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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Mafia!


Vahktang

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It is the tallest building in the world, and they were three floors below the observation deck.

"We're so high up I could knock out a sattelite with the right rifle," said The X-Terminator

The Sakurazukamori smiles but her outward face holds no change expression. She knows that The X-terminator dumb thug act is just that, a facade, and that many have fallen for it, fatally.

She finds him amusing but also has great caution.

One of her facets in her rise to sucess was never underestimating anyone.

That and-

Her thoughts are interrupted.

An older man is tapping a fine crystal water glass with a pure silver spoon.

It is Tony Avacado's trusted lieutenant, Ari Ivanall, israeli international lawyer.

"Stop the tapping, old man," growls Gutterball.

"Yes, we are here out of respect for the memory of Tony Avacado," says The Skin. "Wasting our valuable time would be a mistake."

"Please, gentlemen and ladies," says Ari, his voice as smooth as oil. "I mean no disrespect for all and sundry. I only mean to play a recording."

He hits a remote, the lights dim and a screen appears.

The face of Tony Avacado comes on, handsome, rugged.

It was said that he braved the jungles of death and the cannibal women therein to come out with a small fortune, then used that small fortune to gain wealth and power.

Now he is dead.

"Now I am dead," says the recording. "But my work can go on. Everyone realizes that with me as leader of Organized Crime our profits soared like no time before, while our safety remained the same. No other crime syndicate, organization or individual dared touch us. And we handled the law well, too. That can go on. But you must work together.

"I know the ambition is to take my place, to become Boss of Bosses. But if you stay the course, there is enough pie for everyone. Try to bite off more than you can chew, and the others will make you choke on it.

"Just a few words to the already wise."

The recording ends and the lights go up.

The bosses in the room talk amoungst each other, agreeing about the new era of co-operation. While some make other plans.

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Saya watches the recording with no change in outward expression. The deceptively young woman delicately sipped at her water. A gentle, pleasant smile curves her lips: dressed formally in her sakura-embroidered kimono, long black hair spilling over her shoulders, the beautiful girl looks like a harmless porcelain doll.

 

Looks were deceiving. Emotions were deceiving as well.

 

For there was no such thing as emotion.

 

However, her pleasant smile did not waver. Saya, like her father before her, and all her predecessors, was, among other things, a gifted actor.

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Mickey leans back and puts his feet on the table, rocking slowly in the chair.

In his strong South African accent he mimics Tony Avocado, "Boys and girls, Please play nice!" Chuckling softly, he surveys the room,

"Who are we kidding? Like We could ever play nice?" His smile fades to a dark threatening glare as he looks at those gathered.

 

 

"I like the idea of mutual profit," Sammy began," If we band together, and don't get too greedy, I believe we can expaned internationally."

Catching 'The Gater's' eye, he grins, "The only profit I see from you is a nice suitcase"

 

 

:raven:

Edited by cryptomancer
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"Really, Buddy boy?" The Gator sneers as he drinks from a glass full of congac,"Seems to me like you just tipped your hand a little early. I'll be watching you."

 

Passing a glance over the rest of those gathered in the room. Finishing off the drink, Sammy stands up and goes to leave. As he's on his way out, he throws his shoulder into Mickey, rocking him back a step. "Next time you see me coming," Sammy threatened the South African," You'd best step aside and make way. Or next time, you'll wind up on the floor."

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Shamus laughs boistrously. He continues laughing for a moment, before speaking in a merry voice, "Now lads, nae be hasty here!"

 

Shamus' red hair is spiked messily, and his green eyes twinkle. A strong jaw is in a permanent grin as he glances around the room, eyes lingering for a moment on each of the women.

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Sammy hits Mickey well enough on the shoulder twisting him back a step, Mickey grins at the parting remark, turning to watch Sammy as he moves to the door.

 

"You have any tattoos I should know about? If you do, I can turn it into a label."

 

As sammy turns to catch Mickey's coment, Mickey grins, a small knife hanging below his right hand, swinging from the key chain that it is attatched to.

 

"Maybe we should have a little talk?"

 

:raven:

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Simona watches the action from her chair and shakes her head with contempt. Rising gracefully, the Italian woman stands in order to better emphasize her point.

 

"Boys, boys. Is this really the time or place? If you absolutely must continue your quarrel, you can take it outside - after we finish in here. I know we're all used to playing rough, but I think it would be reasonable to put aside our differnces and discuss this." Simona pauses, waiting to see who's listening.

 

"Personally, I'm with Mickey. None of us are gentle people, and it's ridiculous to ask us to trust each other and collaborate. But I don't believe it necessary to be so antagonistic. I'm willing to leave it at this: the rest of you can do whatever you want regarding working together, but I don't particularly want a part in it. You leave me alone, I'll leave you alone."

 

Finishing her small speech, Simona sits down and picks up her wine glass. Her nonchalant manner indicates this meeting is simply an inconvience to her. She takes an elegant sip and glances around the room.

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Saria observes quietly what happens in the room, her long eyelashes effectively shadowing the glint of interest at some of the words she hears. Sipping at a glass of wine, she notices Shamus' glance lingering at her, and smiles charmingly, nodding in greeting.

 

"It's been some time since we last met, Shamus..."

Edited by Tanuchan
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Tai Rong Xiang was standing in a corner and watches around quietly. Discretion is the most efficient tool when dealing with the other bosses and she eyes them one by one. Her smooth features hardens at the sight of The Sakurazukamori. Being from two countries that warred each other in the past, both herself and Saya are rivals since their respective arrival on Tony Avocado's territory. While they do not like each other, both respected each other since they both prooved that their methods of serving their respective organization while helping Avocado's had been extremely effective. Avocado knew about the rivalry and kept it alive since it pushed both asian women to their limits of their creativty and it benefits his organization.

 

But now, since Avocado is dead, it's a completly different ball game. The calm woman wonders if her Japanese rival had an hand behind their common boss' death.

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Recent crimes:

A cell phone rings and a lieutenant hands it to his boss, Heartbreaker.

"The Semtex is at the buyers. Chemists are paid off and away. All explosives will be untraceable. Mission complete."

"Distribution?"

"IRA. Chechneyians. Iraq. In the agreed upon weights."

"And the vig?"

"Each didn't blink when we added on the handling charge at the last minute."

"Good."

Heartbreaker hangs up, seven figures of profits added to his cash flow.

A good day.

 

A cell phone rings and a lieutenant hands it to his boss, the Sakurazukamori.

"Honored Lady."

"This is she."

The voice on the other end speaks respectfully.

"The INS found the ship in San Francisco. 112 living immigrants seized, 19 dead."

"And the others?"

"The two ships in Los Angeles and the ship in Seattle were undetected, due to the attention given to San Francisco, to the exclusion of the other cities, thanks to the anonymous tip."

"And the hand off?"

"Those that left left their 'business' in good hands. The activities that will bring more will continue as before."

"Good. Carry on."

The Sakurazukamori hangs up, seven figures of profits added to her cash flow.

A good day.

 

A cell phone rings and a lieutenant hands it to his boss, Da Vinci.

"Paintings are sold. Each believe theirs to be authentic one."

"And the experts?"

"Expertly identified, threatened and complacent. No problems."

"As what I expect from my organization."

Da Vinci hangs up, seven figures of profits added to her cash flow.

 

And so it goes:

Animals illegally shipped into the US gives profits to Gator.

Kickbacks from cruise lines ups Bunny's black ink.

Raw materials for a nerve gas sold by the X-terminator.

A suspected terrorists gives all the information at his disposal to the CIA due to The Skin's organization.

Gutterball's Collegiate Rock N' Bowl parties bring much profits in the sideline selling of drugs.

The Black Widow's mail order bride business is booming, beautiful South American women to rich Chinese men. Some women even went voluntarily.

 

And it's not even lunch time yet.

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Mickey grins as the ends the call on his cell. A good day, Terrorist dead, information gained, and just enough given to the government to keep them chasing their tails fro a few weeks. Interesting to find the links with some people here in the room, crime bosses funding terrorist groups, or buying soldiers.

 

Placing a faintly tinted pair of Serengeti glasses on Mickey surveys the room over the rims.

 

:raven:

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"That's what I like about my business, you don't have to physically deal in goods, no inventory to keep. You just sit back and collect the money. Sure you have to send out a group to remind people, but most of the time, they seek you to pay."

 

Leif sips on a glass of mean.

 

"What is it we are having for lunch today? Might I suggest German? I'm really in the mood for Jaegerschnitzel."

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News story:

 

Famous police detectives to come out of retirement:

From the BBC news:

Though thought dead for nearly 20 years, French Surrete official Chief Insp. Jacques Clouseau has come out of seclusion to join an international task force of police to combat the feared crime wave in the wake of the death of international crime boss, Tony 'Tony Avacodo' Avacado.

[snippet of interview]

"There are dark forces at work here. The death of Tony Avacodo was a start, not an end."

[two pictures of handsome chinese men]

Joining him are Interpol inspector Eddie Yang and Hong Kong police Chief Inspector Lee.

 

Will have more news as this item devolops.

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"Well," Sammy stated as he turned off the television," isn't that just a kick in the sack." Julio Farrico shifted uneasily as his boss glared at the now blank screen. "Julio?"

 

"Yeah, Boss?"

 

"We still got that guy over in the French Embassy?"

 

Julio thinks for a minute," Yeah, he's still on the payroll.'

 

"Good. I want him to keep tabs on that cheese eating flat foot."

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Tai Rong Xiang turns over Max casually.

 

- I do care to dine with you, Mr Klatz.

 

Both are seated at their table and while the German have a solid sausage plate, the Chinese beauty have a delicate Bird's nests soup. While Gutterball wonders where's the delight in bird's nests he refrain from commenting outloud as he just don't want to mess with the Opium Lotus. Tai Wong breaks the silence.

 

- I know that my people's cuisine is not your delight but I do believe that gastronomy is not the purpose behind this dinner.

 

One of her servants kneels besides asking her the permission to talk in cantonese. When Tai grants it, the servant briefly talks to her, still in cantonese, about todays activities. The Lotus smiles and dismisses her servant.

 

- It seems that today is a very good day for everyone.

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Shamus grins at Saria for a moment, before being handed the phone by his subbordinate, Argus O'Malley.

 

After he hangs up, he kisses a large, gold ring with a four-leaf clover indent on it, and looks back at Saria with a mischevious grin. He eyes her a little crudely, winks, and says, "Aye lass. That it has."

 

The Irishman raises a brow questioningly, with a flirtatious half-grin on his face, as if to say, "What next?"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jacques Clouseau has come out of seclusion to join an international task force of police to combat the feared crime wave in

"Bloody hell," Shamus curses, before calling, "ARGUS!"

 

The underling runs in quickly, looking slightly afraid.

 

"Get me contacts in Dublin on the phone. I want to find out who the hell didn't do their job with the (expletive) frenchie, right before I put 'em on a plane and get 'em here to rip their goddam lungs out with an ice cream scoop!" he rails, face red.

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The X-Terminator quietly watches eveyone through his dark glasses, seemingly intent on his meal. He started with a Ceasar salad, moved on to T-bone steak and French Fries with a side of egg-drop soup, and then enjoyed a streussel for dessert. Damn this would be interesting. Watching the TV news he begins to contemplate various methods of "pest control."

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Saria talks on the phone, never raising her voice.

 

"Giuseppe, find those tapes. And send a copy as a reminder to our friend in the Surété. No, no need of words... he will understand. Now, Giuseppe... I don't care what you are doing. If those tapes don't arrive on his hands in six hours, I would recommend you to not eat anything for the next long months. Yes, I mean that."

 

She hangs up, shaking her head. Why is it that those Italians always think that they can charm me?

 

Joining those already seated for lunch, she sees again Shamus and his mischievous grin. He kisses his ring again, winking and indicating with a glance an empty chair next to him.

 

Charming Irish... I wonder what he has been doing lately...

 

Saria takes her time looking through the windows, unobstrusively paying attention to some whispered conversation. Then she turns and approaches Shamus.

 

"Do you mind if I sit here, Shamus?"

 

Not waiting for his answer, she sits and favors him with a smile, a glint of interest in her eyes that invite some conversation.

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As she learns the news about the international task force being put together, Saya's face remains expressionless, as eerily serene as it had been when she had learned the good news about her business, even as her aide nervously gives her the phone. Quietly, she speaks to her contacts in Tokyo and Kyoto, her quick mind dissecting what they were telling her to figure out who had not done their job properly, and at the same time, setting subtle gears into motion. The Shizuka clan worked subtly, behind the scenes: it was the first thing her otousan had taught her, and Saya had never failed in that department.

 

The last person she speaks to is the idiot who messed up, and the young woman's musical voice remains even and serene as she speaks to him, the very soul of polite courtesy, courtesy from a much-younger woman to a man many years her elder.

 

"Terada-san." The Sakurazukamori greets him, and takes a predator's pleasure in listening to him stammer and try to get out of this situation. After a few minutes of idle conversation, she decides to skip the pleasantries for once. "Have a pleasant evening, Terada-san, and remember. Shadows move when you aren't looking.."

 

She hangs up and hands the phone back to her aide.

 

Shadows, indeed.

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The scene is repeated in each family, with variations:

 

At breakfast, a few days later.

"Boss."

"Don't call me boss."

"Oh. OK boss. We've got some reports."

"Tell me."

"Harold Shand is dead."

"Remind me."

"British mob boss. Under Tony Avacodo's influence, united the mobs under him in England. About to do his first truly international partnership. Had some problems, missing people, money, bombs going off in restaurants. Deal fell through. Now he's dead."

"Hmm. Next."

"A japanese crime family has been destroyed."

"More."

"Clan Yashida, ties with international Yakuza, years to build up, gone in a day and a night, the leader was slain by a canadian intelligence asset."

"Not an operative?

"No. Rogue. Personal. Something with the daughter of the leader."

The flunky looks like there is more to say.

The Boss sighs.

"What is it?"

"Kaiser Sose is dead."

"Kaiser Sose is a myth/was Tony Avacado."

"No, he was a real person. He is dead now. Slain under mysterious circumstances."

The Boss is alarmed, thinking:

'Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is a conspiracy. Someone is making a play to be the big boss."

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The office is ample, but simple; there are bookcases to the right of the door, and two Renoirs on the opposite wall. A big window opens to the courtyard two floors below. Hidden on the shadows of the bushes and trees, security cameras guard that little corner, and two women are seen strolling non-chalantly. A closer look will show that their eyes never stray far from the walls and door, and that they carry weapons concealed under their flowing tunics.

 

Saria gazes at the walls surrounding her mansion, checking the spots where she knows security devices are well-hidden among the greenery. Frowning, she seems lost in thought. Behind her, a man waits respectifully while by the door a woman observes both. Jeffrey Sterni glances nervously at the woman, who he knows is one of Saria's bodyguards.

 

I wish she didn't use women... they look so innocent, so... harmless...

 

"But they are dangerous, Sterni. More so, because people don't think they are efficient."

 

He jumps in surprise, wondering if his boss reads thoughts. Saria just smiles, "The way you looked at Mariah said everything. Now, about those reports... there's something going on. Three times is too much. You know what to do."

 

"Security. Information on what the others are doing. "

 

"Yes. Go. And..."

 

Sterni looks sharply at her, suddenly afraid of her cold voice.

 

"You know the price of failure. Now, go."

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After finishing his meal with Tai, Max stands and nods his head, a slight bow with his hand behind his back. "Your company was delightful, but I must go."

 

Tai returns the nod. "Thank you for your courtesy, Mr. Klatz."

 

Max turns on his heel and exits the room. Taking a roundabout way out of the building, he eventually meets his topmost servants. They report on the day's activities and he nods curtly at the end of the report. "Good, but I want better." He outlines plans for expansion, which include ways to get old clients addicted to new drugs, new clients addicted to any drugs, non-addicted clients buying drugs anyway from fear of Gutterball, and ways to speed up or cheapen delivery of the goods. His followers simply indicate their understanding and then take leave, too used to Gutterball's leadership style to blanch at the detailed description of the method they were told to use to kill the brother of a client who had decided he didn't need drugs any more.

 

edit: So much for reading the Game thread first, I didn't see that there was new stuff on the OOC thread. Removing my accusation.

Edited by Katzaniel
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