[INDENT][CENTER][sup][h1][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019afac5-374d-73da-ac2b-12b58ac6b3d6.webp[/img][/center][b][center][color=black] Y E A R S   A G O[/color]
[color=8899c3]Y E A R S   A G O[/color][/center]
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[color=8d9db3]"So you're the new guy, huh?"[/color]

[color=gray]The kid in the reflective shades stood upright, a lit cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. His hundred-and-eighty-dollar suit and tie shifted as he turned to face the man that he was to spend the night driving, indicating an ill-fit that the shaggy, unkempt goatee had already betrayed in regards to any sense of confidence or class. Joseph 'The Rook' Cambrea took one look at him and realized that for all of Rupert Thorne's talk of expansion, his eye for vetting qualified candidates still lacked a certain finesse. But as the kid put out the cigarette, the aging mobster nevertheless smiled and gave a small wave, trying to hide as much of the hobbling as he could upon approach. The engraved onyx-and-silver-tipped cane certainly didn't help, but Cambrea was too proud a man to show any sign of weakness, even if the years had visibly worn him down. His mop of graying, slick-backed hair was the first thing that the younger gentleman noticed whenever he got a good look at his new employer. It was different from what he'd expected, clearly, to the point that he almost didn't see the hand that jutted out for a customary greeting.

[color=8d9db3]"Name's Joe. Don't give me any of that [i]Mister[/i] crap, alright? Just stick to Joe."[/color]

He made sure that his tone was friendly, save for a certain inflection under the surface. One that was meant to say that as long as you don't fall out of line, you'd be treated well. It would be enough for the kid to know his place this early in the arrangement. 

[color=8d9db3]"Guessing you know these streets well enough to send me on my errands?"[/color]

The new driver was clearly tense, wracked with enough anxiety to dull his expression. Joe already noticed that one of his hands had been shaking from afar, nervously twisting the cancer stick in his mouth as he waited, leaning against the unmarked car that had been parked on the corner. Probably nursing an addiction to those things, Cambrea thought, generously waving off any notion that the kid was too green for this in his head. So it was a welcome surprise whenever the kid finally reached out and shook his hand - despite appearances to the contrary, he had a damn firm grip. Joe almost wanted to remark on it, but they were already late for the first appointment as it was. His own fault, having spent the last twenty minutes dry heaving some pills infront of his bathroom sink. The ugliness of age was its own punishment for a life lived this long in Gotham City's oldest business.

[color=8899c3]"I know 'em enough."[/color]

Cambrea smirked, noting the kid's accent. Northern Jersey. Those guys didn't mess around when they were called upon to be part of Throne's crew. Pushers, dealers, guns-for-hire, wheelmen. If you needed a guy to get the job done, you made a call up to one of the ex-cons living in Newark. Maybe even Warren County, if you were desperate enough. 

[color=8d9db3]"You from Paterson? You look like you might be from around there. Ain't no way you're a local."[/color]

The kid's face was inscrutable, even with his eyes hidden. 

[color=8899c3]"I'm from here. Spent a lotta time in Morristown, but I was born just a couple blocks away."[/color]

[color=8d9db3]"Heh. Morristown. That explains it."[/color]

Giving him a playful nudge in the shoulder, Cambrea circled to the car that the new guy had been assigned, noting the make and model. Cadillac, about a decade old and painted midnight black, freshly waxed. When assigning him drivers, Thorne had always been good about indulging Joe's specific taste in cars to go with them, never wanting to be seen in anything too flashy but always looking for a ride that wasn't often spotted on these streets. And the Cadillac definitely qualified, given that most of the people living in Burnley were still scraping by in some used, beat-up monstrosity of a Toyota. It wasn't a rich neighborhood, which was exactly why Cambrea had always liked living here. Reminded him of his roots, which was something that was getting harder for his contemporaries to remember. They all felt like they needed to live above their station to be worth something. But if you stuck Joe in any middle-class neighborhood in the East End, he was more than content.

[color=8d9db3]"Alright, first stop's gonna be in The Cauldron. You get the itinerary?"[/color]

The kid quickly shuffled past Cambrea in order to reach the rear door first, opening it so that his client could easily slip inside and situate himself in the back seat. 

[color=8899c3]"Got a text this morning, yeah. Didn't mention the Cauldron."[/color]

Cambrea placed a hand on the door and raised an eyebrow. 

[color=8d9db3]"Hey, I can get this part. Don't you worry about it."[/color]

The kid apologetically nodded. [color=8899c3]"I was given instructions."[/color]

[color=8d9db3]"And you're good to follow 'em. But you're with me now, and you'll find that mine are the only ones worth paying attention to. Which is why you're gonna take us to the Cauldron."[/color]

Tapping the side of the car with his cane, Cambrea entered the back seat and allowed the kid to shut the door, just this once. He honestly hated being doted on like he was an old maid, which was why he made it a point to always dissuade his drivers from acting too cordial. But the driver was new, and despite the brevity of their encounter so far, he showed some promise. Enough to get Cambrea to reconsider whether his initial reading of the kid was off, especially whenever he climbed into the front seat, buckled himself in, and rather confidently assumed the wheel in what looked to be one swift motion. Joe pulled out his phone and began to cycle through the notes that he'd committed to text. As he scrolled, he noticed how long the list had gotten and remembered it was going to be a long night. Looking back up at the kid from the rearview mirror, Cambrea smiled again.

[color=8d9db3]"You look nervous, junior. Am I gonna have to worry?"[/color]

[color=8899c3]"About me, sir? Never."[/color]

[color=8d9db3]"Like I told you, it's [i]Joe[/i]. Not sir."[/color]

The kid's gaze was serious. But at the same time, he was nonplussed. Despite first impressions, Joe began having a rare optimistic thought. That this one might be more interesting than the last few chaffuers that Rupert had sent his way. Most of those guys had been brought to him with an unspoken deal in mind, an arrangement that told Cambrea that they had royally fucked up in some way that had caused Thorne to re-assign them. Driving Joe around Gotham was the job they took to earn their place back in the fold, to make amends and prove that they were once again ready to get their hands dirty. For this reason, all of them were eager to get Joe's approval, knowing that his word had carried considerable weight in the underworld for the last fifteen years.

[color=8d9db3]"What's your name?"[/color]

The driver quietly pulled out onto the street before answering. As he did, Joe quietly began wondering to himself what this kid had done to get put here, and whether he truly understood the nature of the task he had been assigned. These [i]errands[/i] usually weren't pretty, and alot of the ones that had flunked out ended up doing so because they either couldn't handle Cambrea's approach or the often harsh realities of the life itself.

[color=8899c3]"Max."[/color]

Joe quietly chuckled to himself. [color=8d9db3]"Small world. I got a brother named Max."[/color]

The elder man looked out the window, watching his neighborhood pass him as the car slowly merged onto the street heading into Park Row. 

[color=8d9db3]"He's a shithead. And a shitty driver, too, so you'll excuse me if I'm not gonna call you that. You got another name?"[/color]

[color=8899c3]"Yeah."[/color]

Tilting the shades down to expose a pair of sleepless eyes, Max looked back into Joseph Cambrea's directly - and suddenly looked void of any nerves. The minute that he sat behind the wheel, any lingering signs of an amateur seemed to have faded. Joe took note of that, knowing that the rest of the night would serve as a test. But if Max earned himself a passing grade, Joe could see the kid having something resembling a future. Which in Gotham City was a very rare thing.

[color=8899c3]"Malone."[/color][/color]