"Blecky" Gruber
Mercury City Citizen
You talkin' ta me? Jes' kiddin'
Posts: 4
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Post by "Blecky" Gruber on Dec 7, 2009 20:54:46 GMT -5
"It's a simple deal, Keith." Blecky takes a moment to take a whiff of his cigarrette and blow a cloud of fumes onto the 'No Smoking' sign sitting on the counter of the deli. "No selling or nothin'. Jes take the bag, and hand it over when yer supposed to."
"No, I tell you," the middle-aged shopkeeper insisted, his Spanish accent thick. "Cops come by here already. I keep the case, they close down my shop."
"Your breaking my balls here, Keith," the short syndicate pusher says with a sardonic twist to his voice. With a bit more empathy, he continues, "look, it won't be more than a couple days. I'll make it worth your while." He slides a few one hundred dollar bills through the small window. "Put it towards your daughter's 'get a pony' fund." A warm smile.
The man sees a line beginning to form behind Blecky, and can see two of the imposing figures that the small syndicate man travels with lounging around the outdoor tables. He couldn't see the third one. With an exasperated sigh, he concedes. "Fine, fine. Julio will take it at the back." He gingerly slips the bills into his pocket as Blecky and his group depart. He didn't know what was in the case, and he didn't want to know, but he hoped the syndicate would find someplace else to shuffle their illicit goods through before he wound up in jail.
"Oh yeah," Keith jumped as the small man cut his way back in line. "Can i get four ham sandwiches, mustard on three of them, plain on the fourth?"
* * *
"I don't get it Blecky, why do we need the deli for?"
"Like any particularly good operation, Turrell, there are many reasons," Blecky finishes unwrapping the sandwich and takes a bite, making a face. "And the food is no longer one of them. How do you fuck up not putting mustard on one fucking sandwhich? It's not like a fucking laundry list or something. Ham, mustard, ham, mustard, ham, mustard, ham, hold the mustard. There is no fucking rocket science to this. Iz, you hungry?" The smaller of the two brothers had just finished his own sandwich, and nearly misses catching Blecky's impromptu toss. "Anyways, what was I sayin'?
"Why we're using the deli for, Blecky. Why can't we just give your guy the case ourselves?"
"For the feint, Turrell - for the game." He slows their pace walking through the downtown mercury streets and starts miming dribbling a basketball next to the tall black Turrell. "You go for a basket, you don't go straight for it... you go right, then left, see what i'm sayin'? Sure, sometimes they see it coming, sometimes they don't. But they always see it if you straight for it." He ends the charades with a fade away jump shot, landing poorly and falling down straight on his back. Ever the showman, he acts like he meant to do it all along.
"So what's in the case, Blecky?" Cesar asks, jumping into the conversation.
"Now now, mi amigo, that's not for someone of your pay level to know."
"Do you even know what's in the case?"
A toothy smile. "That's not for someone of your pay level ta know either."
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Post by bladesthroughsmoke on Dec 7, 2009 22:11:47 GMT -5
From across the road, a man watches them. Not too obviously - if having spent half his life in this business has taught him one thing, it's that that sort of behaviour rarely has positive results - but obviously enough to be noticeable if anyone took the time to watch him.
Not that many people would, to be honest. He's not too noticeable, not acting in a way which seems too suspicious, not dressed too much out of the norm...in fact, the only thing he is noticeable for is the fact he almost looks, at this precise moment in time, too average.
Ain't takin' chances. Yet.
At the moment he's engaged in what could be described as a sort of scouting mission. Spying out the lie of the land, trying to get a grip on the street-level politics of this new city. Which is why he's watching this particular group, and has been for a while (though at the moment he's let his guard down and is being somewhat more open about it than he ought to).
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"Blecky" Gruber
Mercury City Citizen
You talkin' ta me? Jes' kiddin'
Posts: 4
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Post by "Blecky" Gruber on Dec 7, 2009 23:22:55 GMT -5
"Marselle's is this way, Blecky," Iz comments as he starts making a turn, in the wrong direction.
"We ain't going to Marselle's, Iz."
"But didn't Marselle say we're supposed to come back after -"
"I know what the fuck Marselle said, Iz. Cesar, ya still need ta see about teaching your brother the proper time to shut the fuck up."
"Sorry, Blecky." The heavyset teenager gives his brother a look, Iz responding with an apologetic shrug. Cesar's apology seems odd considering the discrepencies in the two men's statures.
As they turn the corner, breaking line of sight to Sabbat, Blecky speaks up. "That shrimp has been tailing us for awhile. He don't - don't fuckin' look at him you cuntfuck." He smacks Iz on the side of the head as the teenager started trying to peer around the corner. "No more fuckin' ham for you. Goes to your fuckin head. Jesus Christ."
He starts them moving again. "Like I was sayin', he don't smell bacon, but you remember what I said about feintin' right, Turrell?"
"Yeah, Blecky. You guys keep going, I'll take care of him once he passes us."
"No, Turrell, we're not wacking anyone. You're not thinkin' big enough. We wack this guy and another one shows up maybe a bit wiser. But if we let this one see only what we want him to see...?"
"Oh, I get it Blecky." Turrell gets a smile of understanding on his face.
"Do you? Why don't you tell me what exactly it is ya get?"
"Well we get him to... we... see..." He struggles trying to articulate.
"Jes' let it stew in there a bit more, Turrell. Yer brain is like a fine pressure cooker - some people jes' need to give it a bit longer to bake."
"Where'd you hear that one, Blecky?" Cesar asks, a mix of admiration and amusement painted on his face.
"Cookbook. C'mon, we're going to fifth and Jenson."
"Isn't that Prince country, Blecky?"
"Fucking hell, Iz, what did I just fucking finish saying about shutting the fuck up?"
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Post by bladesthroughsmoke on Dec 7, 2009 23:34:48 GMT -5
Sabbat keeps his distance, still trailing the men, trying to get an idea of their game. He's unsure at the moment whether he's sizing them up as potential competition (usually the more likely option), or possible employers (not as usual, especially considering the look of this lot), but sizing them up is definitely what he's doing.
He lets them round the corner ahead of him, hanging back to light up a cigarette before he continues on.
-the fuck're you wasting your time following these idiots for?
Gettin' a look 't th'place. 'sides, y'think they ain't playin' th'same card I am?
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"Blecky" Gruber
Mercury City Citizen
You talkin' ta me? Jes' kiddin'
Posts: 4
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Post by "Blecky" Gruber on Dec 8, 2009 14:52:45 GMT -5
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