T h e F r o n t
An Original Roleplay
Concept . x . Lola
GM
Concept Ghost Writer
Member
Seen
6 mos ago
He honestly felt like a gun to the head would have been the better option.
The Hispanic man leaning casually on the desk in front of Alvin radiated that kind of dangerous aura whenever he entered a room in spite of his slick, professional look. Fitting button-ups, slim dress pants, and polished wing-tip loafers were the typical attire of the man who sat on Alvin's desk currently fiddling with a cigarette and old lighter. His frown slowly elongated as the constant flick of his lighter produced neither heat nor flame. Finally, an exasperated breath slipped between the thin crevasse of teeth and parted lips and an unusually scarred hand ran through thin strands of greasy black hair. Hazel eyes shifted to Alvin before a chuckle broke the tension building in the small office. "Damn lighter, man," the Hispanic man began, "I swear it just had fluid two hours ago." He stood from the desk and pocketed a hand.
"That's what you always say, Maurice," Alvin replied, fishing through his pocket and tossing a small, silver box towards his guest. Maurice offered a nod of thanks and immediately lit up the cancer stick still resting in one side of his mouth. He took a long drag and exhaled a plume of smoke gratefully.
"Fuuuuck man, that's the good shit. Sure you don't want one?"
"I'm good."
"Don't know what you're missing, but that's cool. I guess you're really gonna quit this time, huh?"
"For sure."
"You mean like the last four times, for sure?"
"Fifth time's the charm. Besides, cigs are expensive as hell. A dollar saved is a dollar earned."
"Except when it's not, right?" Maurice took another drag and puff.
"In what case is it not?" Alvin folded his arms, but remained standing. His office chair was still waiting just behind him where he had been sitting before Maurice had made his surprise visit. The light from the window beyond that illuminated about half of the office space and the dark spots of the beige carpet. Having an entire wall be a window had its pros and cons.
"You know what case. It's the reason I'm here, after all. You know I don't make a trip to personally see anyone unless shit really hit the fan. And I gotta tell ya, shit really hit the fan."
"That wasn't my fault. But everyone says that I suppose."
"I suppose."
"So what are we going to do?"
"We? We aren't gonna do a damn thing. You, however, are gonna have to take a reassignment." Maurice took another drag and lightly tapped the excess into an ashtray sitting on the desk. His gaze briefly caught a picture on the other end depicting Alvin, himself, and three others--Alvin's infamous team. He grinned for a second before returning his focus to the matter at hand.
"Reassignment? You're just plainly saying it, huh?" Alvin's heart jumped for a second, but he showed no hint of change in his composure. He had known this day was coming and it was all he could do to mentally prepare himself for whatever the consequences were going to be. Suddenly, the heft of the weight just under the small of his back became oddly apparent. The metallic object was tucked neatly in the waistband of his jeans just waiting for the moment it might needed. The hard choices had been decided at this point.
"Is there any other way to say it? And it's you we're talking about. I'm not gonna bullshit you, man. What happened was terrible for all involved, but it was worse for the organization. It's not easy to come back from that kind of incident. But..." Maurice trailed.
"But?"
"Like I said, it's you we're talking about it. Boss hasn't lost complete confidence in you. He just needs to know you haven't lost confidence either. That's why it's reassignment we're talking about and a meeting at headquarters."
Alvin relaxed a bit and the weight of the object under his back partially faded. "Right... So, what's the reassignment? What am I going to have to do to fix this?"
Maurice paced to the left and to the right for a moment or two, puffing and looking up, before turning his back to Alvin and facing wall behind the desk. He stared at a painting hanging in an ornate, golden frame. His expression scrunched up. "We're sending you to Veil City. More specifically, to The Club."
Alvin dropped his arms. "Veil?! The Club?! You gotta be fucking kidding me."
"I'm not and it was my idea. Be thankful."
"Thankful, my ass. I'd rather have taken the meeting. You're seriously going to bust me back that much? Am I some fucking foot soldier now?"
"It's not about rank, man," Maurice turned back to Alvin. "This was the only thing I could do. Trust me, you would not have rather taken that meeting."
"I thought you said the boss hadn't lost complete confidence in me?"
"I did and he hasn't. Doesn't change his policy. You know he doesn't stand for anything out of order and he's all about taking responsibility. You would have been a great example for the rest of us considering the years you've put in."
"But it's not about rank."
Maurice sighed and put his cigarette out. He took a few strides towards Alvin and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I'm serious. It was all I could do. I didn't forget what you did for us, but that shit goes out the window when you fuck up this badly. The point is this. The Club in Veil City is beginning to lose pace a bit. Rather than hold Connie responsible, Boss would rather you go back and figure out what's going wrong and then fix it. You set it up, after all and it was one of our highest earners before we promoted you."
Alvin glanced at Maurice's hand before brushing it off his shoulder. He sucked his teeth. "So you're saying I have to go back to the front? Like a guy who hasn't earned his stripes yet. Unbelievable."
"I know what it sounds like, but it's not like that. You've earned your stripes. You just need to prove they haven't faded since you've been living the comfortable life up here. Go to Veil, work for Connie for a bit, figure out why The Club is losing money, and then bring back the flow."
"Fine, I hear you. It's not like I have a choice, right?"
"Right." Maurice backed up to the desk and resumed his lean. Alvin folded his arms once more.
"Alright. Easy enough. Does my team know?"
"About that... It's just you, Al."
Alvin laughed and nodded his head in frustration. "Of course. Shouldn't expect any less. Alright. Guess I've got some packing to do." The taller man turned and walked towards the window, resting an arm on the glass as he looked out over the city-scape. Maurice stood and placed a card on the desk before heading towards the door on the wall to the left. He stopped just as he grabbed the door knob.
"Al, there's one more thing. You'll need to find someone too. I left the info on your desk. Call us when you come into contact with them." The door opened with a creak and shut with a soft click as Maurice left the office. The clack of his shoes echoed down the hall until they became inaudible. Alvin sighed and headed back towards his desk. He slammed his fist on the stained wood and grit his teeth. They really were busting him back, he thought. He fully erected himself and rubbed the back of neck in an attempt to calm down. Millions of thoughts raced through his mind as flashes of the old days in Veil City assaulted his mind's eye. He hadn't been back there since his early days starting out with the organization and he never thought he would have to go through that kind of street level grinding ever again.
He exhaled loudly and finally decided to take a look at the small business card Maurice had left. It was a plain white card with a simple name on it. Alvin stared for a moment before pocketing the card and grabbing his keys from a drawer in the desk. He took one last look around the office before heading out the door himself intending to go to his apartment before booking a flight to Veil City. He made his way down the narrow hall and, in spite of all that had happened in the last few minutes, only one thought struck him as he made his way down stairs, through another corridor and out the front door of the office building.
Who the hell was Mia Winter?
The Hispanic man leaning casually on the desk in front of Alvin radiated that kind of dangerous aura whenever he entered a room in spite of his slick, professional look. Fitting button-ups, slim dress pants, and polished wing-tip loafers were the typical attire of the man who sat on Alvin's desk currently fiddling with a cigarette and old lighter. His frown slowly elongated as the constant flick of his lighter produced neither heat nor flame. Finally, an exasperated breath slipped between the thin crevasse of teeth and parted lips and an unusually scarred hand ran through thin strands of greasy black hair. Hazel eyes shifted to Alvin before a chuckle broke the tension building in the small office. "Damn lighter, man," the Hispanic man began, "I swear it just had fluid two hours ago." He stood from the desk and pocketed a hand.
"That's what you always say, Maurice," Alvin replied, fishing through his pocket and tossing a small, silver box towards his guest. Maurice offered a nod of thanks and immediately lit up the cancer stick still resting in one side of his mouth. He took a long drag and exhaled a plume of smoke gratefully.
"Fuuuuck man, that's the good shit. Sure you don't want one?"
"I'm good."
"Don't know what you're missing, but that's cool. I guess you're really gonna quit this time, huh?"
"For sure."
"You mean like the last four times, for sure?"
"Fifth time's the charm. Besides, cigs are expensive as hell. A dollar saved is a dollar earned."
"Except when it's not, right?" Maurice took another drag and puff.
"In what case is it not?" Alvin folded his arms, but remained standing. His office chair was still waiting just behind him where he had been sitting before Maurice had made his surprise visit. The light from the window beyond that illuminated about half of the office space and the dark spots of the beige carpet. Having an entire wall be a window had its pros and cons.
"You know what case. It's the reason I'm here, after all. You know I don't make a trip to personally see anyone unless shit really hit the fan. And I gotta tell ya, shit really hit the fan."
"That wasn't my fault. But everyone says that I suppose."
"I suppose."
"So what are we going to do?"
"We? We aren't gonna do a damn thing. You, however, are gonna have to take a reassignment." Maurice took another drag and lightly tapped the excess into an ashtray sitting on the desk. His gaze briefly caught a picture on the other end depicting Alvin, himself, and three others--Alvin's infamous team. He grinned for a second before returning his focus to the matter at hand.
"Reassignment? You're just plainly saying it, huh?" Alvin's heart jumped for a second, but he showed no hint of change in his composure. He had known this day was coming and it was all he could do to mentally prepare himself for whatever the consequences were going to be. Suddenly, the heft of the weight just under the small of his back became oddly apparent. The metallic object was tucked neatly in the waistband of his jeans just waiting for the moment it might needed. The hard choices had been decided at this point.
"Is there any other way to say it? And it's you we're talking about. I'm not gonna bullshit you, man. What happened was terrible for all involved, but it was worse for the organization. It's not easy to come back from that kind of incident. But..." Maurice trailed.
"But?"
"Like I said, it's you we're talking about it. Boss hasn't lost complete confidence in you. He just needs to know you haven't lost confidence either. That's why it's reassignment we're talking about and a meeting at headquarters."
Alvin relaxed a bit and the weight of the object under his back partially faded. "Right... So, what's the reassignment? What am I going to have to do to fix this?"
Maurice paced to the left and to the right for a moment or two, puffing and looking up, before turning his back to Alvin and facing wall behind the desk. He stared at a painting hanging in an ornate, golden frame. His expression scrunched up. "We're sending you to Veil City. More specifically, to The Club."
Alvin dropped his arms. "Veil?! The Club?! You gotta be fucking kidding me."
"I'm not and it was my idea. Be thankful."
"Thankful, my ass. I'd rather have taken the meeting. You're seriously going to bust me back that much? Am I some fucking foot soldier now?"
"It's not about rank, man," Maurice turned back to Alvin. "This was the only thing I could do. Trust me, you would not have rather taken that meeting."
"I thought you said the boss hadn't lost complete confidence in me?"
"I did and he hasn't. Doesn't change his policy. You know he doesn't stand for anything out of order and he's all about taking responsibility. You would have been a great example for the rest of us considering the years you've put in."
"But it's not about rank."
Maurice sighed and put his cigarette out. He took a few strides towards Alvin and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I'm serious. It was all I could do. I didn't forget what you did for us, but that shit goes out the window when you fuck up this badly. The point is this. The Club in Veil City is beginning to lose pace a bit. Rather than hold Connie responsible, Boss would rather you go back and figure out what's going wrong and then fix it. You set it up, after all and it was one of our highest earners before we promoted you."
Alvin glanced at Maurice's hand before brushing it off his shoulder. He sucked his teeth. "So you're saying I have to go back to the front? Like a guy who hasn't earned his stripes yet. Unbelievable."
"I know what it sounds like, but it's not like that. You've earned your stripes. You just need to prove they haven't faded since you've been living the comfortable life up here. Go to Veil, work for Connie for a bit, figure out why The Club is losing money, and then bring back the flow."
"Fine, I hear you. It's not like I have a choice, right?"
"Right." Maurice backed up to the desk and resumed his lean. Alvin folded his arms once more.
"Alright. Easy enough. Does my team know?"
"About that... It's just you, Al."
Alvin laughed and nodded his head in frustration. "Of course. Shouldn't expect any less. Alright. Guess I've got some packing to do." The taller man turned and walked towards the window, resting an arm on the glass as he looked out over the city-scape. Maurice stood and placed a card on the desk before heading towards the door on the wall to the left. He stopped just as he grabbed the door knob.
"Al, there's one more thing. You'll need to find someone too. I left the info on your desk. Call us when you come into contact with them." The door opened with a creak and shut with a soft click as Maurice left the office. The clack of his shoes echoed down the hall until they became inaudible. Alvin sighed and headed back towards his desk. He slammed his fist on the stained wood and grit his teeth. They really were busting him back, he thought. He fully erected himself and rubbed the back of neck in an attempt to calm down. Millions of thoughts raced through his mind as flashes of the old days in Veil City assaulted his mind's eye. He hadn't been back there since his early days starting out with the organization and he never thought he would have to go through that kind of street level grinding ever again.
He exhaled loudly and finally decided to take a look at the small business card Maurice had left. It was a plain white card with a simple name on it. Alvin stared for a moment before pocketing the card and grabbing his keys from a drawer in the desk. He took one last look around the office before heading out the door himself intending to go to his apartment before booking a flight to Veil City. He made his way down the narrow hall and, in spite of all that had happened in the last few minutes, only one thought struck him as he made his way down stairs, through another corridor and out the front door of the office building.
Who the hell was Mia Winter?
coGM
Bar work wasn't exactly what Mia had envisaged at the end of her Classical Art degree, but somehow it was where she'd ended up. Back at home with her parents, a hefty student debt and a job in a bar that she was far more used to drinking at then serving in. Still, it was only temporary right? Right. Of course it was. Well, that was what she told herself. In all honesty, she was fairly positive that Classical Art hadn't been the most practical degree choice in the world when it came down to getting a job.
Luckily, Mia wasn't the type to mope. The blonde tended to meander through life in her own life's-a-beach way. There was little that genuinely worried her, and most of everyday life went straight over the top of her head. Ignorance was bliss after all. There was also the boyfriend, Lucas. He was living a few hundred miles away, and in all honesty, the relationship was pretty strained. Not that Mia would admit that all too willingly of course - but it was the truth. A not so pretty truth, but not everything was rainbows and unicorns.
"So, this is the chiller.."
Seriously, does he actually think I don't know what a chiller is?
With a convincingly genuine nod, Mia followed Miles around. The enigmatic bar manager was very thorough in his tour, and he'd lost the blondes attention right around the time he decided to explain the history of automatic coffee machines. Riveting was not the right word to use.
Now Mia hadn't really changed a great deal. The aesthetics were all exactly the same. Unruly waves of blonde hair sat down her shoulders, and a few freckles dotted along her nose and cheek bones. Average height, and a slender yet curvy build made her rather appealing. A pair of ripped dark blue skinny jeans clung to the curve of her hip, and a cropped pink mandatory bar t-shirt enhanced the dark green of her eyes. The whole ensemble was naturally finished off with a pair of leopard print vans. A surfy look that had only grown more intense in her time spent living by the coast at College.
"Right, so I'm going to leave you to get a feel for everything. You know Rebecca, any worries and she'll help you out.."
And with that, Miles finally disappeared. Mia let out a laboured sigh of relief, to which Becca laughed. The pair had been friends since they were very small, and it was down to her old pal that she'd gotten a foot in the door in the first place.
"Is he always so intense?"
Becca merely snorted in amusement at her friends expression, it was a hilarious mix of overwhelmed bemusement, "Absolutely" The brunette declared, "You'll get used to it."
Not sure I want to.
"You reckon?" And with a smirk, Mia waited for the onslaught that was opening time.
Home sweet home, huh?
Luckily, Mia wasn't the type to mope. The blonde tended to meander through life in her own life's-a-beach way. There was little that genuinely worried her, and most of everyday life went straight over the top of her head. Ignorance was bliss after all. There was also the boyfriend, Lucas. He was living a few hundred miles away, and in all honesty, the relationship was pretty strained. Not that Mia would admit that all too willingly of course - but it was the truth. A not so pretty truth, but not everything was rainbows and unicorns.
"So, this is the chiller.."
Seriously, does he actually think I don't know what a chiller is?
With a convincingly genuine nod, Mia followed Miles around. The enigmatic bar manager was very thorough in his tour, and he'd lost the blondes attention right around the time he decided to explain the history of automatic coffee machines. Riveting was not the right word to use.
Now Mia hadn't really changed a great deal. The aesthetics were all exactly the same. Unruly waves of blonde hair sat down her shoulders, and a few freckles dotted along her nose and cheek bones. Average height, and a slender yet curvy build made her rather appealing. A pair of ripped dark blue skinny jeans clung to the curve of her hip, and a cropped pink mandatory bar t-shirt enhanced the dark green of her eyes. The whole ensemble was naturally finished off with a pair of leopard print vans. A surfy look that had only grown more intense in her time spent living by the coast at College.
"Right, so I'm going to leave you to get a feel for everything. You know Rebecca, any worries and she'll help you out.."
And with that, Miles finally disappeared. Mia let out a laboured sigh of relief, to which Becca laughed. The pair had been friends since they were very small, and it was down to her old pal that she'd gotten a foot in the door in the first place.
"Is he always so intense?"
Becca merely snorted in amusement at her friends expression, it was a hilarious mix of overwhelmed bemusement, "Absolutely" The brunette declared, "You'll get used to it."
Not sure I want to.
"You reckon?" And with a smirk, Mia waited for the onslaught that was opening time.
Home sweet home, huh?
GM
Concept Ghost Writer
Member
Seen
6 mos ago
The city was still cold as hell.
Veil was an urban metropolis nestled in the midwestern United states. It had replaced Chicago as the most well known city in Illinois and it was both bigger and more dense than the windy city ever could be. It started as a project to create a city more future-proofed and forward thinking than Chi'town, but it quickly attracted tourists and residents of all kinds and became known as the more expansive New York of the midwest. It was also a melting pot of cultures, people, and entertainment with an economy more successful than any could have foreseen; a fact that also made Veil just as much as a hotbed for crime as Chicago had been and still very much was. Gangs, drugs, organized crime, Veil City had it all. And it was that familiar chill air of the early evening and memories of all the terrible crimes committed that irritated Alvin as he stepped out of the yellow cab and onto a piece of sidewalk dimly lit by an overhanging street light.
As the cab pulled off, Alvin watched for a moment then adjusted the collar of his leather jacket. The skyscrapers and storefront lined sidewalks were all still there with an inordinate amount of people out and about and there would only be more as the night progressed. Eight-thirty was pretty early when considering the nightlife in the first place. In spite of the chill, Alvin kept his jacket unzipped and headed down the street. He had already stopped by his hotel room to drop of his luggage before arriving in the downtown area to check in on the business he thought he had left behind. He moved through the bustling crowds of faceless individuals on their cellphones or engaging in loud conversations with people right next to them and passed by a multitude of bars, hookah lounges, and adult entertainment spots. Most seemed to be dressed in their Friday night best, but Alvin couldn't have cared less.
He stood out in a simple dark leather jacket, blue jeans, and ebony boots, but he at least wore a crimson button-down shirt. Alvin could never truly be completely comfortable in public wearing full street wear. His gaze shifted back and forth between all the businesses and the other side of the street, scanning to take in any new sights since the last time he had been in the city. He spotted The Club fairly quickly. It was a large, brick building painted in a black and white color scheme with a simple, neon sign bearing its name. Unlike most places though, it occupied its own space and land away from all the storefronts and proudly stood with its own parking and all. It was down a short hill and off a left-hand turn that brought drivers to that immense, well-lit parking lot. Alvin noticed the litany of luxury vehicles occupying reserved parking nearest to the wide building's entrance and even in some handicap spots. Shit never changed.
There was a line at the door as usual, but it was moving pretty smoothly. Two bouncers, the type that looked like they spent their free time flexing in the gym, were posted at the double doors and two more of the same ilk patrolled the line to ensure organization. One of the doormen held a clipboard in his hand as he checked patron's identification and their choice of attire. The Club was the kind of place you could not get into wearing sneakers or boots and it was important that they upheld the image of prestige they had built over the years. What Alvin was seeing as he approached the doors was a far cry from what Maurice had been trying to tell him. In no way did this look like the kind of business that was losing money and struggling. Then again, the Syndicate measured success at a much higher floor than most and the irritated man figured it was more likely that the The Club just wasn't making enough extra for the suits up top to continue to enjoy their lavish lifestyle. Alvin shook his head at the thought and resigned his urge to be flat out pissed. It was his own fault he was there, after all. No one told him to fuck up as hard as he had.
The bouncer raised a solitary hand at the approaching Alvin as he glanced up and down at the tall man's appearance. "Who the hell are you?" He asked gruffly. Alvin took a moment to stare at the security guard before chuckling.
"Is that how we greet customers, now?"
"Customer my ass. You skipped the line and walked straight up to the doors wearing a leather jacket and boots. Did you think this was a biker club? Get the fuck outta here, there's no way you'd get in with that get up even if you had waited your turn."
The bouncer taking names ignored the conversation. Security was used to disruption after all, what with The Club being as popular as it was. To them, this was just another incident they would take care of quickly and move on. The night was only going to get busier.
"You have a point," Alvin began, a slow saunter carrying him towards the short, bulky bouncer, "The thing you have to ask yourself then, is this. Why would a guy dressed like me decide to walk straight up to the doors and skip this rather long line with this much confidence?"
The bouncer's expression remained a stone glare, his hands clasped in the front near his waist. "How the hell should I know? Maybe you thought you were hot shit and we'd just let you in because why the fuck not."
Alvin stopped a short distance away from the guard. They both stood under the extended roof over the entrance, bright lights illuminating them, the bouncer taking names, and the patrons in the front of the line. "Well... At least part of that is true. I guess it's been a little too long, but let me ask anyway. Do you know who I am?"
The bouncer's stone countenance was finally cracked by a small grin. "Am I supposed to, asshole?"
Alvin mimicked the man's grin. "Actually, you are." Alvin started to move towards the cocky guard just as one of the doors burst open. A chubby man of similar height to the bouncer quickly stepped between the two, panting slighty. He was dressed in khakis, a striped polo, and bargain bin loafers, but looked like your typical management staff with his professional haircut and slightly red complexion denoting all the crap he had been dealing with up to that point. He turned to the bouncer and put on a glare of his own.
"What are you doing?!" He demanded to know. The bouncer straightened up a bit.
"Connie, sir, this asshole here just walked straight up to the doors. I was just getting ready to escort him off the property bu-"
"But shit!" Connie yelled. He pointed to Alvin. "This man here works for corporate you absolute idiot! I thought I had you guys take a training on our upper-level management."
The bouncer looked at Connie then at Alvin behind him and back to Connie. His face slowly contorted in surprise as he realized exactly who Alvin was. "O-oh shit... I'm sorry sir!" He profusely apologized. Alvin shook his head and exhaled. He didn't know if he was more disappointed that it took this long for the bouncer to recognize him or that he had suddenly been looking forward to being able to let off some steam. He was still incensed about his new posting.
Connie turned to Alvin and gestured for him to come inside. Alvin followed the shorter, portly man and made sure to stare down the errant bouncer as he passed him by. The Club's interior was much more grandiose than its exterior. It was split into three distinct areas that allowed the most diverse kind of audience to enjoy themselves no matter what. The first floor was the night club, by far the most popular part of the building. The lights had already been dimmed and replaced with flashing, multi-colored beams dancing and shooting all around the area and hip-hop music was already blasting from the speakers that surrounded the entirety of the floor. Connie and Alvin pushed and knifed their way through throngs of crazed, hard-partying patrons, some receiving a rough shove from the already annoyed Syndicate member. The twosome finally emerged at the other end of the building and passed through a pair of stanchions guarded by two more heavies. They nodded at Connie and looked puzzled by Alvin as the duo head up the ornate stairwell. They bypassed the second and third floors completely and arrived in a narrow corridor lined with doors on either side that led to small offices and administrative type areas.
Connie led his guest to the room at the end of the hall and gestured for him to enter first, even going so far as to open the door. Alvin stepped into what he figured was the club manager's office and only briefly looked around. There were no windows, but stark white walls, tiled floors with black specks dotted all around, and ebony furniture greeted him with an impressive first impression. The office was impeccably clean and neat and it hardly looked like anyone even occupied it. A far cry from the now sweaty and rushed looking club manager who followed in after Alvin and immediately took a seat behind a big desk. He offered his guest a chair, but Alvin refused.
"You need to get your security staff in line," Alvin said casually, pocketing his hands.
"I'm sorry. I knew you were supposed to be getting down here today, but I had no idea you would come here on your first night in town. I figured you would want to rest a little first..." Connie trailed and averted his gaze from Alvin's. He had clearly been unprepared for this meeting.
"Look, it's fine. It's not like I called ahead. In any case, how are things? You guys look busy as ever."
Connie pulled some papers from a drawer along with a manila folder. He began writing and examining as he spoke. Connie was nothing if not meticulous in his business. "We're certainly busy, but I can imagine why they sent you down here. Miles has been doing a pretty good job with overall management, but it seems like no matter how busy we are, our numbers are just not where they used to be. Miles thinks it's a sign of the times in the digital age, but I'm not convinced."
"I can't really offer an opinion either way since I just got here. All I know is that when I left, I gave you all the documents and everything you would need to keep this place as popular as I had gotten it. I'm not saying you're doing a shitty job, but if I had to come all the way back out here to try and figure this crap out... You're doing a shitty job."
Connie looked up for a moment, but immediately suppressed his knee-jerk response. He knew better than to mouth off to a Syndicate member. "Well, is there anything you need? I can use one of the other offices if you're looking to set up shop right now. It's going to be a busy night anyway and I have a lot of things to take care of. I can get Miles to come up and give you a tour of the place? We've changed a few things in the time you've been away."
Alvin shook his head. "No, I'm good. I'm not looking to start any hard investigations right this second. The only thing I need to know is who this is and where I can find them." Alvin handed the club manager the white card Maurice had given him. Connie only looked at it for a second before handing it back.
"Mia Winter. She's one of our bartenders. She's new, but I feel like she's going to be a great addition to the team. I've placed her on the bar in the night club. Gotta see how she handles the Friday night crowd and all it entails. I know they've had it a bit rough lately with the rowdy kinds..." Connie trailed again and Alvin just nodded. He turned to leave the office. "Wait, do you want me to get Miles to take you?"
Alvin kept walking. "I know where the first floor is, Connie. I'm sure I can find the bar." With that, the leather jacket clad man strolled out of the office, down the hall, and towards the stairs. He needed to find Mia Winter.
Veil was an urban metropolis nestled in the midwestern United states. It had replaced Chicago as the most well known city in Illinois and it was both bigger and more dense than the windy city ever could be. It started as a project to create a city more future-proofed and forward thinking than Chi'town, but it quickly attracted tourists and residents of all kinds and became known as the more expansive New York of the midwest. It was also a melting pot of cultures, people, and entertainment with an economy more successful than any could have foreseen; a fact that also made Veil just as much as a hotbed for crime as Chicago had been and still very much was. Gangs, drugs, organized crime, Veil City had it all. And it was that familiar chill air of the early evening and memories of all the terrible crimes committed that irritated Alvin as he stepped out of the yellow cab and onto a piece of sidewalk dimly lit by an overhanging street light.
As the cab pulled off, Alvin watched for a moment then adjusted the collar of his leather jacket. The skyscrapers and storefront lined sidewalks were all still there with an inordinate amount of people out and about and there would only be more as the night progressed. Eight-thirty was pretty early when considering the nightlife in the first place. In spite of the chill, Alvin kept his jacket unzipped and headed down the street. He had already stopped by his hotel room to drop of his luggage before arriving in the downtown area to check in on the business he thought he had left behind. He moved through the bustling crowds of faceless individuals on their cellphones or engaging in loud conversations with people right next to them and passed by a multitude of bars, hookah lounges, and adult entertainment spots. Most seemed to be dressed in their Friday night best, but Alvin couldn't have cared less.
He stood out in a simple dark leather jacket, blue jeans, and ebony boots, but he at least wore a crimson button-down shirt. Alvin could never truly be completely comfortable in public wearing full street wear. His gaze shifted back and forth between all the businesses and the other side of the street, scanning to take in any new sights since the last time he had been in the city. He spotted The Club fairly quickly. It was a large, brick building painted in a black and white color scheme with a simple, neon sign bearing its name. Unlike most places though, it occupied its own space and land away from all the storefronts and proudly stood with its own parking and all. It was down a short hill and off a left-hand turn that brought drivers to that immense, well-lit parking lot. Alvin noticed the litany of luxury vehicles occupying reserved parking nearest to the wide building's entrance and even in some handicap spots. Shit never changed.
There was a line at the door as usual, but it was moving pretty smoothly. Two bouncers, the type that looked like they spent their free time flexing in the gym, were posted at the double doors and two more of the same ilk patrolled the line to ensure organization. One of the doormen held a clipboard in his hand as he checked patron's identification and their choice of attire. The Club was the kind of place you could not get into wearing sneakers or boots and it was important that they upheld the image of prestige they had built over the years. What Alvin was seeing as he approached the doors was a far cry from what Maurice had been trying to tell him. In no way did this look like the kind of business that was losing money and struggling. Then again, the Syndicate measured success at a much higher floor than most and the irritated man figured it was more likely that the The Club just wasn't making enough extra for the suits up top to continue to enjoy their lavish lifestyle. Alvin shook his head at the thought and resigned his urge to be flat out pissed. It was his own fault he was there, after all. No one told him to fuck up as hard as he had.
The bouncer raised a solitary hand at the approaching Alvin as he glanced up and down at the tall man's appearance. "Who the hell are you?" He asked gruffly. Alvin took a moment to stare at the security guard before chuckling.
"Is that how we greet customers, now?"
"Customer my ass. You skipped the line and walked straight up to the doors wearing a leather jacket and boots. Did you think this was a biker club? Get the fuck outta here, there's no way you'd get in with that get up even if you had waited your turn."
The bouncer taking names ignored the conversation. Security was used to disruption after all, what with The Club being as popular as it was. To them, this was just another incident they would take care of quickly and move on. The night was only going to get busier.
"You have a point," Alvin began, a slow saunter carrying him towards the short, bulky bouncer, "The thing you have to ask yourself then, is this. Why would a guy dressed like me decide to walk straight up to the doors and skip this rather long line with this much confidence?"
The bouncer's expression remained a stone glare, his hands clasped in the front near his waist. "How the hell should I know? Maybe you thought you were hot shit and we'd just let you in because why the fuck not."
Alvin stopped a short distance away from the guard. They both stood under the extended roof over the entrance, bright lights illuminating them, the bouncer taking names, and the patrons in the front of the line. "Well... At least part of that is true. I guess it's been a little too long, but let me ask anyway. Do you know who I am?"
The bouncer's stone countenance was finally cracked by a small grin. "Am I supposed to, asshole?"
Alvin mimicked the man's grin. "Actually, you are." Alvin started to move towards the cocky guard just as one of the doors burst open. A chubby man of similar height to the bouncer quickly stepped between the two, panting slighty. He was dressed in khakis, a striped polo, and bargain bin loafers, but looked like your typical management staff with his professional haircut and slightly red complexion denoting all the crap he had been dealing with up to that point. He turned to the bouncer and put on a glare of his own.
"What are you doing?!" He demanded to know. The bouncer straightened up a bit.
"Connie, sir, this asshole here just walked straight up to the doors. I was just getting ready to escort him off the property bu-"
"But shit!" Connie yelled. He pointed to Alvin. "This man here works for corporate you absolute idiot! I thought I had you guys take a training on our upper-level management."
The bouncer looked at Connie then at Alvin behind him and back to Connie. His face slowly contorted in surprise as he realized exactly who Alvin was. "O-oh shit... I'm sorry sir!" He profusely apologized. Alvin shook his head and exhaled. He didn't know if he was more disappointed that it took this long for the bouncer to recognize him or that he had suddenly been looking forward to being able to let off some steam. He was still incensed about his new posting.
Connie turned to Alvin and gestured for him to come inside. Alvin followed the shorter, portly man and made sure to stare down the errant bouncer as he passed him by. The Club's interior was much more grandiose than its exterior. It was split into three distinct areas that allowed the most diverse kind of audience to enjoy themselves no matter what. The first floor was the night club, by far the most popular part of the building. The lights had already been dimmed and replaced with flashing, multi-colored beams dancing and shooting all around the area and hip-hop music was already blasting from the speakers that surrounded the entirety of the floor. Connie and Alvin pushed and knifed their way through throngs of crazed, hard-partying patrons, some receiving a rough shove from the already annoyed Syndicate member. The twosome finally emerged at the other end of the building and passed through a pair of stanchions guarded by two more heavies. They nodded at Connie and looked puzzled by Alvin as the duo head up the ornate stairwell. They bypassed the second and third floors completely and arrived in a narrow corridor lined with doors on either side that led to small offices and administrative type areas.
Connie led his guest to the room at the end of the hall and gestured for him to enter first, even going so far as to open the door. Alvin stepped into what he figured was the club manager's office and only briefly looked around. There were no windows, but stark white walls, tiled floors with black specks dotted all around, and ebony furniture greeted him with an impressive first impression. The office was impeccably clean and neat and it hardly looked like anyone even occupied it. A far cry from the now sweaty and rushed looking club manager who followed in after Alvin and immediately took a seat behind a big desk. He offered his guest a chair, but Alvin refused.
"You need to get your security staff in line," Alvin said casually, pocketing his hands.
"I'm sorry. I knew you were supposed to be getting down here today, but I had no idea you would come here on your first night in town. I figured you would want to rest a little first..." Connie trailed and averted his gaze from Alvin's. He had clearly been unprepared for this meeting.
"Look, it's fine. It's not like I called ahead. In any case, how are things? You guys look busy as ever."
Connie pulled some papers from a drawer along with a manila folder. He began writing and examining as he spoke. Connie was nothing if not meticulous in his business. "We're certainly busy, but I can imagine why they sent you down here. Miles has been doing a pretty good job with overall management, but it seems like no matter how busy we are, our numbers are just not where they used to be. Miles thinks it's a sign of the times in the digital age, but I'm not convinced."
"I can't really offer an opinion either way since I just got here. All I know is that when I left, I gave you all the documents and everything you would need to keep this place as popular as I had gotten it. I'm not saying you're doing a shitty job, but if I had to come all the way back out here to try and figure this crap out... You're doing a shitty job."
Connie looked up for a moment, but immediately suppressed his knee-jerk response. He knew better than to mouth off to a Syndicate member. "Well, is there anything you need? I can use one of the other offices if you're looking to set up shop right now. It's going to be a busy night anyway and I have a lot of things to take care of. I can get Miles to come up and give you a tour of the place? We've changed a few things in the time you've been away."
Alvin shook his head. "No, I'm good. I'm not looking to start any hard investigations right this second. The only thing I need to know is who this is and where I can find them." Alvin handed the club manager the white card Maurice had given him. Connie only looked at it for a second before handing it back.
"Mia Winter. She's one of our bartenders. She's new, but I feel like she's going to be a great addition to the team. I've placed her on the bar in the night club. Gotta see how she handles the Friday night crowd and all it entails. I know they've had it a bit rough lately with the rowdy kinds..." Connie trailed again and Alvin just nodded. He turned to leave the office. "Wait, do you want me to get Miles to take you?"
Alvin kept walking. "I know where the first floor is, Connie. I'm sure I can find the bar." With that, the leather jacket clad man strolled out of the office, down the hall, and towards the stairs. He needed to find Mia Winter.
coGM
Beer glass roulette - or that's what Mia called the dreary activity that was collecting the empty glasses. The club was buzzing, and it was an absolute mission to dodge intoxicated punters whilst preserving a well stacked tray of empties. Various curse words were uttered under the blondes breath as she meandered her way back to the relative safety of the bar. A triumphant hum escaped her lips as she slipped the tray onto the highly polished marble surface. Sadly no one witnessed her achievement, but she didn't mind. It suited her just fine to be the unassuming newbie. Mia disliked drama, and thoroughly enjoyed the quiet life.
"Mia, can you grab some more bottled orange from the back please?!" Becca called through a frown. Tickets had been oversold in an attempt to pull a crowd and cover up losses, but a thought clearly hadn't been given to the sanity of the workforce or perhaps the safety of the revellers either. Still, that was securities issue, not Mia's. As she shot her old friend a nod, she wandered into the back and hauled out another tray of bottled juice. Did people really still use orange juice as a mixer? It seemed liked a complete waste of a decent spirit in her opinion.
"Here you go!" The tray was heavy, so it was a relief when she settled it down on the floor and started to unpack it into the chiller. Half way through the activity, Mia startled when another one of the bartenders called out her name.
"Mia, take some orders. We're swamped."
Please? Mia muttered under her breath, but offered Drew a charming smile nonetheless. Becca had told her many times that the dude was a complete jackass, and he was certainly living down to expectations. Luckily, Mia had a sense of humour. You didn't get tips with a frown, she knew that much. A girl had her priorities after all - especially one paying off a hefty student debt. Truth be told, she was more interested in buying pretty converse for her collection, but at least the inkling to be responsible was in there somewhere. After taking a few orders and toting up some bill, once again she heard her name barked from across the floor.
Mia! Unpack the goddamn orange juice!
A sassy rebuttal about splitting herself in two entered her mind, but she simply opted to salute in a humorous manner before heading back to the chiller. Becca sent her an amused sideways expression, to which the blonde winked back. Perhaps bar work wouldn't be so tedious after all.
"Mia, can you grab some more bottled orange from the back please?!" Becca called through a frown. Tickets had been oversold in an attempt to pull a crowd and cover up losses, but a thought clearly hadn't been given to the sanity of the workforce or perhaps the safety of the revellers either. Still, that was securities issue, not Mia's. As she shot her old friend a nod, she wandered into the back and hauled out another tray of bottled juice. Did people really still use orange juice as a mixer? It seemed liked a complete waste of a decent spirit in her opinion.
"Here you go!" The tray was heavy, so it was a relief when she settled it down on the floor and started to unpack it into the chiller. Half way through the activity, Mia startled when another one of the bartenders called out her name.
"Mia, take some orders. We're swamped."
Please? Mia muttered under her breath, but offered Drew a charming smile nonetheless. Becca had told her many times that the dude was a complete jackass, and he was certainly living down to expectations. Luckily, Mia had a sense of humour. You didn't get tips with a frown, she knew that much. A girl had her priorities after all - especially one paying off a hefty student debt. Truth be told, she was more interested in buying pretty converse for her collection, but at least the inkling to be responsible was in there somewhere. After taking a few orders and toting up some bill, once again she heard her name barked from across the floor.
Mia! Unpack the goddamn orange juice!
A sassy rebuttal about splitting herself in two entered her mind, but she simply opted to salute in a humorous manner before heading back to the chiller. Becca sent her an amused sideways expression, to which the blonde winked back. Perhaps bar work wouldn't be so tedious after all.
GM
Concept Ghost Writer
Member
Seen
6 mos ago
Wing-tipped clacks echoed from the tiled floor as Maurice made his way down the hall. Slightly more than a stub was smoking in his mouth and the cocksure grin he wore was the sign that he was pleased with himself. He turned into an office on the right and took a seat at the desk at the other end of the room. His chair was big and expensive looking, a byproduct of ascending rank and maintaining the executive image. Everything on the desk itself was meticulously organized, papers and folders neatly placed into a multi-level set of plastic shelves and a phone and computer monitor perfectly centered next to one another—it really was a rather large desk.
He pulled an ornate ashtray closer to the desk’s edge and set his stub within it before pulling out the hidden keyboard via a tray under the desk. The monitor awakened quickly and just as he was set to begin typing out an email, a knock on the door broke the silence. “Yeah, I’m here,” Maurice answered without looking up. The door creaked open to reveal a shorter man dressed in an off-the-rack suit and a serious visage. He had brown hair professionally styled and was on the younger side—clearly nothing more than a member of the rank and file. He stepped just a ways beyond the door, but made sure to enter no further. “Tell him we’re good to go. Then make the call,” Maurice said, again without looking up. The younger man nodded and quickly shuffled out of the office.
Maurice leaned back in his chair and exhaled. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but he had been left with little choice. He had always been serious about his position and the organization was the important aspect in his life. He would always do anything for the Syndicate. A palm ran down his face before he straightened up and picked up the phone. Whoever was on the other end seemed to answer immediately. “It’s done,” Maurice said quietly. “I had to involve a second person though… It’s more believable that way. No… No, they’re nobody important. Name’s Mia Winter. She’s new from what I read so it was the perfect opportunity. No, not yet. This is a long game…. Trust me, if we rush this, he’ll see it coming easily. Yeah. Yeah. Alright, I’ll keep you looped in.”
The phone clicked back into place. Maurice sighed again and turned around to face the window behind him. The view was gorgeous during the sunset.
Alvin reappeared at the bottom of the stairs and stopped just past the stanchions. The posted security still gave him a weird look, but they knew better than to say anything to someone who had been allowed past that point. The man himself surveyed the area as he began a slow walk through the throngs of people. It still didn’t make much sense. He had been sent to The Club because it was supposedly bleeding money, but the crowds told another story. There were way too many people on the first floor alone for that to be true. Then again, he hadn’t checked the other floors, but that would have to come later. Right now, he had to get to the bar.
Alvin moved past crazed dancers and more subdued alcoholics as he crossed the wide girth of dance floor and flashing lights. Old memories began to return and he recalled his old days managing The Club and how he would slack off from time to time and just enjoy himself. In his earlier days, he had been quite the party animal himself. He was still young by all accounts, but his years working as an executive had given him a new perspective. He silently wondered just how naive he had been back then. Though the music was blaring and the atmosphere was enough to get anyone’s blood pumping, he saw it all as insignificant. How could these people know what they were missing though? They were just drones being used for the money they willingly threw away on booze, among other things. He shook his head as the bar came into view.
There were several bartenders scurrying around handling requests and doing their jobs in general and in was in that moment that Alvin realized he had never been given a description of his target. Just a name. He sighed, though no one could hear it over the loud music and pushed past more patrons to take a place at the counter itself. None of the staff noticed him. To them, he was just another customer either already drinking or currently holding up the counter because he was too afraid to find a partner on the dance floor. Finally, he stopped a man on his way to give someone else a drink. “Hey, do you know a Mia Winter?” He asked. The man simply shook his head and kept going. This wasn’t going to work.
Alvin took a quick look around before hopping over the counter itself and heading towards the back area. Things may have changed, but the chiller had to be in the same place, right? Besides, what else would veteran staff have a newbie do, but grunt work? It was obvious. Alvin pocketed his hands and walked straight into the back room, the busyness of the bar covering him from prying eyes. It wasn’t long before he saw a young-looking female unpacking boxes. “Hey,” He started, elevating his voice just enough for her to hear, but trying to keep it calm and kind-sounding. He looked around as if he were lost.
“I could have sworn someone said the bathroom was back here, but uh… Looks like I was wrong, huh?”
He pulled an ornate ashtray closer to the desk’s edge and set his stub within it before pulling out the hidden keyboard via a tray under the desk. The monitor awakened quickly and just as he was set to begin typing out an email, a knock on the door broke the silence. “Yeah, I’m here,” Maurice answered without looking up. The door creaked open to reveal a shorter man dressed in an off-the-rack suit and a serious visage. He had brown hair professionally styled and was on the younger side—clearly nothing more than a member of the rank and file. He stepped just a ways beyond the door, but made sure to enter no further. “Tell him we’re good to go. Then make the call,” Maurice said, again without looking up. The younger man nodded and quickly shuffled out of the office.
Maurice leaned back in his chair and exhaled. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but he had been left with little choice. He had always been serious about his position and the organization was the important aspect in his life. He would always do anything for the Syndicate. A palm ran down his face before he straightened up and picked up the phone. Whoever was on the other end seemed to answer immediately. “It’s done,” Maurice said quietly. “I had to involve a second person though… It’s more believable that way. No… No, they’re nobody important. Name’s Mia Winter. She’s new from what I read so it was the perfect opportunity. No, not yet. This is a long game…. Trust me, if we rush this, he’ll see it coming easily. Yeah. Yeah. Alright, I’ll keep you looped in.”
The phone clicked back into place. Maurice sighed again and turned around to face the window behind him. The view was gorgeous during the sunset.
* * * *
Alvin reappeared at the bottom of the stairs and stopped just past the stanchions. The posted security still gave him a weird look, but they knew better than to say anything to someone who had been allowed past that point. The man himself surveyed the area as he began a slow walk through the throngs of people. It still didn’t make much sense. He had been sent to The Club because it was supposedly bleeding money, but the crowds told another story. There were way too many people on the first floor alone for that to be true. Then again, he hadn’t checked the other floors, but that would have to come later. Right now, he had to get to the bar.
Alvin moved past crazed dancers and more subdued alcoholics as he crossed the wide girth of dance floor and flashing lights. Old memories began to return and he recalled his old days managing The Club and how he would slack off from time to time and just enjoy himself. In his earlier days, he had been quite the party animal himself. He was still young by all accounts, but his years working as an executive had given him a new perspective. He silently wondered just how naive he had been back then. Though the music was blaring and the atmosphere was enough to get anyone’s blood pumping, he saw it all as insignificant. How could these people know what they were missing though? They were just drones being used for the money they willingly threw away on booze, among other things. He shook his head as the bar came into view.
There were several bartenders scurrying around handling requests and doing their jobs in general and in was in that moment that Alvin realized he had never been given a description of his target. Just a name. He sighed, though no one could hear it over the loud music and pushed past more patrons to take a place at the counter itself. None of the staff noticed him. To them, he was just another customer either already drinking or currently holding up the counter because he was too afraid to find a partner on the dance floor. Finally, he stopped a man on his way to give someone else a drink. “Hey, do you know a Mia Winter?” He asked. The man simply shook his head and kept going. This wasn’t going to work.
Alvin took a quick look around before hopping over the counter itself and heading towards the back area. Things may have changed, but the chiller had to be in the same place, right? Besides, what else would veteran staff have a newbie do, but grunt work? It was obvious. Alvin pocketed his hands and walked straight into the back room, the busyness of the bar covering him from prying eyes. It wasn’t long before he saw a young-looking female unpacking boxes. “Hey,” He started, elevating his voice just enough for her to hear, but trying to keep it calm and kind-sounding. He looked around as if he were lost.
“I could have sworn someone said the bathroom was back here, but uh… Looks like I was wrong, huh?”
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