What does a country bumpkin think of when they hear the word “city”?

Cars? Factories? Smoke? Loud folks?

“They’re not wrong, but not quite right either,” said a suited man, “This isn’t your ordinary city.”

“And what makes it so special?”

They were at a train hub, where several rows of tracks met. It wasn’t as busy as someone would expect, especially for a peak time such as this. The traveler shifts uncomfortably with the bindle slung over his shoulder.

He’s a fish out of water, that one...

“Most people take the boats. Much less dangerous.” The suited man adjusts his tie and smiles. Read his mind pretty well, he did. “This place tends to garner a pretty bad reputation for some... ‘disorderly conduct’. There’s still a bit of courtesy when it comes to honest businesses, of course. No thievery so long as they’re not in the way. Even criminals have standards. If it weren’t for that...”

The two proceeded outside during their conversation. Compared to the rather empty train station, it was a different story here.

“We wouldn’t have a place like this, now, would we?”

Streets packed with cars and people as far as the eye can see. Here, there, everywhere, the way everyone talked just combined into some cacophony of voices, needing a keen ear to make heads or tails of it.

“Then blam, they came outta nowhere, just east of Main-”
“...-some bourbon round these parts-”
“... -toots, how bout you and me-...”

“Hey, mister, you mind telling me where the store is?”
“Just a few ways that way, take a right at 51st.”

“... cup of tea? I know the place. He’s a really charming chap.”

The roar of a siren passes by, the screech of a sharp turn doing nothing to quell the sounds of the street. Two buildings over on the third floor, you can hear celebrations and rambling. Two gents walk on by, fresh hot dogs in hand and mouth.

It just never ends.

The slack jawed farmhand was probably taking in the atmosphere. Figures. The suited man tips his hat and merely chuckles. “Welcome to-”

“Watch where you’re going, fer Christ sake!”

“-..., kid. If you can’t find it here, doubt you can find it anywhere else. Come with me. Maybe we can get ya some place more acquainted.”

Poor lad's coughing something fierce. He’ll get used to the smell of diesel sooner or later.
_____

"Well, I can't say it's not a nice place. Plenty of things to do, sights to see so long as you know where to look. Once you're used to it, though, it all just gets a little-...”

A sip of coffee. Americano, nothing too fancy, with a roll of bread and some butter. A soft, jazzy tune fills the air, adding to the whole “cozy little cafe” atmosphere. The low lighting and warm colors just adds the finishing touch.

This was Rob's little slice o' heaven, it was. The guy's a barista, and a good one at that. Name a flavor and he probably knows how to make it with his eyes closed. Probably the reason why this is such a popular place.

“Boring? Ya sure you're using the right word? I mean, yer never a mile away from some crazy ruckus. If that ain't exciting, I don't know what is. Must've drank too many times to be numb to all these stuff.”

Another drink made. Some dame reaches over, gives him the coin, sits on the table with a bunch of other gals. She gives him a flirty wink, but he doesn't seem to care.

“I've had enough excitement for several lifetimes. I'd die of heart palpitations if I get any more.”
_____

“Well, fuck me running.”

Between a rock, a hard place, several guns and a girl.

Right. So. Girl being held hostage, police ready to blow what little brains he has, and...

… it gets worse! Looks like he can't catch a break! More guns have arrived, and this time, not from the police!

“Oi! Look alive, we got a stand-off here!”

A bunch of rabblerousers looking for a tussle. Yes, this is exactly what he needed. Ha. No. No, no, no, fuck this. Fuck. This. Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this.

How did he get into this mess? He thought it would be a great idea to take this girl hostage and walk out of the way nice and quiet-like after things went sour. Turns out, that wasn't so easy either.

But yes, how it started in the first place...?

Take a deep breath here.

It was an afternoon. Normal afternoon. Just a general store, a few folks going about, trying to get a quick buck, nice and easy. Ask the cashier for the cash, use unloaded gun for intimidation, run out before any trouble happens. He wasn't planning to hurt anyone, nah.

Then, suddenly, police.

Everywhere.

Quite literally, they had enough that it looked like he did some kind of bank robbery, by God. He wasn't planning to hurt anyone, but the police were VERY ready to hurt him.

Not being left with much of a choice, he grabbed the nearest person. Who happened to be... a girl. A little girl. You know what, he'll bite; no one would shoot a little girl. The girl, she just looked at him and asked “When are you letting me go?”

“When you-” he pointed at the policemen “let me get away. Preferably, with money. Yeah. That's it! Gimme the money or the girl doesn't go!” He turns to the girl and whispers “I'm really sorry bout this, alright? Be a good lil' hostage and stay still.”

She just nods. We fast-forward till now.

The level of “fucked” he is about to face has not lessened since then.

The story in itself is pretty good, but seems a bit disjointed. it may just be me, but the pace seems a mite "jerky".

"He's taken a hostage."

"Yeah, well we've got our own problems now."

Two of the assembled cops muttered between each other, one watching the panicking man slowly look between the two forces and then decide it was probably a better idea to just walk back into the convenience store.

The other watching the newly arrived ruffians - probably gang affiliated if their access to fire arms and general disrespect was any sign - smirking and talking trash while daring the cops to make a move.

This would have been pretty easy, before the rest of them showed up. "Damn good timing these hoodlums have... Think they're connected?"

The other cop shrugged, "I don't know, what would they even have to gain from fighting us over a convenience store? You think maybe this guy is some hot-blooded prince in their gang?"

"Or maybe they're new and just out to show off? I don't know, but it's far too convenient for me - He's definitely connected to them. Maybe he volunteered to be bait to draw us out."

In a lighter time, they'd probably have tried negotiating. In a different situation, there would have most likely been an attempt at peace.
_________

"Never capitulate!"

The man blinked. What did that even- wait, police weren't supposed to be the ones who open fire!

His grip on the girl's arm tightened briefly as he turned tail and hauled both the girl and his own ass right back into the door of the store he had just exited, the sound of gunshots echoing behind him as both sides decided this stalemate wasn't working out well.

"We didn't get any money, mister." She pointed out, for all the world seeming to be unconcerned with the firefight that just happened outside and nearly drew them in.

Crack

and just like that, a ricocheting bullet shattered one of the store windows, reminding him that this day wasn't getting any better. Oh gods, and this girl was wrapped up in this crap now too. He just wanted soda! ...And a few quick bucks.

Nothing like this!

"Uh... no, but listen!" He made sure to keep a hold of her, even though she had been willing so far, there was no way of knowing if she'd just run back out if he let her go. He couldn't let her go get herself killed because of him. "Just... stay calm, we're going to get out of this, okay? I promise, you won't get hurt."

She just blinked at him. He hoped she understood what kind of danger she wa- Actually, no he hoped she had no idea what kind of danger she was in. Please be blissfully ignorant and naive.

The little girl made some weird motion with her hand, stopping to stare at her own hand in puzzlement for a second before giving him a thumbs up. "I'm your hostage!" she chirped reassuringly to him, a wide confident smile on her face.

"..." The two stared at each other, gunshots echoing outside and drowning out the shouts, cursing, and screaming from outside. "Right, there's probably a back door - Let's see if we can get out that way."

She nodded and followed him - Stopping to pick up an ice cream bar along the way.
_________

a few miles away, a woman lay sprawled on a roof, the massive barrel of what could be only called a ridiculous rifle clutched to her shoulder with it's sights trained on the poor unfortunate bastard who had gotten caught up between the gang and cops.

"Lucky for us." Her sister laughed humorously from beside her, a pair of binoculars in hand. "You can take the shot and we can just chalk it up to a stray bullet. Don't even have to worry about clean up, now."

the rifle woman didn't respond. Her breathing remained steady, not even a twitch of movement as she watched the little girl grab an ice cream bar and then scurry after her erstwhile captor towards the back of the store. "Colt, take the shot! They're getting away!"

Despite her sister's urging, the newly named Colt didn't so much as twitch. "What the hell, Colt?!"

"Remy."

"Now we have to go track them down, they've got a head start-"

"Remy."

"-e'll do to her, Mom's gonna have our heads for this you know that right? Oh god, this is your fault, I'm so not taking the blame for-"

"Princess told me to stand down." Colt's monotone finally broke her sister Remy's panic, and left the other girl grasping for some kind of explanation. After several moments, the sound of the gun being scraped across the roof broke the silence as Colt began to hoist the massive rifle up onto her shoulder and stand up.

"And you listened to her?!" Remy growled incredulously. Colt shrugged, "Princess' orders."

"We're her guardians, not her servants- Where are you going?!" Remy's tirade was cut off as she was forced to chase after Colt, who had already started walking towards the fire escape ladder on the side of the building.

"Catching up to Princess."

Remy's frustrated scream was lost to the winds as she chased after her sister.

These people don't seem to care too much about the fact that there was a little girl here, but that's alright. She's safe, he's safe, they're eating ice cream to the delightful sounds of bullets flying in all directions, everyone is happy.

That's a lie. He's not happy.

The fridge with all the soda is in the front, and now the floor is just a sticky mess of pop.

Priorities. Gotta remember priorities. Backdoor... Backdoor... Alright, jackpot! Backdoor! A quick peak outside and...

Nope, that was the sound of a bullet. Now running. Now they're stuck banging at the door, saying that they're the police and telling the little girl to calm down and that they're here to save her. She probably would have been more inclined to believe that when they weren't shooting at them.

And now they're shooting at the fucking door.

What followed was a pretty audible “splat”, a vehicle engine sputtering, and someone familiar yelling “Hey loser, I'm busting you out!”

…

…

"Hey! Open up! Woo, I made a mess."

Did he just...

He just murdered two cops.

He just murdered two cops without giving a rat's ass about it and they're ALL going to be blamed for it.

They're going to fucking die after this.
_____

“Err... Is that there normal?”

The sounds of gunfire and vulgar yelling several blocks down could be heard by... everyone, really. Actually became a commonplace around here.

A coupe zooms by the traveler and the suited man, carrying... what looks like a little girl and two men. The guy in the driver seat appears to be wildly screaming obscenities and making rude gestures at the police. Several other cars followed by.

He adjusts his tie again. “Yes.” Flat as an ironing board. “It is. So, what kind of tea do they have out in the country? Coffee is proving to be quite popular nowadays, if you've never had it before.”

“Ah. Normal. Yes. This is normal. That was normal.” The speech was like a trance, his mantra just the word “normal” repeated over and over again.
_____

When driving a car and escaping, one must always remember to drive fast, escape inconspicuously. Incognito.

“Yes. Incognito. Yelling at the top of your lungs 'I already killed you sons of bitches a minute ago, let's rack em up!' before driving directly through a firefight rather than going through the road that literally has no people in it? That's not incognito. You're a fucking moron.”

“I saved you, didn't I?”

“Yeah, bu-”

“You're alive, yeah?”

“That isn't the poi-”

“You're welcome. And watch the language. We have a young'in here.”

“Smalls. You murdered two cops and went in detail about what sound they made when you hit them.”

Deadpan. That was his voice.

Hah. Yes. Dead.

Like they were going to be in the minute, because those were just bullets whizzing past his ear. Collateral damage? What is that? Nobody knows. Nobody knows what the word “collateral” means these days. What are civilians?

“Shoot back!”

“With what? My unloaded gun?”

“NOW who's the moron?”

...

There is no God.

The story of the Gamblers was a sad one, indeed. Once one of the more fearsome gangs in the city, known for being as ruthless in business practices as they were in settling disputes with rival gangs, it has now deteriorated to the point of being no more than a bunch of hoodlums hanging around the last vestige of their network of rackets, The Gambler's Den bar.

With other gangs taking large parts of their territory, their leader has lost all drive to get it back. Simply settling for keeping control of the few blocks they have left, Damien Geirmont, son of the great Nathan Geirmont who brought the Gamblers to the height of their notoriety, barely gave orders as he drowned his ruined family name in cheap scotch.

But, that was before. Whispers of a change in leadership spread over the gang. Many were fed up with being part of a group who's name was the only thing they had left. Something needed to happen. Someone needed to step up and lead the Gamblers into a new direction.

Tonight was the night, and Griffon Rogue was that leader.

-----

"Grif! Whaddid I tell ya 'bout makin' yer rounds?" the grizzled voice of Damien yelled from his office, hunched over his desk, "Frank tells me yer havin' trouble with yer block!"

"Well, Damien. I'd have less trouble with that damn gang from the west if i had some better firepower. Instead of these rusty pieces of shit you keep handing out." the young man replied, "If I didn't have to repair most of this stuff, I'd be able to..."

"Shove it, Rogue!" the old man yelled once more, taking a long draw from the bottle next to him, "You do what I tell ya ta do! I'm the boss of this gang, you will do what I tell ya ta do!"

Griffon looked down at the rusty pistol he had in his hand, then looked back at the two guards at the door of the office. Both looked back at him, nodding slightly.

"Not anymore, old man." Griffon growled.

With one quick pistol whip, the grizzled leader was knocked into the desk and collapsed on the floor.

Screaming and grabbing the back of his head, Damien tried to get to his feet, but was met with a pistol barrel in his face.

"Wha-what the hell?" he said, looking over to the door, "Frank! Vince! Get in here and kill this guy!"

"Sorry, old timer, but they're on my payroll now." Griffon said, smiling, "You see, there's a lot of guys around here that don't like the way you've done business since your old man got killed. And some of us new blood think that, maybe it's time for a little change. Time for the Gamblers to start taking territory back instead of just holding still."

"You ain't got the balls to shoot me, Rogue!" Damien yelled, despite the pistol in his face, "I'm a Geirmont, dammit! I AM the Gamblers! Without me, this gang is nothin'!"

"Not anymore." Griffon smiled.

Gunshots rang out in the Gambler's Den. Leadership had officially changed hands.

-----

The subsequent turmoil from Griffon's takeover was relatively light. Some still loyal to the Geirmont line quickly saw that they were outvoted by those who weren't. And, for the most part, outgunned as well. And, considering Griffon's plans for expanding the Gambler's influence and territory, it was clear that the gang's best interest was to follow the new boss.

Shooting. There was shooting, again. It was nothing new, but he had to check it out. To not know what was going on around here was dangerous, especially when you didn't know anyone to get it from. Well... there was one... that was a story for another day. Walking toward the noise, he leaned shook his head at the site. The cops probably didn't even have a reason to get involved, yet here they were. They might as well have been another gang, the cops.

The cops probably started it.

But the gang probably deserved it.

It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he stood hear and watched. All that mattered was the outcome. He leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the street. It was far enough away to be safe. This happened often enough for their aim to not be that bad.

A car drove through, taking out several cops. It looks like they planned their getaway. It didn't matter. The car was ignored by the viewer as it drove down the alley, picked up the people, and drove off. The cop cars that followed were also ignored. All that mattered was the outcome of this shoot out. He could hear about the car later.

It seemed like the cops were unfazed. They continued their shooting, but several of the gang members had taken the car as their cue to leave. Some of them stayed. With mixed reactions like that, chances were they weren't all gang members. If they were, then it wasn't the same gang. The cops didn't seem to stop.

The cops won't stop.

The cops never stopped.

"Now we're being chased by the cops!" This was a shitty day, and the fact that his hostage plan had turned into a full-fledged kidnapping was not helping at all. The girl he had unwittingly grabbed had been surprisingly okay with everything so far - Small blessings - But what was he going to do with her now?

For that matter, who were these people? They ran over cops and helped him escape - He had no clue who they were or why they did any of that.

Or "Where the hell are we going?!" So jumping into a vehicle with unknown conveniently placed people who happened to enjoy running over cops was not the best idea - Most of today had been a series of not the best ideas - but it was this or face the shoot-first cops.

"Well, if I had to say, I'd say we're goin' somewhere else." Smalls answered, the car nearly flipping over as he made a sharp turn and jerked onto the road. Not far behind him, the sound of sirens rang out and gunshots continued to ring out even though they were speeding away from the store. "hold on, lemme put on the siren so people will get out tha' way."

Siren? The man stared in mute horror as he slowly began to realize he hadn't simply run over the cops and drove off - This man had done it after hijacking one of their own cars.

Oh god, they were shooting at them now.

"Drive faster! I don't even care where we're going now, just get us out of here!" At this point he almost wished he had loaded his gun. Weren't there guns in this car somewhere? Anywhere?!

And at that moment, in the corner of his eye, he saw a black ford pull up beside them. Most people would have been getting out of the way with the siren going, but this guy actually seemed to be trying to...

Lean out the backseat with a gun?

"Woops. Looks like the gangbangers think we're the cops." Smalls seemed unconcerned as the plinking of bullets dented the car from both sides, and the firefight became a heated car chase. "Better hold on tight to the little lady, this party's gettin' crazy!"

Not that he needed to be told twice - he had dove for her and was currently clutching the girl to his chest and pressing both of them as low to the floorboard as he could, the man seriously considered just crying at this point.

The girl, for her part had finally reacted to the danger as she squeaked quietly under him. Maybe it was just shock that had been delaying her action now.
________

Being a hostage wasn't so bad. She apparently got ice cream out of it-

Her captor very abruptly dove across the backseat, pressing her to the floorboard as the metallic sound of ricocheting bullets echoed through the chasis of the car. She blushed fiercely, face hidden against his chest as she distractedly chewed at the ice cream bar which had subsequently been shoved into her mouth by the surprise gesture.

She got ice cream and a hug out of this.

Being a hostage was awesome.
_____________

Arriving on the roof of a building across from the alley behind the convenience store, Colt and Remy were treated to the site of a small group of run over cops being treated by a slightly larger group of not-run over cops.

And no sign of the Princess.

"Mom is going to kill us." Remy stated almost detachedly, as if her active thought had just left that on a sticky note and then decided to leave.

Colt, for her part, had turned to stare down the road where the pinpricks of cars flashed with gunfire and barreled down the road.

If her princess had gone somewhere, then...

"Dead. We're so dead. I'm sorry Mom, Colt didn't take the shot like I told her to, I-"

"Remy."

"-ied to tell her. She didn't listen to me. This isn't my fau-"

"Remy."

"-ease don't blame me for this-"

Colt sighed and hefted her rifle as she picked up into a light jog in the direction the cars had been speeding away. She didn't have time get her sister out of Shock, the Princess was rapidly moving away from them.

"Colt? ...Colt?!" Remy's panic snapped soon enough to see her sister already several blocks away, "Colt, wait!" she clambered after her erst while sister.

"Shit... City can't keep calm..." said a man as he rose up from the white sheets and proceeded to get dressed, "Sorry babe, no way I'm sticking around for the coppers to bust in."

"Wait!" pleaded a girl sitting up, her short dark hair ruffled from their activities, "That almost never happens! What are you leaving for?"

"If not the cops, we end up getting ventalated by those punks out there? You're sweet Psy, but not that sweet," said a man on the other side of the room, also dressing to leave.

"A-at least pay me for the time you've been here!" Psyche stannered as she tried to get up after the men. Her legs never did cooperate with her after working. "If you were with any other girl here, you'd each owe me fifty by now!" she shouted, tripping over the sheets and falling onto the floor.

"Your own fault for trying to make some extra cash by charging by the hour. No way I'm paying for 10 minutes," the first man remarked, exiting the small room, the other customer following soon after.

Holding herself up in the doorframe with one hand and using the other to hold up the bedsheet to cover her shame, Psyche called after the two men, "Come on, guys! I need that money!"

"Always so anal about the bill, huh Psy?" asked a girl across the hall.

"That's right! That's supposed to be extra, too..." Psyche lamented, "I'm already 100 bucks in the hole. If I don't make some cash fast..."

"Oh right. Reggie's gonna be steaming."

"If I recall, he doesn't take being called "Reggie" lightly, either." Psyche said with a sly smile.

The girl from across the hall scoffed, "Well, I'm sure he'll be too busy dealing with you to worry about my slip."

"Shit..." Psyche turned and headed back into the room, "I'll be back tonight. If Reginald asks where I'm off to, tell him I'm running an errand. And I'll have his money soon."

Psy starts towards the pile that is her 'off the clock' clothes sitting in the corner of the room, but looses her balance on the sheet she's using to cover herself.

"Oof..." she grunted, face down on the floor, "Well... I'll leave in 5 or 10 minutes..."

The fight was dying down now that the chase has begun. A car chase was something that was stupid to pursue, especially when guns were involved. He left where he stood and began walking towards The Gambler's Den bar. That's where he got a majority of his information, and there was a lot that was rumored to have happened lately. Luckily, it wasn't that far off.

Unofficially, that's where he belonged. Although no one has ever come out and said it, One-Shot-Steve had been at the bar often enough to be considered one of them, and he certainly has done enough to earn his place in the gang, though half of them now-a-days hasn't. He may act alone, but he was considered a Gambler to the public eye.

Entering the bar, nothing had changed, but there was a different feel to it than the last time he came in. Something big had happened, and he had missed it.

"Dammit," He muttered under his breath. Something happened, and he missed it. How was he supposed to act when he wasn't aware of what was going on?

It didn't matter.

He just continued in as if nothing had changed, but there was a noticeable difference in the company there tonight. Mainly, the people who had been here for the sole purpose of claiming to be in a gang were gone. The wusses were gone. He didn't care. They were pussies anyways.

Listening into conversations, it wasn't hard to find out what was going on. Whispers of a new leader in The Gamblers? He did miss something big. A thought crept up into his head and he smirked. It might be a good idea to get to know this new leader. He searched the bar for someone who appeared to have claimed the title. It was always easy to find the man once he's won a title such as this.

"Alright. Money. These people have all kinds of money," Psy said under her breath, looking around at all the people in The Gambler's Den. She hadn't ever been here, but she knew it through some of her customers, and they were always loaded. Sure, it was dangerous, but this was the best bet she had at making some quick money.

She walked out into the room from her place on the wall. Hopefully she wouldn't be too suspicious to these people. Surely they had girls in and out of here all the time. And Psyche prided herself on how innocent she looked. Hell, it was probably one of her top selling points. She spotted a man who looked like he was looking for someone, too busy with the who he was looking for to bother with her. Hopefully.

"Ouch..." she cried as she seemingly accidentally bumped into the man, knocking the two of them over to the floor. Some sleight of hand lifted his wallet from him on the way down, now she just needed to get away. "S-sorry sir... I guess I wasn't looking where I was going," She said with a girlish giggle, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

His hand immediately went for his knife. He hadn't felt the wallet leave his pocket, but he felt threatened by the person bumping him. It only took a moment of his hand in his pocket, holding his knife, to notice something else missing. Now, he was torn. On one hand, there wasn't enough in there to actually bother with protecting, but, on the other, he had to make sure people understood not to mess with One-Shot-Steve. Looking at the person he bumped into, he was surprised to see a girl.

With a smile, he stood and brushed off his pants before holding a hand out to the girl on the ground, "Don't worry 'bout it, beautiful. It was my fault."

His smile seemed polite, and he seemed to not be bothered. In truth, the wallet didn't matter much to him, so he wasn't that bothered, "I hope you're not hurt anywhere. It'd be a shame if someone as pretty as you were to be hurt."

"Don't worry 'bout it, beautiful. It was my fault," the man said, extending his hand out to Psy.

Good. It looked like she got of free. She took his hand, "Thank you, sir. I think I'm ok. I must say, you are quite the gentleman. Don't see that too often."

Sucker didn't know what hit him. Though it probably wasn't a good idea to stick around for him to offer to buy her a drink and find out his wallet was missing.

"I'd love to keep you company, but I have someone to see. So if you'll excuse me..." Oughta leave fast. Maybe grab another's cash on the way out. Just need to stay away from people who might want their money back.

“Move over, your behind is too large! Woop woop! And calm down boy, don't throw up on that there interior! They'd be pretty darn miffed. It's still police property!”

”... those... least of my worries..."

The coupe slams into another after a forceful U-turn, creating a chain reaction of crashes and bodies thrown about. A quick swivel away from a hail bullets, a cut straight through couple other squad cars, and an injured civilian or two later, it looks like they're mostly fine. Them being “the people in this current vehicle”; everyone else seems like they might need some medical attention. One of the car passengers lost his Thompson, the gun conveniently landing on the 2nd row of seats. The girl appears to be drawn to it for some reason, but the other guy was too dizzy to snatch it away and he was too busy himself focusing on the road.

"My he... stop the car. STOP THE CAR!”

“Beg yer pardon?” Smalls leaned over. “Couldn't hea-”

The car stopped inside a wall. Literally inside a wall.

They really don't make em like they used to.

This was probably the second or third time this month. This is the Gambler's... Cave? Nest? Something like that or other. Nice bar, good liquor, but no time for chit chatter. Two cars decided to follow suit with the crash in, which is never a good sign. Gotta skedaddle quickly.

Heading in reverse, the car resumes its now slightly less violent path to somewhere safe. All the commotion seems to have gotten them preoccupied, so it was safe to assume that they were in the clear.

Their car heads to the back alley of general store and promptly crashes through the wall.
_____

“So, did you hear? There's rumors going about.”

“Organized crime related?” the suited man says, taking a cup of a machiatto. It had a card design, diamonds. Rob never disappoints.

“Not quite. Well, there is that, but I'll discuss it later. There's talk of this gala hosted by this hotshot curator related to one of the bigger families. Can never quite remember the name of that group of people, but it's not the most important thing. Said that he uncovered this priceless relic.”

Curious. He raises an eyebrow. “The one inventor who creates those machines? He made this beast of a vehicle that's actually quite... terrifying to say the least. I understand cannons, but placing one on top of a moving machine? Magic, I tell you.”

Rob, from the distance, overhears the words and simply chuckles. “Advanced enough technology is indistinguishable from magic. It's fascinating to see how far we've come.”

“They're always quite interesting to attend, if I do say so myself. It's a nice, albeit temporary, view on what the finer life is like.”

He kept a firm grip on the girl's hand and pulled out his knife. Pulling the girl close, One-Shot held his knife to the girl's throat. "You listen here pretty lady. You have something that belongs to me, and I'd like it back. Maybe if you decide to not put up much of a fight, you can get some cash out of this deal, and escape with your life."

A car crashed through the wall, but it didn't detour One-Shot. His grip tightened on the girl's hand, but he pretty much ignored the cars driving out and the shouting that the wreck caused. Of course people would be hurt, and it could come to his advantage. Hopefully people would ignore his encounter in favor of watching the entertainment.

If he was lucky, the wreck would distract the girl long enough for him to get his wallet back. If he was unlucky, he had a plan B. He always had a plan B. It also helped that he expected the worse, but that wasn't the point. The point was that no one messes with One-Shot.

Before she could make her exit, the man pulled Psy back in close. For a second, she thought he was just being overly-friendly, but then she felt the sharp, cold poin on her bare neck.

"Um... I-I don't know what you are talking about, sir..." Psy shook in response to the man's threats. She really had no idea why she was still denying it. Frankly, she was pretty sure she was stupid for still hoping to get away. Sure, having to work off a debt to her boss was near impossible, and would basically turn her into a slave for the foreseeable future, but it had to be better than dying here.

Even so, it took the shock of cars driving though the wall to knock some sense into her. "Alright! Alright! I took your wallet!" she shouted, her confession mixing in with the commotion around her. She took the next moment to settle down as the cars exited and resumed their chase. At least he was willing to make a deal. She was hoping to get her money quick, without actually having to spend the time working for it usually required, but she didn't have much of a choice now.

"So tough guy," she cooed, trying her best to act seductive over her fear as she fell into the man's chest, "What kind of deal where you hoping to make?"

She had to wonder how incredibly egotistical attention whore needed to prove he wasn't duped before he gave his money away. She hoped it was the kind that didn't feel a need to kill girls like her after attempting to make a fool out of them.

A smirk crossed his face when she finally confessed. Of course, he wasn't sure if he was over doing it with the threat or not, but it didn't matter as long as he got his way in the end. It would have been a shame to dirty his hands over a near empty wallet, but he had to get his point across. It would benefit him in the end anyways.

"How about you give me my wallet back and we can discuss the deal."

He had been tricked out of his wallet before, even after he got to this point, because he hadn't gotten his wallet back first. He silently wondered how much money he actually did have on him, but quickly shrugged the thought off. Whatever he had, it had to be enough for what he wanted. Money had never been a problem, and he wasn't the type to spend money to get a girl in bed with him. He just needed an excuse to hang around longer than normal, and he never stayed here on his own.

It couldn't have worked out better. If what he heard was true, then he wanted to just wait until the new leader showed, but he needed an excuse to stay, because to just hang around without something interesting to watch, like the fight he saw earlier, was out of character for him, and he hated to do something that seemed to be unexpected.

"Alright..." Psy said cautiously as she handed the man his wallet back, his cool head and apparent lack of interest unnerving her a bit, but he did say he wanted to make a deal, so that was good enough for her.

"So, you got somewhere to take me? You know how this works, right?" She asked, hanging on the man's arm. Being so close to a man usually made their size differences stand out all the more, which she came to realize was something potential patrons often liked. Probably had something to do with some kind of power fantasy. "How's $100 for the first hour sound?"

It took a while for him to notice that the other cars hadn't left, and the occupants were shooting out each other. He had been too focused on the girl to care, as long as no stray bullet hit him, but now it was just getting annoying. One-Shot took his wallet from the girl and pocketed his knife along with the wallet. He had never been so thankful to keep them in the same pocket until now.

"Dammit." He muttered under his breath and glared at the people shooting at each other. There wasn't much that he could do as is, and he did promise this girl a deal.

One-Shot quickly pulled the girl to the back of the bar and through a door, where the office was as well as some other rooms if he remembered correctly, and away from the fire fight. There was always another choice, but he wasn't about to chance in it such a small area.

"That price sounds perfect," One-Shot smiled as he tugged her along. Hopefully he knew where he was going, and she didn't. The best place to get any information would be the office, or get shot if he couldn't play this off well enough.

Before the pair had a chance to get into the office area, Griffon burst from the door leading there.

"What the hell is going on out here?" he yelled, adjusting his flat cap, "Why in the hell are people crashing into our bar? Aren't there better places to park?"

Without missing a beat, he started giving orders to the other Gamblers throughout the hall.

"Alright, get the patrons in the back hall." he said, pointing towards a set of double doors leading to the gambling hall portion of the bar, "Looks like one of these cars belongs to the cops. Nobody shoot anyone in uniform unless absolutely necessary. Any other gangs try to get in, waste 'em."

Pulling a semi-automatic pistol from his vest pocket, he looked over to the pair that were closest to him.

"One-shot, same goes to you. May not be a Gambler, but good enough for now." he said, speaking to the man as if he had met him before, "Get the patrons to the hall, then get back out here to lend a hand. Might need you if things get worse."

Well, that answered his question but a promise was a promise. One-Shot-Steve gave her a sad smile and said, "Sorry, beautiful. Duty calls. We can finish this later." He then shoved the girl into the office and pulled out a spare knife to shove in the door jam as a make-shift lock. He wanted her to be safe in case things got bad, and he didn't want her running around with the chance of picking his pocket again.

While he didn't particularly like being ordered around, there were many things to gain from listening to the new leader, and he would take the chance that was provided to him. One-Shot-Steve left and went to do what the male, Griffon was it?, told him to do. He vaguely remembered Griffon from a visit here, and One-Shot had grown to have a sort of respect for the man.

He herded the innocent, non gang members, into the back slowly. The drunks were harder to deal with, and he needed to be forceful and give some mild threats before they listened. The members that were passed out, there were few, here set into a pile in the far corner of the room.

He then opened the window and backed away when someone jumped in. Steve looked at One-Shot-Steve as if asking, 'Why do I have to get involved in this mess?' but tossed him a gun before heading towards the door anyways. Needless to say, Steve had been One-Shot's shadow from the beginning, and he knew exactly what was going on.

Shots fired. Guess the fighting wasn't over quiet yet. Before Psy could mention how she thought it was a good idea to get away from the danger, she was already being dragged off by the man to the back of the bar, through a door and down the hall to what she assumed was the main office.

Psy couldn't help but think about how lucky she was. If this guy was taking her to his office, he must have been rolling in dough. Play her cards right, and she'd be set for life, and she smiled the whole way down the hall.

But then someone else busted out of the office.

"Who's this guy?" she asked her new companion, but got her answer by listening to the two men talk around her. Obviously, he was in charge, and her companion was just second or third banana, if even that.

These clown were preparing for war, by the looks of it. Maybe all this trouble wasn't worth $100. She had decided she better sneak off while these meatheads were distracted with all their guns.

"Sorry, beautiful. Duty calls. We can finish this later."

All she could do is react with an audible "Eh!?" before she was pushed into the office, the door slamming behind her.

"Wait, damnit!" Psy shouted, banging against the door, "I change my mind! I want to go hooome!"

It wasn't long before she slouched down, alone in a room while people were killing themselves just down the hall.

"Well..." she let out a sigh, standing up and looking around. She readied her bag as she surveyed the room, "Might as well see if anything in here looks expensive."

A little late to the scene, but it's fine. They can't lose their rat right now; that would cause problems.

Five bullets, five shots, five holes. A desk job hasn't dulled her sights one bit and her Springfield still worked like a dream.

Clink.

The shimmer of a scope's lens shines from an inconspicuous window, but the chaos proves itself to be great cover.

Her name was Freya. An expert rifleman and pistoleer, lieutenant, recognizable enough from the rank and file soldiers for people on the street to give her considerable respect. There are always larger than life rumors about her alleged skills, though they're not entirely without basis.

However, results do not lie. Her aim is true, and her reasons just.

To protect and serve.

One more clip. Five more bullets. Five more shots. Not a single miss.

Clink.

Not a single death so far from her. Many were shot in the dominant hand and were currently incapacitated from the pain and inability to take part in the battle. Many have resorted to firing blindly from behind cover after being cut down to about three-fourths their original size. Deserters and dead bodies continue to increase, and it appears as though the patrons of this bar are packing heat themselves.

This will have to be questioned later.

The building suspected of having racketeering operations caught red-handed toting weapons. It's odd that they're not taking shots at the police, but again, this will be questioned later.

Five more shots. Demoralizing is one way to break a scene like this, which she seems to be doing well.

Clink.
_____

Well, that was... something?

Unlucky doesn't begin to describe the situation. Smalls proceeds to explain about how he recognized his face, even though the guy was robbing him not even an hour ago.

“I told myself, 'Hey, man, if you wanted some soda, you could have just asked'. I see you helping 'round little old ladies and some poor homeless guy and told myself, 'nah, the guy ain't bad, he just wanted some pop'. I'd tell you to grab some, but... that there soda pop on the ground ain't drinkable no mo'. Gonna take a while to fix her back up to shape. The store, I mean.”

… That was surprisingly accurate, although asking anyone else about his or her motive would probably make him off the mark. And as to why they saved them?

“Well, shoot. Didn't see why not. Ain't no hard feelings; you were trying to earn a living, yeah? Doesn't mean you should get shot up. I know that feel, you feel? Ain't got much money to give you, though. Hope ya don't mind me keeping good ol' Thompson in case other folks decide to hustle me for coin.”

The little girl tugged on his shirt. “Does this mean I'm still your hostage? It's actually still pretty fun.”

… Poor girl probably doesn't know what the word means, bless her soul. Doesn't hurt to have her around until she wants to go back, he reasoned. Neglectful little buggers...

A cone of ice cream in each hand, she held let the girl hold onto his arm as they went back to the place he called home.

Steve and One-Shot leave the back each holding their respective guns. One-Shot wasn't sure what type they were, Steve was the gun expert after all, but it didn't matter. It had a good amount of ammo, and it didn't mess up his aim. Steve did have the best aim around, as far as One-Shot knew, but One-Shot wasn't bad himself.

They shot down the opposing gang without much aim, Steve had two guns in his hands which One-Shot had one. One-Shot wasn't paying much attention to the people he was shooting, but was thinking about the new leader. It wasn't like he really cared about doing what he was told to do, but he needed to be on the guy's good side. He seemed like a hard-ass. Steve didn't care, and just did what One-Shot wanted, but One-Shot just hoped this was over soon.

It helped that there were so many people helping.

At least that meant that it would all be over soon.

One-Shot hid behind a table that had been knocked down earlier. He pocketed his gun and dug a small hole in the table large enough to aim through before shooting again. Steve stayed behind One-Shot, his attention on the window behind him to make a quick esscape when this mess was all over with.

Screams from some of his men from the front of the bar caused Griffon to growl under his breath.

"What the hell? Snipers, too? What the fuck's going on?" he yelled, "Barely two weeks in, and the whole organization's going to hell! Fuck this shit! Keep away from the damn windows, I'm fixing this shit myself!"

Taking a sprint through the bar and onto the hood of what he assumed was the gang car that hit beside the police car, he peered through the space between the bricks and began firing on the gang as well, effectively getting the group shot at from three different sides.

-----

While in the office, the prostitute would have a difficult time finding anything that would be considered 'valuable'. Most of the gang's cash was kept in the safe, which was locked down. And, considering the money troubles they had during the previous regime, there wasn't much decorating the office but a desk and a filing cabinet.

The only things on the desk were some papers and a half-bottle of cheap scotch. Anything important that Griffon needed, like his pistol and spare clips, were brought with him, leaving the desk devoid of anything useful.

Well, that escalated quickly. Steve continued to fire while One-Shot grabbed a long table and pushed it against the window to block it, much to Steve's dismay. Seeing that a majority of the opposing gang were either dead or seriously injured, One-Shot hid behind the table and let Steve do the rest of the work. Steve was the shooter of the two, and One-Shot refused to do it any more than unnecessary.

This was not what One-Shot had hoped to accomplish when he arrived here. He had to find a way to turn this in his favor when it was all over, and shooting distracted him too much to think. The loud noises were distracting him too, but he couldn't just walk out and leave.

Maybe he should take this as an opportunity to join the gang. It seemed like they could use some help picking up the pieces of the old rein, and having someone like One-Shot around, and consequently Steve, could not only do some good in getting stuff done, but it might also help if people heard that One-Shot-Steve was involved. While he wasn't widely known, there were still those who knew of him and knew not to bother him.

In a short period of time, the gunfire slowly died down into silence. The impromptu gunfight had already been on its last legs when it entered the bar - And with the addition of new arms to the fight, it was just the last nail its coffin.

Many gang members lay dead or injured, littered through out the street.

This was normal for the city - Rampant violence with no meaning. Some gangs were simply like this, youths with more energy than wisdom who were in it for the glory and the thrill. Destructive, both to themselves and those around them, groups of people that neither the more respectable organized crime factions nor the police would tolerate.

And now there was one less group of them on the streets, as well as more than several less police. This city existed in a constant state of chaos - Events like these would be lucky to make the paper the next week, so often they happened.

Most people just learned to avoid it as best they could.

Once the commotion proved to finally be over, the police were already radioing in their status to surrounding units - The search was still on for the missing cop car, but the man who robbed the convenience store was momentarily forgotten.

"I suppose I should question why you have guns on you..." one of the police spoke up, holstering his gun as he made his way out from behind cover and towards Griffon, "But I suppose you might have the right connections to warrant it."

He smiled at Griffon, a greasy smile that spoke of a lot of effort this man had gone through to avoid having to poke his nose into things he didn't have to. "Now, I suppose we should be discussing what kind of insurance you've got backing you, eh?"
__________

Back at the convenience store, a stolen cop-car was left crashed through the wall and its occupants already gone. This was the scene that greeted Colt and Remy as they stared past the carnage, one with an impassive gaze and the other very clearly fretting.

"We lost the princess again!"

Colt shouldered her rifle, brow furrowed slightly in concern. This was probably bad. She turned to walk away, there was nothing else to be gained from this place.

"Where are you going, now?!" Remy rounded on her sister, reaching out swiftly to latch onto her collar and prevent the woman from just wandering off at will.

Colt turned to look at her sister with an odd expression.

"Princess."

She said it like it explained everything. It just left Remy's eye to twitch. "do you know where she is?" Colt shrugged, simultaneously signing a negative and making Remy release her collar before she turned to leave. "What do you want me to do, then?!"

"Go tell Mom."

Remy watched her sister walk off without a care to the fact she had just told her own flesh and blood to go jump in front of a train.

At least it wasn't raining.

... She glanced up, and the sky remained clear.

Good, small blessings.

"This bozo's broke!"

Psy looked and looked, but she couldn't find shit worth taking. It kinda pissed her off. Sure, she had no reason to be mad at this guy for not having anything worth taking, but she needed an outlet.

She sat cross-legged in the boss's chair, pouting like a child, "This isn't right... I was supposed to be making money. Now I'm just losing time. Time I need to get out of debt..." She popped open a bottle of booze she found while poking around, "Might as well... last night as a free girl, anyways."

She took a short swig from the bottle, "Ugh... that's awful..." she looked at the odd colored liquid, faced grimaced. She shrugged with an apathetic "Eh," and just kept drinking.

Finally, with the shooting over, Griffon could get back to getting the Gamblers on the right path. Hopefully, with the help he had given the cops just now, it would make things a tad bit easier.

"We just like to make sure we're well protected, officer. You boys downtown have enough to worry about in this city without having to respond to...trivial matters like this." Griffon responded to the officer, with a smile equally as greasy, "All this here, not a problem at all. Our insurance will have the whole thing covered. No need for documentation and finger-pointing, right?"

"Matter of fact, you look a bit tense, officer. Would you care for a drink? You've obviously been through quite an ordeal." he offered, "On the house for the boys in blue."

The man looked tempted for a moment before shaking his head. "Afraid I'll need to take a rain check on that drink, sir. As you can see..."

He motioned to the two wrecked cars, and the ragged officers and injured gang members, "We do have plenty to clean up. I reckon the faster we get out of your hair, the faster you and yours can back to running yer establishment."

He tipped his hat. "Rather gracious of you to offer though, we'll be sure to keep your insurance and assistance in mind later on." he straightened his suit up, letting out a sigh and donning a regularly practiced smile. "Keep up your upstanding, law abiding establishment my good man."

That was settled, he turned back to the others. "Stop yer loafing around! Check and see if that other vehicle is drivable, and you loafs, push our car outta here!"

“You know you're not supposed to be here. This is none of your business.”

Revolver. Colt. 45. It was a police officer blocking her path in the back-alley: John. He was a perceptive one, but average in every other aspect. Joined the police force because he had the same ideals as her, though nowhere near the same extent.

He lowers his gun shortly and, in one stylish motion, holsters it. Loaded. “I mean... we appreciate the help. Believe me, in another time and place, you'd be what the city needs. But the things you've been doing and the things we need done... We can't have you just going about and doing whatever you want.”

“It's injustice.” Her voice was prompt, sharp, assured of herself. “They bring nothing but death, trouble. If we were able to-”

“If you start pissing off the wrong blokes, it will escalate into...” Johnny sighs in exasperation. “Look, we've been through this a million times, and we still never get anywhere. Come on, I need a drink. This has just been a long day. You don't mind, do you?”
___

Private room. Several of them were in place upstairs, containing couches and a table. No one could hear what's inside from the outside, making them rather popular for either deals or people with no self-esteem and a love for singing.

Sometimes, both.

Surprisingly no obscene incidents yet. Almost terrifyingly surprising.

Alcoholic beverages were served at the cafe, but only by special order. Usually, only those upstairs buy them, and he doesn't make too much of a profit off of them. Still nice to have.

Of course, most of his profit comes from coffee and tips, almost perfectly equal in quantity. Tips-wise, he gets plenty for good service and prides himself for that, but a significant amount of it comes from information. It's a profitable side-job, if he does say so himself.

“On the house. You racked up enough of those 'keep the changes', and I felt pretty guilty. Flat white for lil' Johnny, milk tea for lil' Faye. Brioche for both of you.”

“You know I don't like it when you call me that.”

Rob gives a genuinely happy smile. “Rolls off the tongue a little easier. 'Freya' sounds pretty exotic, but is by no means a bad name if you're history inclined. Freyja, goddess in Norse mythos, leader of the valkyries, goddess of war, death and love. Your parents had an interesting choice of name.”

Johnny noisily slurps his drink, devouring it like a man possessed. Still a kid at heart, that one. “Oh, Rob, any word on the whole 'Gamblers' deal?”

“Nothing those moles don't know. They've always kept tabs on everyone. Common knowledge at this point to those involved: coup d'etat, the guy's name being Griffin. Might turn it around and raise their standings, people say. This new person appears to be ambitious.”

Freya was just shooting daggers at him. Figuratively. She never liked these sessions, but information is information.

“They used to be a big name... how long ago?”

“Ah, right, you're new. Used to be as big as the Rooks, did you know? Very cutthroat when it comes to business, had quite of people under protection, had their territory under lock and key. They sank pretty low right after-”

“What do you know about their activity?” she interrupts.

“Petty crimes, mostly. That's all there has been for a while, and even then, it's not an organized effort.”

“Hrm. Just another group of low-lives. I wasn't wrong.”

“Speaking of which, that little incident earlier came about because of a chase, actually. The one you were all chasing was actually a homeless man and not a member of any syndicate. Couple eyewitness reports said that he tried to hold up the store for either money or food. Soda pop was a particular demand.”

“Committing a crime for food. That much, I can understand, even if it was unlawful. Disappointing that people must resort to things like this...”

“Oh, right, reminded me. Were you on the rooftops, Faye?” She shakes her head. “Ah. Alright, that's an odd one then. There was reports of two girls on the rooftops, one of them having a fancy rifle. They didn't quite get much detail, but I got a feeling who it might be now.”

Rob nods and sees himself out. The two continued to idle as they are, eating the brioche they ordered.

The shooting had stopped, and there was no longer a need for Steve to be around. Steve moved the table from the window and pu it back where it was supposed to be before catching the gun One-Shot tossed back to his and making his exit. He was not a part of this gang, and he didn't want to get into their affairs any more than necessary.

One-Shot pushed the table he had been hiding behind upright before sitting on it and watching how Griffon would handle the rest of this. He wanted to talk to Griffon about where Griffon planned on going with the gang, though that was obvious. One-Shot also wanted to discuss the thoughts that had been running through his mind during the fire fight, but he knew Griffon well enough to know that any attempt would be in vain until the mess was cleaned up.

At least that much was good about the new leader. He had his priorities straight, and that would put the gang back into good power. Maybe One-Shot could get some less well known information out of this as well. No doubt that everyone would know what had happened in the morning, but One-Shot wanted to know more.

"Always happy to support the men and women of our city's fine police force." Griffon responded with a smile and a tip of his cap, "If you'll excuse me..."

With that, the Gambler leader made his way back into the bar, seeing that some of his guys were already taking steps to put things back together. Even One-shot was lending a hand in getting the tables where the should be.

A good guy, that One-shot. Respectable, got the job done, handy with guns. Slightly ambitious at some points, but who isn't in this line of work.

Not a lot of info in his friend though, but he seemed at least legit enough to stick around. Grif would need to ask One-shot about him before any serious work began. But, with the bar how it was, the priority would be to get the place up to shape and getting the boarders secure before any real missions took place.

"One-shot, come with me to my office real quick. I wanna talk to you about something." he said, motioning for him to follow before looking to the rest of his gang, "You guys try and get this place back up to working order. Vince!"

"Yeah boss." one guy said behind the bar.

"Make sure the patrons are alright. Give 'em a free round, on me." Griffon said, looking to another man throwing a tablecloth over one of the tables used as cover before, "Frankie, get that contractor we know on the phone. Tell 'em we got a job for 'em. I'd like this hole in the wall patched up as soon as possible, understand."

"Sure thing, boss."

Making his way to the back, Griffon pulled the knife wedging the office door shut and opened it. Seeing the young lady sitting at his desk drinking his scotch, he motioned for her to move.

"Alright sweetheart, fighting's over. Head back out front and get something better to drink. On the house." he said, rather calm and polite for someone who had just been in a gunfight, "Me and your guy One-shot's gotta discuss some things."

One-Shot nodded and followed Griffon. He seemed like a good leader, and One-Shot was silently glad for that. The old leader probably wouldn't have been as calm and collected as Griffon was, and One-Shot knew that the older leader wouldn't have been able to handle such damage so quickly, but there was a reason why One-Shot respected Griffon.

Following Griffon to the back, One-Shot silently wondered what the male wanted. It was a shame that One-Shot hadn't known the guy well enough to be able to read him, but it was something he'd learn to do quick if he wanted to stay on his good side. The old leader never would bother with much, so One-Shot wasn't too worried about potentially offending him. Griffon was a force to be reckoned with, and getting on his good side was One-Shot's top priority.

It was just luck that Griffon had given him the chance and that One-Shot had met him previously. One-Shot had almost forgotten about locking the door, and was suddenly grateful that Griffon motioned the girl out. After the fighting, he suddenly didn't want to bother with it.

Once One-Shot entered the office, he turned to Griffon with a smirk. "I had actually meant to talk to you too, but I suppose whatever you need to speak with me on is far more pressing."

It didn't seem like any time at all before the two men who shut her up in the room returned. The broke mob boss started to shoo her out, and the man who dragged her back here with promises of being payed didn't protest. Better drink might be a good idea. This swill wasn't really something to drink on your last day as a free girl.

"You know, I think I'll do just that," she said standing up from the chair and making her way out to the hallway. She wasn't all that good at handling her liquor, and it became apparent when she stumbled a bit down the hall, "And he's not 'my guy'!" she shouted back towards the men in the office, "Just some debt-beat who locks little girls in rooms when they need to be out making money!"

Out at the bar, she sat at a corner stool, enjoying some complimentary booze as the people around her cleaned up the place. She was glad that all the dead bodies where moved somewhere else. Not like it could spoil her mood anymore than it already was.

"Actually, I just wanted to thank you for helping out back there. You may not be a Gambler, but close enough to where I respect you." Griffon said, taking a seat behind the desk and motioning for One-shot to take a seat on the other side, "I remember how you used to help the gang out from time to time. Odd jobs mostly, but you got 'em done and you got 'em done right. I respect that. I need more guys like you around."

Taking a glass from the desk, Griffon poured some of the scotch into it.

"Among other things, I brought you back here to ask if I have your support. If you'll be loyal to the cause of rebuilding the Gambler's name to it's former glory." he said, taking a sip from the glass and grimacing as it ran over his tongue, "I've got plans for this gang, and I want to know if you're on board."

-----

As the young lady sat at the bar, the bartender walked over to her, cleaning a few of the glasses there. An older gentleman, probably tended bar here for as long as anyone could remember.

"So, what's a pretty young lady like yourself doing in this part of town?" he said, his voice kinder than most she had encountered, "I saw the ruckus between you and One-shot before. What sort of trouble would a lady like you be in to pickpocket strangers?"

His tone wasn't accusatory. Considering all the things that happened in this bar, pickpocketing was trivial in comparison. He saw that this woman was troubled and, as a good bartender would, he was there to lend an ear.

One-Shot took a seat and nodded. "I respect you too, Griffon. That is why I can easily say that I do support you. If it were just 'bout anyone else in your position, I couldn't say that and feel it to be the truth. The difference is that I know you've got your head screwed on straight."

He leaned back and thought for a moment if what he was going to ask would seem out of place, but he figured that it wouldn't matter. One-Shot knew that Griffon could see his reasoning. "There's something that I've been meaning to ask, now that the the old guy's gone." One-Shot was talking about the old leader that Griffon had taken out to gain his title. "I had never thought about asking this with that weak man in power, but now I know that I could be put to good use."

It was too late to turn back, but One-Shot wasn't sure on how he wanted to say this next part. After a bit of thinking, he decided to just come out and say it, "I'd like to join the Gamblers, Griffon. I feel easy about saying that now that I know that the gang's been put back on the right track."

Psyche let out a sigh, "Money troubles, I guess," she smiled at the friendly man. It wasn't really something she was used to, having someone actually worried about her. But then again, she remembered hearing that bartenders usually ask people about their problems. Either way, it was a nice change of pace.

"I have a bit of a debt, and it just keeps getting bigger. Way things were going, I wasn't going to be able to work it off anytime soon," She was a little surprised she was saying so much, but considering she was a bit tipsy and he was a bartender, she might as well go with the flow, "Thought I'd try and lift some cash off a high roller, but that didn't turn out too well. With a whole day wasted, I thought I'd try and relax before I have to spend the rest of my life working it off."

She laid her head down on the table, "But what does anybody care? I mean, I really can't blame them," she gazed over at all the people, scurrying about to clean up the mess from the chaos earlier, "They've all got their own problems. Problems likely to get them killed. Least I'll still be alive at the end of the day with a roof over my head."

"I've given that some thought actually. You're a good guy, and I like you. But..." Griffon let in a breath through his teeth, "...I'm not so sure about the guy you hang out with. I don't know him, he's a nobody to me. I know you, you've got a name, I've worked with you. This other guy, the one helpin' you out...I just don't know, you know what I mean?"

He then leaned back in his chair.

"If I knew more about him, this choice would be a lot easier." he said, "What's his story, anyway?"

-----

"We've all got our troubles with the almighty dollar, don't we?" the bartender chuckled, "But we can't let things like that dictate the people we are, or the people we want to be, right?"

He then put the glass he was cleaning down and picked up another to wipe off.

"A nice girl like you couldn't have grown up wanting this kind of life." he said, "When you were a little girl, what was the one thing you wanted to do? What did you see yourself doing with your life?"

One-Shot gave it thought. In truth, he wasn't too sure that he knew enough about Steve to even tell this guy, but he did know that giving this guy some information would be beneficial to him. "I understand where you're comin' from, and I respect you for it." One-Shot shook his head before continuing, "As much as I'd like to give you more information on him, I can't really say that it's possible for me to give you enough to judge him by.

Taking off his fedora, One-Shot stroked the rim (a habit he gets into when he's troubled) as he thought. It would probably be best to give up the information he has, then let Steve decide if he wants to give up the rest. It wasn't like any information that he had could actually be of harm. Steve followed him anyways, he had to trust One-Shot's judgement.

"I can tell ya this. His name is Steve, and he's my partner, so to speak." One-Shot came up with a decision and put his hat back on his head. "Any odd jobs I've completed, was with the help of him. Without him, I probably wouldn't be known as One-Shot-Steve, and I probably wouldn't have lived 'til this day." The truth was, even if One-Shot had lived he'd be a nobody. It's because of Steve that he's been able to make an impression.

"He helped me on my first job, and I don't know why. All I know is that he's helped me ever since, and kept a close eye on me. I wouldn't be surprised if he knows we're talkin' 'bout him right now." One-Shot smirked at a thought that crossed his mind. "I can tell ya this, though. I could not work without him, and if you need to know more, I suggest you ask him yourself, assuming he'll tell ya."

Of course, the only known way to get to Steve was through One-Shot. If Griffon wanted to know, then he had to ask One-Shot to get a hold of Steve, so that he could ask. It was almost like an unspoken invitation. Of course, One-Shot wasn't objecting to getting Steve.

Psy groaned as the man's words hit a sore spot, "I wanted to find my parents for the longest time... but I've started thinking they aren't around anymore," for a second, a barley audible sniffle could be heard from the girl with her head down, but only if you were listening for it.

"After that I started getting the idea in my head of moving to Paris. Someplace where nobody knows me. Maybe find a nice man who'll marry me," she ran her finger around the edge of her glass, "but I don't know, even a place as perfect as Europe have gone to shit these days, and I don't think I've got it in me to trick a nice guy into marrying me. I'd feel too bad," she let out a tired laugh, trying to play her confessions of as something of a joke, then sighed.

"Jeez, what a terrible time to be alive..."

“Protection” money.

It's used by those who can afford it. A mutual agreement between a keeper of a certain territory and the business. More uncouth organizations use this as a form of extortion, using fear to control, but not they believed in another philosophy.

If the peasants are happy, production increases. They become less hesitant in sharing the wealth, the mutual relationship giving advantages that intimidation won't give. There's a level of 'trust', an unspoken rule.

Should any business within this territory be vandalized, stolen from or wronged in any way, there will be severe consequences. Every thief, fence, member, informant, officer, everyone is in a web, and any transgressions will not go unpunished. There is no such thing as a deed unseen.

It's business. Protecting the source of their income, creating a stable network of people and connections, it's all how the gears turn.

“The Gamblers look like they ran into a bit of trouble. Should we offer them our services?”

A modest, yet moderately large house. They could afford it; when it comes to organized crime, the word 'money' makes one think of one name.

The Rooks.

“Send someone in later. I don't have a single doubt that they're still trying to fix things up.”

They're not as much of a threat as they were back then, and this could prove to be a good investment. At the same time, they need to be kept in check. Budding or recovering groups can always trust them to lend a hand, so long as they're willing to be in the red.
_____

“No place like home.”

It was... just an abandoned warehouse. There's not a lot of places to go to around this city as comfortable as here if you don't have a home. There's a sense of camaraderie between those down on their luc-...

Dammit, that guy was wearing his favorite scarf.

“I'll give it back later, Jack!”

“Oh, man. I almost forgot.” He turns to the little girl by his side who seems to be taking in the scenery. ”The name's Jack, by the way. Better than just being called 'mister', but I don't mind.”

As they talked, he led them to a secluded part of the factory surrounded by boxes. There was a pile of bedsheets and some basic amenities like soap and canned foods. “How long are you gonna stay? I can probably set up a little more room for ya. Going to have to work over time to get a bit more food, but it isn't that hard to knock some sense into some people.”

A satisfied grin. God bless those charities, he thought. A quick fight or two gets him a decent amount of cash, all in good play.

That's the only real way to get around these days. Life is pretty tough for him. Hell, if he didn't know better, some higher power just decided to make it so that his entire shtick was his overbearingly bad luck.
_____

Let's see... what was her number.

“Message? Yeah, alright. It's Rob. Yeah, I heard that some of your girls were out and about and one of them was sighted with a rifle. Keep that in check, would you? It's not that big, so go easy on them; from what I heard, it wasn't a big commotion and the guy thought he was seeing things. Alrighty, that's all I got to say.”

The little girl followed Jack through what he had claimed to be his house - Which made no real sense, considering the only time you went to one of these buildings was to get something of yours that you left there.

...Unless it did make sense. The thought was filed away for later contemplation as she resumed staring at the strange gathering of shaggily dressed hobos in a new light.

"Who owns this place?" she spoke up almost absently, quickening her pace to stay right on Jack's heels. It looked lived in, and at least someone had gone towards trying to fix it up a little... And by fix it up, she meant tidy it up. It wasn't a total dump.

Nowhere as clean as she was used to, though. But the thought of staying here... Well, she didn't really have a choice. He said she could go when he got the money, and he never did, so... she was still a hostage. Not that she minded - Being a hostage had turned out pretty good so far.

"Probably not long." She hedged thoughtfully, "Momma doesn't like it when I wander off for too long." She smiled beatifically at him just then, "But as long as my big sis is around, I should be fine!" the little girl spoke up reassuringly, giving Jack a thumbs up to top it off.

"This'll be like the sleepovers I had with my other sisters. Except dirtier. And the bed won't be as soft." contrary to the negative details, she seemed excited at the idea of it. "And maybe we'll have more adventure!"

she hefted the tommy gun that had incidentally fallen into her hands during the car chase happily, as if to emphasize her connotation of adventure.
_________

Lily glanced down at the message left for her, and let her eyes slide over to a very nervous Remy who had just finished giving a report.

"Troublesome girl." She sighed, massaging her temples in a futile effort to relieve the growing headache she could feel building. "And I suppose your sister told you to come back alone while she kept looking?"

Remy nodded, mouth kept shut tight. "Stop cowering, Remy. There's not much you could have done different. Taking the shot may very well have left her in a worse position than letting them go."

"Mom, she's been tr-" the words were plaintively out of her mouth and met with an inquisitive gleam in the older woman's eye before she had fully processed that she had started to talk. "-I'm sorry."

Lily's lip quirked in amusement, but quickly sank back into a pensive frown. "Regardless, I have other business to take care of now. I'll leave you to go find your sisters, Remy."

Remy blinked, her short red hair flopping past her eyes briefly. had she just been let off scott-free?

"Yes Ma'am!"

Smack

Lily bopped her on the head with a rolled up newspaper as she walked past, "Mom." She enunciated clearly, brokering no room for argument. Remy bit back a groan, rolling her eyes instead. "Yes, Mom...."
_______________

Colt thanked the random guy on the street, having disassembled her rifle some time ago and stored back in the suitcase she carried with her in public. Finding Princess was moderately easy to do as the event was so fresh still - Given a couple of days, even this kind of event would be forgotten by the people of this town . Stranger things have happened, after all, why should they remember this?

That was fine though, she had the information she needed now - They could forget all they wanted.

Colt wandered down the street, a suitcase held in one hand that fit perfectly with the dark blue business suit she wore. For all the world was concerned, she was just a business woman.

...That had business towards the homeless shelter.

"No, that's fine. If you trust him that much, I can at least give him a shot." Griffon said, "I don't normally do stuff like this, sticking my neck out for someone I don't know. But, like I said, I like you."

Getting up from his chair, the Gambler leader paced a bit while he spoke.

"With this recent scuffle, people in the neighborhood are gonna be a bit rattled. I'm gonna have guys posted at the businesses around our turf to let people know we still have control, but they're gonna need someone to give them a little more confidence in us." he said, "I want you guys to head out with one of my guys and make sure these business owners know that the money they spend of our protection is still worth it. After that, we'll talk about membership. Alright?"

-----

"A pretty girl like you won't have too much trouble finding a good guy, or your folks. Sounds to me like you just haven't been looking in the right places. Or maybe you just don't have enough eyes out there looking." the bartender said, "As far as money is concerned, have you thought about making a change? Pretty girl like you could make good money serving drinks at a place like this. Get on the boss' good side, and you might be able to get a room upstairs, work for yourself, maybe he'll even get some contacts looking into your missing parents."

One-Shot relaxed when Griffon said he didn't need to meet Steve. He wasn't even sure how to get Steve in here without using the front door. There was no guarantee that Steve would even agree to open up, since he never bothered to with One-Shot. Granted, he never bothered to ask Steve anything personal. He didn't feel it right.

The fact that Griffon was willing to stick his neck out for Steve on his account confirmed One-Shot's beliefs that he had made the right choice. For once, his connections had done a bit of good, and that was all One-Shot could hope for.

A chuckle escaped One-Shot at the thought of the people being rattled about the recent events. If he never bothered to try and join, he wouldn't have been scared and ignored it, but that just goes to show how weak the common folk are. It also proves that Griffon was a better leader than One-Shot would be in his situation, which was part of the reason why One-Shot admired him. If One-Shot was in his situation, he would have ignored the common folk. It wasn't their problem, so they shouldn't care, but they were foolish enough to care anyways.

He nodded when Griffon was finished talking and spoke, "I understand. It'll go smoother than butter, you can be assured of that." Hopefully there wouldn't be a need to draw arms. There were always things that could go wrong, namely other gangs, and One-Shot didn't like the idea of something being out of his control, especially when his future relied on everything working out.

“No one really owns the place.”

He sets up a small kerosene stove with a cast-iron skillet, then opens up a can of sausages. Quite a treat, these days. It's alright to spoil himself once in a while.

“A few people found this place after the owner was evicted. Kicked out, I mean. Plenty of people in the same situation started living in here. Didn't have a cent to their name, plenty of people did. The police saw what they were doing, but were persuaded by a charity to let us stay in. Generous people.”

He started eating them out of the pan, savoring the flavor with every bite. Happiness is being able to eat sausages with a bottle of soda pop, but this was the next best thing.

“The same charity actually sets up a little event for entertainment. For fun, we box each other with an audience. Nothing forced – it's all in good fun. I'm actually pretty good myself,” Jack smiles proudly.

… Wait a minute, did she mention a big sister?

He turns to her, only just now noticing that she was carrying a tommy gun the entire time. She was carrying that thing around in public? And she had a sister around? Where was she...

“Wait, where's your sister?”

"So.... no one owns this place then." That was interesting. Her brow furrowed as she considered this information as best as she could. As she contemplated that, Jack continued to talk - Something about charities and boxing.

She wasn't entirely sure where boxes and chairs came into this.

There's something important she was missing. Momma said that if you're confused, then there's something you don't know - The first step is finding out.

She'd do that later though, he was asking questions again.

"Big sis is always with me." the little girl responded, "She's been looking out for me since I was little, but she's special." she leaned in conspiratorially, voice dropping to a whisper as she continued. "Most people don't see her though. Momma sees her, and so does my other sister, but everyone else can't."

She imparted this information solemnly to Jack, even going as far to look around quickly in order to make sure no one else heard. "Don't tell anyone though, Momma said I shouldn't tell people about her."
______

Colt stared at the warehouse which had nominally become the home of hobos across the city. It was too far beyond a shelter to even name it as such - Perhaps more accurately, it could be described as a hobo condominium.

Hobos could be seen coming and going from it at will, but that meant little to the black haired guardian - Princess had been held hostage and kidnapped, then taken here. Though she had been told to stand down at the time, it didn't mean that circumstances hadn't changed.

Had the hobos been hired to get at her because of who she was? No one was stupid enough to rob a store when so many cops were around, were they? The evasive maneuvers, the wreckless abandon for safety and lack of actual escape plan.

Was it a ploy to lose pursuers and get her out of sight? Executed poorly, at that... But you could only expect so much out of literal hired hobos.

No, the first priority was finding out what was going on inside. Without being spotted and potentially endangering Princess.

Straightening her tie, the business suit wearing woman turned from the warehouse with a cough and walked away. trim neck length hair being held in a ponytail as she brushed an errant bang out of her face.

This probably wouldn't take long. With any luck, she will have already taken up position to keep an eye on Princess by the time Remy got back.

"A change would be nice," she mumbled, "Of course I thought of a change. Dreamed of a change for a long time."

Psy picked her head up from off the bar and looked around at the people working, "This does seem like a nice set up, here. But it would take a lot of charity to convince my boss of letting me go," she laughed quietly to herself, "It isn't exactly a normal gig, I suppose. I don't mind the work, I guess. It's the management that bothers me. And a few of the clients. And most of my coworkers..."

She trailed off, taking another sip of her drink, "Honestly, I wouldn't really know how to ask someone for a favor like that. Let alone someone I don't even know. Sounds like I'll just fall out of one person's debt and into another's."

"Good to hear. I'll have my guy Frankie take you guys out there." Griffon said, heading to the door, "Shouldn't be too bad for a guy like you. Just let Frankie do the talking and keep an eye out for other gangs, and you should be fine."

With that, he opened the door to the office, allowing One-shot to leave first.

-----

"Sweetheart, trust me. I've been working in this bar a long time. It would be nice to see a pretty face around here." the bartender said, smiling, "I'll talk to the boss on your behalf, see if we can't work something out with your boss."

"Thanks," she said. Psy was still pretty suspicious of all this working out, but she couldn't find a reason not to give him a chance.

"I really hope he can help me. Kinda silly," she chuckled, "So when can I meet your boss? I don't mean to be pushy, but I really don't have anywhere to go tonight. Not if I plan on ever leaving again, that is."

Huh. The sister is either dead or an imaginary friend? Hrm. He fondly ruffles the little girl's hair. “Don't you worry. The secret's safe with me.”

He straightened out his patched up coat and trousers. Looks like some of the stitches became undone in the ruckus, but nothing he can't fix up. He grabs a needle and a thread from a tin can and begins to rethread the pieces.

“Oi, brought yerself a pretty young lass?”

A distant voice echoing from the walls of the factory.

This would be how hobos communicate: yelling hard enough for the echoes to carry their voices. With the way this place is set up, you can hear anything going on in this place.

… Anything.

Jack shudders at those restless nights. Lonely men sound terrifying... coupled with echoing... coupled with those gruff voices going on and on throughout the night...

“Yeah.” Without looking, he motioned over to the sausages. In a lower voice, he tells her “You can have a bite or two, if you'd like.”

Another echo. “Is the lil' bonnie a looker?”

“She can have a bite or two of mine, if she wants!”

Everyone laughed in unison.

“She's like... 9 or something, you sick-”

“We're the sick ones? You're the one going on a date with a girl who's a third of your age!”

Some hobos surprisingly knew math.

A little more agitated, Jack yells back: “Shut it if you don't want me to punch the piss out of all of you!”

They kept quiet. Good. It was getting hard to focus.

“Geez, what a bunch of...” He continues to grumble angrily while sewing. He turns again to the girl and blinks. “Oh, right. I actually forgot to ask your name, huh- ow, damn, needle.”

One-Shot nodded at Griffon as he left. "I have no doubt that it'll be fine." Unless something unexpected happened, which it most likely will. He knew to expect anything though, so he wasn't quit bothered by the idea of having to improvise. With the new leader and the most recent power struggles, One-Shot knew something would happen, and he could only hope that it'll make him look better not worse.

His talk with Griffon had also brought him to think upon other matters, such as Steve. Of course, it couldn't be that hard to trust a guy that's saved your life so many times, but this had been the first time he trusted a guy without really knowing him, and he didn't even realize it. It almost bothered him, but he could bring it up to Steve later. Probably around the time he tells Steve of their plans tomorrow, and hope he doesn't flip when he hears the news. There was never an encounter that One-Shot had dealt with where he had to involve Steve directly, so he wasn't sure how the bulky man would react.

The girl blinked, no one usually asked her name. Well, most people already knew her name.

Well, most people were her family. She wasn't around people not in her family very often - Outsiders always just called her cute, or little missy, or something. "I'm Eve."

She paused for a second. "And my sisters are Angela, Colt, Sierra, Sasha, Tina, Marilyn, Andrea, Francesca, Alexis, Veronica, Sandy, Carol, Ema, Lianne, Rinny, Pat, Evelyn, Erika, Yvonne, Ashley, Tia, Remy..." without taking a breath, the little girl's list proceeded to unfold at an alarming rate.

She had apparently taken the revelation that he didn't know her name to mean he didn't know her family's names either - Which was probably bad. What if he needed to talk to them one day?

"...-Elan, Olly, Patricia, Vi, Heather, Joanne, Jessica, Jojo, flandre, Marisa, Rin, -"

the list didn't seem to be ending anytime soon.
__________

After a short detour to sneak onto the rooftops of nearby structures and make her way across the higher avenues to get into position, Colt finally found her Princess back in her sights.

A soft sight escaped her lips, as the Princess seemed not only to be unharmed, but also in good spirits if her chatter was anything to go by.

Colt was left with a decision to make - Go find Remy and inform her of the Princess where abouts, and risk the Princess being moved or hurt in the meantime... Or let Remy find her own way and ensure the Princess' safety.

....

Colt settled down to keep watch. Remy would understand.
_______

"They took her where!?" Remy was apt to panic. Her sister didn't panic enough, so Remy panicked for both of them. Like when Princess gets kidnapped in a gunfight, Remy panics. When she has to go report to Mom that Princess was kidnapped in a gunfight, Remy panics.

When she finds out Princess had been taken to the biggest hobo-hotel in town, home to the best of the best of the underground charity sponsored hobo boxing cage matches, Remy panics.

Remy was panicking.

"Yeah, I thought it was kinda weird that a girl that age would be going there too- but hey, what do I know? Not my business." the shopkeeper seemed unconcerned. He didn't even remember which way she had went from here, that had to be dragged out of other other people who also barely remembered it.

This happened not even a few hours ago at best, why were these people so useless?

Wait.

Wait.

Oh god, what if Colt got there first and something bad happened?

Remy was panicking as she ran down the street frantically towards the warehouse.

… He lost track of the list of names, but he still listened intently. Christ, this girl's mom was getting busy. Or maybe she was in an orphanage of some sort? He kidnapped an orphan? An orphan with a dead or imaginary sister. Who doesn't have anyone watching her.

…

Maybe his bad luck is some kind of karma. Maybe he did something like kill an infant in his past life, or was some kind of homicidal maniac.

“Hrreeyyy! You!”

The slurred speech. Increasing volume. Someone was drunk, approaching and looking for trouble.

“Yeh... shhhitfucker!”

Another one. Peeking out the corner, he sees six of them in all. One of them, a seven foot behemoth, was pretty hard to not recognize.

He was new to the ring, damn cocky for his own good. This guy was really big, and flaunted it. The guy's hands were so heavy that he knocked a man out cold in a single punch. Teeth flew straight out and hit a poor kid in the eye. Ironically, he has a glass jaw: only took about two or three clean hits to take him down a notch and scatter his teeth. Been holding a grudge on poor ol' Jack since then...

In fact, he was wearing Jack's scarf right now.

Obscenities, threats of beating him to a bloody pulp and some spit later...

… Jack actually couldn't understand a word he was saying. All he was able to gather from it was that the big guy wanted to do something lewd with Eve, and that's all he needed to hear.

“Eve. We're just going to play a little game, alright? If I lose, I want you to run as FAST as you can that way. I want you to grab the gun and run, alright? Don't use it unless you have to.”

He doesn't know if she knows how those things work, but he's seen plenty of young ones who can. No one deserves to shot, and he doesn't want to get shot himself either.

He gently pushed her backwards when the big hippo approached. The big guy swung a telegraphed wide hook...

Duck, weave, gut punch and an uppercut. Lights out.

Pissed off the other five.

They weren't planning on making it a fair fight. That's a lead pipe the tall one was carrying.

This isn't gonna be fun.

"I say!"

A commanding voice echoed throughout the warehouse. The source: what could be described as a well-dressed titan, strolling into the warehouse.

Some of the idling hobos went silent and shifted their attention, for they recognized this man. Any veteran of the homeless shelter's boxing league would recognize him, and no sane man was known to cross him twice.

His deep brow was shadowed by his equally imposing top hat, just barely obscuring his piercing gaze. When viewed from afar, his girth would make one question whether he was a man or a gorilla.

But when up close...

Quickly striding over to the advancing pack of hobos, he gently placed his hand on the shoulder of the closest one.

"Now, you ruffians wouldn't be starting trouble for this young man and lady, would you?" He inquired, benevolence dripping from his tone.

In their stupor, it was hard to tell if they recognized him. At least one did not. "Wazzat, gramps? Y' got a problem wiv a lil fun?" He mocked, continuing his advances toward the two. "Don' worry, you'll get yer turn..."

A scream erupted from the hobo in the back, caused by a broken shoulder bone. Before the heckler had a chance to turn and see, he had been bowled over by a hobo to the face, skidding across the floor some twenty feet.

The rest of the group turned - he had their attention, and he theirs. Still lifting their compatriot by the shoulder with a crushing grip, he adjusted his hat with his free hand. "My name is Manfred Barnes,"

He discarded the man like a ragdoll, fixing his gaze on the rest. "And I will not tolerate this injustice!"

His words and actions enraged the remaining three. All at once, they came at him with an unrivaled drunken fervor. The first threw a straight right punch directly at his solar plexus - about eye level, for him. Though they were drunken, these were not common street punks. They were nearly professional boxers, and experienced fighters.

Unfortunately for them, so was he.

He took the punch directly with nary a flinch. Grabbing the man's outstretched right arm with his left, he turned and threw the man into the concrete, much like one would a football after a touchdown. He bounced like a football too, though it left a significant crack in the ground.

The second man was stopped before he could advance, his face meeting the back of an elbow with great force. This exposed Manfred's backside, however. The third man tried to flank him, aiming his lead pipe to the back of his head for a quick knockout.

But now he was positioned just right. Rising to his full height and spinning counterclockwise, his right fist connected with the second man's face. Momentum unceasing, his fist and its passenger flew toward his assaulter's head. Time seemed to halt at the man's realization, and for the briefest moment, he caught the look in his punisher's moustached face.

Not one of anger, or rage - but disappointment.

Two hobos with broken jaws skidded across the warehouse floor. There was a moment of pause before the rest of the warehouse broke out into cheers - for it was a rare occurrence the owner of their boxing league himself would visit, much less give a demonstration.

The seven foot tall man dusted his hands off and sighed, ignoring the praise from his audience. "I must apologize for my behavior, young man. I saw the whole thing from the entrance.

"You did a fine job, handling that brute! I do hope he has learned from his actions to be more respectful of others. Do forgive me, however, I believe we have never met before." He held out his enormous hand, in a friendly gesture. "My name is Barnes. Manfred Barnes."

"Alright, One-shot. Go get your buddy and meat back here tomorrow." Griffon said, patting the young man on the back, "I'll fill in Frankie on the details, and he'll meet up with you then."

-----

"You don't have to wait too long, miss. Here he comes now." the bartender said as two men exited the office, "Mr. Rogue, a moment of your time, please."

"One second, Tony." Griffon said, walking up to another man, "Frankie, you know that job I've got you doing tomorrow? I've got a couple guys I want you to take with you. New guys, wanna join up. I want you to show 'em the ropes, keep an eye on 'em. You got me?"

"No problem, boss. Who're the guys?"

"One-shot and his buddy." Griffon responded, "One-shot's a good guy, but I don't know about his friend. Keep an eye on him."

"Sure thing, boss."

Griffon then turned to the bartender.

"And Tony. You of all people know I hate it when you call me 'Mr. Rogue'. You've been at this bar since I was in diapers." he said, "What's going on?"

"Well Griffon, this young lady does not like her current 'employer', and would like to find some work with the Gamblers." Tony said, "I suggested that she serve drinks for us here at the bar, maybe work for herself in one of the rooms upstairs."

"Tony, you've always had a soft spot for the damsel in distress, haven't you?" Griffon chuckled, looking back at the lady at the bar, "So, what's wrong, sweetheart? You're guy not treating you right? You know, I hate guys who don't treat women with respect."

He then pointed towards another gentleman across the bar.

"Vince, come here for a sec." he yelled, looking back a the young lady, "Listen, you give me the address of where your guy operates from, and we'll convince him to let you go, alright? May teach him a little lesson in respecting women, while we're at it."

One-Shot left the bar and began walking. He didn't care too much where he was going, but he wanted to get far enough away from the bar to have Steve come to his side and talk with him. After a few blocks, he made a hand signal that got Steve by his side instantly. For once, Steve needed One-Shot to explain a few things to Steve before Steve could do anything.

"We got a job tomorrow, and you're not gonna like it." One-Shot said. Steve just grunted in response, indicating for One-Shot to continue. "You knew I've had my eye on the Gamblers, right? That the only reason I never joined up with them was 'cause I didn't like the guy in charge..."

"What's this gotta do with me?" Steve interrupted. One-Shot never was this nervous about telling Steve something, and it was beginning to bother him. Ne never liked it when One-Shot danced around the subject.

"Well, the new guy in charge, Griffon, and me have formed a sort of respect for each other, and I know he will do good for them. I want to join, but it's become complicated 'cause you're a nobody in everyone's eye. How can they trust someone they don't know?"

"Get to the point, One-Shot."

"Fine. Fine. The recent trouble's gonna cause some ruckus, and Griffon says me and you can help Frankie be look out. The problem is, it's for them to know if they can trust you."

Steve only nodded in response. He followed One-Shot, and will never consider himself one of the Gamblers, but if One-Shot needed him to do it to get what he wants, then he will. That's the way it's been so far, and he planned on keeping it that way until he got what he wanted in the end.

By now, there was an unspoken conversation going on between them. One-Shot knew that Steve didn't like being well known, and Steve knew that One-Shot liked his connections. Since Steve followed One-Shot, he'd do as he was asked to, whether he liked it or not. Steve growled to let One-Shot know that he was pushing it with Steve's willingness to do anything to help him, but he left it at that. One-Shot knew that he couldn't make a decision for Steve again, and their understanding was concluded.

… Maybe his own jaw was unhinged just standing there. That was... well.

“Wow.”

He seemed to have said that out loud.

He's only seem him twice before, but up close, he was really... not 'intimidating,' exactly, but he definitely has some kind of effect on people.

Jack returned the gesture, though it proved difficult considering his hands were about half the size of this hulk of a man. Surprisingly, Manfred exercised good control; the shake was pleasant, without much discomfort, yet firm.

“Jack,” he nods, looking up to maintain eye contact. “And no, no, that was much appreciated. Don't know what would've happened if you didn't come along. On behalf of all of us, though, we really owe you plenty.”

This was the guy responsible for why everyone, including him, had food and a place to sleep in. The realization kicked in that this was also the same person who, just now, prevented what might have been a bloody situation.

Saved his life in the long term and the short term. Isn't that funny?

Several of the hobos, some still eating bread and soup offered by the nearby kitchen, raised their fists in cheer, chanting “Mr. Man!”. This chant and the recent scuffle in mind, it wasn't hard to imagine this enigmatic strongman seeing a group of people without a direction or a home and telling himself, “No, this will not do,” before strolling up to the police and demanding that these hobos be let inside this sanctuary.

“What brings you around these parts, Mister Barnes? Any special occasion, or just another friendly visit?”

Damsel in distress? Yeah, I suppose it was something like that.

She smiled as she took a pen out of her bag and jotted down an address on a napkin, "Here you go. I know what I said about him, but a lot of those girls don't have anywhere else to go. I'm not saying you should invite all of them here, not sure I would want them as company either, but just don't kill the guy. As much as I hate to say it, it's probably the best thing many of them have ever had," she flustered a bit, trying to find the right words, "As much as I'd like to see him bite the big one, I don't think I could sleep at night knowing all those girls were out on the street because of me."

She handed the men the napkin, "So I don't mean to sound ungrateful," she started at the apparent boss, "but I've grown to be a bit suspicious of charity. And I'd rather not have you hold off on dropping any favors on me when I'm already in too deep."

Psy stood up from the bar and approached the boss, "Griffon, was it?" she asked, hands on his shoulders as she brought herself in, "I'm Psyche. Though I'd prefer it if you called me Psy. What do I have to do for us to be even?"

"Whoa there, sweetheart. No one said anything about killing anyone. I only want to make sure this guy knows that the Gamblers don't take kindly to people operating in their territory without us getting a cut." Griffon said, taking the napkin and reading the address, "As for repayment, we'll figure out how much of a cut we'll need from you once business starts picking up around here. Until then, Tony's the one you should ask about repayment. He's the one who sticking his neck out for you."

He then turned to the man he had called earlier.

"Hey boss, the contractor says he'll be here first thing tomorrow to check things out." Vince said, "Has us on a priority list, as long as we remember the generosity he's offering."

"Sounds good to me. Until then, I got a job for you." Griffon said, handing him the napkin, "We've got someone operating in our territory without our consent. Get over there with a couple of boys and make him see that giving us a cut of the profits is a good business move. And let him know that his girl Psy will no longer be under his employ."

"Sure thing, boss." Vince said, "How rough should we be with him?"

"I dunno." Griffon said, looking back to Psy, "Any preferences, sweetheart?"

He tipped his hat demurely. "You are too kind, sir. I am simply upholding the duty I owe to this establishment. As for why I am here," he crossed his arms, surveying the warehouse briefly before smiling in relief, "Well, it appears my fears were for naught. Unsavory individuals lately have been all too complacent in their boorish behavior - I had my suspicions that they may have brought harm to innocent bystanders. But it seems they did not reach this area of town." Eyeing the entrance in further contemplation, he added, "Thankfully, not many were caught in their squabble. The police have done an adequate job in disposing of those responsible. Though it is a pity."

He nodded in approval, and then turned his attention to Eve. "Although I do say, how curious," he knelt down to her level, his eyes casting an expression of genuine concern. "Surely you are too young to be a vagrant as well! If you do not mind my asking, what brings you to this shelter, young miss?"

Eve blinked at the wall of a man. "I'm Jack's hostage." She explained cheerily, "He was robbing a store and the cops showed up, so he said I could go when he got the money... Things kinda got crazy from there... Uh..."

She furrowed her brows in thought, "Maybe its a kidnapping now too. Or still just a hostage. He never did get the money, so I guess I'm still not supposed to go anywhere."

She shrugged, hugging the tommy gun closer to her. "I've had all sorts of fun though! First I got ice cream, then we went on a car ride, and then he pushed me down and gave me a hug in the car. And I got this!" She stuck her flat chest out, emphasizing the large gun being held against it.

“...”

…

“...”

…

All eyes on him.

His mouth was parched, knees were weak, arms of similar consistency to linguine...

“Wait, I can explain.” He holds his hands up. “This is ALL a big mistake, believe me. One thing led to another and I ended up in the manager's car, and-and then there was this shootout that I never wanted to do, and then I couldn't find her parents, so it was... I was... one of the cars got hit and this thing landed on her, and then...”

Yeah, they're not buying it. The murmurs in the crowd were audible, but impossible to pick out specific words from.

"Nah." He sighs dejectedly, "She was right. All I wanted was some soda pop and I ended up kidnapping an orphan girl with a dead sister."

There was no use prolonging it. Jack takes a deep breath, thought a silent prayer and wondered what reincarnation was like.

Aaaaand... cue punch.

Manfred's eyes were closed in contemplation for the duration of Jack's explanation. His lack of response, and the jeers from the crowd, prompted the unlucky man to tell it straight, with no excuses.

Manfred stood up to his full height, after assessing his words. "Young man," he placed his hands on Jack's shoulders. "Your honesty is admirable. From your actions earlier, I have no doubt that you are merely a victim of circumstance."

The crowd grew silent, as if awaiting a verdict. A seemingly long moment passed, before Manfred finally opened his eyes.

"However," he inhaled, "such behavior is..."

In the blink of an eye, the two men's foreheads collided, like a train with a stalled-out automobile.

"INCORRIGIBLE."

Jack flew backwards, the blow just shy of any serious trauma. As he hit the ground, cheers errupted from the boisterous crowd again - it seems they had been waiting for a second round. Manfred's voice was distinct above the ruckus. "I do not believe my opinion of you to be misguided, sir - but you must atone for your actions post-haste!"

He adjusted his suit absently, his expression that of a father wronged. "Regardless of our situations, we must all strive for peace within our community, lest we allow this fine city to fall into disarray!" With Jack still conscious enough to see, he held his hand out over his supine form. "Now is no time to tarry - we must make haste."

"Oh, alright..." Psy said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. She was a tad tipsy, and the idea of going to bed with a good looking man wasn't all that unappealing right now. Why does a girl like her only have to sleep with a man when she's getting paid? Man could stand to think a little progressively.

She sat back down pouting a bit, "Well old timer," she said, "Maybe I can help you with dishes tonight or something? Whatever you need, really, I owe you a lot. I probably got a few hours in me before I need to sleep," she turned back to Griffon, "Speaking of sleep, do I get a room or..."

She stopped when Griffon asked her about her old boss, "Oh, well if you aren't going to kill him, I suppose you can just have fun with it. I mean, he has threatened to do worse with me." She couldn't help but smile at the thought of the bastard getting a taste of his own medicine.

He's still seeing stars. Christ, any harder and that would have been a concussion...

Jack missed Manfred's hand at first. Second time too. Third time's the charm – no, not quite. Fourth time – got it. He managed to pull himself back up.

“… Make haste?” he repeats. “Oh. You mean returning her? Well, see, that's there's the problem...”

He turns his head slightly towards Eve, his voice still directed at Barnes. “When I saw her, she didn't really have anyone around. Might have been spooked, actually. Was she?”

How would one find out where her parents are?

Maybe... asking?

“Hey, Eve? Was anyone with you during the store? Do you wanna go home yet?”

"Ah... big sis was with me. She's always with me." She nodded to herself, "But it was only us. We were going to get ice cream."

She shook her head, "I can't leave until you get money, or I'm a bad hostage. Big sis understands, or she would have made me leave by now."

He still can't recall anyone who looked like her sister at all during the incident. Hell, what kind of sister wouldn't protect her at a time like that?

Was he right about her sister being...?

Shouldn't mention that. He's lucky that she forgot his mention of it earlier.

As if he didn't need enough on his karma, there was that money bit too. Didn't they teach her to not go with strangers? At least it was with him instead of someone dangerous. Who knows who could have taken advantage of this girl, just letting her roam the streets like that.

This made him feel somewhat better. Yes, this was a good feeling, he told himself.

“Actually. Hold that thought.”

He looks back to Manfred.

“Hey, it's actually a bit of trouble, but you mind if I take care of this little girl? I mean... you know, I got a bad feeling about things on her end, you know?”

Hopefully, he understands the implications about this girl's conditions...

Manfred looked at Jack, and then down at Eve. Sighing audibly, a deep, rumbling note of contemplation, he looked back at Jack. "I understand your feelings on the matter. However, it is not your decision alone whether she is better off with you or not," he reached forward toward Eve,

And patted her on the head. "Nor is it mine." Giving her a reassuring smile, he addressed her directly. "It would be wrong of me to defy the wishes of an innocent young girl! If it is your decision to remain here for now, I am not opposed to that." He stood up once more, speaking to the both of them. "But you must take responsibility. If she was originally under someone else's care, be it her sister or otherwise, it is your express duty to settle matters with them. I will do what I can to assist you."

He turned halfway around, and looked toward the exit. "Unfortunately, this is not my final stop for tonight. I must see to the other areas of this incident before the night is up."

Beginning to walk toward the exit, his eyes scanned the rest of the homeless men. "I do hope these few were the only ones with the mind to harm this young lady and their fellow compatriat!" He bellowed the sincere threat at those watching, who flinched slightly. "I will return tomorrow morning, for a proper visit. I am glad you are all safe!"

And with that, Manfred Barnes exited the building.

"We've got a few rooms open. Tony should be able to take care of that." Griffon said.

"Of course, Mr. Ro.." Tony started to say, just as Griffon looked disapprovingly at him, "...I mean, Griffon."

"Thanks Tony." Griffon said, patting the bartender on the shoulder and smiling before turning back to the office.

"And don't worry about you guy, sweetheart." Vince said, smiling, "We'll make sure he learns how to treat his women with a little more respect."

With that, the man walked out into the bar, gathered up a few men, and exited. From the looks of things, they were going to take care of this job before the day was out.

"Well, miss Psy, if you would assist me in cleaning up the bar a bit, we should be done in no time." Tony said, putting down the glass he was cleaning, "Like I said before, I would much prefer having some help around here, especially with all this excitement going on."

"Let's go back." Steve spoke up after a while of silence. This caused One-Shot to jump. In all the time he knew Steve, Steve never spoke up first unless he needed to ask something about the plans.

"Why?" One-Shot asked. it was confusing to say the least, but he figured not to question it too much while Steve was in a bad mood.

"I need a drink." That wasn't the only reason, and One-Shot knew that, but he continued towards the Gamblers Den anyways.

"If this is about tomorrow, I still don't see why you're throwing a fit."

"Those bastards want to get to see me, then I'll let them see me and observe me."

One-Shot just continued on without saying anything. It was Steve's way of rebelling against One-Shot's decision, even if it didn't make sense. It didn't matter too much anyways, and a drink did sound good. Maybe he oculd get more information while their attention was on Steve, assuming that they'll care to watch Steve anyways, since Griffon had a plan set up tomorrow to learn more about the brute.

“Any place you're headed?”

After some ruckus, it looks like Faye decided to skedaddle. She had her case and suit all set up, almost like she was pining to off someone. It ain't her, though; he knows as well as she does that she's the kind who doesn't take well to blood.

With her long, red hair tied up like that, anyone without a sharp-eye would mistake her as a guy. Suit and slacks, and the girl still looks gorgeous.

From an objective standpoint.

“To do my work, that's what. Do you have any information on any recent movements?”

“Not exactly any movements, but I can guess that the Gamblers being shaken up by these two things at once is going to make for some turbulence round those parts. Are you sure you should be involved?”

Her eyes narrowed at Rob. “I didn't ask for advice for my own well-being. I appreciate it, but...”

“Yeah, I get it. Just worried, is all.”

Faye murmured a quiet “Thank you” before hurrying out in a flustered manner.

She hasn't changed one bit, that girl.
_____

A man stands in his quarters, saber in hand. Surrounding him was a plethora of blades: European claymores and zweihanders, Eastern curved blades, cutlasses, scimitars, you name them. The place looked quite opulent: intricately carved marble pillars holding parts of the room, gilded picture frames, chandeliers, golden paint scheme, velvet chairs...

Money was no object.

Advance. He struck at the air relentlessly with various thrusts and slashes, the blade dancing with grace and finesse. When finished, he sheathed the blade in one swift motion.

“Iaido,” he says with a smile. “Usually used with katanas, which were blades in Japan. The art of using the sheath. It's quite remarkable how much emphasis the culture places on blades, is it not?”

“Excellent swordsmanship, sir. Should I get you a cup of tea?”

“I'm fine, for the time being. Have you any word from our benefactors? I've heard that they are simply ecstatic about my discovery.”

“Yes, sir. Everything is going as planned.”

He walks over to a glass case holding a peculiar knife. It was obviously ceremonial, and the amount of detail on the handle's engravings were astonishing. The blade was shaped strangely, being split directly down the center and holding runic characters which he has yet to see. He can't seem to make out anything of what the item was made of, but he did notice that it interferes with electronics. From what he can guess, it might have been made with a type of metal they have yet to discover...

“I believe we may have stumbled onto a new civilization right here in the heart of America, Jeeves. Finding something no different from a damascus blade is quite a feat! Well, of course, we can't quite test its hardness, but being able to survive a thorough pounding is quite something else. Magnetic metals, indeed! Quite a show!” He twiddles with his mustache in his excitement. “I very much appreciate that those who people think of brutes exhibit such an interest in science and history.”

The Rooks, bless their souls, were financing... or rather, “investing”, as they say, into his endeavors. He will hold the most marvelous exhibit in a day or so, all thanks to their assistance, and hopefully attract some curious minds. It should prove interesting to see what other scholars think of such a discovery.

"... Well I do want to go home eventually." the little girl admitted, leaning in as if to impart another secret to Jack, "If one of my sisters saw me here, she'd probably be all like-"

She took a deep breath, puffing her cheeks cutely and-

"What the hell is she doing in that dump?!"

... exhaled, looking moderately put out that her imitation had been cut off. "...Yeah, like that. She'd definitely say something like that."
____

Colt stared at Remy impassively, the wind had picked up right as her sister started screaming... Or so she would tell herself. Her sister most definitely did not just scream hard enough to ruffle her hair.

"Went inside." she answered shortly, pointing to her vantage point for Remy to peer inside. "And you haven't extracted her yet, why?" Remy hissed back animatedly as she moved to look into the warehouse...

...Only to see Princess holding a tommygun to her chest around a group of arguably unarmed hobos and one particularly big one who seemed to already be laid out cold on the floor.

"Princess controls the situation." Colt answered simplistically, watching Remy's body go very still, "No danger." Her hand twitched occasionally.

Remy did not respond. Her stillness broken only by what seemed to be nervous twitches of her fingers. Colt looked on, concern for her sister gradually budding.

Having been a good half hour or so after the incident downtown, the streets had gone relatively quiet once again. Police sirens could be heard in another part of the city, but people hardly had the wherewithal to address even the myriad problems nearby.

Manfred of course, found himself to be an exception to the rule. He saw it as his duty to see to the slacking attitude of the city, one which had become cynical and passive toward injustices over time. Many would view him as charitable.

He turned a corner, finally reaching his destination: the local coffee shop. Having been out all night, even he needed the break. Before he could approach the door, however, it opened. Someone in a suit hurried out, bumping into him by accident.

"Pardon me sir," Manfred quickly apologized, stepping aside. "I was not minding my step."
A quick glance, an imperceptible glare, a rude nudge, and the man was on his way again. A reminder that not everyone had a good impression of him, despite his attempts. He brushed off the insult, and made his way inside.

"Good evening, my good sir!"

"Ah, if it isn't Judge Barnes! Here for the usual?" The bartender greeted, amiable as usual. One with such an agreeable attitude was somewhat rare these days, and Manfred appreciated that. He let out a hearty chuckle, "I told you, Manfred is fine. And that would be grand, thank you."

Rob began pouring coffee at the request. "Busy night, I take it?"
"Indeed," he sighed, taking a seat at the counter, "more ruffians by the Gambler's Den bar. Did you hear that they managed to crash through the side of the building? Ridiculous!"

"Ah, yes, I have. You seem tense, Manfred - for someone in your position, you sure keep yourself occupied. Feel free to take a breather once in a while, you know?"

"But how can I, while these hooligans persist! The youth of today could learn a thing or two about respect - not only for others, but of their own lives as well. Why, had I been present, I would have given all involved parties a stern talking to.."

"Your coffee, Manfred."

"Ah, thank you. And I did, too! If the police had exercised more caution, perhaps there would have been fewer casualties..."

The conversation ran on. This was more or less typical; Manfred would often visit on more eventful evenings to discuss the goings-on around the city, and Rob was always willing to lend an ear.

It's times like these that make the job. Casually talking, shooting the breeze here and there with customers, hearing about the going-ons of the city, all that.

Rob sets down his drink. John appears to have finished moping about in that little booth of his, but it looks like he's not quite finished. He nods his hat at Manfred, saying “Judge,” before slipping a piece of paper next to Rob and seeing himself out.

As he was opening the piece of paper, it reminded him...

“I actually neglected to tell you; that person you ran into a while ago was a ma'am and not a sir. Really hard to tell, when it comes to that woman. Has quite a-... oh, I see.”

He clears his throat. “This looks like a tall order. Do you mind if we take this upstairs? It seems as if someone ordered something for you personally. While we're at it, to see if I can make this all the less difficult, can you tell me what you know of the mobs?"

"A woman...?" He turned to face the window, as if she would still be there to reassess. He mumbled to himself a short scolding of his misjudgment, attention returning to Rob after he finished reading the paper.

"The mobs...?" He crossed his arms in contemplation. "Merely an excuse for more boorish behavior. The only ones I've seen involved seemed to take refuge in the name alone, foolishly believing it would absolve them of their crimes. Poppycock!" He pounded the table in mild frustration, causing his glass to bounce a little. As if remembering it existed, he took a small sip of his coffee before continuing. "As if anything could excuse attempted murder and theft from upstanding citizens! Unfortunately, I myself am unaware of their practices beyond the few examples that make it into my court. Why have you asked this, though, Rob?" He inquired, eyeing his paper.

Gotta keep this thing quiet. Never know who's eavesdropping. He leads them up to a secure booth, a small tray of drinks in hand.

He pockets the sheet of paper and the attached payment into his pocket. A request is a request, and he is not the one to shirk from one.

“They do quite a bit more than that, unfortunately. They have quite a hold on the police themselves, creating something similar to... a symbiotic relationship, if we're talking science. In layman's terms, they profit from each other. Mutually.”

From under the tray, he pulls out several folders of material. Several of them detail businesses that implicate the police in unlawful activities: trading weapons, being used as a proxy for protecting territory, rigging trials, helping specific politicians... the list goes on.

“Here's some details.”

One more sip...

Black coffee. What people aren't aware of is that darker roasted coffee tends to reduce the level of caffeine. Quite interesting, really.

“Ah, I have yet to answer your question. A police officer – good lad, that one – gave me a request. That request would be to tell you more of the state of the city, along with some proof. If I had to take a guess, he wishes to change something.”

Despite the boy's dislike of Faye, looks like he still supports her. Whether he believes that this was a good or bad idea doesn't matter; he is but an information broker and a humble barista; nothing more, nothing less.

_____

…

Did he hear something?

He looks toward the factory entrance and sees nothing but the troublemakers being dragged out. It's taking three of them to take care of the biggest one.

… Such vulgar people around her, if that was what they said. Jack wonders if they were abusive to her. He knows what it's like, and it's never something easy to live with...

What shitty luck...

“Hrm. Tell you what, kiddo...” He gently pats Eve's head. “I'll get you back as long as I'm a hundred percent sure you'll be safe when you do get back. Er... hrm. When I'm sure everything is all peachy when you are back there, yeah?”

… Harder to explain than expected.

“Alright, how bout this. I check where you're heading back to, make sure everything is fine, then I'll let you go. Not before that, alright? We got a deal?”

Maybe there's a better place out there too. It still sounds pretty rough...

Manfred's brow became increasingly furrowed as he skimmed the documents. Though outwardly showing no real signs of being upset, his grip on the thick stack of folders nearly crumpled them.

This was all going on behind his back. Misconduct of not only the criminals, but the very force created to deter their actions, actively encouraging them. And the fact that it had occurred right under his nose, even within his own court...

"Inconceivable." He muttered, unable to hold back his reaction. "Our own police force, submitting themselves to such an intolerable state... and I was ignorant of the whole ordeal." He placed the stack of documents down on the table between them, as if unable to read any further.

"How long has this persisted..?" His steady tone belied his anger, shown clearly in his intense glare. "Who is responsible for this?"

A shepherd to deliver us from evil. This is what the world needs right now the most.

In a world filled with strife and hatred, the only reprieve lies in a higher power. Anyone, be they vagrant or sinner, is welcome so long as they respect the cross.

It was church that, though lavish, still had a certain, cozy appeal to it. The pews were well maintained, bordered by pillars which hold up a magnificent Venetian ceiling. An enormous crystal chandelier hung in the center, its powerful light spreading in all directions. On one side was a row of confessionals, though these days, they are rarely used.

“To be absolved of your sins require repentance, young one. Do good will and so too will good come to you. Do you promise to no longer steal from your friends?”

The priest ruffles the child's disheveled hair. The boy nods enthusiastically, his look of melancholy turning to that of a toothy smile.

“Precious children. Perhaps they hold the future for this world. In time.”

This old church has, despise furnishings, gone ignored. There are but three to four consistently attending his processions, but it's... not quite what he hoped for.

“Is anything wrong, Father Arias?”

Freya stood right beneath the double doors, suitcase in hand. Bless that child, still worrying about an old coot like him.

“No, no.” The father gave her a warm smile. “Simply wishing that many more were similar to you. You've done a great deal for this city, you have. Plenty of the children you have found now live happily reunited with their families. In times like this, we need more like you.”

She lowers her head in respect. “I'm only doing what is expected of me, Father. I am still not satisfied with my duty.”

“There are difficult decisions in life once must be faced with, young Freya.” The priest slowly walks toward her, raising her head so that their eyes may meet. “You are no stranger to this. Though your inner demons torment you, it was but a soldier's duty. Though we hate to admit this, death is a natural part of life. You have saved countless lives, and for that, I thank you.”

“T-thank you, Father... I'm sorry for the impromptu visit, but I need to-”

“Ah, yes, yes. Go on. My apologies for keeping you.”

She pays her respects and promptly leaves. Arias picks up his cane and begins to head outside, fancying a walk.

_____

“Several years. It's a well-established relationship between groups. The police almost entirely relies on them to patrol territories. With the police in cahoots with several mobs, small businesses don't have much of a choice.”

More folders, this time with pictures. They detailed alcohol and drugs smuggle operations, private deals between businesses, officers being bribed by henchmen...

“As for who's responsible... too many to count. It became the status quo nowadays, so it's hard to say. Any thoughts on the matter thus far?”

As One-shot and Steve made their way back to the bar, a group of Gamblers exited and made their way around the side. One of the men stayed behind, holding the door open for the two as they approached.

"Gentlemen, welcome back." Vince said politely, tipping his black fedora, "Glad to see some friendly faces around here."

“A joint effort. Police, the mobs, both are at fault here. Why go against each other? Even the chief is in on this, and is the one who advocates it. Of course, he's not a bad guy; just looking to keep the status quo.”

He takes out a piece of paper and begins scanning the pages. Statistics, surveys...

“By Saint George's left mustache! I cannot let this villainy stand! Something must be done, post-haste!”

“Historically, Saint George didn't have any facial hair. More on this, the chief actually made a good call, some people think. In his defense, since the agreement, there was lower rates of deaths and petty crimes. Some have invested plenty in the local business and created a rather lively city. In turn, major crimes that involve manipulation of currency, importing of certain 'goods', comfort women...”

Manfred slammed his hand on the table. It gave way underneath his arm's weight, the papers scattering about.

"Even all this said, this is inadmissible!"

“Are you alright with this, Manfred? I know you want to take action, but maybe it's a bit brash to do it without any thought.”

“I... you hold a good point, chum.”

The hulk of a man seats his rugged chin on his hand in silent contemplation.

“I must confront the chief on this haberdashery at once; there is not a single minute to be spared. And my apologies on your ravaged commode, Robert.”

“None taken. I'll put it on your bill.”

“Splendid!”
_____

“Hey, you. Yeah, you, punk.”

“Anything the matter? I don't suppose you're officers.”

John turns, hands in tucked in his pockets. Without warning, one of... what he can see was three thugs, dirty looking, hoisted him and threw him through the window.

… Straight into The Gambler's Den. Shit. Looks like they were too busy to use the door...

“You would know. Sorry bout the windows, fellas. Got a rat in the house and gonna clean out.”

Looks like poor ol' Johnny got thrown through a table. That's the only thing that's happened to him lately that's remotely good.

“This gabo decided to spill that we're in cahoots with the coppers. Saw him give a bunch'a papers to a judge who we can't tussle with. Guy up top said that someone took some important papers that some bastard took. Looks like we have our man-”

A shot rang across the bar.

The thug's speech was cut short. The man said too much. The irony was staggering enough to knock him unconscious.

John fanned the revolver's hammer, firing three more shots before the body hit the ground. His weapon still ready, he scanned the area for any immediate dangers.

“Anyone who makes a move is gonna be filled with lead!"

Sorry Faye. Looks like there's nothing he can do to help after all. When this is all done, he's going to be dead, she'll be looking for blood, and he'll be chalked up as a mad policeman.

As the man flew through the window, everything stopped. The guys making their way out doubled back, looking in on the scene. Griffon, Frank, and Tony stood at the bar with Psy. Grif had reached for his pistol and Tony already had his hands on the shotgun under the bar until the man demanded no one move.

Unfortunately, the man was focused on the large amount of people in the bar and not the few people at the front door. One of which being Vince, who let a shot ring out from his own .32 revolver. The bullet was well placed, hitting the man in his shooting hand, knocking the gun away to have it rattle at Psy's feet.

"Good shot, Vince." Grif acknowledged, pulling his pistol the rest of the way and leveling it on the assailant, as did a few others within the bar.

"No problem, boss." Vince said, spinning the .32 to cradle in his hand, and, with a quick kiss on the handle, returned it to the holster in his coat.

"Now explain to me why the hell people are crashing into my bar and shooting before I even have a chance to figure out what the hell's going on?" Grif continued, eying the new arrival, "Seriously, first it's guys ramming into my walls, now guys are crashing through windows. What judge are you talking to that forces people to just throw you through windows of respectable businesses?"

One-Shot nodded to Vince, but Steve just remained quiet. That was, until the man came crashing through the window. This caused One-Shot to smirk and shake his head. If he didn't know any better, he would almost say that someone wanted to get The Gamblers in trouble for killing someone, and possibly close down the bar. That simply wouldn't do, but it would be fun none-the-less.

One-Shot decided to speak up, "Now, Griffon. Do you really think it's time to talk? I do believe that he had just made a threat to all of the current customers within your respectable business, and even though he's harmless now I wouldn't be putting up with that if I were in your position." Granted, One-Shot wasn't in his position, and he knew it. "It's that that I question you, but you've got to take care of your customers, ya know?"

Steve grabbed One-Shot by the shoulder, signalling for him to shut up. Perhaps One-Shot had really said too much, but he had to be honest in this situation. He'd hate for the other gangs to think that they were weak because Griffon had decided to play nice. Some may think it looked like they couldn't take care of themselves.

Steve spoke up this time, "I'm sure that Griffon know's what he's doing, One-Shot. Just let the man deal with it and don't question him." Well, One-Shot hadn't expected Steve to say a word. Perhaps it would be good for Steve, though. It showed that Steve held a certain amount of respect and trust for Griffon, which One-Shot more or less insulted.

… That was a really nice shot. Really, if he makes out of this alive, he would have to ask that man to go on the range one of these days. That aside, everything else was... entirely unexpected.

Griffon. Same guy that the deputy was talking to a while back about the arrangements, so probably the head of this place. This was the guy who initiated the coup d'etat, huh?

He raises his arms and loosens up the rest of his body.

“I'll sing. Thought you all would have jumped at a chance to shoot at me after that little mess; made sense to be cautious. Those were a few thugs from the Spades and it makes sense that they're pretty jumpy after the coppers announced that they lost their 'insurance' paperwork. Looks like they're just trying to pin down anyone wearing uniform in the streets, which isn't going to turn out too well for them either. Doesn't take a genius to know what ruckus is gonna happen next.”

Spades. Easy to tell because they tend to be pretty proud of who they are, having some kind of telltale sign on them (in this case, a golden pin on a coat lapel). He doesn't know quite a lot about them yet besides the fact that they're called on when someone needs muscle.

Johnny turns to the downed thugs' location. Just by looking, he already knows they aren't getting up. Those were some serious vital shots.

“As for the judge, I got squat. I don't know who's who nowadays and all of judges look the same to me. Why they took to me instead of him, I haven't a clue either. What I do know is some shady fellow with a briefcase and the same threads as me passed by a while back, so I wouldn't it past these goons to make that mistake.”

His eyes were wandering from place to place. Chicago Typewriters, snub-noses, the usual load. “To be honest, I expected you to be in the know and to have blasted me to bits the minute they finished. Everyone is really on the edge right now, and the cops are just as concerned as everyone involved. People everywhere are making some pretty careless mistakes.”

"Listen, the last thing I need around here is blue blood on my group's hands. Only just getting back into the cop's good graces, and that goes away when uniformed bodies start showing up on my turf." Griffon said, keeping an eye on the informant, "And if I know anything about the cops and their 'insurance', the Spades probably made one too many mistakes and the cops are tired of cleaning things up. Those guys were always more muscle than brains, after all."

He sighed a bit, shaking his head. With some gangs being little more than kids with guns, and others being too stupid to make informed decisions, it was no wonder some of the boys in blue would just crack down on the whole lot of them and call it a day. With this judge out for arrests, it would make it more difficult, and possibly more expensive, to keep operations going. Not impossible, but Grif would have to be a bit more weary of the group's actions as time went by.

"As for this judge, we'll figure something out." he said, shrugging, "If anything, one of the bigger families' know about this and are in the process of fixing it for us. If we could only be so lucky."

Griffon then put his gun away, and nodded at the others to put there guns down as well. He then picked up the informant's revolver from the floor and walked over to him.

"I'm gonna give you a mulligan on this one, since its the Spades getting on you and not any of my guys. Besides, I got a contractor coming in anyway. Just give him another job to fix the window, right?" he said, taking the man's hand and pulling him to his feet, "Listen, I could use a guy like you, keeping tabs on the cops and other gangs around here. If you'd like to inform me about any future goings on, I could make it worth your while. Maybe keep those Spades off your back. What do ya say?"

“I can't promise a lot. Word gets out that we were in cahoots with the less lawful folk? It carries a lot of... implications. If what they said was right and there was a mole in the force giving out info about the deals...“

The public is going to cry bloody murder, their heads are going to be put on the chopping block, and anyone who even sympathizes with these 'criminals' are going to be in for a treat. Going to hear a lot more gunfire if this all goes on. He winces at the thought.

“Not going to be a safe place anywhere if that happens.”

Johnny takes the revolver and removes the rounds from the cylinder. “Information, though? Why you're asking me, I don't have a clue. I can give you a better deal, though: I know a guy who can give you any kind of info you can possibly want. The guy's place was crawling with a bunch of gangster-business types, but he's also the same guy we go to when we need leads. People keep real civil as long as they're in that place.”

The Spades were the least of his worries, and he practically owes the guy for letting him go like that. It seems like a fair trade.

On second thought... there is something that he can ask for.

“All I'm gonna ask for is that you to help us if this mess gets out of hand, and we'll do the same. Think of it as a mutual deal on behalf of the guys in blue. Maybe I can even get some other 'institutions' to get you folks back on your feet or some hired hands here and there. If things get bad, there's going to be a lot of dangerous people out there.”
____

“Gotta keep those arms up, duck and weave, keep those feet moving. Guy who gets the first good hit in gets a headstart!”

“Take it easy Jack, goddamn!”

“Come on, you can take it! I'm pulling back my punches! Jab, jab, HOOK-...!”

Right in the KISSER. While the poor chap was dazed and stunned, Jack crouched under him, grabbed the guy's arm, and threw him over his shoulder.

“That? That wasn't boxing. Some China-man showed me how to do that. Knocks the air out of you, and gives you a pretty nice aim at their chops if you're the stomping kind. Dirty, but hey, it works.”

The guy was gasping for breath and decided he was content just lying on the floor. As he looked back, he saw that Eve was watching pretty intently. From the distance, he can actually see...

Oh, it's a man in cloth, one of the priests from the church. This place was on the way to the park, so he usually takes the time to talk and enlighten the others. He's always a nice fellow, letting homeless kids live with the church. A warehouse full of a bunch of rowdy adults isn't a place to raise a kid.

“Hey! Got a minute?”

The priest turns. It was old man Arias, the head of the thing. There was a nun just trailing behind to help should he run into any trouble.

“Always time for the sons of our lord. Is there anything on your mind?”

“Hate to stop you in the middle of your walk, but this little girl could use a place to stay. You don't mind if we head to the chapel, right?”

“Not at all. Speak with one of the sisters and they should be able to help your friend. Blessings be with you.”

“Alrighty, much obliged father.” He turns to Eve. “Come on, let's head out. Got a place I wanna show you.”

"I'm always a fan of mutual arrangements, especially when it keeps things civil between us and the cops." Griffon said, shaking the man's hand, "And, as for this informant, if you give me his whereabouts, I'll be sure to send one of my guys up there to see what kind of deal I can strike with him. If anyone's got a grudge against the Gamblers, I'd like to know about it ahead of time and prep for it, you know?"

"Hey boss. I'm heading out with the guys." Vince said from the doorway, "You alright here?"

"Vince, we'll be fine. Get your ass out there." Griffon said, chuckling slightly.

"Sure thing, boss." Vince responded, looking back at the informant and tipping his hat, "Sorry about the hand, sir. Just doing my job and all that."

The walk to the church was shorter than Eve thought it would be, though she could assume that they had arrived. Having never actually been to or seen a church in her life until now, the feeling of the building was immense to take in.

Elaborate stained glass covered the windows with images of robed people and angels and some guy with a circle above his head, the rich red carpet that split the structure in half and led up to an important looking altar in front of rows upon rows of pews that even now had several people milling about...

And everyone was dressed weird.

"...Why are you wearing a dress?"

The priest smiled good naturedly at the girl's question and patted her on the head - An action that elicited a consternated frown from Eve as her question was left unanswered.

Once they had gotten inside, she had been ushered off to go explore. While the building was pretty big, Eve wasn't a particularly curious girl - It was big, it was new, it was completely pointless.

A couple of them had even had the nerve to try and take her gun from her. Despite her best glare that notion had not desisted, which incidentally led up to the current circumstances of why she was currently ducked under a table and hidden from view by the cloth that draped the ground around it.

One thing had led to another, and though they seemed nice enough - it was clear that the members of this 'church' were evil. Sure, at first it's all smiles and 'my, such a young girl shouldn't be carrying something like that!', then it's 'now you listen here, young lady!', and then they got violent and started trying to do things forcibly.

She hugged that tommy gun to her chest bitterly, a frown prominently displayed on her face as she listened to frantic discussion and foot steps patter past her hiding spot. The gun was fairly large in comparison to Eve - almost a small measure larger than her torso - but she had been holding it just fine all day!

...And like hell was she planning on letting some stranger take her stuff! Her cheeks puffed out at the very thought of it.

These thoughts kept her distracted long enough that she completely missed the woman now under the table next to her, setting with her knees pulled up to her chest and frowning lackadaisically out in the same general direction as she had been.

Slowly, Eve and the woman turned to face each other. There was a moment of one-sided tension as Eve's muscles tensed to bolt the moment this invader tried to reach for her toy.... Only for the woman to hold a single finger up to her lips reverently and emit a hushed 'shhh'; A mischievous grin breaking out while her eyes cut sideways towards the front of the table where another set of voices were coming closer.

"Have you found her yet?"

"Nothing sister, why on earth was she carrying something like that in the first place?!"

"Lord only knows, perhaps Father will find out from the man she came with - For now though, we need to find her before she hurts herself!"

"She wasn't in the west wing... Maybe outside?"

The two under the table remained silent as the clergy continued their search in earnest, and only once they were gone did Eve let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and the woman next to her giggled.

The mischievous woman wore the same nun-like dress that the other sisters of the church did, marking her clearly as part of the clergy. Her cowl just barely concealed pale blonde hair beneath it's cover, where a few strands had fallen loose due to the awkward height of the table they were both huddled under.

"Miria." she smiled at Eve's confused look, "My name's Miria."

"... Eve." The reply was guarded, but if Miria was concerned it didn't show. "Whatcha got there?" blue eyes twinkled in interest at Eve's gun, said object being clutched tighter upon being questioned.

Eve's no non-sense answer of 'Mine.' was short and clipped, almost daring her to challenge the declaration of ownership. A challenge that never came as Miria just smiled and leaned forwards conspiratorially.

Nose to nose, hidden under the table, the nun smirked. "Better hide it somewhere safe, or it'll get taken away."

Eve's eyes widened momentarily, her head nodding with a smile. "Where can I put it?"

"I've got some ideas, don't worry."

“Do you not know the ramifications of giving an impressionable mind like that a weapon? A FIREARM, of all things?” The stare the priest shot Jack a look that could cut straight through cement. “And if she hurts herself, you would have that hanging on your conscience! You filthy ilk-”

“Hey, I take a shower daily.”

The robed man paced about in a flustered manner. Every once in a while, he would open his mouth and look back at the seated Jack, but no words seem to come out. His facial expression twisted in some pretty... erm... 'unique' ways.

“Hey, the safety was on, and she really wanted it. I mean, everyone other kid these days is running around with guns anyway, so, you know-”

What came out of the other guy's mouth could have been expressed as a jumble of random consonants and vowels.

“So, I can visit her to make sure you're all treating her well, right?”

The reply was an audible slam on the table, which he's going to assume is a 'yes' until proven otherwise.

“Just... can you please tell me what happened, exactly? To this girl?”
_____

“Hey, no problem. In fact, if you're not busy, I should take you to a range with me one of these days. That was one helluva shot.”

Back to business.

“The guy's name is Robert, a barista,” John started. “A few blocks down, take a left at Main. It looks like a classy coffeehouse, big windows, two stories. Just say you have questions to ask and he'll be right with you. Pretty simple stuff.”

He gives a polite nod to Griffon and sees his way out through the door. People were still going about their merry way, as if dead thugs outside bars were a natural occurrence.

Maybe, just maybe, this will change.
_____

“-... and those thugs were practically ready to grind their sausage with her, if you know what I mean! But, as luck would have it, me and the judge were around.” Jack gave a satisfied smirk and leans back on his seat. “Hey, if it wasn't for the us, things would have been worse. Could have been a more dangerous criminal, right?”

No longer any bothers to give, the priest slunk down a distant seat and removed a large flask from his robe. With a resigned sigh, he began: “Our father, who art in heaven...”

“I... you people do that? Drinking, I mean - whoa, that's quite a bit.”

“-hallowed be thy name...” He takes a long drink, wiping his mouth shortly after. “... thy kingdom come...”

… Poor guy was downing his sorrows with alcohol. He continues his prayer, only stopping whenever he wished to take a swig at his flask. As he finishes, there was an eerie silence in the room, followed by soft sobbing. Just sitting there made Jack severely uncomfortable.

Someone opens the door in a hurry, yelling out “Father Matthias! The child is missing!”

The priest sunk his face deeper still into his hands, now crying hysterically.

Although the gun was right in front of her, Psy was too scared to even touch it. Hell, she wouldn’t really know what to do with it, anyways.

If this was going to be the normal crowd she was going to be hanging around from now on, she knew her “hope nothing bad happens” attitude would have to change. Even if this place was dangerous, she knew it was her best bet right now, and she might as well try and adapt to the situation.

Before she could make up her mind and take the gun, Griffon picked it up and handed it back to the intruder. The whole situation was over before she knew it.

After things settled down, she approached Griffon who was still at the bar. Might as well ask him another favor, while he was still in the giving mood.

“Hey Grif,” she asked, forgetting her manners and not addressing the man formally, “Well, could I ask you…” she stumbled, trying to find the best way to ask.

“Well, damn…” She pointed at Griffon’s gun, “Do you think I should learn how to shoot?”

"I might just take you up on that, sir." Vince said, smiling, "I'll see you around there sometime. Until then..."

Tipping his cap once again, Vince made his way with a group of men around the side of the bar, whereupon they left in a car heading to their next job.

"Robert, huh? I'll have to check that one out. Get some intel." Griffon said to himself before turning to Psy, "Well, in my experience, knowing how to handle a weapon has gotten me out of more scrapes than I can count. For a lady like yourself, I wouldn't see the harm in having the skill as a way to defend yourself. Hell, you know how this city can be most times..."

"Can I get either of you a drink?" Tony said after putting away his shotgun.

"No thanks, Tony, I'm good." he said, going back to Psy once more, "If you don't want to, my guys can keep you safe enough. On the other hand, if you want to learn to shoot, I can probably get you a decent handgun, for a price, and point you in the direction of a range. Once Vince gets back, I could have him show you a few pointers. He's probably the best pistol-jockey I got, as you may have seen."

“That’s what I was thinking,” she said to Griffon, “If I actually knew my way around one, maybe I wouldn’t be such a damsel when stuff like this happens. And since this is the second time today people have been shooting, I’m guessing this sort of thing happens a lot.”

“Oh no, thanks Tony,” Psy answered the bartender after Griffon, “I think I had enough for tonight. Drinking alone is for when you are sad, anyways,” she said with a smile as she turned back towards Griffon, “I think I’d rather learn for myself. I’m sure you guys can and will take care of me, but I think I should help take care of you too. If only a little”

“Oh right, but there is one teensy little problem… about that price you mentioned. See, I don’t have any money,” she said with a bout of nervous laughter, but then quickly straightened up again, “But I’m going to be working for you anyways, so I suppose you can always take it out of my pay. Or I can throw you a few freebees. Oh, unless freebees for the boss was part of the deal here, anyways.” Psy continued to run ideas through her head, occasionally mumbling some small detail to herself, almost forgetting the person she was talking to standing right in front of her.

"We can work out the details another time. Just as long as the bar stays standing, that is." Griffon said, giving her a quick smirk, "You're a cute kid, and a smart one, too. I think you'll do alright around here."

He then turned his attention.

"Hey Frankie! Come here." he said, tipping his hat to Psy, "If you'll excuse me..."

"Yeah boss."

"Come on back. I need to chat with you a sec." Griffon said as he left, going towards the back office.

"Seems like you're on Mr. Rogue's good side. But, then again, anyone willing to work around here ends up on his good side at some point. Some slower than others, but they get there." Tony said from the bar, "Anyway, if the ruckus has finally died down, could you help me clean up a bit?"

-----

In front of an apartment building, a car stopped, and five men emerged from it. As three of them went in, two stood out front on either side of the door.

For a few moments, there was a fair amount of commotion from one of the many floors. No gunshots, just raised voices and a few broken doors.

Once the ringleader of the operation was accounted for, he was shuffled into one room by two of the Gamblers, while Vince stayed in the hallway for a moment.

"Nothing to see here, ladies and gentlemen. Back to your business." he said calmly, as if this were a completely normal occurrence, "Just a little formality, is all."

With that, Vince entered the room as one of the other Gamblers took his place outside it, probably to keep order.

Within, a man dressed in a surprisingly nice suit was already roughed up a bit, sitting on a chair within. A monocle swung carelessly from his breast pocket.

"How dare you ruffians come into Reginald's establishment and treat Reginald like this!" he said, coughing, "I will not have you...."

"Unfortunately, Reggie, you will." Vince interrupted, "You've been operating on Gambler turf for long enough."

"My name is Reginald, you nitwits." the pimp continued, "And Reginald would not be caught dead associating with lowlifes like the Gamblers. Especially since they have little sway nowadays..."

"That's where you're wrong, Reggie. The Gamblers are back in full force, and looking to clean up some of the...shall we say, 'seedier' establishments in the area. Including yours." Vince said, pacing back and forth in front of the man, "We've heard some things about how you treat your ladies here. Some troubling things. And the Gamblers, we don't like to be troubled."

"What Reginald does with the ladies in his employ is none of your...ah!"

With a quick interruption of a gun stock to he side of the pimp's head, Vince continued.

"Now Reggie, you have a choice here" Vince said, "One way this can go away is if you start being a gentleman to your ladies and give the Gambler's a cut of your profits each month. With it, you'll have guys watching your building, and, more than likely, Gamblers will be more than willing to visit your establishment. A win-win for both parties involved."

"And if Reginald refuses?" the pimp asked.

"Well, what's to say that, without our protection, something unfortunate might happen to this place." Vince said, shrugging, "Maybe one night someone sets fire to one of your rooms? Maybe a patron or two is found beaten in an alley somewhere?"

He then takes out his revolver from his coat pocket, and spins the barrels once.

"...or maybe poor 'Reginald' has a bit of an accident?" he said, leveling the gun at the pimp's forehead, "That would be mighty unfortunate, wouldn't it?"

" Alright, alright, alright, alright. I'll do it, I'll pay you guys!" the pimp stammered, obviously shaken, "Just don't kill me, alright?"

Vince then put his gun back in his pocket.

"See, was that so hard?" he said, patting the man on the shoulder, "Now, once we have the first month's payment, we'll be out of your hair and you can get back to business."

"Alright, just a second."

The pimp then stood up and revealed a roll of bills he had in his coat pocket.

"Here, this should be enough, right?"

Vince took the money, unrolled it, and counted it up.

"Should be plenty for this month. We'll keep the boys out front to make sure everything stays safe." he said, "Also, from this point on, the young lady named Psy will no longer be working for you."

"Wait, what?!?" the pimp yelled, "You can't take her from me! That bitch owe..."

Vince shot him a look.

"...I mean, that girl owes me money!"

"How much?"

"$200, if you must know."

Vince peeled $200 off the roll of money he was just given, and handed it back to the pimp.

"There, a discount on this month's take." he said, smiling, "Now, you be nice to those ladies now, Reginald. Or I might have to come back, here and..."

"No, no. That won't be necessary." the pimp responded, rather shaken by the ordeal.

"Good to hear." Vince smiled, looking to his men, "Alright guys, lets get going. I'd like to get some sleep tonight."

With that, the three men exited the building. True to Vince's word, the two men guarding the door stayed behind to keep the place safe while the other three got in the car and drove off.

Another person entered the room, having to duck just to enter the place. The guy was... even bigger than Manfred, probably around 10 feet. Jesus, people grew to this height? He had a strongman physique too, for a holy person.

… Maybe they do the whole “cleansing” the body too by exercising?

The giant spoke in a very slow, gentle tone. “Would 'preciate it if ya up and went. Scuttle off now. Sorry bout the trouble, just making sure poppa doesn't cry no more.”

“The girl will be fine,” the nun insisted. “We'll make sure that she's brought up correctly. Under our care, she will do just fine.”

Can't really say no to that. Jack shrugs and nods his head in understanding. They led him out the door, to the main area, and back to the entrance.

“Oh, but before I go though, tell her that I'll visit once in a while and bring her ice cream sometimes. It's fine for me to visit her, right?”

They didn't answer. The big guy just slammed the double doors in his face.

“Well, for a bunch of religious folk, they aren't too polite, huh?”
___

A looker if anyone ever saw one. This dame obviously got gams, even though she's dressed pretty modestly: a white, short-sleeved dress with long gloves, the hemline just below the knees. She approaches the brothel, looking up at one of the guards outside the brothel. The girl looked awful flustered, finding it difficult to make eye contact.

“Is this where I can find those that... sell their flesh?” She paused for a bit. “Erm... how you say... 'prostitutes'? Erm... 'quiffs', was it?”

Some time away from the Church, Jack's path was blocked by a redheaded woman casually wearing a business suit, a disarming smile beaming at the otherwise unlucky guy as she affected a somewhat bashful expression.

"So... You probably don't recognize me, but I've been keeping an eye on you for a while now, and... erm..."

She flushed and looked down, twirling her chin length hair conscientiously, "Would you... like to get something to eat?" she muttered quickly, "M-My treat! We can... maybe get to know each other a little better?" she stopped, raising her hands in front of her, "I mean I think you're nice... er, from what I've see- Heard! From what I've heard, so I figured, I mean.. a friend of mine kind of..."

Her stammering slowly died down, leaving her standing awkwardly in front of him.

"...Right. So... dinner? Please?"

…

His eyes fell on her for a bit, then back to himself.

Really? Him? A guy in some beat-up blazer and some tattered trousers? Wearing a sorry excuse of for 'sophisticated' wear and he's getting proposed to a night out by a dame like her?

Jack straights his back out and begins scratching the back of his neck. Maybe she was a fan? She didn't look the type who would watch those sorts of things, but he supposes it's not that difficult to think of it that way. He reckons that famous boxers get plenty of dames, but he didn't care often about it. That and he's not exactly a big deal himself.

… She is pretty cute, and his gut IS telling him 'yes'...

… his stomach too.

... turning down someone pleading like this would be pretty heartless too, won't it?

“Eheh, yeah, sure.” He quickly turned his head to the side and looked to the ground, hand still furiously clawing at his neck. “Gee-whiz, though. Paying for a fella like me...”

Soft after a dame looks at him with those googly eyes and shows a bit of kindness. Can't resist a request like that even if he tried.

The woman's face lit up brilliantly when Jack accepted, snatching one of his hands up excitedly and cupping it with her own. "Great! You won't regret this, I promise!"

She stepped back, "Do you like italian? Or... chinese? I know a good restaurant in the chinamen's section of town if you prefer that. Or... Or german? I could maybe find something german? It's not really my preference, but if you want to then I could get something..."

“R-right!” Psy blushed, laughing nervously at the man’s compliment, failing to realize he excused himself before he was already gone.

“His good side, huh? Guess things will be pretty comfy here for me, huh?” she said, turning back to Tony, picking up a few glasses to help straighten out, “He seems too nice to over work anyone, so I’m sure it isn’t too hard to qualify as a hard worker.”

"All he really asks for is that you do what you can for the gang. The more you work, the higher up you move in the group. As long as you pull your weight, nobody gives you too much gruff." Tony said, pulling a broom from the back and sweeping up some finer debris, "I mean, look at me. I've been around for years, and all I do is mix drinks and keep patrons happy. I may not be out of the front lines like some, but I put in my hours helping the guys who do unwind a bit."

The bartender pushed the rubble into a dustpan, then emptied it into a nearby trashcan.

"Although he does have his mean streaks here and there, he has the best of intentions for the Gamblers. Can't fault him for that." he continued, "A lot more than I can say about Nathan's boy. Sad to see a great man's legacy get torn down in a single generation."

"Depends on who's asking." one of the guards out in front of the brothel said, looking over the young lady, "What does a pretty thing like you want with people like that, anyway?"

“Oh, I just have an arrangement with him. It's a bit... private.”

The girl looks aside coyly. She didn't seem comfortable with being looked at.

“I mean... it's... a complicated matter to discuss, so if you please... I didn't know that anyone would be outside.”

She fidgets about, cheeks as red as a beet and eyes darting back and forth.
___

Chinese food? This doll knows how to tempt a man.

“Heh, sure! Thanks, toots!”

Overjoyed was a bit of an understatement. He hasn't had a good meal for months. Not that eggs and sausages were bad; oriental food is just really hard to come by, unless it was cold and in the dumpster.

His mouth was practically salivating at this point...

The two went on the trip without a hitch. The girl didn't talk much and held his hand most of the way, which was charming. When they arrived, most of the place greeted her like a regular. From what he heard, she answered to 'Remy'.

They were seated promptly. The place was a bit bigger than he's used to, considering most restaurants like these tend to be packed and barely able to fit a few people in. The place was as big as your typical bar, able to fit around 40 or 50 people without a hitch, and it had several people staffed instead of one poor bastard doing all the work at once. It had a very oriental vibe, having things like exotic vases, tapestry, little paper lanterns, along with some guy playing a weird string-piano-thing. From what he can guess, China really liked red.

… Oh, the girl's hair was red. Was she a Chinaman? Woman? Chinawoman? Her eyes weren't really that small.

But that aside... that smell... oh, man, the smell. He can't wait to get his jaws on that... thing. Those things that are things.

Jack checks the menu and...

...

… what are these? What is this? Oh, these look good, but those sound odd. How do you even pronounce that?

“Er... Remy, was it?”

It was Remy, right?

“Any idea what I should get?”

"The Lo Mein is good." Remy advised meekly, "and.. ah, the pepper beef with mushrooms and onions?

It didn't really matter what they got, Remy scanned the menu curiously - She had been more active than usual today, and Colt was probably getting hungry at this point... She'd need to bring something back.

She tilted her eyes up from the table to look at Jack. This was the guy who had held Princess hostage and put them through all this trouble in the first place...

Up close, she still couldn't see what had encouraged Princess to run about with him. If it was something stupid like a childhood crush.... Remy resolved to beat that silly notion right out of her - Especially if she ended up in danger.

Her family never really got along with the church, after all. Of all places they could have gone, this loser had to drop her off with a big. damn. church.

It wasn't long until their orders were placed, and they filled the short period of time between that and the food's arrival with idle chat.

Remy and her sister Colt were the princess' bodyguards. Colt was probably the best of the best in their family when it came to combat and firearms... Remy, simply put, was not. Remy did not excel at physical activities - She thought too much, and she was constantly fretting.

As mom would say, she lacked any type of killer instinct.

"You order." A waitress stopped by, setting plates of Lo Mein and peppered beef on the table, as Remy had taken the liberty of ordering for them.

...Except more Waitresses were coming. Plates of fried vegetable rice, different kinds of beef and pork, sweet and sour chicken, stacks of eggrolls, a plate that consisted entirely of pork, beef and chicken that had been marinated in wasabi and fried with what appeared to be peppers.

Before long the table was so full of plates that they had to pull over a smaller table meant for two people just to put the rest of the food on it.

"Your to-go order will be ready shortly." the waitresses bowed with a smile, "Please feel free to tell us if you require something more."

Remy smiled, clapping her hands together in anticipation.

"ah..haha..he...hehe... eh." She was blushing now, "Food's here... So let's eat up! You can tell me more about your day!"

"Well miss, unfortunately there's been a slight change in the order of things around here." the guard said, "The owner of the establishment will be unavailable for the time being. Once the new arrangements are finalized, I'm sure he'll get back with you."

The girl went bug-eyed and stares incredulously at the large thug. “I... I don't think you understand! I need to speak to him right now! Right this instant!”

She was at wits end, just an inch away from causing a commotion.

“P-please, would you just let me in?”
_____

Wowza. That girl has a stomach. That was enough meat to feed an entire country. Hell, he probably couldn't finish this if he tried.

“It's... er... I guess it's a pretty long story. I mean, being the whole victim of circumstance and all, I'd say it could have been better. At least something good came out of it.”

… Remy just devoured the food like nobody's business, all without looking like a complete pig. It was rude to stare, but... it just seems to go on and on, like some kind of machine. He was equal parts terrified and impressed.

He took a sip of water. Not a very good thing to finish before the girl or pause between a story, wasn't it? Was that a thing? How does one even treat a girl to dinner? Oh, wait, he was the one being treated to dinner. What is etiquette? So many questions, and not a single answer. He was no damn Casanova, why would he know?

“I mean, I saved the little girl from a few guys that were... er... dangerous. Big guys, 'bout seven or so feet, not exaggerating any. Wasn't a single person looking for her either, so I think I've done a good deed getting her to a church, you know? They'd probably take a lot better care of a young'in like her. I do wonder what her sisters were like. Talked an awful lot about them, she did. Makes me wonder if she had a big sis figure like once always watching over her, you know? That must have been nice.”

She looked like she was choking on something. Jack bolted upright in his seat, but she seemed to insist that all was well.

“Had me going there for a bit.” He breaths a sigh of relief. “Anyway, I guess I got a bit off-track.”

… These stick things... how does he-... he held it with his hands the way someone would a bunch of pincers. Looks like that did the trick! He managed to move the pasta-looking bits to his mouth. His eyes lit up in and his eyes widened in surprise. “This is some good stuff! Really good stuff!”

“Anyway,” he continues, “Mind telling me more about yourself? I mean, you just sort of came out of the blue here. You haven't really talked much bout yourself.”

'Ehehe... brat's going to get it when I get a hold of her.' Remy smiled demurely, swallowing what she had in her mouth and setting the chopsticks down in front of her.

"Ah, there's not much to say about me.", she cleared her throat and tilted her head back to put effort into thinking about it, a single contemplative finger tapping her bottom lip in an idle rhythm. "You know my name already, my favorite game as a kid was hopscotch, I work in a business environment..." she shrugged, "I've got kind of a big family. We all try to pull our weight, but sometimes its a little hard."

She laughs distractedly, "There are a lot of mouths to feed, so we're always trying our best. We're lucky to have what we have, really."

The massive amount of food that was brought to them was steadily being destroyed at a methodical rate that somehow maintained Remy's manners - An event that, as she mentioned, was a common occurrence in her family. They were all fairly big eaters, but Mother insisted on them all also eating like civilized people.

A waitress interrupted them some time later, as the meal began to wind down, to inform Remy that her to-go order was ready. The sheer size of the container that was brought covered the side table - "It's for my sister, she's probably hungry by now!" - And Remy vehemently denied any part of it being for her.

"It was really nice to finally meet with you, though." She smiled at Jack, moving to get out of her seat and lift the huge container of food with seemingly no effort behind it. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I really need to get going - We'll meet again sometime, right?"

Her smile turned threatening, a change the man she had shared lunch with just now would have probably noticed had the drug slipped into his drink not finally kicked in and proceeded to knock him out cold.

"Sarah," One of the waitresses ducked into the small cubicle like enclosure that they had eaten in, pulling the obscuring veil aside to poke her head in. "Can you take him out back when you get time? I'll pick him up after get changed."

-----------

And so, roughly twenty minutes later, Remy was whistling her way back to Colt in casual construction clothes carrying a large garbage bag slung over her shoulder and a massive container of food in the other.

"... Ma'am, that is an awful lot to be carrying."

"Don't worry, I work in landscaping - I'm used to stuff like this!"

"Seems like a rough job for a lass like yourself, though."

Remy smiled, shrugging carelessly, "It's not so bad once you get used to it. Oh, gotta go though - The guys will get lazy if I don't get back with our dinner!"

"Good luck, then!"

The guard sighed, shaking his head. Eventually, this chick would make a scene if she didn't get her audience with the pimp. Like they needed more of a ruckus tonight.

"Fine, I'll escort you up." he said.

"Why do you get to go inside, and I get stuck out here?" the other guard piped up.

"'Cause I've got the shotgun, you mook." the first replied.

"Fine, don't take too long." the second grumbled, "Boss wants both of us out front."

"I know, I know." the first said, looking back to the lady, "Alright, let's go."

A few moments pass, and the pair make it to the pimp's 'office', where he was busy straightening himself up from being in 'negotiations' before.

"What do you want now?" Reginald sighed, "Reginald has a lot of work to do, even with this supposed 'protection' you two offer."

"This lady was very pushy about getting in here to see you, 'Reginald'." the guards said, the name said with a fair amount of sarcasm as if saying it was something of a chore.

“Mister Reginald!”

She grabbed an enormous, leather-bound bible from her purse and holds it against her stomach, as if it would shield her from the 'taint' that this place had.

“We urge you to reconsider our church's plea! Those girls can be placed in better hands, perhaps even make a life of their own besides this twisted life of satiating carnal desires! T-that is, being sold to people!”

She held her tome closer and higher up her chest. Inadvertently, it accentuated the more... 'curvacious' parts of her body. Were it not for the whole 'religious' routine, she wouldn't look out of place in a place like this.
___

Christ, that was one hell of a nap... The last thing he remembered would be... eating? And now, it's pretty dark. Feels like he's in some kind of-... Is he being carried? He moves his limbs about, only to find them binded. His mouth was covered in a way that he can't speak either.

Shit, is he being rubbed out?

“Hey! What's the big idea" he tried to protest. The only thing that came out was a mix of muffled murmurs.

Reginald let out a condescending laugh, “You people again? Reginald thought he made himself perfectly clear last time: Reginald isn't looking for a change of lifestyle. I’m going to have to tell you what I told the others. Thanks, but no thanks.”

The man stood up and made his way to a small freezer, retrieving a bottle of some cheap booze before continuing, “Most of these girls like this line of work. If they don’t do anything stupid, they get cash to spend, and much more freedom to do the things they like than they would under the care of the church,” he took a swig and sat down in front of the girl again, “They like booze, gambling, swearing, and some even don’t mind the sex most of the time. Would you let them continue living as they like?”

His eyes where lined up with her book, but his attention quickly shifted to her assets instead, “You know, you’d probably do pretty well around here if you were so inclined to try. Reginald would treat you right. The nun thing isn't exactly a niche I have covered.”

She stammered and struggled to find the words. For girls to take joy in such things isn't unheard of, but it is still entirely immoral. There's bound to be at least a few girls unhappy with their state of lives, definitely. Perhaps it was this man who forced them to love such a thing? Being used to such a state of depravity, they learned to embrace it?

Her eyes turned to this seller of flesh.

“You know, you'd probably do pretty well around here if you were so inclined to try-”

This man's eyes were full of sin, and his tongue full of poison. A corrupter of hearts and minds, twisting their hearts and souls to his own desires... Is this all for monetary gain? Lust and greed? Perhaps sick amusement?

“I'm a servant of God, Mister Reginald. I'm... afraid I'm going to have to decline.”

Tainted. If they continue live as they do...

The girl bites her lower lip, drawing a bead of blood. “I... are you... is this what they're all happy with? Are you sure?”

“Well, Reginald would be lying if he said he never had a girl who was obligated to stay. But sometimes you have to do things you don’t like to pay off debts,” the pimp’s face turned sour as his eyes turned to the window, “Though thanks to the new management, I probably won’t be having anyone like that again, Gamblers relieved the last one from duty.”

He turned back to the girl, remembering he should stay on topic, “You know, Reginald really doesn't go around asking them if they are comfortable. If they don’t like it here and don’t owe Reginald money, they can up and quit. And none of them owe any money anymore. If you want to go and talk to all of them, you’ll have to pay for time with them. Though Reginald doubts the Gamblers would want you destroying one of their new business ventures right when they got it up and running.”

Immoral. Filth. Whores. Beyond redemption...

No. No one is beyond redemption.

“All can repent. No matter how far gone a soul is, all can repent.”

It was all said in a whisper, louder than her movement. She turns away and heaves a great sigh.

An inhuman speed with unparalleled grace. In one swift movement, she opened her hollowed out bible and fired two shots from a concealed pistol into guard's face. The instant the bible dropped to the ground, two more shots rang, two bullets lodging themselves in the pimp's wrists. Not entirely sure if they would have heard it downstairs, but it the shotgun would assist should that be the case.

“Y-you bitch! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

It looks like Reginald was already trying to dig a deeper hole by cursing her name. Saddening. With a second guard downstairs, she hasn't the time to read him his last rites.

“My name is Freya, and I will send you to paradise. You may repent for your sins in your death. I... am sincerely sorry.”

It's difficult to take a life, but being involved with a gang and forcing people to enjoy such filth is inexcusable. She's doing them all a favor.

One bullet in the brain in a manner similar to an execution. The deed was done. She grabs the bottle of alcohol that Reginald was drinking and pours it over his body and sets it ablaze before heading for the rooftop.

The shotgun did indeed go off when the guard was shot, as his finger had been on the trigger from the beginning. An untrusting individual, and, from the outcome, rightfully so.

The blast shocked the other guard into action, taking his Tommy Gun in hand and crashing through the brothel to where the office was.

All he came to was the fire already engulfing the room, both men dead and no sign of the woman from before.

He didn't pass her on the way up, so she probably headed to the roof. There was a moment where the guard considered going after her, but the fire made would make that choice near suicidal and endanger the lives of the other people in the building. No matter who they were, his boss would still find them useful.

Taking the shotgun from his dead partner's hands, the guard began pounding on the doors of each room, yelling at their occupants to evacuate.

"Can't believe I had to do that..." Remy sighed sighed, having leaned back against the roof guard of the building she and Colt had taken up camp on. "Didn't even get much information out of him. He fancies himself some kind of good guy who just happened to rescue her from a bunch of bad men."

Remy snorted derisively, showing just exactly what she thought of that idea. Colt ate the food quietly as Remy fumed, being unable to see into the church to keep an eye on Princess - All she could do for now was wait for-

"mmmm!"

-The guy to wake up her. She nodded towards his trashbag in acknowledgement, and looked over at Remy in askance.

"... You want me to let him out, don't you."

The bag continued mumbling and squirming as Colt tilted her head. "Fine. He's useless though." she hissed back silently.

In short order the tie had been released and Jack was upended out of the bag carelessly, left to crash onto the roof as Remy stepped back behind him. The binds and blindfold were still firmly in place, meaning he'd still be fairly restrained, but...

Remy ripped the tape off his mouth to let him talk, and stepped back some distance away, keeping him between her and Colt in case he tried to do something stupid.

Silence descended on the roof top.

"Don't scream." Colt spoke up almost as an after thought, it sounded like a last-moment suggestion, "You'll die." And that wasn't even a threat, it was like someone was informing him that it was cloudy outside.

Remy remained silent some ways behind him, her arms crossed with a glower drilling directly into Jack's head.

… Wasn't he going to die anyway? Who'd want a random, nameless hobo rubbed out in the first place? 'Don't scream'? Jack was a lot more confused than afraid at the moment, so at least that wouldn't be a problem.

This certainly doesn't feel like a railroad track, so looks like he's safe. Still a little shaky about the whole ordeal, he took in a breath of air to calm his nerves. “What's... going on?" He turns his head from side to side as a reflex, despite his inability to see. "Where am I?”

"Roof."

Almost by nature, Colt spoke in a very unhelpful manner. She usually wasn't the person who ended up doing this, but... Well, no time to improvise. "Need you to do something."

The sound of a gun being loaded, and the safety trigger clicking flickered across the rooftop on cue.

"Declining is hazardous."

Not as if he can say 'no' to the sound of that; guns tend to be fatal. Wish the person could have just said what it was straight out, but being flippant is the easiest way to eat lead.

“... what do you need me to do?”

"Save a little girl." Colt paused, glancing back at the church. "Your life may need to be abandoned too." Depending on how attached Princess was to this hobo, it'd be safer in the long run to just keep him on a leash rather than have her wandering into these situations again and again.

Now to sweeten the pot...

"Will be reimbursed if successful."

“Save a little girl, some kind of prize, and... no idea what that second one meant. That sound right?”

… He was kidnapped to do a job and threatened with death if he doesn't say 'yes'. If he does say 'yes', he saves someone and gets some extra something.

Death over some act of philanthra-whatever they called it and a little extra prize?

Jack nods. “I guess I'm in.”

"We'll provide identification for the girl."

Colt reached into her pocket and withdrew a small wallet, folding it out to reveal a series of pictures of the Princess.... Only to stop and stare at it with an expression of moderate duress.

She looked over to Remy hopefully, only to receive a raised eyebrow in return. The two of them motioned back and forth, a silent argument being passed over whether or not Colt would have to give up one of her pictures...

Which she did, in the end.

"You will be watched. Preform quickly."

She nodded to Remy, whose face blossomed into a smile as she stepped forward and pistolwhipped Jack back into blissful unconciousness.

Shortly there after, a delivery girl dropped a trashbag containing Jack off in the dumpster outside the hobo hotel, a picture of a smiling Eve holding a stuff bat tape firmly to his face.

…

…

Is this going to be the way he gets from place to place now? Being knocked out and placed in a garbage bag? And... this place actually smells like garbage.

Jack easily destroys the garbage bag and found himself in a familiar dumpster. Looks like it's home sweet home. He grabs the little photo hanging on his face and...

It was that girl? Eve? The little girl earlier?

“Well, if that doesn't beat all,” he grumbles to no-one in particular. Huh. Eve looks pretty cute with her little toy over there, doesn't she? He puts the little picture in a safe spot in his coat where it won't get messed up or crinkled.

… what do these guys want, though? Take her out of the church, where it's actually pretty safe? Ain't an orphanage he heard of that staffs threatening people like that unless she was some kind of daughter of an important family. Then where were her guards during the whole general store deal? How can he even be sure that these were the good guys? Are these people gonna hurt her or get her back to the right place? Hell, they could even hold her ransom for a good amount of money if this was all true...

… and what happened to that girl that treated him to dinner? Was she the one that did this whole mess, or did something happen after the meal that made him unconscious?

More importantly, what did he get himself caught up in?

So many questions, not a lot of answers. Still, they're watching him and he's pretty sure that this person's "consequences" involve dying.
__

“You WHAT?”

“Johnathan Mason, sir! I wasn't the one who managed the papers! He was the one who had access to the files!”

“This is what I get for staffing rookies to do something like paperwork. I'll mangle his face, is what I'll do!”

The office was pretty busy right now, what with the 'paper' mishap. Phones were ringing back and forth, officers trying to talk over one another, people tearing the place floorboard by floorboard to find the damn things...

“Some muckraker probably wants to blow the lid off this little operation, the bastards. If the paper gets a hold of those...”

They lose public support and they're gonna start losing heads, that's what. It doesn't help that they've been criticized for having little to no presence lately and that the smaller groups took to petty crimes thinking that they have complete impunity. Even with the mayor of the city favoring their current state of affairs, if the officials don't take action, they're going to want heads on the chopping block.

Starting with him, the goddamned chief of police.

He slammed his hand hard enough on the desk to make it collapse under his own weight.

Worse comes to worse, they'll need to bolster their image, imprisoning the smaller gangs to prove that they are an effective force along with stemming petty crime.

“Have every able unit out there, on the double. We need to make sure that no one is up to any funny business.”
__

From a distant fire escape ladder, Freya watched as a fire engine pulled over by the brothel. Such a quick response. The girls filed out of the complex one by one, some not even having the decency to cover themselves.

She's at least thankful for the death of the man and returning those girls' lives back. Perhaps they will find a better place and live a more pious life.

With that done, she descended and made her way off, putting her precious bible back in her purse.

A good deed done. With enough, maybe this world can be a better place.

__

…?

Police cars? Weird. That's the fifth or so he's seen since he started walking, so he can guess that there's some big hullabaloo going on. Today must have been a busy day.

Knock knock.

The creaking of church doors always made him a little uneasy...

“Hey, I'm Jack, the guy who dropped off the little girl earlier?”

The priest attempted to shut the door, but Jack managed to get a food in.

“I... sorta need her back.”

The priest stared at his contemptuously, spit on his shoe and uttered a “No” before opening the door and slamming it again.

There was little bothers to give at the moment. “Sorta need her back,” he repeated firmly.

… Both the doors opened to the behemoth-looking fella staring him down and cracking his knuckles.

“Poppa said no.”

Lord almighty...

He took his foot out before the door slammed with a massive 'thud'. A second sooner and he would have been one foot short of a yard...

“... Dammit, now what?”
__

“Eve! Little Eve, where are you?”

Miria was missing as well, that little sneak.

… There's not a doubt in the nun's mind that the two are related.

“This is not amusing at all! You're teaching the girl to misbehave! We need to get her situated right now!”

Within ten minutes, two cars pulled up to the brothel, both empty aside from their drivers, of which one was Vince. No sooner than he had arrived was he coordinating efforts to get the girls out of harm's way, while simultaneously asking questions about the incident.

Most of the intel was sketchy. The guard gave the situation from his perspective, identifying that the lady who came in was behind the attack, but he was unfortunately too focused on her figure to accurately tell what her face looked like, or even what color hair she had. A few of the girls in rooms closest to the office heard the argument, but didn't listen to what was said.

So, in essence, all they knew at this point was that some woman had a beef with the pimp, shot him and the other guard with a silenced pistol, then set the place on fire.

After interrogation, the girls were then given a ride to wherever they wanted to go, but were given the option to stay with the Gamblers if they wanted to continue their 'line of work'. Many were skeptical about the protection they offered now that someone had burst into their brothel and set it ablaze, but others simply had nowhere else to turn.

There were those who wanted out of the life entirely, noting that there was a woman of the local church who had insisted that they should leave the brothel and stay there. From what they were saying, the woman seemed very insistent, getting in arguments with Reginald about this fact.

Vince didn't pursue the questions further, as the girls were quite upset over the whole situation, but it did give him an idea. Leaving the taxi efforts to the other Gamblers, he took the girls who wanted to go to the church into one of the cars and began driving that direction.

Im a country bumpkin and win I here city I here death bec I wood die bec I could not be a country girl I could not be me

“This is it. This has to be it. Yes, I am absolutely, positively sure this is it,” The out of place man said to himself as he stood on the other side of the street from the church, constantly glancing between the building and a small book in his hands.

“Although we have a few back home, they aren’t as many as there are here. Expected, being the main religion on the country…”

He wore what most would call rages. A tattered, oversized orange coat made from thin material, with matching bottoms just as shabby being held around his waist with a rope. Coving his long black hair was a worn hat made of straw, and the only thing from his middle shins down were worn sandals made in a similar fashion to his hat. Everything he own was on him, and the only things that weren’t clothes were a small bowl hanging from a string, the book he was constantly referencing, and a longer, larger, heavier object concealed under the cloth it was wrapped in.

He reached the other side of the street almost completely without incident. The car passing by only almost hit him, after all. Once across, he stops by the front door and examines it for a second.

“Hey. What’s the custom around here? Should I just go in?” he asked the man by the door, without looking away from the building in front of him.

Oh, another fella from the orients. That weird little hat and the accent were dead giveaways. Always common to see them round these parts.

Jack knocked a couple of times on the door and turned to this new person. “Usually, but looks like they're a bit busy right now. I'd wait for a bit if I were you.” He moves a few feet over and takes a seat on the staircase. “Don't worry. This ain't the usual. Church folks are usually a lot nicer.

“Hm… Is that so?” the odd man said with a sigh as he tucked his book away, “They aren’t being very friendly? Maybe they are in the middle of something special. Really, these sorts of special things are the exact sorts of things I came here to see… It would be a shame if I missed it.”

He stared at the door for a bit, but then turned to the man sitting on the steps, “You a devout? What do they call them… Christians? I’d like to see this ‘confession’ thing I’ve heard about. Is that why you need to get inside?”

“Not really a religious type, and it's nothing big. Just needed to grab something. Probably gonna get in big trouble if I don't.”

… He's done worse things than breaking into a church and kidnapping a girl, so it's not as if he's going to be in any deeper trouble with the guy up top.

“Just knock on the door, would ya? Someone would probably answer. I'll back.”

There's a way in there through the back, usually. He made sure that the coast was clear before heading off to find another way in.

“Oh, well, I’ll give it a try. I wish you luck in your future endeavors!” he said as the other man wandered off.

“Poor fellow,” he said, knocking on the door, “Shame he couldn’t get what he was looking for,” he knocked again, “Hello? Anyone home?”

"Are you sure it'll be safe there...?" Eve asked doubtfully, already missing the familiar weight of the gun she had gotten earlier. Miria had promised her that no one would find it in her hiding spot, and the sister hadn't tried to trick or order her around like the others had - So she was inclined to trust her.

But still, she missed it. "It'll be fine." the pale blonde nun smirked back, walking slightly ahead of Eve with a deft step. "Now, remember what we practiced?"

Eve nodded confidently, clenching her small fists in preparation. Miria gave a grim smile, "You're not even hesitating to throw that poor guy under the bus, are you?" It was one thing to not have any attachment to a stranger, but Eve didn't seem like a malicious child. Had he been lying about his time with the girl?

Eve shook her head, "nuh-uh. Big sis says that my best weapon is manu... many... mani.."

"Manipulation?" Miria stopped, turning to give Eve an incredulous stare. "Your sister taught you to lie to people?"

...Wasn't this girl an orphan?

"It's not lying if it gets me what I want." Eve puffed up her cheeks, "It's mani-something. Sis says if I don't trust someone, I shouldn't be nice to them!"

Well... Miria couldn't quite fault that logic.

"Do you mind telling me about your family later, Eve?" Miria changed topics without much resistance, "Don't answer - We're almost there."

-------

Miria rounded the corner to the main hall, a puffy eyed Eve following behind her. "Everyone can relax now, I've got her." She called out to the others gathered, receiving a sigh of relief that filled the hall. "She didn't know what she was carrying, I just had to explain things."

Miria smiled, pulling Eve closer to her in a one-armed hug and gently squeezing her shoulder. On cue, Eve bowed her head and began softly recounting how the man had made her hold it - told her it was important.

"There, see? She's a good girl, just doing what she was told."

A nun stomped into the hall, the same nun who had initially been the one to try and take the gun from her. "Sister Miria, I don't believe you for a minute! If that were the case, then why did she run from me and not from you?"

Miria blinked, this hadn't been part of the plan. She opened her mouth, mind churning furiously for an explanation only for Eve to beat her to it - Pointing accusingly at the nun with the worst glare the little girl could manage.

"You're that mean bully from before!"

Miria glanced between the nun and Eve in confusion, an equal amount of befuddlement mirrored on the other nun's face. Almost fluidly, a saintly smile slid onto Miria's face; pressing Eve's arm down and wrapping both arms around her protectively.

"sshh now, the mean old bully won't yell at you anymore. Sister Miria and the others are here now."

Was it a lie? It didn't really matter. Children were picky about who they liked and didn't like, all that mattered was the incident was resolved safely.

"I... I am not a bully! And what happened to the gun?!"

Miria shrugged, "I disposed of it, as any child of the lord would. Tools that are only used for bloodshed have no place under this roof."

The bullying-accused nun sighed, crossing her arms in acceptance. "Fine, then all is well." She quirked her head, "And since the precious child has taken a liking to you, you'll be her keeper during her stay."

Oh. That's her! Just his luck. No way in, though, besides this little glass thing...

The other people left the room a bit after. Looks like he's alone with her with some nun now. These stained glass windows look like they can take a beating though, and there's that piano playing in the background...

He grabs a nearby rock and hits the window once, twice-

…

Crack.

Pieces of glass just clattered about for a good second or so.

… Well, that sure as hell got their attention.

“Hey, no time to explain! Eve, we gotta go, come on!”

__

The door opened ever so slightly...

“Is it still-... oh, it's not?”

“Poppa, yer stuffs all wet...”

There was a moment of silence. Shortly after, a middle-aged priest opened the door wider and gave the Chinese man a polite bow.

“God welcomes any willing to take him into his heart. Have you a reason for this visit, my son?”

The priest seemed to be fussing about with his semi-wet robe as he spoke, wringing places here and there. The man behind him looked thrice their sizes, and yet gave the gentlest smile.

“Hullo there,” the giant says dully.

"What." Miria stared blankly at the scruffy looking face looking through the now broken window. She retained enough sense of mind to grab onto Eve's collar as she moved to walk towards him - snatching her back almost before she had even gone anywhere."Eve, you can't just run off with strange people." She admonished the girl exasperatedly, "How does he know you, anyway? Wasn't he the one who left you here?"

Eve nodded, "He's Jack. I'm his hostage." She explained the situation to Miria succinctly, receiving a deadpan stare in response. The Miria's blue eyes drifted up to catch Jack's anxious expression, and not for the first time today she uttered a flat "what."

"I'm his hostage, so I have to stay with him." The little girl continued, trying to pry herself free half-heartedly. "He gets me ice cream and hugs and stuff, its not so bad."

A small 'oh' of understanding formed in the nun's mind as she started putting pieces together.

He was a sexual predator.

...Then why would he turn her into the church? Then try to get her back? This made no sense. "I'm afraid I can't let her go with you." she paused, trying to think of a valid excuse to forestall Eve's incoming rebellion, "She's.... my hostage now!"

The church was silent; The remaining few nuns who had previously been too confused to react were now simply too lost to even speak up, they stared on in bafflement.

Eve's defiance died mid-objection, and gave way to an expression of the deepest contemplation a child like her could provide. After several moments of silence, she just held her head plaintively.

"But... I'm Jack's hostage." She muttered to herself. "And... Miria's hostage."

Jack had given her ice cream, and hugs. But Miria had saved her from bullies and played with her. Jack had given her a present... But Miria had helped her keep her present.

She had to stay with both of them. That's what hostages did.

"So... Miria comes with us?"

The nun shook her head.

"....Jack stays with us?"

A nun in the back shouted objections to letting the suspicious ruffian do any such thing.

Eve just stared blankly at the floor, her eyes flickering back and forth, lips moving rapidly as if reading some invisible text and half whispering its contents.

Miria smiled proudly. "Now then, if you'd like to take this child you'll have to come get her." Miria stepped between Jack and the still perplexed Eve, "I don't know what you're up to, but I won't let you play with a maiden's heart."

… That nice old priest is going to be pissed.

The exact second that sentence finished, the nun found a rock right on the nose. He sure as hell wasn't going to bite the bullet because of some little mishap like this.

Those were nuns out back, so can't do that. Gotta grab her and fast. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed hold of Eve, quickly yelled out “Mine now! Don't listen!”, kneed the nun in the doorway in the chest and tried to maneuver away.

Well, he couldn't punch her in the damn face. Better knee her than make it visible.

“S-stop, you ruffian!”

Right, he's going straight to hell after this.

__

“Urr...?”

The priest looked back at the Chinaman, then back to the behemoth.

“Go. It appears as if our sisters require assistance of some kind.”

“I help.”

With every step the gargantuan takes, an audible sound is made. The priest turns back to the young man before him, a smile still as warm as ever.

“I'm sorry, did you say something?”

"Sonuva-" Miria dropped to her knees, hands flying to her nose instinctively to massage away the sharp pain. Where the hell had that creep gotten a rock from?! "Eve! Don't listen to him! Get away!"

Unfortunately, the same logical loophole she had trapped Eve in earlier persisted now - Her words went unheeded.

"Sister Miria, are you okay?" the blonde nun waved away her fellow sisters, "Don't mind me - After him! Don't let him kidnap Eve!" the normally teasing nun snapped frantically - She was already standing up and rubbing at her eyes to wipe the tears away. "We won't just let some sinner do as he wants in the lord's house!"

Her sisters nodded, already rushing after him. A cry of "Stop, kidnapper!" ringing through the halls and alerting more to the pursuit.

Miria glared at the door, now left alone in the hall.

Without a second thought, she left the same way he entered - Through a broken window. No sooner had her feet touched the church grounds outside, did she take off dashing alongside the building's exterior.
________

The church believes in pursuing a purity. They preach and study the word of god, to lead a clean life. They save the less fortunate, and help them follow the path of righteousness - But purity by word was shallow.

There were many forms of purity, and as the saying goes - The mind is the bed of temptation. A strong mind, meant strong resistance to sin. Being healthy cultivated strength.

But a healthy body meant a healthy mind, and one's body was just as much a part of the house of god as the church itself.

It goes without saying that the nuns of this religious order were truly devout in their worship and belief.

Their bodies above all must remain pure. Their actions beyond all must be an example to be followed.

Their can of god-given asswhoop was large, and opened only towards those who would desecrate the temple of the lord.

Today Jack discovered that there was a reason this church flourished unopposed in a city of gang warfare. Today Jack discovered that maces inscribed with sacraments of their faith were the favored replacement for the traditional "cross pendant".

In the olden times, they said sin could be purged with pain.

"Repent for your sins and release the girl!"

Oh my, they grow them big out here, don’t they?

A more reasonably sized man stepped out from behind the gorilla, greeting the odd man.

“Right, reason. I do have one. A very good one, but…” a chill breeze blew down the night streets, “You wouldn’t mind if I explain inside? It’s a little chilly out,” the odd man slips past the two in the doorway, “I hear your sorts are famous for their hospitality.”

The man looks around at the pews, statues, and stain glass windows in awe, not noticing the larger man taking his leave, “Wow, this is exactly as I expected. Oh, right,” he turned back to the man who greeted him, “I suppose the short answer is that I’m here for enrichment. Reinforcement. I’m here to learn about your faith.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I can really ‘take him into my heart’, or at least not in the same way you might expect me too. But study is an important part of your practice, isn’t it?”

Some commotion could be heard in the church, “Oh, what’s that? You got a pest problem?”

Oh, for Christ's sakes! Nuns with maces? What ever happened to non-violence? Or non-lethality? Or the fact that he has a little kid running with hi-

Swoosh.

“Heathen!”

Lord Almighty, their aim is scary. That was just an inch from his face, and only because he backed off last minute. Almost like a second instinct, the minute the swing went wide, he pistoned forward and threw a straight right at the crazy woman's face. Can't even be bothered to look back if she's down; just have to get out of here.

"You're alright back there, right Eve?"

Ain't no way in hell he's going to do that when there's more than two of them, and they were pouring out doors like women possessed. His luck was definitely looking up for once; most, if not all passageways that were empty lead closer and closer to the main foyer-

“Dirty man will pay!”

That's a motherfucking pew.

That guy just threw a whole, motherfucking pew.

The pew landed with a resounding crash and sealed off the doorway.

... Alright. Blocked off the exit to the main foyer. Only way is up for now. He grabbed hold of Eve and hoisted her up to his shoulder before making a mad sprint down the 2nd floor hallway. At the end of this hallway was glass...

“Cover your face!”

2nd floor, a few meters above the ground, leap of faith, crouch on landing...

Shit, he should have looked before he leaped.

__

He blinks. “Y-yes, I suppose that's what it sounds like...”

Muffled yells of “get that dirty rat!” can be heard. Sounds may be much easier to hear in a church, but this was... exceedingly loud.

“My name is Father Matthias, and I will say that I am surprised! Not many people from your land can speak English this well!” The priest gave a smile akin to a teacher being impressed with a child. “Our religion is truly one of enlightenment, it is. We strive to cleanse both the body and soul to live a better, more wholesome life. Although, I will admit, it does get rather stressful... around here.”

More glass breaking. As luck would have it, he's the one who fixes the church windows as well.

“But yes, is there anything specific that you wish to learn? Simply asking what a religion is like is not quite enough.”

Miria stood outside the church, holding her mace idly. Her foot tapped impatiently, and with a sigh, she finally heard the commotion begin to draw closer. "God, please guide your loyal daughter's mace." she rolled her eyes in mock reverence.

"Romans." She started boredly, "13:4". Her foot slid along the ground and she held the mace up with both hands, "For she is God's servant for your good..."

The cries were growing louder, her fingers clenched around the holy mace's handle as a grim smirk worked its way onto her face. She took a breath and her recital changed to an aggressive shout-

"But if you do wrong, be afraid, for she does not bear the mace in vain!"

And on cue, Jack crashed through the window and fell towards her. Sucked to not look where you were going - And it was god's divine providence that led her mace's full swing arc directly into his face.

Miria's smile widened gleefully, "For she is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God's wrath on the wrongdoer." she scooped up Eve and carried her back inside.

"Amen."

Jack, on the other hand, was left with a face eating asphalt as unconciousness reared its ugly head again. She didn't really care what happened to him - the others would take care of him.

Miria and Eve were already back into the church as the other nuns swarmed Jack's passed out body and began dragging him back inside to god only knows where.

"Come on, Eve. Lets get you some ice cream."

"...What about Jack? Won't he be okay?"

"... I'm sure god wouldn't let one of his children go too far astray.", Miria reassured the girl. "We'll get some ice cream for him too, okay? And then we'll all talk, and see whats going on."

This was the compromise they came to, as further back, the nuns decided it would be best to confine Jack in the religious rite room down below.
___________

"That didn't go as planned." Remy stated flatly, watching the proceedings from afar. "The church sisterhood is apparently combat trained to some extent. Maces - weren't they usually holy weapons in text?" she wondered aloud.

Colt nodded impassively, "No blood-shed. Pure."

"Right." Remy continued, "Looks like there's more to this church than meets the eye. I'll see if I can dig up any information on them..." She scribbled notes down onto a pad she kept in her pocket, "In the meantime, what do we do about that guy?" She glanced over to Colt, who just shrugged.

"They'll probably hand him over to the cops. We could probably spring him from jail, but I don't want to waste any favors on him." Remy chewed on her pen thoughtfully, "Maybe let him rot?"

Colt shook her head slowly. "Princess." uttering one word in reminder, eliciting a frustrated sigh from Remy. "Yeah, yeah. I guess I'll have to handle it. Again."

Colt watched passively as her sister stomped across the roof grumbling about wearing too many outfits in one day.

"Not his fucking keeper..." the irritated grumbles lilted across the roof, "Things I do for that brat..."

The car pulled up to the front of the church, and Vince was the first one out, opening the doors for the girls riding with him.

As he walked up to the building, he saw signs of some kind of struggle. Broken glass littered the ground as if someone had jumped out a window, which one would surmise by the fact that one window was clearly broken on this side.

"Well, this is odd." Vince said to no one in particular before looking back at the girls, "Stay in the car for a bit. Wouldn't want you ladies going from one bad situation to another, would I?"

After flashing his trademark smirk, he walked up to the front door and knocked, adjusting his top coat and fedora while he waited for a response.

-----

Griffon walked out of the office after talking with Frank. Once the two parted ways, he looked up to see One-Shot and Steve standing in the bar.

"Hey, One Shot. What are you doing back here?" he said, somewhat jokingly, "Figured you'd be resting up for your job tomorrow. In for a quick drink before bed?"

He then looked over at his partner.

"Steve, right?" he said, offering a handshake, "Heard a bit about you from One-shot. Not much, but enough. He tell you about what's going on tomorrow?"

“Well, you seem to have plenty of able bodied folks around. You probably have it covered. Though don’t neglect to ask me for help. I’ll be asking you for plenty before I leave. Oh, and nice to meet you, Father Matthias. You can call me Xin.”

“As for specifics… there isn’t really anything I don’t want to know. I mean, your idea of eternity is particularly interesting, but I really want to learn as much as possible. Philosophies, practices, and ordained life,” the foreigner took a seat at one of the pews, removing his hat, “Now, you may know the best way for me to go about this, but I came here ready to be ordained myself, if that’s what it takes.”

He looked back, as if remembering something, “Oh, but there is an immediate question I have. There was a man outside who seemed to have been turned away. Why is that?”

… He still felt a sliver of consciousness. That hit was nothing compared to a haymaker with a loaded glove. He's... he's still fine.

As soon as they entered the church, Jack let out an indignant, feral scream while he tries to violently throw off his captors. He was able to headbutt one nun in the confusion and land a wide swing at another, but was soon dealt with by a strike of a mace's hilt.

“What a wretched, violent man. Such stubbornness.”

Steps. That's all he heard when he came to. His arms were bound again, this time to metal chains. His eyesight was still returning to him...

__

A nun walked past the father and Xin to attend to the newcomer. She hurried to open the double doors, panting and trembling.

“I... am really sorry!” The nun bowed in apology to the man in the front door. “U-usually, we have the door open, but we've had a few issues lately with people. We're really sorry! Please, do come in!”

Father Matthias's smile drained from his face as he saw suited man at the door, turning into a more neutral expression. Turning away from his guest, he said,“I apologize, but I'll have to take this.” He took his personal bible and handed it over to Xin. “If you can, this might be helpful in answering questions. There are some notes on the margins regarding certain passages, contexts, all that sort. I will be right with you. ”

“Thank you, sister.” Matthias nods his head, dismissing the girl. “Do you have business with us?”

“Right with me? Good, good,” Xin said, flipping through the book while the man walks off to attend to other matters. Like he said, they certainly were busy today. And such a noisy place, too. Maybe overcoming the distractions was part of their religious training.

“Hmm…” Certainly the book did have the answers he was looking for concerning their concept of eternity, but the book was printed. The source of all this noise, and its intended purpose, was much more fleeting. He couldn’t very well interrupt the man and ask him about it. And he was planning to be ordained. This place was practically like his home away from home.

He stood up, grabbing the shy nun by the hand and began down a hall. Despite her quiet protests, he continued to drag her with him, not bothering to explain what he wanted till they were out of the main hall.

“Your good deed for the day will be showing a fellow human around your fine establishment, hmm? I am at least aware how you all love your good deeds. Oh, and don’t skimp on the details, ok? I am to be ordained soon. I’m practically your brother!” Xin laughed in excitement, not giving a second thought to his presumptuous behavior and keeping his mind firmly on the things he is looking for, “How about we start with where we’ll be sleeping?”

The nun, unable to assert herself, brought them up to where the people living here slept. Seemed like they each had their own sparse room. Now that wasn’t too out of the ordinary.

“So I would get my own room? I wonder if I could apply for a roommate. I get a bit lonely, is all. Having someone to bounce ideas is nice and all. And I did just spend a very long time alone. Change of pace would be nice,” Xin smiled innocently at the nun, “Hey, you are the only person I know here. Wanna be roommates?”

The poor nun didn’t know how to react. If someone were to only have just met her, and saw her stammer and blush, they might have thought something was wrong with her. Xin was more interested in her answer than any mental infirmities she might have had, but she managed to dodge the question and move on.

“I-is there anything else you’d like to see, mister Xin?”

“Oh, now that you’ve offered,” he began, “there is something. I would have mentioned earlier, but I didn’t want to impose. You see, there was this commotion earlier. I was wondering if you could tell me what all that was about? Is it normal? Should it be something I should expect from now on?” Xin shot a friendly smile at the girl, “I would very much appreciate your help.”

"Actually yes, Father. There has been a fire in a neighborhood hotel, leaving a few young ladies without anywhere else to go. They had made mention that a sister from this church had visited them, and wanted them to come here." Vince said, taking off his fedora as he entered the church.

He looked around for a moment, as if admiring the structure.

"I can see why. This is a beautiful church." he continued, taking in the air of the sanctuary before giving a quick sigh, "Anyway, Father, I was about to lead them in when I noticed some glass outside and a broken window on one of your upper floors. As a gentleman, I wanted to make sure everything was alright here before letting them in. They've been through a lot these past few hours, and I thought it unwise to worry them further."

The young man seemed genuinely polite and respectful to the priest, something unusual in these times. Either Vince actually had an affinity to religion and it's customs, or he was a very persuasive liar.

Commotion?

The nun did a double-take back to the stairs. Truth be told, she had as much of an idea as he did.

“Well...! I don't think it should be normal, I-I think? At least, I don't think it should be. If... I actually knew what it was...”

Her expression sunk. She's wasn't exactly the best when it comes to helping people around, or knowing what really goes on around here.

"I'm sorry... I really just don't know. Is there anything else?"
__

A sister from this church doing such an act? That narrows it down. Matthias heaves a sigh; the girl was certainly terrifying, but one cannot argue that she doesn't get results.

“Everything is fine,” he says more audibly, though not unusually so. “Nothing we can't take care on our own. People these days think that one can commit vandalism or thievery as long as there is not an person to see. What they do not realize is that there is one who sees all.”

His eyes wandered toward the policeman watching the exchange.

“Do you require assistance as well, lawmaker? We haven't had a turn-out like this in years.”

The policeman tipped his hat. “Just makin' sure ya'll ain't having trouble. Them streets round here are dangerous.”

“No less dangerous right now then they were a month or so ago, and yet your kind continue to proliferate.”

“Prolifi-...?” The policeman tried to repeat the word, but couldn't quite succeed. “Anyways, we're wrangling up a bunch of those bad folks right bout now, more than ever. We're increasing security all round the city so that ya'll could sleep safe praisin' the lord and such. If you see any shady types-”

“We're fine.”

If anything, they were the “shady” ones.

“Just tryin' to help, s'all.”

The police officer nods at the priest and returns back to his vehicle. There were three people tied up in the back, all appeared to be knock out. With a “take care,” he was off. With his departure, the priest visibly loosened up, his expression now a bit more natural.

“Anyway, like I said, some guy decided to cause some trouble, but we fixed it. We're alright now, so feel free to have them move in at your convenience.”

It wasn't long before the nuns who had caught Jack were tossing him down into the cellar of the church. Or at least some of them did; Upon delivery, a quarter of them left to go inspect the damage and try to take control of any kind of situation that had arisen.

The remaining half, however, took Jack deeper. Fashioning a sack of sorts over his head to prevent sight, and tying his hands and feet together with sections of rope, Jack was hauled even further into the basement-cellar.

The sounds of a large object being scraped across the floor filled the cellar briefly, before a latch was clicked open and yet another door was revealed.

Beneath the cellar was a brightly lit floor of ivory walls and lush scarlet carpet. As above, the men and women of the faith walked these halls with a calm smile on their faces and an air of acceptance. There was not, however, even a second glance paid to the bound and hooded man being carried past them through the labyrinthian halls and stairs.

Beyond those floors, and down yet more stairs, Jack was finally thrown into a simple cell and chained around the waist and neck to the wall like a dog's collar and harness.

Outside of that cell lay many, many others like it. Orphans and homeless from around the city were similarly housed within the cells - toilet, bed, and a copy of the holy scriptures lay within each enclosure.

It was an entire open floor composed of ivory bars and scarlet floor.

"We've brought another convert." One of the sisters had turned to the others chained into the room with a smile, "Lead him to the lord, as those before you did for you."

A round of "praise be to his majesty" filled the room in varying levels of enthusiasm. Her smile lost its warmth as the sister stared flatly across the gathered "convertees" the church had gradually accumulated. These were the latest generation, the others had already completed their indoctrination to the lord.

"Yes," she exhaled back noncommittally, "praise to the lord." She turned on her heel and strode out. "Don't dally down here, my sisters. Your meditation rites are scheduled soon."

The door closed behind her, her eyes narrowing dismissively as she left the group. "Sinners."

The insult hissed off her tongue quietly, meeting no one's ears.

“Dead meat.”

As if he hasn't known that already. This whole thing was still a blur.

“You awake, kid?”

“Yeah...” Jack replies weakly. “I... where am I? Some kind of little love dungeon, or whatever those in the red light district call 'em?”

Fancy flooring, a carpet, chains, restraints, nun outfits... Too bad this wasn't a joke or some kind of weird dream. The people up there were pretty crazy, so this isn't hard to swallow. That's what Jack told himself, anyway, to keep himself from going mental from the whole 'being kidnapped' deal.

Oh, the irony. Again.

“You're not getting out! You'll NEVER get out!” one of the inmates let out with a feces-swallowing smirk visible from across the room. “You're going to stay here forever and then you're going to die! Don't listen to their LIES!”

Very subtle. The rest of the cells began screaming out at the person, calling her a heretic and other slurs. Through the cacophony of voices, he at least managed to hear a calmer, more rational sounding one.

Or, rather, a voice that wasn't screaming. It was from a cell adjac-... aju-... next to his. The chains extended just long enough so that he could get a somewhat private conversation going on, but not enough that he can see his face.

It sounded like a person about as old as he was, male. Nothing really out of the ordinary. “Hey, buddy," the guy began, "if you were a smart man, you'd actually read that book. The bible, I mean.”

Maybe he made the call too soon. “Read this whole thing?” He looked at the bible for a minute, picked it up and hung it sideways. “I could barely read, and you expect me to-”

He was quickly hushed by the prisoner. “Just play em for saps, mate. A lot of people here were picked up and don't know jack. They even get little 'uns here for... God knows why.”

“Pretty sure he wouldn't know what these people are doing either. What are they trying to do here anyway?”

The fighting hasn't ceased, the orchestra of noise now being joined by the bawls of children. Definitely makes sense why people would go mad here.

“It holds the answer! In the hole, within the nest of evil-!”
“Shut up, you old coot!”
“I've SEEN IT with my own eyes! The world, changing, piece by piece, and all of us free! Child, free us from our prison!”

“Don't listen to him. The guy decided not to do the same and he's been stuck here for a while. Got a case of the crazies. Anyway, they want us to praise their god, but I ain't ever heard of a god sounding this deranged in a while. Anyway, if you don't wanna end up like that old woman over there, you'd best be doing what I told you."

Jack yanked roughly at the chains. These things were pretty tough. The rest of the place didn't look out of the ordinary, but the ground felt a little bit weird...

Was it... hollow? He knocked on it once, twice, then looked at every inch of his cell. There was a few markings on the floor on this corner: some dried blood and what looks to be fingernail scratches, but then they just disappear.

“They tell you the whole thing during the evenings, so it shouldn't be that bad even if you can't read. Just survive the little room and the yelling, and you should be fine. Try not to do anything dumb.”

So, the police were making moves, huh? Vince's gut told him something wasn't right about the situation, as cops don't usually make moves on their own. Hopefully Griffon's meeting with his new 'contact' will yield more information.

"That's good news, Father. I'm sure these ladies will be delighted to get some accommodations after what they've been through." Vince said, "If you'll give me just a moment..."

With that, the young man made his way to the door and signaled to his passengers that everything was alright. As they made their way inside, Vince made his way back to the priest.

"Thank you for everything, Father. You men and women of the faith truly are a light in the darkness that this city has become." he said, looking around for a moment, "If I may Father, I'd like to meet the Sister who visited these ladies and give her my thanks as well, and make sure that she knows that her efforts were successful."

The priest idly scratches behind his ears. Faye, Freya, whatever her name was, she's not here enough for him to know. With the way she's treated by the rest and how much she knows of their doctrine, she might as well be part of the church. “I don't think she's here, actually,” Matthias states plainly. “In fact, we're not really sure where she would be right now. She has a tendency to go out and about.”

The pastor was done with his walk to the park and approached the two. Looks like he came at the right time.

“Pastor Arias, do you know anything about what happened to Faye?”

“Ah, young Freya?” The pastor gives a rather wide smile. “Doing God's work, no doubt. A very reliable girl. I haven't seen her lately, but she was able to pay her respects but a few hours ago. It saddens me that there are so few like her...”

Father Matthias shrugs. “I suppose she's nowhere to be found. This man was looking for her.” He turns to the other person. “Should I let her know you passed by?”

A few hours ago? That would put her here before the fire. One would think that those of the faith would repent for their sins after it is committed, not before. Although the idea isn't too far-fetched, considering how some church-goers can be. To Vince, there was just enough suspicion to at least keep this place on his radar.

"That won't be necessary, Father. Just thought I'd be lucky enough to catch her while she was here." Vince said, reaching out and shaking the priest's hand, "Thank you for all your help. I'm sure these young ladies appreciate it greatly."

He then turned and headed toward the door, only to stop just shy of it.

"Oh, one more thing, Father..." he said, "There were two men who didn't make it out of the fire, unfortunately. One being a friend of mine. If you would, could you keep them in your prayers for me? I would greatly appreciate it."

With that, the young man left. Closing the door behind him, he put his hat back on before heading to his car, eying the buildings surrounding the church as he did.

Morning rose once more over the Gambler's Den bar, and already the place was buzzing with activity. The contractor had made his way out and was already making estimates on the various repairs on the building, of which Vince was coordinating. Frank was preparing for the upcoming job he had with One-Shot and his companion, being rather quiet as he waited for the two.

Griffon, however, was out and about. Already taking the advise of the young man who had gotten himself thrown into his bar, the leader of the Gamblers made his way out to the coffee shop to inquire about the information broker, Robert. With what Vince had described, it seemed as though information on police movement, as well as information on this church he had heard about, would be things worth checking into.