Navajo
Neutral
Mercenary
Posts: 7 
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Post by Navajo on Sept 12, 2013 12:57:47 GMT
The waters were rippling
in the evening breeze. The sun had just set, but the moon had yet to
rise: The perfect time for a job well done. A gust of wind picked
crossed the river, playing with the edges of a long trench coat.
Navajo stood leaned against one of the bridge pillars, a smoke in his
hand. His gaze swept from side to side, scouting the vicinity for
signs of his potential client. The goggles over his eyes hid where
they were pointed, and the lack of head-motion made him look half
asleep. The time was about right. Soon he would get his contract. The
mercenary was itching to get back to work. These past few weeks had
been uneventful, to say the least. Time passed and went past the
appointed time, but Navajo stayed put, not moving a muscle. He would
be here soon. |
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Penguin
Administrator
Gentleman of Crime
Posts: 41
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Post by Penguin on Sept 12, 2013 15:23:31 GMT
Louie strolled along the street, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. Thinking about Lucy who'd disappeared over night, taking the car and the fucking couch with her. So much for "til death do us apart." Bitch.
The weather was fairly nice, though. Not something you can often enjoy in this city, but the breeze carried a light and gentle touch with it. It's quite a shame the river smelled so bad this time of year. Turning around the corner at an old groceries store, he found himself on Sprang Bridge. The view over Cape Carmine really wasn't half bad, and he fought himself out of just staring out over the dark horizon. Turning his head, he spotted a lone figure leaning on the rail. Must be the guy the boss had contacted. The envelope in Louie's inner coat pocket was heavier than usual, so he had to expect this guy wasn't just your usual gun-for-hire. He straightened his back, and walked with decisive steps towards the mercenary. Fighting the urge to call out to him, he maintained the professional attitude. The fedora and sunglasses added quite nicely to the whole concept, if he should say so himself.
When there was only a good three meters between them, he couldn't control his curiosity; "You' the guy?"
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Navajo
Neutral
Mercenary
Posts: 7
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Post by Navajo on Sept 12, 2013 15:51:49 GMT
Navajo sent a side-ways glance at the newcomer, measuring him up for size. He was clearly not the man who had contacted him, but for a goon he looked competent enough. From the looks of it, he had even brought a concealed firearm. Smart move, if not a little bold. Yes, as an informant he would do just fine: “You're late.” Navajo's voice was even, and low-pitched with a commanding undertone. He put the cigarette to his libs and inhaled the toxic fumes. Upon exhaling, he flung the cigarette bud over the edge of the bridge and turned towards his contact. As it hit the water, the still lit bud gave a faint fizzle, not very loud but voluminous enough to be heard on the empty bridge: “So,” he started, going straight to the business at hand, not allowing for excuses: “What's the job?”
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Penguin
Administrator
Gentleman of Crime
Posts: 41
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Post by Penguin on Sept 12, 2013 17:43:32 GMT
Louis was a little put off by the remark on his punctuality, but recalled his calm exterior quickly. "Straight to business, huh? Fair enough, jus' gonna establish a few guidelines before we get started, a'right?" He shifted his weight onto the left leg, arms crossed, eyeing Navajo up and down suspiciously. Something about this guy gave him the willies, but he sure as hell wasn't going to admit it.
He extended his right hand, lifting a finger; "One, Mr. Cobblepot is the boss 'round here, and you'll treat him and his associates with the proper respect they deserve. Two", raising another finger, "You get caught, we don't know you, an' you don't know us, 'kay? And last and most important..." Louis turns briefly towards the railing, spitting over the edge, feeling his confidence returning slowly. "Three," he completes the trio, "we hear or see you flapping your gums about this, you're dead meat. Think you can handle that?"
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Navajo
Neutral
Mercenary
Posts: 7
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Post by Navajo on Sept 12, 2013 19:09:39 GMT
Navajo made a mental note at the mention of the name Cobblepot. So, he thought, a small grin appearing on his face. Penguin needs assistance? Moving up in the world, huh? Navajo's face went stern again, as he progressed: “Do you take me for a complete amateur? Or is it your boss who thinks me incompetent?” had his reputation as an agent for hire gone so far back, that his new employer had so little faith in his professionalism? For a moment he entertained the thought to simply leave, but that notion was quickly binned. It took Navajo a few moments to calm his nerves enough to continue. He started to second-guess his original assessment about this smart-mouth. Once his nerves were once again at level, he repeated the question: “What's the job?” He had to fight the urge to add “prick” to his sentence.
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Penguin
Administrator
Gentleman of Crime
Posts: 41
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Post by Penguin on Sept 12, 2013 19:31:51 GMT
"I don't take anyone for anything, but i ain' never heard about you, so you get the rules. I'm not sticking my ass out for you." Reaching into his jacket he procured two envelopes. One is large, white and flat, the other slightly smaller, thick and shaped like a dollar bundle. "Okay hotshot. In here you'll find all the necessary details about the nosy bastard. Name's Douglas Filligan. Cop got a little too close to figure out what's going on down at the docks. We don't want to go at him since they know most of us, but they don't know you. First half of the payment is in the other. You'll get the rest when the deed's done." Handing over the packages, he draws out a cigarette and lights it with silver zippo, taking a few puffs. "We'll know if you get him, so don't worry about calling us back. Any questions?"
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Navajo
Neutral
Mercenary
Posts: 7
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Post by Navajo on Sept 12, 2013 21:00:20 GMT
Navajo took the two envelopes. Opening the first, larger one of the two he quickly flipped through the pages. Information was a bit on the light side. Doesn't matter. He could always get more information, should the need arise. His own network was more accustomed to his requirements in the field of details. As he read the final stanza, Navajo put his unoccupied hand into the inner pocket of his trench coat, withdrawing a well worn military lighter, inscribed with the text “32nd battalion”. At the flick of his thumb, fire appeared from the small hole in the metal container. In a slow hand motion, Navajo set the documents on fire, as to leave no trace of their existence. After letting them go, he put the lighter back in his pocket accompanied by the second envelope: “We'll meet again.” he said as he turned around and walked back across the bridge, not uttering a goodbye.
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Penguin
Administrator
Gentleman of Crime
Posts: 41
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Post by Penguin on Sept 14, 2013 9:51:15 GMT
The lights from the lamps on the bridge shed an eerie glow on the two figures as they departed. Louis flicked his cigarette into the ocean and stuffed his hands down into his pockets again, sighing. Another job was finished and he could go home again, yet he didn't feel relaxed at all. Somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that today, great waves had been set in motion that'd tip the city upside down, and he was stuck between a rock in a hard place, forced to watch the whole thing crumble. Then again, he didn't get paid for second guessing the boss. He took out a cellphone, pressing the quick-dial.
"Yeah, it's me... I-- No sir, of course not. He got the envelopes alright... Look boss, where'd you find this gu-- No Mr. Cobblepot... Never Mr. Cobblepot! Yes... Yeah..."
Louis looked at the phone in disbelief, then hid it away again, hurrying home.
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