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"No man is an island."
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 11, 2017 9:32:22 GMT -6
Gatsberry was something new for sure. It seemed almost unreal how far Dean had come ever since he had left Rockwell to come work in America's most recent criminal paradise. He could tell alot about a place judging by its scent. While Rockwell had this typical pinetree like scent spiced up by the ever slight sea breeze, he could feel a far heavier atmosphere each time he inhaled Gatsberry's air. Everything felt heavier around the place, as if something was already choking him and claiming him as a portion of the town's territory. If this was going to a battle for a place's soul, Dean would have to make sure his own soul was not devoured in the process of his line of investigation.
The job seemed pretty simple, judging by the way it had been discribed to him back in the Bureau's headquarters. He was to infiltrate Gastberry, find a job and eventually look for work alongside the local mafia. That was the easy part, followed by what would be the best possible career progression amongst its ranks until he had enough evidence and was close enough to Don Korso Marcello. Everyone knew something was fishy about the man and about Gatsberry in of itself, yet the Bureau was something recent and needed to act based on its own proof to make itself legitimate. If Dean was to aprehend the Don and make it out alive, he'd have to gather enough material and try not to get himself killed.
He knew he was what could best be described as "canon-fodder", bait even. He was young enough to take such a risk, and experienced enough to handle its consequences. In a way, he was proud for having been given such a job, but certain he could be easily replaced if he messed up. Such was a soldier's line of duty.
Such thoughts and concerns were misplaced, though, for he was merely in the early stages of his operation. At the moment, what mattered most was settling in and finding a stable job. He had rented a room for the month, assuming it would be enough for him to find a job of some sort before he could really get started.
Walking along the streets, Dean casually adjusted his tie, dark as the night sky and contrasting with the pale tone of his barely tended for shirt held firmly by a pair of dark suspenders. He was trying to figure out exactly how people got along, how they interacted with one another, and the tone they displayed amongst each other so that he could best fit in.
He was sure to be an oddity of some sort, starting by his clearly distinct accent and his general feeling of being lost and needing some getting used to to his surroundings. He'd find his way, though.
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Flapper
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Some of us aren't so lucky...
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Post by Peter Jones on Jun 11, 2017 10:32:07 GMT -6
Peter leaned back against the side of the building, his body hidden in shadow as smoke from the vents above him shrouded him in a mist. The sky was dark overhead with occasional specs of white here and there depicting stars that were too bright to be hidden by the streetlights below.
Listening to the sounds of the nightlife around him, Peter waited patiently for the perfect passerby to fall into his hands. It was not only the kind of fun he enjoyed and looked forward to, but it was something he had to do out of necessity. Living on the streets wasn't easy, especially when those streets happened to be in one of the biggest crime-led cities in the United States. Food and clothing were necessary for survival, and unfortunately, those things usually cost money. Especially when the dumps outside people's apartments and restaurants only went so far when there were so many mouths to feed and bodies to clothe. Which meant that it was Peter's responsibility to find a way to make it happen.
Like doing nightly con-runs like this.
Hearing the sounds of footsteps approaching, Peter stood still as a gentleman walked past his position as he adjusted his tie. The guy didn't look familiar to him... Possibly a visitor? Maybe even a new resident? Peter's grin grew at the prospect: those guys were always the best targets for this sort of thing. Most of them weren't aware of his reputation and therefore weren't always on guard.
Grabbing his torn coat off the crate next to him, Peter exited his dark hiding place and stealthily made his way through the back alleys in the attempt to cut off the guy. Emerging onto the sidewalk just as the stranger came back into view from around the corner, he walked towards the guy with his hands in the pockets of his soiled trousers with a friendly grin on his face.
"Evenin', stranger," he said cheerfully, as he nodded towards him in greeting. "Haven't seen you around here before. What takes ya to Gatsberry? Ya lookin' for some fun nightlife or somethin'?" That was usually the only reason anyone ever came here to Gatsberry who weren't currently stuck here already, either by choice or by necessity; most people knew better than to get caught up in the mafia that roamed the streets.
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Flapper
99
posts
20
likes
"No man is an island."
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 11, 2017 10:48:41 GMT -6
Dean was moderately absent minded while staring at a rather large billboard when he noticed a red streak approaching him. Raising his eyebrow, he took a step back before looking at the young man that had suddenly manifested right in front of him, full grin and youth plastered on his lips. Gatsberry was proving to be an odd place indeed.
The kid was obviously...well, a kid. His facial features clearly denounced him as being rather young, which contrasted with his height, making Dean frown a bit at himself, feeling short compared to what was merely a boy next to him. He liked to think size did not matter, but till, it was mildly unnerving to him.
His frown suddenly curved up into a playful smirk of his own as he processed what this young kid was telling him. The guy was nice, aright, being friendly enough to approach him out of the blue in some less than recomendable streets. Obviously, he was not really trustworthy, if experience had taught Dean anything, so the police man quickly began to ponder if he had any cronies lurking around ready to try and mug him. Poor kids usually acted in groups, after all.
"Heya, kid." he replied in a polite manner, still smiling faintly at the boy, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket before placing it between his lips. "I guess you could say I'm out to relax, yeah. Big town you have here, huh?" he asked in return with an amused tone, not taking his eyes of him. "Don't you have any friends to be playing around with?"
Children were often not fond of being dismissed as such, so Dean was hoping to see what kind of person Peter really was. He would not trust him, but he at least wanted to know if he was going to have trouble for the night.
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Flapper
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Some of us aren't so lucky...
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Post by Peter Jones on Jun 11, 2017 11:28:13 GMT -6
The guy was not looking away for one second... Damn.
Continuing to keep a casual and fun air about him, Peter listened as the guy spoke, paying attention to the difference in his tone. His accent was definitely not from around here. Perfect.
"Don't you have any friends to be playing around with?" the man then asked, amusement obvious in his facial expressions. Peter simply smirked back. This guy was either underestimating him like most guys usually did or purposefully trying to provoke him. Either way, if there was one thing that Peter knew, it was that he loved to play the game. Let's see what kind of fun I can have here, huh? he thought as he chuckled lightly.
"Depends on how charmin' their personality is," Peter replied with a cocky grin. "What 'bout you? Don't you have any Dolls of your own to go 'play around' with?" he gestured towards the nightclub behind him that was notorious for it's exotic entertainment. The streets were already filled with the sounds inside: of guys hollerin and cat-calling while music played in the background. The noises seemed to echo in the still night air, bouncing off the giant buildings surrounding the two people staring back and forth between each other.
Waiting for the man's response, Peter continued to gauge his expressions.He just needed the perfect moment to strike, either for the man to look away or for some reason to get close enough to him that he could pick-pocket the guy without raising any suspicion. He just had to bide his time, waiting patiently.
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Flapper
99
posts
20
likes
"No man is an island."
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 11, 2017 11:44:43 GMT -6
Whistling playfully at the kid's remark, Dean smirked a bit before shaking his head and sighing as he rubbed the back of his head, brushing off some boredom alongside it. His strategy had not worked out that well for him, so he would have to think things through a bit more if he was to read the boy, although he felt the kid was definitely up to something, seeing how well he had taken a depreciating remark.
"I think I'm gonna wait up a bit before venturing myself down into these clubs, you know? It's not the ladies, it's me." he retorted with a sly grin still planted on his lips, always in the same playful tone, not really being too concerned about the boy just yet, although he did not feel particularly safe in these new, odd streets. "Besides, I think I'd rather sightsee before going off on an aventure. It's a big town, ain't it?" he asked once again in a casual manner, still rather focused on the redhead, rather curious for starters.
Instinctively, he had placed his hands deeper into his front pockets, so to give more security to his wallet, the only real thing with value that he had brought alongside him, unless the boy was aiming to steal his suspenders or something. He imagined it would be quite the unique situation, struggling for loose pieces of cloth with a street kid. At least there would be something fun in the entire situation.
"I gotta say, though...do things tend to work out for you over here?" he suddenly adressed the boy in a curious manner, his eyebrow raised, giving a peaceful glow to his eyes as he showed some amusement, even if he was struggling to remain serious. "Back where I come from, we usually welcome strangers in groups, just in case they feel a little loose and need some group therapy, y'know?"
His smile slowly faded, even if there was still an affable aura about Dean's tone, his stare focused on Peter. "I'm Dean. What's up?"
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Flapper
53
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Some of us aren't so lucky...
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Post by Peter Jones on Jun 11, 2017 13:32:23 GMT -6
Peter watched as the guy whistled and made small talk, giving the man a cocky smile in return. So far his plan was working out alright for him. Now he just needed to-
And the guy was shoving his hands in his pockets. Great. Cautious old man, isn't he? Peter groaned inwardly. But no biggy; Peter had dealt with far worse before. Practically on a daily basis. He just had to roll with it as usual.
"Oh ab-so-lutely," Peter said with a grin. "I live like a King in these 'ere streets. I ain't got any worries!" He leaned against the side of the building next to where they stood and placed his hands behind his head, crossing his legs a little. "Though you better take a raincheck on that therapy. Go strollin' into places ya shouldn't and ya'll get the mob treatment soon 'nough."
He slowly noticed the guy's smile start to disappear. Good, Peter thought, thinking the man in front of him was feeling a little intimidated by the prospect. Maybe I can play this to my advantage.
The stranger continued to keep his gaze on Peter, now with a more serious air than before. "I'm Dean," he said.
"Peter." Starting to feel a little bit of the tension from this Dean fellow, the boy continued to smile, tho maybe a little less bright than before. Especially when Dean gave him a quick 'What's up?'.
"I'm out enjoyin' the night air, of course!" Peter responded, expanding his arms out wide towards their surroundings. "This place's gotta lot'a nifty spots 'round 'bouts. Perhaps I can show you 'round some, hmm?"
He looked at Dean carefully, calculating how he might react, before continuing.
"Ain't no better guide in this town than me! Especially if ya wanna escape those mobsters." He pointed to his chest proudly as he pushed himself forward off the wall with one of his feet and strolled causally over to Dean. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, Peter raised his eyebrow quizzically, his other hand tucked inside his pocket. "Whatd'ya say?"
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Flapper
99
posts
20
likes
"No man is an island."
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 11, 2017 13:51:06 GMT -6
Dean assumed the average man in Gatsberry was not particularly intelligent, judging by how this boy whose name was Peter, apparently, was insisting on following him around. Were people that gullible over in this town? Even so, he had to respect the guts the boy displayed and how he was not impervious to intimidation, judging by how Dean's quick change of expression had startled the redheaded youngster. Now it had become a matter of thinking.
His dark eyebrows furrowed as his eyes narrowed upon feeling the thin arm of the tall boy wrap around his shoulder as if they were old friends, an act of odd familiarity, seeing how they had barely met. Shaking his head, Dean calmly shrugged Peter's arm off, even raising it with his own hand, his gaze fixated on the redhead's as his smile returned. "Look, kid...I like a helpful neighbor as much as any guy, but I think we should wait a bit before we get so close, you know? I take things seriously." he said in a teasing manner before starting to walk off with both his hands on his pockets, humming with amusement.
Halting after a couple of steps had created enough distance between both of them, he relaxed his shoulders before turning halfway in his tracks and staring at the tall youngster. "Although, if you wanna follow around, I'm alright with that. If anything, I need someone to tell me what the heck I'm looking at." he offered with a sly, mischievous smile before picking up his wallet and teasingly waving it at Peter. "I'll even pay you for being such a good neighbor." he assured with his playful grin still in place before starting to walk again, putting his wallet back in his pocket, where it had a safe haven.
Looking down at his other pocket, he frowned before shaking his head and shrugging once again. "If you could start by letting me know where I can buy some matches, I'd probably let you hold onto me."
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Flapper
53
posts
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Some of us aren't so lucky...
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Post by Peter Jones on Jun 11, 2017 14:55:00 GMT -6
Peter couldn't help but laugh when this Dean fellow turned back around and pulled out his wallet, waving it in front of him. Oh, this guy is good, he thought as he folded his arms across his chest with a smirk.
While the prospect of showing Dean around was a lot less fun than full-out conning the guy, Peter wasn't one to back down from an offer like that. Not when he would get rewarded for his services. Plus, who knows - if the guy happened to drop his guard along the way, he could pick up right where he left off. Not a bad situation at all!
Giving a playful, overly dramatic bow, Peter grinned up at him and winked. "At your service, my good fellow!" he said, gesturing his right arm out before standing back up and taking Dean's hat as he walked past him. Placing it on his own head, he turned around so that he was now walking backwards while facing Dean and continued to make conversation. "If it's matches ya need, I got just the place for ya! Follow me."
He nodded his head in the direction of 1st street and turned to face forward again. Putting his hands into his pockets as he strolled, Peter began whistling a cheerful tune, occasionally glancing over to see if Dean was indeed following him.
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Flapper
99
posts
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likes
"No man is an island."
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 11, 2017 16:26:16 GMT -6
Blinking as a rush of air brushed by him, Dean halted in his tracks for a second, staring at the redhead that was now proudly wearing his hat like a natural. He was a quick one for sure, which was not hard to see why, seeing how thin he was and how long his legs were. If he were to get his hands on his wallet, Dean would surely have an incredibly rough time catching up to him. Assuming he would even stand a chance of catching Peter.
He ended up smiling a bit as he followed the young thief, walking swiftly behind him and never losing sight of him, nor of his surroundings. He did not trust Peter enough, suspecting he might be leading him to some place fishy enough for him to be robbed by a larger number of people. It should be amusing, at the very least.
"This is the moment I ask what you do for a living, other than help your friendly neighbors, of course." Dean said, his head tilting forward a bit, his eyes focused on Peter for a second as he kept trying to read him, before the police man shook his head and looked over the boy's shoulder. "I'm guessing most people don't give you money for greeting them."
As he said this, his voice slightly muffled by the cigarette placed between his lips, Dean rolled his eyes and took his hand out of his empty pocket to hold the addictive little stick and toy with it between his fingers, his main focus still being Peter.
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Flapper
53
posts
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Some of us aren't so lucky...
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Post by Peter Jones on Jun 11, 2017 19:36:36 GMT -6
Still fashioning the man's hat, Peter led him towards 1st Street. Behind him Dean continued to ask him questions.
"This is the moment I ask what you do for a living," he said as he followed right in step on Peter's tail. "Other than help your friendly neighbors, of course."
Peter turned back around to face him, continuing at his same pace as before, and grinned. "I'm the city's numba one act!" he said, taking Dean's hat and lifting it slightly off his head to tip it forward in a somewhat comical light. It was easy to notice just how intently Dean's eyes continued to follow his every movement. But Peter didn't mind; if the guy didn't trust him completely, he was definitely on the right track towards surviving living in such a place as Gatsberry. And as long as the guy kept his word, Peter didn't have anything to worry about; Payment was payment after all!
As Peter turned back around and continued to lead the two block after block, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Glancing discreetly back, he caught Dean reaching inside his pocket to bring out a cigarette, which he immediately brought to his lips. "I'm guessing most people don't give you money for greeting them," the guy said with the stick in his mouth.
Dean's comment echoed in Peter's ears, and he frowned slightly as he took in the man's words. "No, they don't," Peter replied rather serious, the regular tilting humor gone from his voice.
People didn't pay Peter much attention at all, and when they did, it was never any good attention. Mostly it was people who scorned him, kicked him, chased him... Granted, most of those guys who were running after him were chasing him because he had their money or possessions - but that was beside the point. Even without any provoking, Peter was a street urchin. Worst yet, he was also an orphan: an unsupervised brat that plagued the city. Or at least that's what the people said.
But even with all the hate he got, Peter refused to back down or abandon the rest of the people like him that scavenged for food and clothing just in an effort to continue breathing till the next morning. Even when that choice continued to make him separated from his beloved sister, Lina...
But none of that matters right now, Peter thought as he shrugged away the thoughts that loomed over him. Putting a smile back on his face, he called over his shoulder as the sidewalk emerged into a wide lane: 1st Street.
"There ya are, Mister," he hollered as he pointed towards a large store across the rather empty street. Over the building hung a sign now lit up by a string of lights down the length of the frame that read 'Paul & Dean's'. "Just 'bout anythin' ya want, they gots it." Peter grabbed the hat from off his head and tossed it over towards Dean, giving him enough time to catch the flat cap as Dean's current hand was already occupied with his cigarette.
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Flapper
99
posts
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"No man is an island."
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Post by Dean McCoppin on Jun 11, 2017 19:59:07 GMT -6
Dean stopped in his tracks once both reached what seemed to be the closest thing to a convenience store. It hadn't taken them that much to get there, which was something pleasant to look at, if one were to think about it. It even looked really impressive, all things considered, surely having whatever Dean needed and more. "I'm not sure about the first owner, but the second sounds like an alright guy for sure." he mused at the store's name when Peter mentioned it, looking unfazed but mildly amused at his own dry joke. It was certainly terrible, but he amused himself at the slightly childish quip.
Not being one to forget about his promises, he had eached out for his wallet to pull out what he had when he noticed the silhouette of his hat being thrown at him. With fast reflexes, he instinctively placed the cigarette back in his mouth to have a hand to hold his hat with. Smiling a bit at the boy, he let the hat rest on his head once again, shrugging as he took out a few dollars to hand over to the redhead. "A deal's a deal. Take care of yourself, okay kid?" he adressed Peter in a less playful tone, although he was still smiling at him before tipping his hat and starting to walk forward, even if he did halt in his step once more as soon as he had opened the store's door, not turning around. "And oh! Don't be so clingy next time. That way people will know you wanna steal from them as soon as they lay eyes on you!"
Even if Peter could not see his face, Dean had a somewhat sympathetic expression as he walked into the convenience store to go and buy his beloved matches. Growing up in Rockwell had not bee the easiest task for him, seeing how poor and modest his family actually was, so he could kind of relate to what he saw in the boy's eyes. Confidence and cheerful demeanors often hid insecurities and were the best way to deal with the hardships that the American Dream demanded whenever it was time to divide the profits.
Maybe Gastberry was not so different from the rest of the world around him. There were still the very wealthy and the very poor. Some people ate well and others starved like mutts. Well, he would have to find his place here...or at least pretend he had well enough. He wondered if Peter had done the same long ago.
He was sure he'd see the kid again. He looked like someone that was part of the town.
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Flapper
53
posts
8
likes
Some of us aren't so lucky...
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Post by Peter Jones on Jun 11, 2017 21:10:30 GMT -6
Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes at Dean's dry joke, but in more of a playful way than anything else. After all, Dean was right about one thing: he didn't seem like such a bad guy himself. Especially in the fact that he was now handing Peter a few dollars, just like he had promised.
"A deal's a deal," the man said as he tipped his hat towards him. "Take care of yourself, okay kid?"
Peter tucked the crumpled ones into his pant pocket as he watched Dean head towards the entrance to the store, a faint smile on his face. "Ya ya," he replied, waving his hand in the air as he turned around and headed towards his home: an abandoned shelter tucked away next to the docks.
Just as he was about to step out of earshot, he heard Dean's voice call from behind him, the amusement clear in his voice. "And oh! Don't be so clingy next time. That way people will know you wanna steal from them as soon as they lay eyes on you!"
Peter had to laugh at that. "This guy is really something else," he muttered under his breath, causing a cloud of freezing air to billow out from his lips against the cold night air. Turning around so that he was now facing the store, he raised his hand to his mouth, shouting loud enough for the retreating man to catch his words before the door closed behind him.
"See ya aroun' then, Mister!"
Yeah. This guy really wasn't so bad.
**FINISHED THREAD**
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