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Post by Korso Marcello on Jul 11, 2017 20:49:36 GMT -6
*Following thread takes place after "Before the Hunt" thread
It was one of those light drizzling mornings, the calm before the storm they say. Korso sat in the backseat of his car, taking his time with his cigar, wiping off the ashes that fell onto an envelope on his lap. The recipient's name, simply addressed: "Dean."
The Don never felt easy being in this kind of neighborhood, let alone in front of the infamous Hotel Aquila. Outside the neighboring alleyway entrance, two hard-working movers in overalls hauled square wooden crates from the alley and stacked them on the back of a running truck. The scary part about this scene was the fact that those crates could be holding anything from old furniture to bound up little orphans headed to parts unknown. The thought of his daughters being webbed into such an unfortunate scheme made Korso Marcello sick to his stomach. But there was no denying it, Harris' little 'side-business' was keeping thieving little orphans off the streets and bringing in a steady revenue for both Harris and the city. The way Korso saw it, as long as she paid her protection money and kept outta his business, he'd stay out of hers.
With the taste of his cigar losing its flare, Korso aggressively tossed it out the window and proceeded to get out.
Inside, he lowered the rim of his hat to avoid recognition from others, not even his own men. He made his way to the empty front desk, then gently tapped the service bell.
"Where could that old bat be?" grunted Korso, eagerly tapping the edge of the envelope against the desk.
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Post by Beatrice Harris on Jul 13, 2017 22:23:27 GMT -6
Deep within the alleyway, the hotel matron smirked. Another one of her was going according to schedule. Her patrons were still completely unaware of her deeds, her shipments were being sent out on time, and her last letter from the Emperor's translator said they they were going to visit some time in the coming months, so everything went to plan.
As the men with the crates left, Beatrice sauntered out, the clunking of her cane on the concrete resonating throughout the alley. She noticed a fat, dimly lit cigar being thrown out the lobby window. The old woman snuffed out whatever embers that crackled from the cigar with her boot and scoffed. Goodness gracious, she thought to herself, just because this place has staff to pick up after people, it doesn't mean you can't do a common courtesy. She bent down, picked it up, and brought it inside. As much as she wanted to confront the lazy bastard, there were many more things that were of higher importance than litterers. She noticed a man standing in front of the counter when she opened the door.
Ms. Harris hobbled towards the counter and looked at the man in front of it. "May I help you?"
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Post by Korso Marcello on Jul 14, 2017 12:57:00 GMT -6
The man turned around, revealing himself to be Don Korso.
"My Miss Harris, ya certainly may," he said, before taking her hand and kissing it with his nicotine stained lips. He started with the usual stuff: how she was doing, how happy he was to see her at the opening of his grand establishment, and how much he desired to see her at more events. Eventually, she questioned about his visit, to which the Don replied, "Why I am here to ask for a favor," emphasis on the word 'favor.' He then presented her with the closed envelope that had Dean's name on it. "I wish for you to personally see that yer tenant gets this. I hear he's been a valuable asset to both you an' my daughter an' is quite the skilled driver, wouldn't you say?"
Once the madam had shared her thoughts on him and taken the envelope, the pleased Don could not help but add in an additional request:
"My dear Harris, one other thing," said Korso, his volume lowering with each word. "Have ya been keepin' up with this Bluemoon shit spreadin' 'cross town? It's gotten into my outer circle. My girls and guys workin' the streets been exposed to the stuff, an' I dunno 'bout you, but I find this matter very troubling for our businesses, don't ya think?" He leaned closer, his eyes stern on her own. He knew she would be a tough negotiator, but he had to press her to get the conversation started.
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Post by Beatrice Harris on Jul 16, 2017 20:27:09 GMT -6
"Ah! Mister Marcello!" Her eyes widened in shock in realizing who the stranger was. Now her previous notion of chewing out the litterer would have been extremely awkward and would have left her with a bullet between her eyes or her property being repossessed. "How unexpected of you!" The two chatted for a little bit before she finally popped the question of what exactly he was doing at the Hotel Aquila. Was there a problem with maintenance?
"Why I am here to ask for a favor," Don Korso answered, putting major emphasis on the word 'favor.' What favor is he speaking of? She pondered, drumming against the table. Isn't the Levae girl enough for you? "I wish for you to personally see that yer tenant gets this. I hear he's been a valuable asset to both you an' my daughter an' is quite the skilled driver, wouldn't you say?" He handed her an envelope with a familiar name written on it. Dean McCoppin... "Dean has been of much needed help around the hotel. He's quite a gentleman." She snatched the envelope and stuck it in one of the drawers on the back counter, specifically, the one with a small bronze plaque with his room number for safe keeping.
The Don lowered his voice as he mentioned something called "Bluemoon" and he asked if it had affected her any. If she had to be perfectly frank, she had only just heard it about two weeks ago. She heard report of one of her tenants having crescent-shaped tablets in her room. The following week she was found dead. "Very. In fact, one of my residents was found dead in her room just a few days ago with blue crescent shaped tablets on her dresser counter. I only assume that was the 'bluemoon' you were talking about, was it not?"
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Post by Korso Marcello on Jul 17, 2017 18:08:41 GMT -6
"Very. In fact, one of my residents was found dead in her room just a few days ago with blue crescent shaped tablets on her dresser counter. I only assume that was the 'bluemoon' you were talking about, was it not?" The Don rubbed the back of his next and pondered. In truth, he knew it was right on the money, but he had to play it cool, making sure his reactions didn't reveal the seriousness of the situation. "Hmm. Yeah, sounds 'bout right," said Korso. "Heard it's been spreadin' 'cross town, an' if it gets any bigger I bet it'll get the feds to notice." With one wide eye on her, he added, "That'd be bad for our 'businesses' now wouldn't it?" He freely strolled to the side of the front desk, eyeing the door that led to her back room, which led to her basement. He remembered it all from a while back when she gave him the grand tour and gave him a peek into her little 'side-hobby.' Again, he didn't mind as long as she stayed out of his business, but the location was out of the public eye and contained plenty of room for the kind of job he needed to be done. Another entrance from within the basement that lead to the side alley, where 'deliveries' could easily be made in secret, was another appealing feature that would come in handy. "I've been thinkin' of handlin' this little situation on my own, a few good men of course," said Korso tapping the desk as he shot his eyes over to Harris, driving his glare into her icy blue eyes. "But I need a place to stash some dead vermins. Kinda hoped ya could help me out with that lil' problem." He nudged his head toward the back door in an attempt to make his demands more clear. Would it be enough? He couldn't tell, but either way he was planning to sweeten the deal from the start: "My men can stock the place with enough ice to keep'em cool an' stench-free," said Korso, taking the corpses into consideration. "In return, I wouldn't mind bringing ya any 'fresh' girls we find; a little reward fer ya cooperation." The Don licked his bottom lip, already tasting victory in this agreement. All he needed was the Madam's consent. With that, he'd be ready to get to work and start 'cleaning' the streets of 'filth'.
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Post by Beatrice Harris on Aug 5, 2017 16:43:25 GMT -6
So the tablets in the room were around in the vicinity of what the mysterious "Bluemoon". In actuality, she didn't exactly know the reason why she asked for a clarification. It was only assumed that it was called "bluemoon" because of the color and shape.
"Heard it's been spreadin' 'cross town, an' if it gets any bigger I bet it'll get the feds to notice. That'd be bad for our 'businesses' now wouldn't it?" As almost on cue, Ms. Harris nodded her head. If knowledge of ‘bluemoon went around the city, the police would certainly investigate the hotel for any traces. They could come across some of the stuff that she had been storing for her side business. Who knows what was going to happen to the hotel if she was incarcerated?
"I've been thinkin' of handlin' this little situation on my own, a few good men of course, but I need a place to stash some dead vermins. Kinda hoped ya could help me out with that lil' problem." Beatrice nodded,giving a small smirk at the rest of his offer. After all, who would refuse an offer that incorporated free urchins and whores?
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