[b][center][h2]Paige Kennedy[/h2][/center][/b]


When she was released from the hospital, Paige had set about where she left off with Jackie Costa- Looking into his handlers and who took their cut from his lucrative racket. It didn’t take a lot of investigative work for the trail, built over several years and assembled across multiple agencies, to lead to the Detroit-based Giancana Crime Syndicate. Others worked the file before her, but like all the pros, nothing ever really stuck; just dead-ends. There were too many cogs and gears in the system for the head of the family, Boss Frank Giancana, to ever be in danger of arrest himself. Jackie wasn’t even really a big wheel, just a well-connected one. He made friends with Frank’s stepson, Nikki and was smart enough to always control his own operations personally. In short, he produced consistent results and mostly working alone kept betrayals and competition from his rivals in the Syndicate at a minimum. 

As she walked out of the tower, Paige scanned around the Central Point crowds before she took her phone out and checked a few messages while her mind remained on the case file. Frank’s other son, his blood-son, Sammy, was the key to the case, she thought. Sammy’s file denoted a considerably more [i]cautious[/i] history than typical mobster royalty and Elvin’s statements seemed to back up her suspicions that the two brothers were rivals: Nikki was a trigger-puller, hot-headed and short-tempered, like Jackie, he produced results and violently surrounded himself with those of the same mindset. Sammy on the other hand, was rightful heir to the throne, that simple. She’d never dealt directly with Italians, but knew enough to know that family trumped all, even if the heir was a total wuss. Somehow, she would have to work that angle against their goals for Sol City. 

The smell of evening preparations across several of Central Point’s restaurants wafted by her nose and her stomach growled in anticipation. There was a decent walk back to the parking garage and she conceded that she might as well enjoy a meal rather than sit in downtown traffic for an hour. At least the weather was not its usual, horrifying cold, she thought as she walked. Her jacket kept the slight chill away, a simple white shirt underneath, black jeans that fit snugly around her legs stopping at the ankle and grey Converse sneakers. As was her custom, her Marshal’s star was concealed partially behind her jacket along with her sidearm. Her hair was up in its usual pony-tail with a slightly more liberal amount hanging to frame her face and cover up the bruises that remained on one side of her temple. She glanced down at a message from Milo and smiled a little. 

Continuing down towards the garage, she bypassed a few restaurants and bars, not entirely settled on what she was in the mood for and being peculiar with her hunger. Everything was so damned expensive in the Northwest compared to Florida. She was checking the reviews of a few places on her phone when she heard music starting up nearby. [i]Great, just what we need,[/i] She thought. [i]Hobos in Sol come with guitars… God, I miss Florida[/i]. She shook her head in annoyance and continued swiping  her thumb, but as the beat seemed to settle-in some she found it not all that bad and glanced up. The small sound machine gave a bit of a retro-vibe that she liked and though the musician, fiddling with the small machine, appeared a tad uncomfortable, he seemed to know what he was doing and was clearly not a hobo which was a plus. She took an outside table at a small bistro next door to the music shop and decided to give both the food and the music a chance for a while.

[@LetMeDoStuff][@RoccanIronclad]