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

[Bellz]

Peter Callahan ​

Peter had been nervous about leaving Sinny to head to New Jersey with Jackson and Conor for a job but ultimately he knew that he had a job to do. After saying the sweetest goodbyes to his wife, the trio headed out and it didn't take to long until they arrived at the club. Jackson mentioned something about them looking good and Peter looked down at his freshly pressed suit, smirking a little bit as well. Peter wasn't surprised when Jackson conversed smoothly with the bouncer at the front and he turned them all down for not being on the list. They knew it wasn't going to be easy and Peter was once again not surprised when the bouncer even turned Conor down. Peter reached into his jacket pocket, ready to grab however much the bouncer wanted so that they could be let into the club when Jackson hit him literally out of nowhere, causing the huge and intimidating bouncer to fall straight to the floor. Jackson hit him again and the bouncer was out like a light. Peter actually chuckled softly, "Nice work, mate." Peter commented before looking down at the limp bouncer again, "Should've just let us in, guy." He murmured before they walked passed him into the club.

To say that this club was a zoo seemed like an understatement. As soon as Peter stepped inside, he immediately felt like he needed to shower off whatever was sticking to him in the air now. Peter along with the others, pushed their way past ridiculously drunken people towards the bar. Jackson looked almost amazed, but Peter had opposite feelings about this place. High-class trash was the words he would use to describe such a place, and he was ready to see it all burn. Jackson shouted, asking about getting something to drink. Peter made a small face, "Seems like this entire place is laced with something, but sure! A drink is exactly what I need right now!" Peter nodded his head towards the bar before closing the gap between them and the stools. Looking at the several bartenders, Peter waited until one of them looked unoccupied before grabbing his attention. Ordering himself a whiskey, Peter looked to the other men while they ordered before the bartender was sent on his way away from them.

"You know, I don't understand how people can still be doing this at the age they are. Most of these people look like our age." Peter commented, having to speak a little louder than normal. The jazz music was refreshing, but it was a pain in the ass to have any sort of conversation with people who were practically sitting right in front of him. Once drinks were placed in front of them, Peter took a long drink before turning back to Jackson and Conor, huddling a little closer to them. "So can we go over the plan one more time. For some reason, I didn't imagine it would be such a madhouse here, and to be honest, it's starting to throw me off."
with: Jackson Enzyme ; Conor Misty Gray

 

[Pyroclast]

Danny Vaughan

Several days had passed since Danny had last seen Savannah, but even though she was in his thoughts all day, he didn’t mind so much - it was much easier to be without her when he knew that she was doing well. He had seen how exhausted and afraid she had become since the enemy had placed a target on her back and while he admired her efforts to reclaim her life, he knew how much she needed her life to take a positive turn. Now that it was finally starting to happen, Danny was happy to let her revel in it until he could see her.

It may have been five days late, but he was more than willing to turn back time for an evening to celebrate Valentine’s day. When he arrived at her apartment for their date, Braden was the one to grant him access to the roof top. The thought of Savannah waiting up there for him accelerated his heart rate and when he finally opened the door, bouquet of flowers in hand, his jaw dropped. “No way!” he exclaimed. “You really did all this…”

Danny had dated in the past, had a couple of immature relationships when he was younger, but never in his life had he received such a romantic gesture. He was looking at something totally new to him. Food, wine, mood lighting and a beautiful view across the city, all set for a private, romantic evening with his girlfriend - it made staying out in the cold February air entirely worth it.

A warm smile spread across his face as he made his way over to her, taking in the atmosphere that she had gone to the effort of creating. No one had ever done this for him before and it really brought home how lucky he was to have found her. “You really know how to charm a guy, you know that?” he smiled, leaning in for a kiss. The bouquet of flowers was still in his hand when he embraced her, and when they caught his eye he let her go and passed them to her. “I don’t know if there’s somewhere we can put these right now, but I had to bring them. Something beautiful to go with all the good news in your life!” He first intended to ask her about the babies and her mother’s pregnancy, but when he sat down at the table, his eyes fell on the script in her hand and he got sidetracked. “Did I catch you in the middle of rehearsal?” Danny hadn’t seen Savannah act since she had performed as Nancy in Oliver, but that had twisted into a traumatic experience after she had got kidnapped during a show. It seemed extraordinarily brave to him that she would get back up on stage after that, and despite her strength and perseverance, he wondered how it affected her confidence. “How’s it all going so far? Am I gonna be standing in the front row throwing roses up on the stage some time soon?”

Interactions
Misty Gray Savannah

 

[Misty Gray]

Valentina Moretti​

When her mother showered her with kisses and prayers, Valentina was surprised by how much she appreciated it. In normal circumstances, her natural instinct would have been to brush her mother away whilst expressing embarrassment at the over-affection. However, given what she had suffered three days ago, the gentle and comforting gesture from her family was what she needed. To feel something other than the lingering physical and psychological pain was enough to convince her she had woken from her nightmare.

Valentina gazed off towards the door when Elvian followed the unwelcome guests out, whilst ranting at them. Were the circumstances not so dire, Valentina was sure she would have found humour in the situation. As it happened, she was just glad her mother had listened to her and was indeed telling the cops to go away. For much of her life, she hadn't had full control over the big decisions about how or where she lived it. Despite her own ambitions and confidence, she'd often been made to back down and accept the decisions made for the benefit of the family as a whole, with no room for her own big choices. When she was attacked, those responsible took away every ounce of control from her. Now, in the blurry aftermath, once thing she was sure of was that she wanted to be in control of herself and had the freedom to make her own decisions. The police officers wouldn't get anything from her until she wanted to speak to them.

When Teddy spoke of her mother, Valentina looked to him and managed a small smile despite everything. "Why do you think I sent her to get rid of them? Nobody else could have scared the cops away like that," she said, her dry throat causing her voice to have a temporary hoarseness to it. Soon enough, Teddy sat by her bed. Valentina shuffled slightly, blocking out the pain the movement caused her so she could look directly to him. "Routine stuff? What, like having a shave?" she asked, referring to the facial hair he was sporting. Despite her expression remaining serious and her tone flat, it was intended as teasing. She'd attempted to joke and she expected he would take it as such, even though circumstances seemed to prevent it from clearly showing. "You wouldn't have been doing anything productive anyway," she said, hoping that would confirm she was trying to lighten the situation.

Valentina couldn't deny that there was something relieving about having Teddy with her. She had suffered a trauma she doubted he could truly understand, just as he had been hurt by his abductors in a way she could't imagine. But still, they had both been beaten and traumatised - used in an act of war against her father. If anyone could understand how she was feeling, she expected Teddy would. "I'm glad you're here. You kinda know how this feels..." she trailed off, trying to make eye-contact with him. She let out a small sigh. She wasn't sure if her mother was about to return to the room or not, but spoke up anyway. "She never answered my question. Where's everyone else?" she asked Teddy. "I'm sure I have an idea of what's going down, but I need them here."

Melanin-Gxdess (Teddy, Elvian)

 

[RayPurchase]

Tony Harris

​

Calm. That was the word of the day, the heart rate of a man mid slumber, a whimsical half smile hanging off his lips, and absentmindedly picking at his fingernails as he sat slightly reclined in the passenger seat of the Chevy. Given what their orders and plan of action was, you’d have expected something else from Tony, or the other 2. Panic, bravado, hell even a few tears of fear or tension. There was nothing though. If anyone had actually been interested enough to look properly at the car and its passengers there was nothing there to give them away. Well aside from the stowed weaponry, but they were far too careful to let that slip. Tony let out his own peel of laughter as Amato chuckled away.

“Don’t you worry matey, way out of your league anyway. If anythin’ I should be the one mournin’ here,”

Steve and Amato. Both had proven themselves god knows how many times. Short of recruiting a bunch of ex-squaddies, Tony wouldn’t have wanted anyone else next to him for this job. Yeah Amato was a lairy little bastard with some sort of complex, and if he ever had one (or discovered he had unwittingly sired one), Steve wouldn’t be allowed with 100 yards of Tony’s daughter. But they were solid. God the job done, and almost importantly they were able to get through that god awful calm between jobs without being at each others throats. Maybe not quite friends, but definitely not work colleagues. Friends were a rare commodity in this line of work, where one day you’re slapping each other on the back and the next your orders are to sink them to the bottom of the Hudson with a brand new pair of concrete loafers. This was close though. Teddy was probably the only one who Tony would consider a friend, and that had nearly come to an end after his cock up. No fault of his own, Tony had constantly told him, but that didn’t really matter did it?

The darkening evening sky was lit up momentarily by the blast and Tony let out a low whistle, as the blast faded, replaced with a dark orange smudge on the skyline. “Well ain’t that a pretty picture. Should of brought a camera Steve, got yourself a nice little scrap book goin’, “

Grabbing his own black balaclava he pulled it into place, adjusting it until the eye and mouth holes were comfortably in place. Unfolding the stock of his Uzi with a solid click, he nestled it into his shoulder. The light atmosphere fell away near instantly. The smile falling away, and his eyes hardening like chips of flint. “Lets do this. Make sure you’ve got each other’s backs. Move fast, but keep it careful, we’ve got ourselves a window here. Lets not waste it,” With a final nod, he opened the Chevy door.

(Interaction: Enzyme Amato, Pyroclast Steve)

 

[RayPurchase]

Mitchell Van Gerwen

​

The shrill ringing of the telephone cut through Mitch’s train of thought like a hot knife through butter. Letting out a frustrated sigh he lowered his pen and pad, gently placing the pen under the line of figures he had reached. Jazz Club accounts it turned out were far less interesting than what went on inside of such establishments, very little crossover between the two, and so he wasn’t exactly sad about the interruption from that perspective, more that it meant that it was precious minutes extended to his time here. Leaning over the desk, avoiding knocking over any of the remaining stacks he picked up the phone, guiding it back over to his side of the desk as he clamped the handset between his ear and shoulder, allowing his hands to get back to the joy of accounting.

“Van Gerwen Financial and Criminal…. Ah evening Carl, always good to know I’m never quite alone on an evening like this,” Carl the Concierge had been there when Mitch had first rented the office space, and chances are he would be there long afterwards, despite the ring on his finger Mitch had never seen him not at his post, come wind, rain, or the darkest of evenings or winter mornings. The man was perennially tied to his desk, part of the furniture of the place. His brow quickly furrowed into a frown however as Carl spoke, his eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. The diary was very much empty, and he wasn’t exactly taking walkin clients these days. “Tell them I’m not taking any new cases or clients on at the moment but if you’d like to recommend…”

All of that was cut off by the noise of the shot. Both echoing up the phone, and through the office building. It wasn’t just hearing it, he could near enough feel it as well through the floor and walls. The phone line was still live though, though it didn’t take a genius to realise that Carl had punched his final time card. For a moment Mitch simply sat there, phone in hand. His face whitening. An unscheduled group appointment, alone in the building, and the aftershocks of a gunshot still ringing in his ears. This couldn’t be happening. He was separate from all of this, he just did the books, and kept things ticking over in the background. This wasn’t happening. That sounded pitifully weak even to him. The whole time he had treated this like a regular job, as long as you knew where to turn a blind eye, then he could have been working for any other company in the world. The whole time there had been enough people between him and the really dirty stuff. Conor, Peter, any number of the family and goons. Even the night at the theatre that had descended into chaos, that was almost like a play, he was still little more than an onlooker. But now he was front and center on stage. And he was sitting here like a lemon. He scrambled to his feet, lunging for the door and desperately applying the latch.That wasn’t exactly going to stop them, it was a plain wooden office door, not a vault door, but the idea of there being something between himself and them at least had something of a placebo like effect on him.

Snatching his briefcase he emptied it of the random assorted items that now appeared so trivial. Mitch began desperately flinging papers into it, as much as he could. It wasn't as if they were coming here for money or drugs, or anything so mundane. They were after information. And between the records and himself, they could discover who knows how many businesses and assets that had flown under the radar. Time seemed to slow as he desperately scrabbled to fit in as much as he could, knowing that this wasn't a task he could fully succeed in. Mitch's eyes once again fell to the phone. He had to raise an alarm. Get the troops raised. They wouldn't be able to get here in time to stop the Morettis or whoever these guys were from getting into the office but if he could just get out of here, maybe they could pick him up. Grabbing the phone once more he dialed the first number he could think of.

One Ring.

Two Rings.

Each one felt like an eternity. Finally however there was the click of the connection. And with that the panic and fear came tumbling out.

"It's Mitch and.... they're here, they're fucking here. I've got records of everything, the clubs, the bars, the various businesses. Sounds like they've shot the doorman and next stop is here. I need you to send someone, everyone, if they get this we're up shit creek without a canoe." He paused taking a breath as he shoved more files and paperwork away. As he turned to pick up some papers that had dropped to the floor his eyeline came level with the window. And more importantly the rickety set of stairs that functioned as a fire escape. The front door was bound to be covered, a complete no go. This was the only other option. "I'm going out the back, and from there I'm just running okay, towards the Emerald I reckon, backstreets only. Soon as they start hammering on the office door, I'll make my break,"

Time. Mitch needed much more time. But he knew no more was available now.

(Interaction: Misty Gray James (Via the Phone)

 

[Misty Gray]

Gabriel Moretti​

It took an awkward while, but Marcus soon accepted the invite to offload what was on his mind. Gabriel's eyes narrowed at his son as he asked him if his fight for New York was worth the family's losses. Francesco had been the one assigned New York by their father, and though Gabriel had been able to dish out some damage from Miami, it had essentially been his father and older brother who had stirred the Irish Mob. Francesco's fight had ended when the explosion wiped out most of the Moretti family, but that didn't mean it ended there for the survivors. Motivated by decades of ambition to take New York and fuelled deeper by the need to avenge his family, there was no part of Gabriel that entertained the idea of backing down. Still, the mention of the lost loved ones and the fresh heartache of Valentina's involvement would always cut deep. He couldn't have prevented the deaths of the already lost family members, but Gabriel knew the ownership for Valentina's condition rested firmly on his own shoulders.

Gabriel quickly nodded along as Marcus expressed his own frustrations about not being there to protect Valentina. He understood that. His thoughts in recent days had been shared by plans for revenge, worry for Valentina's well-being, and questioning what he should have done differently. It would always plague him that he could have kept her out of harm's way that night. He'd encouraged her to go to her college party, despite her eagerness to attend the auction. Given that the enemy was to be present at the auction, Gabriel had refused to let her attend, believing she'd be safer away from it all. He couldn't change that wrong decision, but he wished he could.

Despite having stopped and parked the car some minutes ago, Gabriel's gloved hand was still holding onto the steering wheel, his grip tightening in frustration. "And I'm her father! I should have been there too!" he snapped back. His voice remained low, but there remained a power and deep fury behind it, matched by his piercing glare. Gabriel closed his eyes and shook his head, making sure to maintain control. He reopened his eyes to look back to Marcus. "We both should have been there and I know it's my fault we weren't," he admitted.

Gabriel shook his head as Marcus spoke of returning to Miami. "Miami belongs to us and New York will too. Your uncle and grandfather failed to win this city, but we will succeed. The Irish are on their last legs, of that I'm sure. If we give up now, when we're the closest to victory the Morettis have ever been, it will all have been for nothing. Everything I've done has been for this family - for those of us living and those taken away from us. When you have lived through decades of fighting, hard work, and the constant need to make difficult decisions, then you can lecture me on what is best for our family!" Gabriel's attention was briefly directed to the armed guards in the distance who he'd stationed to keep lookout in the parking lot. The fresh reminder of where they all were and that his youngest daughter was in a serious condition in one of the hospital rooms. He allowed himself to speak more calmly when he looked back to Marcus. "We will be kings here too. But you are correct. We are already kings in Miami and that makes it a safer place. Perhaps Valentina would be better off returning to the safety of Miami until the war here is over. But, is the mediocrity of Miami really what you want for yourself?"


RayPurchase (Marcus)

 

[Melanin-Gxdess]

Teddy

Teddy rubbed his hands together, his elbows resting on the edge of his knees. It was a nervous habit, which he discovered a few months back when he was working on his proposal to Gabe. It wasn't like him at all to be nervous, but here he was trying to hide it with his head down. He couldn't help but chuckle at her comment about Elvian, knowing that Romanian fire inside her was nothing to mess with. But, he had to admit that it was smart of Val to send her mother cussing the bothersome people out of the room. "Ah, what a smart kid you are." He joked. She then talked about his beard which caused him to sit back in his seat, slumped and hand rubbing across it. "Well, you and your family stress me out so much that I haven't had time to shave." He took a pause to stop playing with it and looked at her. "What, you don't like it or something? I think the grey that you specifically cause is quite fitting." Raising his hand to his chest, he feigned offense and heartache. Nothing productive? That was true as he had kicked his habit of women and alcohol to the curb about a week ago. The most he would be doing right now was gathering intel just to have intel. Even if he didn't need anything at that current moment, it was important to him that he knew everything he needed to know.

"I'll have you know that just because that's true, doesn't mean I wouldn't have found some way to be productive." He said matter of factly. His middle finger on his right hand rubbed his upper lip, while sitting and watching Valentina. It wasn't in a creepy sort of way, but much more to observe her. The scratches and bruises changed her appearance. Not for the worse, of course, but it added something else. She wasn't this innocent girl anymore who was protected from the evils of the world. Valentina Moretti had now seen and been through something most people hadn't. She now understood, in his eyes, how dangerous this line of work was and how important it was that she always keeps her head on a swivel. Sure, she knew this, but now the importance of it was stressed. It hurt him to see that she was laid up in the bed because of this but she was alive and that was all that mattered. Her voice made him blink back into focus a few times before he nodded his head. "Feels like shit, doesn't it? I'm just happy you're awake. Of all the things to have in common Tin, this isn't exactly what I had in mind." He played with his thumbs, that nervous feeling settling in again. He debated on standing up and going to her side, but opted against it. Something in him was telling him she was the reason he was feeling so nervous and on edge but that couldn't be correct. He was 9 years older than she was, her mother was like a mother to him and her father was his boss. There was no reason he was having feelings for her, right?

"She might've just forgotten. Did you see the way she was pushing them out? As far as everyone else, I think they're out trying to find who did this to you." He knew what everyone was up to, but it was easier to give her hope. "You have nothing to worry about, okay? No one's going to rest until the people who did this are in worse positions than we were." He was serious about this. It was one thing to torture and beat Teddy near to death but to do it to Valentina? He was going to go at them with a vengeance. "This shouldn't have happened to you."

​

 

[Misty Gray]

Riccardo Biancardi​

Ricky caught on to the way Syd asked about where he and Angelica would be staying. "We've got accommodation arranged in Manhattan. Quiet and comfortable, so I'm told," he flatly assured Syd and Roxie.

Ricky watched on as Syd introduced the twins by name, making a mental note of who was who so he wouldn't mix them up later. "A coffee would be fantastic, thank you," Ricky replied to Syd but kept his attention on the twins as he observed them in their cribs. Syd went off to make the drinks and Roxie spoke up to excuse Syd's manner. She said they'd have a couple of rough nights, to which Ricky simply nodded his head. He still wasn't sure what to make of the bruise on her face and was deliberating if he'd be able to get through the visit without bringing it up again, in perhaps a more direct manner. Roxie shifted the tone by asking if he wanted to hold the babies. "What a dumb question. Of course I do!" Ricky told his cousin. He took Jeanie from Roxie, not showing any hesitation as he seemed to naturally cradle the baby in his arms. He pulled a few silly faces along with making some funny sounds to entertain Jeanie but brought his attention back to the adults when Syd returned with drinks. "I'm sure it's spot on," he said of the coffee, trying to make the interaction as comfortable for all as possible.

Then, Syd spoke up to admit he'd given Roxie the bruises but added they weren't done on purpose. Ricky tore his eyes from Syd and instead looked down to Jeanie. There was a strong urge to make a sarcastic remark; to perhaps tell Jeanie that her daddy was telling everyone fairytales. But he managed to hold back and brought his eyes to Syd again as the man continued to speak. Hearing him say he had a sleep disorder caught Ricky by surprise. "Uh..." the sound escaped him with his mouth staying open for a time before he consciously sealed his lips shut again. He listened to the rest of what happened and it all sounded a little crazy, though he suspected too crazy to be a lie. A lie would have been more straightforward, surely. "Are you getting help for that sleep disorder?" he questioned. He shifted Jeanie in his arms, making sure she was still comfortable. "You know, I remember reading about some kind of sleep lab they were opening up all the way over at Stanford University. Maybe it even opened up by now. But, you know, if they're studying the field, there might be something the doctors can do about your problem." He shrugged his shoulders, not intending for his words to be taken any way other than at face value.

When Jeanie began to stir, Roxie made a joke at Ricky's expense, causing him to feign offence. "That's real low, that is. Besides, babies are too young to be corrupted by your unfair standards of beauty, so Jeanie doesn't realise I'm ugly yet." He gentle stroked the baby's cheek and made some more playful sounds. "She's definitely hungry. It's all your fault she's unhappy," he teased.

Ricky looked to Roxie as she spoke about the alcohol, letting a chuckle escape him as she mentioned she hadn't had a drink in months. "Ah, yeah. You both knock yourselves out. I'm sure you've got people queuing up to babysit so you two can have a piss-up soon, right?" he asked, looking to Syd more than Roxie. From what he knew, the Irish Mob were a big family and a close bunch.

Pyroclast (Syd) Bellz (Roxie)

 

[Misty Gray]

Valentina Moretti​

"If you want to grow a beard, then you grow a beard. It's your face, after all," Valentina flatly told Teddy. Once again, she hadn't meant to be blunt with him. She was just reminding herself of how much she was determined to take back control. Her attackers had no regard for her body, inflicting cuts and bruises on her like she was nothing. As trivial as it was in comparison, it felt wrong to dictate to Teddy how he chose to look. "You'll charm the ladies with or without it, I'm sure," she thoughtfully added. She'd known Teddy for some years, which also meant she knew of his reputation with women. She always wondered how such a nice guy could be so flippant about his relationships with women. They were thoughts she always kept to herself, but she thought Teddy was better than that behaviour. Admittedly, there had been times before when she'd secretly acknowledged her own attraction to him. For now, such thoughts and feelings had been violently knocked to the back of her mind by her ordeal. She was just grateful to still feel comfortable in his presence considering her inner turmoils.

Valentina very lightly nodded her head when Teddy pointed out that being beaten and tortured weren't the best things to have in common. She closed her eyes for a time, hoping the painkillers would start to kick in soon so the pain in her head could be dulled out for a while. She thought about Teddy's next words, of how her family were out looking for who had attacked her. A shiver ran down her spine as she once again recalled part of the attack that night. There had been a short, but significant length of time she'd seen one of the assailants without his mask on. Her eyes shot open again, not wanting to keep seeing the bastard's face. She took a deep breath and instead focused on Teddy's far friendlier features. "So they don't even know who they're looking for?" she asked, stray tears escaping the corners of her sore eyes. "I hope they both suffer worse than we have and I want to know they get what they deserve," Valentina bitterly told Teddy. "I'm tired of being shut out of the business when clearly it does affect me. I may be the youngest, but fucking hell, I'll be 24 soon... I know we both joke about it, but I'm not a kid, Teddy."

Melanin-Gxdess (Teddy, Elvian)

 

[Pyroclast]

Steve Kelly

Not much could beat a day like this. Steve wasn’t one to get hung up on failure, and so while East Harlem and the Moretti gang had suffered some major setbacks in the recent past, he was counting only their wins, each one carrying him onto the next job with unbreakable confidence. If they ever did get caught, Steve would still be satisfied with the suffering he had inflicted on the Irish Mob. The fact that he had received nothing but reward for his recent crimes drove him onward with a real sense of purpose, and the purpose of tonight’s attack involved the kind of action that Steve lived for.

A group of college students were bounding over to the entrance of the jazz club with carefree smiles on their faces when the Chevy Malibu rolled past. It was a sweet satisfaction to Steve that they were so blissfully unaware of the fate they would shortly meet. “Walkin’ through the gates of hell,” he muttered with a devilish glint in his eye as he watched them file in. The young woman had already caught his attention, and he let out a low, dirty chuckle when Amato and Tony joked about her wasted beauty. “If you wanna save her for later, man, we got space in the car.”

It was going to be a beautiful scene - he had gone over it in his mind every night since the initial pieces of a plan were first stitched together, and now he was impatient to put it all into action. Before the Chevy curled into the dark alleyway that bordered the club, the gang didn’t miss the flare of orange light that beamed through the back window and they all turned to admire the display of their masterful destruction. A gleeful laugh erupted from Steve as he mentally ticked off yet another job well done. “Don’t worry, Tone, that picture ain’t ever leavin’ my mind!”

By the time the Chevy was parked up in the shadows, Steve was practically bursting out of his seat. He couldn’t think of anyone he would rather do the job with than Amato and Tony - with all the force of their energies combined, he had no doubt they would have the entire building in their control within seconds. On Tony’s cue, Steve racked the slide of his Heckler & Koch MP5 and jumped out of the vehicle. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as the moments of anticipation grew narrower...

“EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND, NOW!” he roared, swinging his submachine gun up above his head. He decimated the display of bottled spirits behind the bar to stun the room; the music came to a jarring halt, followed by a cacophony of screams. Without even turning to look at the armed figures that had burst through the side door, people were already scrambling out of their seats, some starting to run to one another. Steve started firing at the stage, then - the bullets that pierced through the body of the double bass and the grand piano sent splinters of wood erupting into the air, their players convulsing through a spray of blood before dropping dead on stage. A smile flickered across Steve’s face as he took in the splatters of red that now decorated the walls. But he didn't let it distract him, and quickly leapt up onto the stage. “I SAID, EVERYBODY ON THE MOTHERFUCKIN’ GROUND,” he barked, scanning across the quivering hostages with the barrel of his gun to keep them in their place. “ANYBODY MOVES, ANYBODY SPEAKS, ANYBODY TRIES SOMETHIN’, I’LL BLOW YOUR FUCKIN’ HEAD OFF!”

Interactions
Enzyme Amato
RayPurchase Tony
Misty Gray Scott

 

[Pyroclast]

Alistair Sawyer

All things considered, Alistair was proud of how East Harlem had been operating in recent weeks. With the exception of Ani, all known traitors had been dealt with, leaving only those eager to work towards his cause. East Harlem’s relationship with the Moretti gang had shown no lapse in productivity despite Stefano’s unfortunate death, although Alistair sensed an underlying tension between them for a reason that he couldn’t quite pin down. He had always made it a principle of his to not attach himself to what he could not control. Trust, for instance, was something he never gave away completely, but merely lent out to people that he believed qualified to fulfill his requests and perform them as instructed. There was always a chance that somebody would let him down, or go behind his back and that possibility kept him at a slight distance no matter how closely he was working with someone. The only person in the world that Alistair really felt any attachment to was Ethan. If anyone else were to let him down, he would be deeply offended and would take satisfaction in punishing them by death; Ethan, on the other hand, he hoped he would never have to kill. If he did, he swore he would take no pleasure in it.

As it stood, Alistair had his eye on Rhys Caddel. East Harlem’s alliance with the Moretti gang was mutually beneficial and had been from the start, but since the arrival of Gabriel’s Consigliere, Alistair held a growing suspicion that the man wouldn’t hesitate to influence the Moretti boss to turn against East Harlem. All he had to do was decide that they no longer benefited from their collaboration and the two gangs would find themselves in their own war. Needless to say, Alistair had already taken steps to put the Irish Mob in Moretti’s firing line; although work with the Morettis had been going smoothly so far, Alistair would always hold East Harlem as a separate entity and his top priority above all else.

As efficient as Steve and Ethan were in their work, Alistair didn’t expect them to return to headquarters any time soon given what he had tasked them with. He was confident in their abilities and so despite the significance of the jobs they were doing that evening, he wasn’t anxiously waiting for news. Imagining what they might be doing at that moment actually relaxed him, as he pictured them in total control and with it, the terrified faces of their targets. Moreover, there was plenty to keep him occupied.

“Still nothing, huh?” he asked, closing the door to the windowless storage room behind him. A nineteen-year-old boy and his younger sister sat bound to chairs that faced away from each other. Both were exhausted and visibly terrified, and as soon as they heard Alistair’s voice the girl started to cry, though doing her best to keep quiet. On the other side of the room, two guards sat at a table playing cards.

“They’re stubborn little shits, I’ll give ‘em that,” said one, glancing over his hand to where the two children sat. “Some father they’re protecting. Coward still hasn’t come for ‘em.”

Alistair tutted, before making his way over to check the state of them. It had been a day and a half since the shop owner had run off to avoid a confrontation with East Harlem after failing to pay his protection fee. His children had had no idea and so were easy to collect as hostages since their father hadn’t managed to take them with him. Alistair could have had them killed, but thought keeping them hostage would more likely draw their target back to them to exchange his life for theirs. The fury in the boy’s eyes failed to hide his terror, and Alistair searched them deeply while maintaining a look of indifference. “This is quite the dilemma you’re facing, boy,” he said, lightly slipping his fingers around his throat to tilt his head back. “Do you encourage your sister to give up your old man, or keep quiet and sacrifice her instead?”

“I don’t know where he is,” he spat, his eyes gleaming with tears. Alistair nodded and inhaled a deep breath. “Well, that makes it much easier for you, then,” he replied. “Just make sure you’re not protecting a father who doesn’t deserve it. Something tells me he wouldn’t do the same for you.” The girl let out a shuddering sob, unable to keep silent despite the pressure, and her brother grimaced at the thought of losing her. “He’ll come,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. “He’ll come, Mary - he will.”

“And what a fate he will meet when he does,” Alistair cheerfully teased. He walked back over to the guards, who had already returned to their card game. “Keep them alive a few more days,” he ordered in a low voice. “If he comes after that, keep his hopes up, take whatever money he brings and then...you know, kill him anyway.”

The evening had rounded off for now, and having arranged to meet with Steve and Ethan later that night for a routine debrief, Alistair decided he would head home for a few hours to rest. The underground car park was quiet, with everyone already on their assigned posts - so when he heard a vehicle rolling down the ramp, he was curious as to who it could be. In his experience, unexpected arrivals usually meant bad news. He stood beside his Dodge Challenger, keys in hand, as he peered across the low-lit concrete cavern. It was a car he didn’t recognise, crawling towards him. His suspicion and curiosity was rising by the second and he placed a hand over the gun on his belt, straining to see through the window. And then he saw her. Another his men had been searching for, and on the cusp of giving up - and now, she had come back to him of her own accord. Alistair straightened up and smiled slightly, eager to find out why she had risked her life to set foot on his territory again.

Interactions
Bellz Ani

 

[Misty Gray]

Jasmine Carpenter​

Jasmine had been due to have a couple of days off after her shift ended on the evening of the auction, but given the tensions that directly followed the events that night, she volunteered to sacrifice her rest days to provide extra security for the Irish Mob. Jasmine had refrained from forming an opinion as to whether the Sullivans were behind the attack on Valentina. She wouldn't wish what had happened on anyone, but Jasmine was under no illusions about what the Irish Mob was capable of. She'd worked for them long enough to know the true extent of what they were capable of, despite them having many good qualities. Having grown familiar with members of the Irish family and seen their recent suffering, she remained committed to protecting them. If the Sullivans were behind the attack on Valentina, she figured it was only a matter of time before they retaliated on their enemy's level; the enemy who had hurt Savannah, Sinead, Lucy, Syd, and countless others. The actions weren't right, but Jasmine understood war led people to committing the unspeakable.

The previous day she had mostly been driving the female members of the Callahan family to various locations, including taking Emery to Long Island where she was staying with friends for a couple of weeks. Considering the tensions in the city, Jasmine figured it was one less person's safety to worry about. It had been an interesting drive, as it always was with Emery. The teenager always had been interested in the business and that extended to probing Jasmine about how she ended up with a black eye. Although she kept it to herself, whenever Jasmine thought about the scuffle in the car park, her mind always found its way to Chase. Despite wishing she could have gutted Ethan with his own knife at the time, the only person she really wanted to think about from that night was Chase. She'd been concerned about him and it seemed more than how she would have been were it one of the other guys injured. She'd have probably told Adam to suck it up and move on, but with Chase, she couldn't help but want to know how he was doing.

This evening, Jasmine was able to ditch the driving duties and was instead assigned to providing security at one of the Irish-owned restaurants. Things in the city were unsettled and it showed in the atmosphere. Everyone was expecting heavy retaliation from the Morettis and most of the intelligence had led to preventing minor matters of unrest, so far. Something big was bound to happen and everyone knew it, even the likes of Emery, who was for now kept out of mob affairs.

In a bid to blend in at the restaurant, Jasmine had made some effort to look like a normal woman out at a restaurant for a normal evening. This has involved her keeping her long, wavy hair down, as well as wearing a knee-length black dress and knee-high boots. She'd even applied some make-up, taking advantage of the opportunity to try conceal most of the bruising around her eye. As she approached the restaurant, one of the mob's security guards keeping watch on the streets whistled at her and made a teasing comment about never seeing her in a skirt before. Granted, it wasn't often she rocked up to a shift without jeans and a leather jacket, but the comment still caused her to roll her eyes. "Take a damn picture. You won't see this again!" she called back, laughing along with him as she did.

Upon entering the restaurant, Jasmine immediately began to scan the interior, taking in how many people were present and that nothing looked untoward. Her attention was soon drawn to Chase as he waved her over. Before she could realise, a broad smile had already planted itself on her lips. Not only that, she found herself feeling glad she was dressed up for the evening. If she was going to sit at a table with Chase for the next few hours, at least she would look good. Or would she? What if it was too much and she actually looked silly? "Jesus... Grow up," she mentally berated herself.

Jasmine had snapped out of her distracting thoughts by the time she reached the table. She sat in the seat opposite Chase and once again took a moment to look around the building, taking in how everything looked from where they were sitting. "Hi, Chase," she greeted him in the same coy manner he'd used to greet her. "Fancy seeing you here," she remarked. When he made the comment and gestured towards her eye, Jasmine shrugged it off and smirked back at him. "And I notice you've still got that whole sexy voice thing going on. Are you sure you're not just milking it now?" she teased him.

Straightening her face, Jasmine gave a serious nod when he asked if she was okay. "Yeah, I'm good. I've had worse than this, but I'm just frustrated we couldn't wipe the smirks off their faces for good... I ended up driving the Callahans around the last couple of days, which is nice and all, but it feels good to be away from a steering wheel." Jasmine's preferred choice of vehicle was a motorbike, but she couldn't imagine Sinead or Savannah riding on the back in their pretty dresses. That then brought her mind back to her present attire and she let out a scoff before speaking. "And no jokes about me being in a dress. I already had one of the guys winding me up out here. Still, you'd be surprised at how well this skirt conceals my guns," she couldn't help but add.

Jasmine discreetly scanned the restaurant interior again before concluding everything still seemed as it should. Focusing back on Chase, she cast her mind back to a few nights ago. it wasn't just the physical damage he might have taken, but Ethan had said some pretty cruel and personal things to wind him up. "Are you okay, Chase? Things got pretty heavy the other night, yeah?" she sensitively asked him.

Pyroclast (Chase)

 

[Misty Gray]

Conor Sullivan​

Conor had tried to gain entry to the pub in a peaceful, non-violent way, but the bouncer wasn't budging on the matter. As the two men stared each other down, the urge give in and use more physical measures was starting to itch at Conor. It was all too inviting, to say the least. Before much of an inner struggle needed to occur, Jackson brought the stand-off to an end by smacking the bouncer's head with brass knuckles. Conor's eyes followed the hit man as he collapsed onto the ground, only turning to look to Jackson and Peter once the man was down.

Soon enough, Conor was leading his friends into the private club. Stepping through the doors, Conor's eyes widened at the sight before him. A beautiful building was effectively being ruined by the seedy actions of its human occupants. A lit match and some fuel would probably do the room a favour. As they walked through the hall, with literal orgies taking placing at either side, Conor let out a low chuckle at Jackson's and Peter's comments. "It reminds me of a dream I once had, but without any blokes nor the general feeling of nausea that's hitting me right now," he joked. "Definitely need a drink, mate!"

Conor ordered a whiskey. Once the drinks arrived and the bartender moved away, Conor looked to Peter as he asked about the plan. "Gotta admit, I'd imagined many scenarios but none quite as filthy as this." Conor knocked back his whiskey and placed the empty tumbler down on the bar. "Plan still stands. We smash this club to shit and, honestly, burning it down might do it a favour. I don't think any amount of cleaning could get rid of the stench in here." Conor made sure the bartenders were still out of earshot before continuing. "If the Corleones want to start kissing Moretti's arse, then losing this place will be a warning to them." The Corleones had pledged support to the Morettis, which was enough incentive to ruin their fancy club. However, it was also hoped that by doing so would also give their Corleone Family's rivals, the Campbells, more encouragement to support the Sullivans in their war against the Morettis. The next day, Conor and the guys would be meeting with the Campbell Family to try talk them into assisting in the fight for New York.

Enzyme (Jackson)
Bellz (Peter)

 

[Melanin-Gxdess]

Teddy

Teddy couldn't help but shake his head at her blunt attitude. At least that wasn't knocked out of her or taken away. It was probably one of her most enjoyable features to him, of which he never took offense. Suddenly her comment about the girls made his smile waver, but he quickly regained his composure. It was as if her knowing how he treated women and his unfortunate past with them. He was embarrassed, to say the least, that this girl was calling him out on it. Never would he admit that his near-death experience and her helping him with Gabe made him want to be better. That was the real reason he had been on his best behavior lately; Valentina Moretti. "Ah, true. But unfortunately, there's only one person's opinion on the subject that would matter to me anyway." He hadn't actually meant to say it but he did, looking down at his now 7 fingers. The scars on his left hand being the only reminders left of what he had to endure. He was relieved something of that sort didn't happen to her. Not only because he didn't want her to have to live that way as permanent reminders are different than the cuts and scrapes, but because had they done worse he would have had to get his hands dirty. Teddy was fully capable of beating someone to death or shooting them, but he preferred not to. It was far too messy and something he didn't really want to participate in. It's the reason why he stuck to being an informant; a cleaner business where he got others to do the dirty portion.

Finally deciding to stand up, he put his hands in his pants pockets and slowly strolled over to her bedside. He had seen her eyes shut for a moment and took it as an opportunity to get a closer look. It just broke his heart again, but he was proud of how well she was handling all of it. It assured him she was going to come out of this a lot stronger than she was going in. She was focusing on something, what he didn't know, but he knew it was bad. The speed of her eyes reopening telling him this much. By this point, he standing a few feet away from her trying to give off a positive vibe so she wouldn't stress herself anymore. He raised his eyebrows and scratched the right one with his index finger, a nervous tick. 'I have a lot of those, huh? he thought to himself in terms of nervousness. "Nope. But, we know the Porter's are connected somehow and we're going to get to the bottom of it. This... Cheap shot at the family isn't going to be taken lightly, alright?" There was a voice in his head telling him to keep his hands in his pockets, but he was struggling to do so as he reached up to wipe away the stray tear falling out of her eye. She started speaking again about how she wasn't a kid anymore and he couldn't help but agree. Not only because of his personal affections towards her but because she honestly wasn't. She had been able to bring Gabe substantial plans to help with their takeover. Valentina had proved time and time again that she was more than capable of being a part of the planning and everything else. But, Teddy was not going to get fully involved in that with Gabe, having just been received back into his position. "You're absolutely right. You're not a kid anymore, but don't mistake that with the reason everyone wants to protect you and keep you out of things. I agree that you should be given more responsibilities but the fact is this. If anything horrible were to happen to Tatiana , Marcus," he took a pause to look into her eyes before continuing, "You. There are people that wouldn't be able to... Process it."

​

 

[Pyroclast]

Tatiana Moretti

Tatiana shut the bathroom door behind her and leaned against the wall for a moment, reeling from the sight she had walked in on. A giddy smile spread across her features and she took a deep breath to steady herself before moving over to her luggage to make a start on unpacking. Only seconds into her trip and she was already trying to come up with explanations for why she would return home empty-handed, having drawn no information out of Rebel. As desperate as she was to serve justice to Valentina’s attacker, she didn’t want to spoil things with this woman, and she was making it hard enough as it was. Perhaps it was part of a ploy - perhaps she had been playing the fool with all that blushing back at the auction and Tatiana had unwittingly got herself a weekend away with a professional flirt who knew a million and one ways to bring her to her knees. All so that she could execute her when she least expected it. After all, despite Tatiana’s training and position in the gang, she was a daughter of Gabriel’s just like Valentina. If the Porters were responsible for her hospitalisation, then it was likely enough that Rebel would have been tasked with killing Tatiana, too.

She was unpacking in the bedroom when Rebel emerged, wearing a revealing bathrobe that left very little to the imagination. The woman introduced herself formally, highlighting the weirdness of the situation they had put themselves in. It wouldn’t have been the first time Tatiana had taken a stranger to bed with her, but given that they were both sober and it was a known enemy that she was alone with, it didn't exactly feel familiar. “Rebel,” Tatiana repeated with a smile. “Did you earn that name yourself?” Having had a head start with the unpacking, she went to take a seat in the window alcove, briefly admiring the moonlight that glittered across the lake - but her attention couldn’t be kept from Rebel for long, and she turned back to watch her unpack with a soft, suggestive smile on her face.

“Is this the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done?” she asked, lifting one leg up onto the ledge with her and propping an elbow up onto her knee. “I know I was late coming here, but I half expected to find the place empty when I arrived. I wouldn’t have blamed you, either. What we’re doing is crazy, and I’m sure we both had to come up with a little white lie to keep our bosses happy.” That was all she was willing to say on the matter, and she saw no point in asking Rebel what her excuse had been since it would be impossible to take it as the truth. “I don’t know about your boss, but sometimes I think mine struggles to switch off, you know? Forgets how important it is to just kick back and let yourself have a little fun once in a while. If a lie is all it costs to get one weekend off, then I’m happy to pay the price.” She raised a playful eyebrow at her, though deep down she was deadly serious. It unsettled her that she hadn’t figured Rebel out yet. From her general demeanour she appeared totally harmless, but Tatiana knew for a fact that she was trained to kill, and likely on a mission to do just that. It also dawned on her that she had no confirmation that she was even sexually attracted to women at all, or if it was all just a cunning disguise. Of course, Tatiana rarely got it wrong - she was practised at determining a woman’s sexuality from little more than her general aura, and she definitely sensed it about Rebel - but she had to keep her wits about her nonetheless.

“You wanna order room service and we can get comfortable?” she suggested, resting her head upon her raised knee. “You’re making me feel a little overdressed here.”

Interactions
Bellz Rebel

 

[Enzyme]

Amato Castello​

The first few gunshots, almost went unnoticed, as the bustling crowd of young college students was too engulfed with their conversations to acknowledge the sporadic pops. After the bullets exploded the bottles behind the bar table, however, the pleasant, carefree atmosphere fell apart faster than a stacked pile of ashes. Horrific screams bounced off the walls as the band members were brutally massacred beside their respective instruments. As the bass guitarist struggled to hold himself up with his four sustained gunshot wounds, Amato hopped up onto the stage just to break the poor kid's face in with the stock of his Beretta M12. "You heard him! Get the fuck down! You cooperate wit' us and we'll let you go tonight! If you act like a hero, you get one to the dome!" Amato commanded the cowering crowd, shoving his submachine gun to the air. Behind the mask, and with a firearm in his hand, he never felt shorter than 6'0, evident by his animated personality on the stage.

As he spoke, two guys from beside the bar, dropped to an army crawl, attempting to sneak past the immense crowd to the front doors. Without warning, Amato's gun fell flat to his hip and his finger hugged the trigger. Ten shots rang out in quick succession, accompanied by the whizzing sounds of ricochet and exploding glass from a light fixture. Dark clouds of red mist floated ominously in the dimmed entrance, with only a black light left to illuminate the blood-stained double doors. With the abrupt gunfire, the crowd immediately cowered to the floor like startled ostriches. A few reactive screams exploded from the mass, but Amato was quick to silence them. "Shut the fuck up! The next one to scream will end up like those stupid fucks!" Amato waved the gun around, making sure everyone in the crowd had an equal opportunity to stare down the barrel.

"Alright, I want yous to barricade the doors with whatever's around you. I swear to god, if I can open those doors myself, I'll execute 10 of yous on the spot!" Amato spat, jabbing the submachine gun at them as if it were an extension of his hand. There was a pause from the civilians, as no one had a sound enough mind to move a muscle. "Go!" That shout seemed to be enough to urge the crowd to get moving, as a group from the back began pushing chairs and loose tables up against the front doors.

"I want that side door locked up too. Eight chairs stacked high!" Amato ordered as he stepped down from the stage, passing the gasoline canisters they had brought in from the Chevy. As he walked into the crowd, Amato caught the arm of a random bystander, a girl no taller than him in a plaid, pink dress. Gripping her forearm, he tossed her harshly towards the side door, to which she collapsed roughly on the marble ground. "Get movin'! You two beefcakes help her out!" Amato waved the M12 to two bulky men who had come to the Jazz club with her. Despite their tremendous size in comparison to Amato, neither of the two men seemed to hesitate to start stacking chairs.

Pulling a silk sack from the inside of his coat, Amato raced over to the bar. His stubby feet slid over the bar table, to where the bartender had been hiding. "What's up, doc?" Amato asked, before slamming the butt of his submachine gun against the side of the man's head, instantly slicing open the bartender's eyebrow. As the man collapsed to the floor in a growing puddle of blood, Amato began to stuff the sack with high-class booze from the top shelf. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he grabbed bottle after bottle. He was loving every second of this, and it was somewhat due to how he knew the night would inevitably end.

Pyroclast (Steve) RayPurchase (Tony) Misty Gray (Scott)

 

[Misty Gray]

Scott Masters​

It was only Kerry's third shift at All That Jazz, so she was still shadowing Scott that evening. In her early twenties, the young brown-haired woman was at least ten years younger than the bar manager and it showed through their conversations. She was full of energy and enthusiasm for the club, which fitted nicely into the vision Sinead wanted for the place, so he supposed was part of why she'd been the applicant he'd chosen for the job. If only Kerry wasn't so easily distracted. "So, the rain wasn't letting up, so we ended up just heading to see a movie, Cabaret. Have you seen it? I reckon it would be right up your street? Remember the actress who played Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, well her daughter--"

"You know who would love this conversation?" Scott asked, his face remaining neutral as he interrupted her. "Mrs. Callahan would, and maybe when you're not working you could meet with her to discuss your dates. As interested in musicals as I am, we've got a busy night ahead of us." Scott led Kerry to the customer side of the bar and handed her the round black tray. "There's at least a dozen empty glasses on the bar and they've been there for too long. Even though you're not on table duty, you're working the bar and whenever you get a break from serving, you should be checking the bar area is clear." Kerry nervously chewed her bottom lip before nodding her head, which prompted Scott to flash a warm smile. "You'll get used to it. Honestly, the staff and customers love you already, so you've got the most important part down."

Kerry hadn't had chance to collect the first empty glass when the fun and lively atmosphere descended into a terrifying chaos. As soon as the bullets began breaking through the bottles behind the bar, Scott pulled Kerry down onto the ground and out of the path of any oncoming stray bullets. From his kneeling position on the floor, Scott looked up to see the band members being pelted with bullets that ripped through them and decorated the stage backdrop with blood. Scott wasn't a member of the mob; his employer was Sinead Callahan and not the likes of Conor Sullivan. This wasn't the first time he'd got tangled up in gunfire whilst at work, but he'd recovered from the injury and remained far removed from any mob activities. Still, Scott was armed and the gun at his hip, concealed beneath his shirt, seemed to be calling to him. His hand was about to grab the weapon when one of the masked gunmen got up onto the stage brandishing a firearm that he would clearly use against the innocents in the club. Scott slowly moved his hand away from the gun, realising there were multiple gunmen and a lot of innocent people who could be killed if he made the wrong move of attempting to shoot back. He remained on the floor, with his back pressed against the wooden structure of the bar directly behind him.

Right before they were warned not to move of speak, Scott's attention was drawn to Kerry who was trembling and sobbing at his side. Scott wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close, turning her head away from the scene before them. Scott quietly hushed her, prompting her to try kept her sobs as quiet as possible. The intruders began ordering people to block the doorways, which did nothing to build Scott's confidence in the situation. He only hoped everyone would comply, the bastards would take what they came for, and they would return to the pit they crawled out of. Given that he was fully aware of the war with the Morettis, he deep down suspected this wasn't just a robbery.

As there were sounds of commotion at the other side of the bar, caused by Amato hitting the bartender, Kerry let out a gasp as she struggled for breath. From her trembling and sweating, it was clear to Scott that she was having a panic attack. He gently rubbed her back as his eyes remained fixed on the terrifying scene around them. Somehow, he was supposed to reassure the young woman, but he couldn't deny it was near impossible in the dire situation. "Take slow breaths, Kerry," he very quietly whispered directly into her ear. "They'll take what they need and then leave. Just stay quiet, yeah?" The woman's heartbeat was pounding so hard, Scott could feel it. It was almost as though he could hear it.

Pyroclast (Steve)
Enzyme (Amato)
RayPurchase (Tony)

 

[Pyroclast]

Jason Costello

Jason couldn’t help but laugh at Gwen’s nervous comment. The two were standing on the porch of the Porter mansion knowing that the moment they walked through the front door, her little girl would get the surprise of a lifetime. “Don’t be daft, now,” he grinned. “It’ll be the best day of her whole life, you’ll see.”

From the support workers’ perspective, their decision to leave rehab had seemed spontaneous, but Jason knew Gwen had wanted to come home for a while. The treatment and security had done them both good, but there came a point where the best treatment was being around family. She had had to sacrifice a great deal more than him when they admitted themselves: her daughter, her family - even her lead role in Cabaret, which she would never get back. As for Jason, he was sure there would be no one missing him. Home was wherever Gwen was.

Once she was ready, the two took their first steps into the entrance hall and Gwen called out her daughter’s name. Seconds later, the girl flew into her arms and the room thrived with the most positive atmosphere that Jason had felt for a long time. The reunion pulled at his heartstrings and a broad smile unfolded across his face, but he focused on the pack of dogs to give them a moment to themselves. To his relief, they seemed to be getting used to him by now, and he to them; their barks were ones of excitement instead of warning, although he did wonder if it was partly because he hadn’t seen his neighbour’s cat Ruben for a long time.

“It’s good to see you, Lucy,” he smiled, returning her hug. The contrast in atmosphere between the rehabilitation centre and Gwen’s family home was remarkable and even though Jason wasn’t quite a part of it, just seeing how happy Gwen was to have returned warmed his heart. It was an honour to have been by her side throughout everything, and now that she was home he felt immensely proud of her for how far she had come.

Still bursting with excitement, Lorelei bounced up the stairs, eager to show off the crafts she had made. Gwen took Jason’s hand and the two followed her up to her bedroom. He had missed the girl’s cheerful energy, almost having forgotten how much it brightened up the room. “Alright, Picasso, show us what you got!”

Interactions
Bellz Gwen, Lorelei, Lucy

 

[Misty Gray]

Valentina Moretti​

When Teddy confirmed the family suspected the Porters were behind the attack, Valentina's gaze wandered beyond the man standing before her. The Porters had already taken so much from her and her family. Gabriel had always been stern and strict, but losing most of his family had brought out an even colder, ruthless and more brutal side to the man. Her father had always aspired to take New York, but what the Porters had done made things more personal and he'd enacted plans to rip the Irish Mob apart from the inside. As much as Valentina wanted the Porters to suffer, she'd often wished her father would have done it sooner to give the Morettis some closure. Despite being dragged into the war in the cruellest and most violent way, she still stuck by her beliefs that the Porters needed to pay for killing her grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. But this didn't feel right. If she knew her father as well as she thought, he would be planning on burning the Porter family to the ground and demanding they hand over the men who attacked her. If the Irish were suffering at that moment in time, she didn't want it to be in her name. It was always intended to be in the honour of her lost family members. "Do you know what my father is doing or planning to do to the Irish?" she asked Teddy whilst lowering her voice. "I don't think it was the Porters who did this to me. In fact, I'm sure of it."

The gentle touch of Teddy's hand had seemed to calm Valentina, but mostly as it provided a small distraction from the traumatic thoughts. His sensitive manner could be put down to pity and trying to make her feel comfortable in her present state, but she couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it. He'd mentioned there was only one person whose opinion mattered to him and she couldn't help but consider if he meant her. The man she'd known for some years was certainly acting strangely and she was sure it wasn't the painkillers messing with her perception. It was reassuring to hear Teddy confirm he didn't really think of her as a kid and to know people's concern for her was reasonable. "Which people?" she asked. Before elaborating, she carefully reached her uninjured hand towards him, now aware of the wires between the back of her hand and the IV drip. She gently took his hand in hers and looked to him. "What about you, Teddy? How are you processing it?" she asked him.

Melanin-Gxdess (Teddy)

 

[Enzyme]

Jackson McCarthy​

If making their way through the packed floor was a challenge, finding an open spot at the bar was near impossible. It felt as if they were sitting on the knees of the men behind them, and with the stark visual they got from the hallway coming in, it was enough to make anyone want to scrub themselves in a chemical bath. Jackson, however, was far too busy taking his final look around at the immaculate palace. He had often felt uneasy about partaking in jobs involving large crowds, but with a group as animalistic and vile as this club, he couldn't seem to wipe the stupid smile off his face.

Jackson had to lean in close to his friends just to be able to hear them over the blaring saxophone, which seemed to be targeted directly at his right ear. When the bartender approached, Jackson ordered his drink while Conor filled Peter in. Usually, such matters would be kept unwrapped behind ginger whispers, but with the room filled to the brim with white noise, he was confident they could scream the plan at the top of their lungs, and none of the patrons would pay them any notice. "What's the go-to drink around here, lad?" Jackson asked the bartender. "Oh, let me tell you, our kiwi daiquiri is just divine." Jackson's innate nature was to shoot down a suggestion like that almost immediately, but he caught himself by pressing his finger to his lip. "Yeah, alright. I'll take one," Jackson said with a confident nod. He was never one for mixed drinks or chasers, but with the people he was surrounded by, he was positive that he could order an Appletini with a side of rainbow stickers and still be one of the most masculine men in the room.

As his drink arrived, he spun around to Conor and Peter, sucking the sweetened mixed drink through two fancy, thin straws. "We'll show 'em alright," Jackson added on, looking as if he was enjoying himself far too much. Jackson's face immediately scrunched up with a resemblance of shock and amazement. "Holy shit. Which is a shame too cause this drink is fuckin' delicious." He quickly took another sip, making sure his tastebuds weren't deceiving him. "You gotta' try this, mate," Jackson insisted, sliding the mixed drink to Conor under the embroidered napkin.

A few kiwi daiquiris later, Jackson pulled back his blazer to look to his silver watch. "Right, finish up these drinks, and let's do this," Jackson insisted, slapping his palm on the table. As he stood, the weight of the liquor hit him, and he felt himself stumble slightly. Never the matter. Jackson was sure he worked better intoxicated, anyways.

Jackson pushed his way through the crowd, suspecting Conor and Peter to be hot on his tail. "'Scuse me, comin' through," Jackson said as he shoved past the patrons, who looked way too far-gone on pills and alcohol to care. Jackson clumsily hopped up on the stage, turning to give Peter and Conor a hand up as well. It took a few seconds for the bandmates to acknowledge their presence, but once they did, the music immediately ceased - which was surprisingly a shame to Jackson, as he was starting to come around to the furious jazz.

With a strong grip, Jackson ripped the main microphone stand away from one of the musicians, adjusting it properly to his height. "Right, right. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Jackson addressed the confused crowd, the ear-piercing whines of the misused-mic echoing down the orgy-filled halls. "I know you lot were enjoyin' some deafening music, which I do have to give credit to these blokes - wasn't actually all that bad," Jackson commented, turning to the perplexed bass musician beside him. "But because this filth of a club is owned by some belligerent dickheads, who are backin' some less than desirable folk, we are now tonight's entertainment."

The only noise in the once headache-inducing room emitted from the microphone Jackson's mouth was far too close too, as not a single squeak came from the startled crowd. "Unless, of course, Mr. Toni Corleone wants to come up here and personally suck off Mr. Sullivan for all his troubles. It is his birthday, after all," Jackson barely had enough time to finish his sentence before bulky security members ripped through the crowd and attempted to storm the stage. "Oi, fuck off!" Jackson barked, using the microphone stand's base plate as a weapon, slamming it straight down onto the leading security members' skull. He shifted his aim to the next security guard trying to climb up, ramming the metal down on the top of his head as well. The club soon fell into chaos, with patrons shouting and throwing drinks at the Porters, as more and more guards tried to commandeer the stage.

Misty Gray (Conor) Bellz (Peter)

 

[Misty Gray]

Savannah Callahan​

When she heard the door to the roof open, Savannah closed her script book before looking up to see Danny approaching with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. She smiled brightly as he expressed his surprise at the scene she had set up for their date. "Well, of course I did! This could have been far more extravagant, too. You should know by now I've got glitter in my blood," she joked, knowing she took inspiration from her mother. Savannah leaned in to meet Danny's lips, returning his kiss with one she didn't hurry to end. When their mouths separated, she held onto his embrace a little longer until they naturally let go of each other. Danny brought her attention back to the flowers and she happily took them from him. "Thank you. These are so beautiful," she excitedly told him, pausing to bring the flowers to her nose and take in their scent. "They'll be safe here for now," she assured him, carefully placing them on one of the spare patio chairs.

Though the sun loungers were there for if they still felt like relaxing and stargazing in the cold later, for now the couple sat on the chairs at the patio table, where she'd set the food and drinks down. "Life has been good lately," she agreed with him. She lifted the wine bottle and looked to Danny through her large, inviting eyes. "Would Sir care for a drink?" she offered him. The offer was soon followed by Savannah attempting to pop the cork from the bottle; a mixture of her long fingernails and fear of the cork hitting one of them in the face only adding to her reluctance. She blushed a little as she gave up and placed the bottle in the centre of the table. "Would Sir be able to open the bottle for me?" she asked, laughing at her own expense. "These nails are more trouble than they're worth," she complained.

As she eventually poured the drink, Savannah also offered the sandwiches and cakes to Danny. His eyes landed on the script and prompted him to ask her about her rehearsals. "I was just reciting my lines until you got here. Aside from Andre being the dickhead Andre is, I'm really enjoying it. I've got this dark-haired wig I have to wear to be Snow White. Do you think you'd like me with black hair?" she playfully asked him. "It's going well, though. The Christmas pantomime was on a smaller stage than this is... well, it wasn't a big theatre like this one's going to be. Like Oliver! was. I feel okay about it all so far as I'm just so focused on rehearsals and doing everything right. I suppose the real challenge will be opening night, but I guess I'll tackle that challenge in a couple of months," she admitted. She was feeling apprehensive about being back on stage, but her dreams were too important to her to let her back out. There had been times she'd considered getting away from the city or even considering different paths, such as going into television. For now, she knew she had to stick with the opportunities she did have before even better ones would come along. Wanting to clear up any awkwardness, she then flashed a bright smile at him. "You'd better be on the front row showering me with roses! I expect nothing less."

"Please tell me if you get too cold. I've brought blankets but if it becomes too uncomfortable, I'm sure we can go inside. I just wanted us to get to the end of a date without anything interrupting us. Not to mention, I love the view from up here," she told him, briefly gazing out over the city. She then reached her hand out to hold Danny's. "And with you here, it's perfect," she softly told him. Blushing again, she cleared her throat and lightly shook her head before looking to his face, taking in his handsome features. "How about you? How are you and what have you been up to?" she enthusiastically asked him.

Pyroclast (Danny)

 

[Pyroclast]

Chase Zegarra

It wasn’t just Jasmine’s choice of the word ‘sexy’ to describe his voice, but also the insinuation that he was putting it on specifically in front of her that made him blush. It drew a modest laugh from him, and for a moment he was lost for words, too wary of mistaking her comment for an open invitation to flirt. His gaze involuntarily dropped to the table, and he had to force himself to meet her eye before finally speaking. “Well, talking too much won’t make it better, so if you think it suits me we’d better keep up the conversation.” It wouldn’t necessarily be perceived as flirting, he thought - only if she wanted it to be. If he were as charismatic as Adam, he probably would have taken it further - although, too much like Adam and he may have said something borderline inappropriate. But Chase was too intimidated by her to say anything too forward, and tonight more so than ever, for she had dressed herself up in a way he had never seen before. Usually she dressed practically, with hair tied back and wearing non-restrictive clothing, but tonight her figure was accentuated by a knee-length black skirt; her chestnut hair bounced past her shoulders in luscious, carefree waves and the makeup that she had applied, even with the bruise, made her eyes look so bewitching that Chase could hardly dare to look into them.

He believed her when she told him she had suffered worse injuries than a black eye. It wasn’t something he liked to imagine, but there were plenty of occupational hazards in their line of work. She seemed to prefer being close to the action over chauffeuring duties, which also didn’t surprise him given the fight she had put up against Ethan a few days prior. Her display had shown her to be the kind of person who could handle herself well and who would never cower away from a fight. Throughout his four years of working in New York as a soldier for the Irish Mob, Chase had received plenty of combat training, but getting himself into situations like the one in the car park made him wonder if his lack of prior experience put him at a disadvantage despite his muscular physique. He had proven himself a capable fighter plenty of times since joining the mob, but unlike most of his colleagues, he hadn’t come from a background of violence. The better part of his life had been spent priming tobacco and rolling cigars. He may have fought like he had been trained, but Jasmine fought like it was second nature.

Before he had time to respond, she drew attention to the outfit she was wearing. It came almost as a relief, as Chase had been doing his best to ignore it and now felt he had permission to react. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he told her truthfully. “But I get it, you don’t want to be late to your shift just because you went home to change after your date. I just hope he didn’t find the guns in your skirt...” An amused smile flashed across his face, but despite his attempt to act cool, deep down he was hoping she had just been out with some friends. Still, sitting across from her now at a restaurant, with her all dressed up the way she was, it wasn’t so hard to imagine what a date with her would look like. Part of him liked the idea that anyone who looked their way would likely mistake them for a couple.

It caught him a little off guard when Jasmine asked him if he was okay, wondering if she had noticed something off about him that he hadn’t. “Oh, the fight…” Catching onto the concern in her voice, he sent her a smile to reassure her. “Don’t worry, it’s all fine. Finn checked me in case of brain damage and told me I’ll be okay. It’s just a bit painful when I swallow, like a little infection. But it’s not going to stop me from working, so…” He trailed off when he noticed her expression and his heart sank. She had spoken in that same soft voice with him before, back when he had first told her that his parents were dead. He didn’t often talk about it, partly because he found it an uncomfortable topic but mostly because nobody ever asked. Except that Jasmine had, and the way she was acting now made it clear that she was asking once again.

Chase swallowed, rubbing at his neck lightly to soothe the pain. His face fell serious and his eyes drifted between the walls as he worked out what to say. “I think I didn’t understand you, I’m sorry,” he uttered, the rough edge to his voice pulling it down to almost a whisper. “You mean what he said to me, didn’t you?” The man’s words had stuck in his head so firmly that even the punches that followed hadn’t knocked them out of him. “You know, I don’t even think that guy knows how it happened. Because it wasn’t me that had to clean it up anyway. I wasn’t even there with him when he died, you know? I was flying to New York. And I stayed here for a couple of days, because nobody wanted to tell me what had happened in case the grief affected my ability to fly home. So they had already cleaned up when I got there. So if he was trying to make me remember a memory I don’t have, then he’s just…” Chase trailed off again, shaking his head and looking away. His throat felt suddenly swollen, which he chose to blame on all the talking - but the weight in his chest told him it was something more. He raised a hand to subtly massage his neck, and took a few seconds to scan the room for anything suspicious, although he couldn’t seem to concentrate anymore. After a moment he forced a smile and looked back up at Jasmine. “Sorry,” he murmured softly. “Sorry, you asked me if I’m okay. I am, I’m okay.” He added a nod of affirmation to accompany his smile. “I just don’t remember the last time I talked about it. You’re the only one who asks about things like that. So when it was brought up at the auction, I didn’t think I would have that kind of reaction... I’m just glad that you didn’t get hurt worse. It’s already my fault you have that bruise on your eye, but if he’d really hurt you I think I’d struggle to live with that.” He straightened up in his seat then and his smile turned curious. “You are a good fighter, though. I mean, I didn’t see much, but you left in a much better state than me. Have you been doing this a long time or something?”

Interactions
Misty Gray Jasmine

 

[Melanin-Gxdess]

Teddy

To say Teddy was shocked would be an understatement. Was he hearing the words coming out of her mouth correctly? She wasn't hit too hard on the head or suffering from any head-related injury still, right? Hearing her say she was sure the Porter's hadn't been the one's to attack her made him recoil in confusion. Who else would gain to do something like this if it weren't for them? "Tin. Gabe has everyone either working on the next step or finding out who did this to you. W-Why do you think it's not them?" The stutter in his voice was based on the fact the family was doing everything in their power to do something to hurt the Porter's back. Teddy's feelings for them was the same as everyone else's; they were scum and didn't deserve to have such a hold over New York. However, he was above retaliating against someone who was innocent of such an attack. Sure, Theodore was an asshole sometimes but did like to think he had at least an honest moral compass. It would indeed cause more problems than they already had, and while everything was already a mess this could make it messier. "Say it isn't then. Could it be someone who is waiting for the Moretti and Porter war to break out then slither in when we're not looking, you think?" He was deadly serious at this. The streets had been a bit quiet aside from the attack on Valentina and even Teddy wasn't getting any new information. It was worrisome to him, of course, but he was focusing on something else at the moment.

His hardened, thinking face turned back into one that was looking down at this girl laid up in the hospital bed. After having wiped the tear from her face, he put his hands back in his pocket in a feeble attempt to contain himself. There was something going on in his chest and he knew exactly what it was. Not only was he anxious because of it, but now this information was swirling around in his head. It definitely added on to his stress and he could feel the hair on his head and beard turning grey. Taking a deep sigh, he glanced back at the door hoping someone would come into the room and end this... Feelings fest before he said things he would never be able to take back. When no one did, he internally groaned. It wasn't that he didn't have true feelings for Valentina because he did. Teddy just didn't want to admit that to her or himself at this present moment as there were things he needed to do before he would attempt such a feat. When he saw her reach for his hand and found his making its way to hers, he realized that perhaps things weren't going to go as planned.

"Which people, you ask? The guys." He chuckled, trying to be as vague as possible. "All the underlings who want good with your father so they're seeking revenge. T is worried, Marcus. Your mother has been giving Gabe much more grief than I honestly believe he deserves." He took a slight pause, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing over the top of her hand. "Don't tell Liv I said any of that, okay? The Romanian-Italian fire she carries around is not something I want to be burned by." He joked, attempting to lighten the mood. When asked how he was processing it, he looked down at what his thumb was doing and still hadn't recognized the manner of which he was holding on to her hand. "I'm pissed, believe it or not. I'm at a stupid event doing nothing when I could have been with you making sure you don't end up in hospital beds. Just because I'm an informant doesn't mean I can't or won't kick someone's ass for even looking at you funny... You're important."

​

 

[Misty Gray]

Valentina Moretti​

Valentina took deep, controlled breaths as Teddy asked why she thought the Porters were not behind the attack. Thinking about it only brought the man's face to the forefront of her mind, which in turn reignited her anxiety. Yet, somehow, as unsettling as imagining the bastard's face was, it was the man who had never taken his mask of who she feared the most. He was the one who plagued her nightmares the most viciously. She let out another deep breath before looking Teddy in the eyes. "I don't think it was the Porter's because I managed to catch a glimpse of one of them, when he thought I couldn't see." Valentina's throat felt like sandpaper and it seemed to be tightening the more she spoke. She struggled to try reach for the nearby cup of water, before giving in and looking to Teddy for help passing it to her. "The man I saw, I recognised works for my father. I'm sure of it," she revealed through her crackling voice.

The water seemed to do the trick at quenching her thirst and making it less uncomfortable to speak. As she heard of those seeking revenge, tightly closed her eyes to tried hold back any further tears. When she reopened then, she looked to Teddy and let out an audible sigh. "The suffering of the Porters was meant to be for the others. My cousins, Grandpa, even Uncle Frank, for all his sins. I really don't believe the Porters did this, so their suffering can't be in my name. It can't," she told Teddy as she choked back her tears. "And my parents shouldn't be fighting because of me. Does anyone ever stop to think about what I would want?" she asked. She quickly silenced herself, knowing Teddy had no part in that particular frustration. That one was for Gabriel. It was just so much easier to offload to Teddy than her family, as the thought of putting further burden on them or risking her father's wrath was usually a deterrent.

"Teddy, you couldn't have known what would happen to me. You couldn't help that you had to be at the auction," she argued. She managed a thin smile at his words about defending her. Was he saying them as a family friend, or more? "You're important too. Even to my father," she assured him.

Although Elvian seemed to have successfully kept the police out of the room, it seemed like they weren't going to move from out on the corridor. Through the closed blinds, she could see their silhouettes shifting on the corridor outside the room window. She was convinced Elvian and Teddy would have her back if the officers tried to over step their mark. The sooner she'd given her statement, the sooner they'd be gone. Besides, she figured the fewer loved ones around when she lied to the cops, the easier it would be. Even though she knew Gabriel would want her to tell the cops lies or nothing at all, it would still feel weird lying in front of him. "The cops aren't going to go away. Can you tell them to come in and I'll talk? I know what I'm doing," she assured him.

Melanin-Gxdess (Teddy)

 

[Misty Gray]

Adam Harper and Maddox Parker
~ Mob Base/Apartment Block, Hell's Kitchen ~​

Maddox had been kept under the watch of the Irish Mob since November. In Adam's opinion, the counsellor had run out of valuable information he could provide on the mob's enemies and by now the best use for the man was as a bargaining chip. A loose end the Morettis had never been able to tie up and would likely find the prospect of finishing him off highly attractive. Having said that, Adam had sat in the dingy guarded apartment with Maddox on a few occasions, finding he at least had medical uses when the likes of Finn were inaccessible. The man was also somewhat interesting. Adam didn't trust Maddox as far as he could throw him, but he often liked to indulge in the man's professional words of wisdom and intellectual insights.

During his time holed up, Maddox had been granted a few personal calls to his family, all in the name of keeping up the illusion the man was alive and well, to keep any heat off of Conor and the validity of the man's freedom from jail. Sitting directly opposite the counsellor, Adam kept his eyes focused on his pistol as it laid flat on the table with his index finger repeatedly spinning it around on the surface. Maddox knew the deal. Any wrong word or attempts to use code during the call, Adam wouldn't hesitate to shoot him. The mob employee sat back in his seat, finding it curious how normal the relationship Maddox had with his sister seemed to be. Adam wondered if Maddox's sister had a clue what her brother had been doing whilst in New York. Judging by the counsellor's words, he was likely a saint in his family's eyes. Adam couldn't help but smirk at the thought.

Feeling the call to England had gone on long enough and at enough expense to his employer's phonebill, Adam tapped his watch to signal for Maddox to bring the call to an end. He listened on as Maddox said his goodbyes. As soon as the receiver was down, Adam placed his gun back in its holster and stood up, swiping the telephone from the table. He walked over to the wall socket and pulled the phone cable out, then stepped out of the room to hand the device to one of the other guards to ensure it was kept out of the counsellor's reach. "Have we had any calls through yet?" he asked. With tensions so high in the city, many soldiers had been dispatched to the protect the businesses. Adam and quite a few other soldiers remained at the apartment block in case they needed to attend to anything kicking off elsewhere.

After learning there hadn't been any calls yet, Adam returned into the room with Maddox. "Quite the charmer, aren't you, Doc? If I didn't know better, I'd have you down as a decent bloke. No wonder people fell for your act so easily." Despite his cutting words, Adam sat back down opposite Maddox and proceeded to humour the man. Or was he fishing for his own benefit? "Between all of that double-crossing and fucking with people's minds, have you ever been in a proper relationship?"

"Yes, there was someone," Maddox admitted. His gentle yet deep eyes studied Adam before he determined on this occasion, the man wasn't trying to get a rise out of him but perhaps was seeking something out of the conversation for himself. "Before all of this kicked off, I was in love with a woman. But she learned about everything I'd done and how dangerous this place is, so she left me. I would imagine she took herself far away from this city - from me - and I can't blame her for that." Maddox had tried to be honest with the mob since he'd first told Syd the truth, but where Ani was concerned, he would always maintain the lie that she'd effectively dumped him and made a quick escape. Ani's safety remained the thing he cared most about.

"Sounds about right. I'd run a mile too," Adam scoffed. He then shook his head before looking at Maddox straight. "In this business, you can't afford to get tied down. You can't risk dragging innocent people into your shit. That's why I make sure I don't commit to a woman. A second date is one too many and all that." Adam sat back in his seat as he thought about Brooklyn and how she'd made him break his own rules; enticing him into multiple dates and likely more to come. "Still, you end up going on that second date, and the third, and realise you want more. No matter how fucking complicated and messy it might get, you just can't help but want to see her again." He laughed at himself and shook his head, imagining how much the likes of Chase would wind him up if he heard him now. Friendly payback and all that.

"Is it putting her in danger you're worried about, or is it your own fear of commitment?" Maddox dared to ask.

"What?" Adam asked, seemingly caught off-guard. In that moment, he found himself deciding between telling the counsellor to fuck off being nosy or offloading to the man seated in front of him. Thankfully, neither had to happen as the door swung open and a guard stepped inside.

"We've just had a call from Porter himself. Something's kicked off and he wants you on the case," the man informed him, referring to the intruders at Mitch's office. Without hesitation, Adam stood up and his conversation with Maddox was brought to an abrupt end.

Mentioned: RayPurchase (Mitch) Bellz (Ani, Brooklyn)