming with files, in fact these stacks took up the majority of the office space. Mitch's jacket was lying on the back of his chair and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows as he taped another box shut and added it to an already well established pile. The office was only finite in size, and despite the being well paid by the Porter's he wasn't paid enough to afford the crippling rates of the larger offices downtown. As a result every month the office was cleared out of old files and documents, packed away through a secure archive service in case the people they related to every reared their ugly head. Freeing up room for new cases and faces, the never ending torrent. Taking a step back Mitch drew a hand across his forehead. That was it for the today, the van would be round in the next hour or so, and then he'd have about a week to enjoy a clear office before it would seem to be as clogged up as ever before. A voice filtered in from the office outside, the owner of the voice obscured by the boxes.

"Call for you Sir, Rachel Harris,"

He slid past a box and fell into his chair.

"Fantastic Ms Warren, patch her through will you,"

He felt like she approved. Nearing 60 years old and if you'd never met yer before you would have reckoned she resembled a doddery old grandma. But behind those tortoiseshell spectacles and peal necklace she was as sharp as a fox. They'd worked together for years now, and despite his name being above the door, she was the one who kept the lights on, the water running, and the place from generally burning down. She'd almost become the mother he'd never had and the woman in his life, trying to make sure he left the office at a half reasonable time, and failing that leaving a potted home cooked meal for him to warm up, berating him for working through the night the next morning when she came in. Having Rachel had not only given him a spring in his step, but also Jenny's. She's always sniped at him for being married to his job, and in her own words she would have set him up with her own daughter if she had one just to allow him to have a semblance of a normal life and to avoid working himself into an early grave.

He was already smiling as the call came through. Drinks again tomorrow. They'd been out a few times now, and each time had gone well, no critical cock ups or foot in the mouth moments from him, and Rachel seemed to enjoy their times together. She was a breath of fresh air, genuinely funny, clever and on top of it all stunning. The lawyer in him couldn't help but ask when or what was going to go wrong. But with each passing day that voice was being quieted, his propensity for self sabotage being put away.

"Miss Harris, to what do I owe the pleasure of a work hour phone call?"

As it turned out there was little pleasure behind it unfortunately. And Mitch soon found himself behind the wheel of his car, making his way as fast as he could to Maddox's office. He'd promised Rachel that he would deal with the situation. It didn't sound great, a bone to pick sounded ominous as hell, he knew about the situation with Syd, but hadn't witnessed anything first hand. He was most likely expecting the worst however, Rachel had even said the same, chances are he'd turn up and just crash an impromptu session between Connor and Maddox, he'd make up some excuses about swinging by unannounced to pick up some files and he'd be on his way. He pulled up outside and pulled his jacket on as he stepped out of the car. His top button was undone, and his tie still lying on his desk back at the office, the necessity of haste overtaking the need to be dressed to the nines. He stepped out of the lift onto the floor occupied by Maddox's office, it was deserted. The receptionist's desk was vacant with no sign of Laura. Must have gone home early, nothing wrong or even remotely suspicious there. Or at least that's what Mitch thought until the crashes and raised forces began emanating from the closed office door.

"Shit,"

He said, his voice hardly above a whisper. His hand flicked to his jacket pocket, feeling the weight of the Beretta 9mm holstered at his armpit. It felt like a lead brick as he pulled it out, his feet rooted to the floor. There was no help coming, he was the proverbial cavalry. For all he knew there was a whole gang of thugs on the other side of that door doing unspeakable things to Maddox and Conor, it sounded like things had already gotten violent in there. What he would have given for James to walk round the corner with some of his hired muscle. But like he knew, nobody else was coming, there wasn't even anyone to send for help, even if the Receptionist had been here it would arrive far too late. He took a deep breath, his heart racing in his chest, and steadied his grip on the pistol. All those hours at the range, it all felt like it was going out of the window, adrenaline and fear taking over, that simple flight or fight response unchanged for millennia, to stay and face the danger, or to scamper off into the undergrowth, and hope to live another day. That was a powerful urge to overcome, and took near enough every ounce of his willpower. His client needed him, Maddox needed him, to leave would be to condemn them.

He swung the door open violently. The pistol brandished, the barely shaking slightly, from the adrenaline or nerves Mitch wasn't sure anymore. He swept about the room, seeing someone sprawled on the floor, and someone looking over him. His heart skipped a beat however as the faces incurred before him through the haze. He lowered the gun, the barrel facing the ground. There were no goons, no thugs, no tied up or beaten friends and allies. Just Connor and Maddox.

"Conor…? What that fuck is going on?"

(Interaction: @Misty Gray Conor, Maddox, Rachel)
 

Bella:D

Yes, I put pineapple on pizza. Sue me.
Ani & Ammon Sarraf
images.jpegAni was exhausted. It didn't seem like today was her day. Having clocked into the hospital around 3 am, the emergency room was packed with people. She had been in and out of surgeries 5 times and she'd lost both of her critical care patients. Feeling defeated, she was glad when she was able to clock out for the day. But when she returned home, Ani was greeted with a dead dog in the living room. Oddly enough, she was just happy it wasn't another person. The emotions of seeing a dead animal was numbed from exposure to all sorts of violence her brother caused, it didn't even surprise her anymore.

Setting her keys down, she noticed her answering machine blinking and went over to play the messages as she set her purse down on the dining room table. The machine announced she had one new message and Alistair's voice filled the room. With a scowl, she groaned out loud as he told her to meet him at EH headquarters for a chat. "Bloody fucking hell, Ammon! There's a dead dog in the living room and I am not going to clean it up!" She heard a shrill giggle from in his room and she marched down the hallway before kicking his door open with her foot. "And what is so funny?" She growled at him, irritated that she had to deal with all of this when all she wanted was to see Maddox. "You thinking that I'm going to clean that up." He answered in a more serious tone as he stood up from where he was seated on his bed.
Ammon 1.png

The expression on his face turned dark, challenging, sensing his sister's sudden courage to defy him. Ani crossed her arms, not backing down as he inched closer to her, towering over her as she backed up in the hallway until her back hit her door. "Ammon, back off." She hissed as he crowded her space. Placing her hands on his chest, she tried to shove him aside and move out of the way but suddenly his fist slammed into the wall beside her head. Gasping out, Ani froze with fear. "A-alright, I'll clean it up." She whispered and Ammon's expression changed again, a playful almost boyish smile on his lips.

"And that's why I love you sis. You always have my back." He then leaned in a placed a kiss on her cheek before stepping out and away from her. Ani stared at him wide eyed, unable to keep up with his personality changes. But she was also shocked to hear him say that he loved her. He's never said it before..."I love you too, brother." She murmured before taking a deep breath. "Alistair wants us at EH. I'll clean up the dog and then we'll leave."

***​
Ani had been wondering what Alistair wanted the entire ride over and she couldn't help but feel that whatever it was, it wasn't good. After the meeting Maddox had with Moretti, Stefano and Alistair, he had said things didn't go well. That they were suspicious of him and accusing their relationship was distracting him from his work with Syd and Conor. He also said that they threatened to use Ammon against her. Her mind continued to think about the moment he said I love you.

As they entered the familiar headquarter, Ani suddenly grabbed her brothers had and surprisingly he didn't pull away. Squeezing it, they walked to Alistair's office and entered without knocking, knowing he was expecting them. The twins walk into the room slowly, Ammon was oddly alert and silent as Ani cleared her throat. Not letting go of his hand, Ani offered a smile to Alistair and then to Ethan. "Good afternoon gentleman, you wanted to see us?"

with: @Pyroclast @Misty Gray
 

Bella:D

Yes, I put pineapple on pizza. Sue me.
Gwen Bryant
Lorelei Bryant
Gwen messed up .jpg"Momma, Momma, Momma!" Wake up! I made you pancakes!" Lorelei chirped as she pulled back the cover's from Gwen's face. Groaning, Gwen squinted at the sun shining bright through the windows. "Lorelei, it's early." She grumbled before pulling the covers back over her face. Her daughter chuckled. "You're silly, momma, Aunt Lucy told me its almost 4 o'clock! You need to eat!" Again her daughter pulled back the covers and this time Gwen managed to open her bloodshot eyes wider. "Okay, alright, I'm up." She mumbled before shifting her achey body into a position to where she could sit upright. Lorelei set the plate on her lap and smiled proudly. "I promise they are good! I tried them myself!" Gwen took the fork and cut into the pancake before popping a piece into her mouth. It had been days since she'd bothered to eat, unable to bring herself to face James or Lucy because of what happened at the club.

But after a few bites, a wave of nausea overcame her and she found herself unable to eat anymore. "Rory, I'm sorry, I can't eat right now okay?" She told her daughter to which the little girl made a face of disappointment, "Okay." She said softly before taking the plate. "I'll take it downstairs." Gwen watched helplessly as her daughter left, looking disappointed and sad. It hurt her heart to know that her daughter was also affected because of her addiction. She wasn't cut out to be a mother to such a wonderful child. She often wondered if Lorelei would have been better off with someone more responsible and attentive to her, if she had put her up for adoption instead of deciding to keep her...

Tears formed in Gwen's eyes and she slowly sunk back into the bed, her body ached and trembled as if it was freezing but she was nice and warm under the blankets. She was constantly sweating and was vomiting so much that her clothes were beginning to sag. She didn't recognize herself in the mirror, her eyes sunken in and cheeks bones exposed made her look almost skeletal like.

Lorelei had made her way downstairs and place the plate into the sink before she heard the door being opened, curiously she walked to see who was at the door and immediately the little girl smiled, "Jason! Are you here to see mom?" Looking to the tall guard, Lorelei gave the guy her big ole brown eyed puppy dog face and place her hands together. "He's a friend of mine, mister. Can you please let him in?" The guard chuckled at the girl before nodding, "i'll take your word on it, little miss." Opening the door wide enough for Jason to step through, Lorelei held out her hand for him to take. "She's upstairs!"

Once they were at the top of the stairs, Lorelei opened the door to Gwen's bedroom. "Mom! Guess who's here!?" She said rather loudly, which caused Gwen groan as tears continued to pour down her face. "Lorelei please don't shout." She said in monotone before uncovering her face to see who was in her room.

Seeing Jason in her room caused the woman to gasp before covering her face again. "W-what are you doing here?" She said, her voice breaking as she tried to control herself. After a moment, Gwen had a grip on herself so she moved to sit up. Her hair was a messy, clothes hung on her bone body and she looked like she was about to break in half if someone looked at her the wrong way. "Lorelei, go play with your cousins, okay?" The little girl pouted and was about to protest but Gwen gave her a stern look and she nodded her head, releasing Jason's hand from her tiny grasp, she walked out of the room shutting the door behind her. "How can you even stand to look at me?" Gwen asked Jason, not meeting his gaze rather avoiding it at all cost.
with: Jason @Pyroclast
 
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Melanin-Gxdess

Queen of Melanin

Teddy Wycliff


The upcoming week would be sort of hectic for Teddy. Following the meeting with the big bosses, it seemed like he had a lot more work to do. Maddox was showing him things he was starting to fear, such as a wavering in his support of the Moretti family. Granted, the man never believed nor liked the man to begin with but that's not the point. Before the meeting, it was all just pettiness and a sort of high-school mindset that made him dislike the man. But, after seeing him so defensive in the room of his loyalty had been nagging at him. He shared this with Gabe once the two were alone, expressing to him the doubts he always had about the kid and why he had them. What Gabriel did with that information was on him as Teddy's job was simple; observe and report. Once the meeting had been over, he retreated back to his own affairs until he was needed again. This included checking up on his businesses and Tony, as he heard his friend had been attacked. He knew he was a tough sort, but something within him worried about the man. Even though he joked about not caring, Tony and the Moretti's were of a different sort.

Today, Gabe had tasked Teddy with sitting down with Kaladin and getting information on their profits. It was one of the more relaxing jobs he had, but it was also the most annoying. Most of the time these guys wanted to sit and talk about mundane things Teddy had no interest in whatsoever. All he wanted to do was focus on the business, get his information, and get on with his day. Despite what some might say, Theodore was a hard working man who did a thousand different things at one time and would almost never be able to slow down. One of these days, he remembered the Lady Moretti telling him, you're going to have a heart attack. To which he simply responded with a chuckle and a wry smile. The day Theodore Wycliff had a heart attack would be the day he rested. Until then, there was work to do. Like, for example, listening to Kaladin try to remember the name of this Asian establishment. Teddy was sure he would be able to figure it out himself, seeing as he had given him an address to begin with. The name of the store wasn't as important as the location of this storage unit. He raised his hand to try to stop him from talking. "You know, every time you and I meet I swear you get side-tracked with the most miniscule details." He shook his head, pushing the pan of pizza across the table. Teddy didn't eat much bread, carbs and everything, so he simply moved the pizza from in front of them so they could focus.

With the mention of time, Teddy, looked down at his own watch. He too had some matters to attend and would wrap everything up. After flagging down a waitress for the tab, he turned back to Kaladin. He was going to say something, until the screech resonated in his head. At first, he thought it was just some poor sap who didn't know how to drive. It wasn't until blood splattered against his cheek that he realized he was more than just wrong. He was wrong and in trouble. Before he could even react to what was happening to him, Teddy found himself in the back of a stale van, being held at gun point by masked strangers. Oddly enough, he was calm as he started chuckling. This sort of thing happened when he was a teen and men would try to use him to hurt dear old dad. "Brave or stupid? I honestly can't tell which you guys are..." He looked at the two men before nodding his head to himself, having come up with a decision. "Yeah, stupid works best."

 

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