Play@YSDC

June 15, 1937 - A small cottage outside of Kenosha, Wisconsin - several hours outside of Chicago.

One month ago, Helen Mussida (the late Jack Ciccote's assistant*), helped the two of you break out of an insane asylum, where the doctors repeatedly told you that you hallucinated the events that led up to the explosion at the Union Theatre, in 1931. Max was seriously wounded during the breakout, but Eddie escaped and hijacked a truck at a farm. Helen was likely apprehended by the police. (*Jack Ciccote was Eddie's brother, and Max's partner in a Private Investigation firm. Helen knows both of you well.)

During their time in the asylum, Max can recall lying sedated on a table with doctors and suited men standing above him. The suited men were asking Max about a carved cross. Max recalls grabbing this strange cross in the basement of the Union Theatre. It was an upside-down cross, made of some dense wood, and covered in intricate depictions of tentacled beasts. These incidents felt like odd dreams that contradicted the story the doctors were telling him. Max doesn't recall whether he admitted to seeing the cross or not.

...

After the breakout, Max woke up in a hospital in downtown Chicago He was attended by an undercover police officer (Tom Brown) who eventually admitted that he was there for Max's own protection. Officer Brown seemed to be operating under different orders than the rest of the police force, and told Max not to trust the police. Brown -did- call his superior at one point to let him know you were awake, though. Whether that superior was another police officer or not is uncertain.

Max also learned that Tom Collins had become mayor sometime over the last six years. Tom Collins was a powerful mob boss during the events of King of Chicago, and you previously believed that he summoned the (entity/phenomenae?) at the Union Theatre in 1931.

Eddie helped Max escape from the hospital. As they left, police officers were chasing them. In the lobby, some men in plain clothes may have been watching the events unfold, and stared at Max intently. Or did he just imagine this? Perhaps more than one party was interested in the whereabouts of Max and Eddie...

...

After finally escaping the police (including Tom Brown), Max and Eddie reunite with Helen Mussida. She takes them to her family's cottage in Wisconsin, far from the excitement of the city and hopefully away from prying eyes until things cool off.

The cottage is small and simple. Bees buzz in the flowers outside, there is comfortable shade under two huge maple trees, and a long hill behind the cottage leading to a copse of trees and a brook. From that height, you can see Lake Michigan, and you can almost hear laughter from the beaches along the lake.

Helen comes on the weekends to deliver you news from the city. Two weeks ago, she handed you a newspaper article that read:

MAYOR TOM COLLINS VACATIONING IN ASIA
Mayor Tom Collins has left for his extended vacation in Asia. While
constituents are concerned that a one-month leave is not befitting
of the Mayor, he has assured everyone that he is able to return quite
quickly if the need arises. Collins informed the public that he will
be traveling using his own funds, and not those of taxpayers. He will
be taking Pan-American Airways' Transpacific Flight - leaving San Francisco Bay,
and travelling to Shanghai after stopovers in Hawaii, Midway Island, Wake Island,
Guam, Manila, and Macau. Pan-American Airways has only been flying across the
Pacific since April, but there have been no accidents since the flight began, and
we can be assured that the Mayor will be in good hands until his return.

OOC:   Before we get into the action, let me know what Max and Eddie have been doing for the last month. Feel free to talk to each other about what you want to do next, etc. I will be springing something on you almost immediately, but lets get a picture of the characters first.

Eddie wakes up and hurls into a white stained porcelain piss pot he had found in the cottage can. He had gotten good at it. He could hit it from a few yards away at least now. He had called it his "knucklechuck"

Batter Up chuck knuckle fuck! he says and laugh out loud hysterically.

You hear that fats! Eddie called to Max.

Knuckle up...... Chuckles.... Ha! ha!


.......... Duckies on the pond.

Then Eddie fell over.

Every day had been the same. Some days he'd fall. Some days he didn't. Every day he'd drink though. No running from that devil. If Eddie didn't have liquor, he'd make his way to the beach and find some. One way or another.

By noon he was right corked. Just like the day before that. He always managed to find his cleats though and make his way to the back woods. There he'd set up a pitching mound and a scare-crow that looked just like Shoeless Joe Jackson. In actuality, it looked nothing like Shoeless Joe but Eddie had painted the word Joe on a white sweatshirt and stuffed it with hay and old rags, propped it up with a pitchfork.

How you like that Joe? Is that too pitchy forky for yah? Ha! Ha!

Eddie would pitch at Joe for most of the afternoon. Pitch til Rose said it was A- Ok to stop.

Still chuckin' heat doll.... You know it!

Then Eddie would sob for a spell and make the Fatman a sandwhich. That's when the real drinkin' started. Rinse/ Repeat.

Til Rose came by one day with the paper.

Eddie read it over three times before handing it to Max.

You believe this prick! Hey Fats?

Own funds... Mother Fucker....

Fats? You believe this prick?

What? What Eddie?
Max looks up from his book. He hasn't looked up in an hour. He stretches and cracks his neck.

Damn. This is getting me nowhere. Where'd Helen find these books, juvenile fiction?
He slams the book shut. On the cover there's an 12th Century Celtic cross and a stamp from the University of Chicago.

That broad don't know Dewey Decimal from dewey britches. I gotta be in there myself Eddie, you hear me? I wont know what book i need till i see it. How long's it been anyway? Maybe its safe to make a trip into town.

These last few weeks have brought some renewed purpose to Max. He's starting to feel like his old self, like he was on a case again with Jack. Except instead of the sleuth brother now he's got the souse.

Asia huh? Now we'll never get him. Might as well be on the moon.

Saturday, June 22, 1937 - A small cottage outside of Kenosha, Wisconsin - several hours outside of Chicago.

Another week passes. The weather is hot and humid. Flies buzz around the inside of the cottage.

Helen's car rumbles up the road. She lurches up the steps of the cottage, hefting two bags of groceries. Noticeably, she is not carrying any booze this time. Eddie always orders booze, and up until now she has delivered.

She wrinkles her nose as she enters and surveys the litter of bottles and unclean dishes.

"You two are destroying this home! I told you last time - if you don't keep the place clean, you can't stay here. Come on then! Help me pick this crap up!"

She lays the groceries on the table and starts piling bottles into a bag.

Eddie had played this game with Rose so many times over the years. Every time he had come home for a stretch she would bark and call bloody murder about the chores or the kids. Eddie knew the truth. Rose just wanted some quality time.

Eddie moved in a little closer and began to help Rose put the groceries away. He was glad he hadn't hit the bottle quite so hard this morning. Rose hated the drink and Eddie liked to hide it from her.

OK doll face.... We'll tidy up real nice before we head into town.


Eddie smiles his wry devilish grin and pauses before beginning to fill the sink with dirty dishes.

When the cottage is clean to Helen's satisfaction, Max gets ready to head into town. He pauses for a moment as he recognizes a briefcase with "J.C." stamped on it. He fills it with the books on loan from the library, a few dinner rolls, ink, blotter and a pen, and a sketch he made of the cross he saw at the Union Theatre. He puts Helen's 38 revolver in his jacket pocket.
I'm taking this heater Helen - them gam's all you need anyway... heh..

Helen's car sinks by 10 inches when max squeezes into the passenger seat.
Get the lead out knuckles!

1:45 PM Saturday, June 22, 1937 - Helen's Car, Outskirts of Chicago, en route to the Library.

The lakeside road into Chicago is bumpy and slow for the first hour, until you hit the new paving about an hour north of the big city. Lots of weekend drivers out enjoying the sunshine. Helen's demeanor isn't very summery, however.

"Eddie, there's a letter for you."

Keeping her eyes on the road, Helen indicates the glove compartment.

"I don't know who got the idea to send you a letter to my house, but I don't like it. That means people are attaching me to you, and... all this business. Listen, I want to help you two, but I don't think I can take this much more. I feel like something's going to come down on me. Does that sound crazy? I'm afraid people are following me now. It's all making me paranoid."

The Letter:

Comin' Fats!!!

After the clean-up. Eddie gets dressed in his room. He put on his best suit he had tailored by Max's guy in Chicago way back when........

The Tailor was a little handsy on the junk Eddie thought, but his pops had always said " All tailors are queers Eddie.. "

Eddie caps off the ensemble with his old ratty black trench coat. It had seen better days for sure but Eddie always felt tough in that trench and he remembered why as the familiar hollow sound of wood on bone tapped gently at his shins. He straightened the collar and then parted the coat aside to reveal his Louisville Slugger looped in like an old shoelace. There was still a touch of blood on the "O" in Louisville from when he caved in that mook's skull outside a diner in Chicago. Everyone knows that's the sweet spot. "Hit paint" baby Joe used to say. Paint meaning the Louisville Stamp on front face of the bat. The sweet spot. "Hit paint and let god do the rest. " Eddie looks at the blood on the bat again.

How do yah like the paint now there Joe. Is that paint enough for yah?

He reaches into the trench coat pocket and fingers three familiar items. A large pearl decorated to look like a baseball. His good luck charm. It was worth a pretty penny at the pawn shop, but Eddie couldn't part with it. A silver flask which Eddie shook over his open ear. There was still something left in it so Eddie drained it back. Good Bourbon... Very Good. He couldn't remember which high profile gangster ass-hole Eddie had swiped it from but he sure was an ass-hole for letting this sauce slip through his fingers. Lastly was his 0.38 which Eddie opened up the barrel and checked to see that he was still loaded. 5 in the chamber and one missing. Eddie wondered for a brief moment if that missing bullet had murdered some poor soul but Eddie couldn't remember. Funny... you think that would be the sort of thing a man should remember. If the last shot you fired had killed or not..

Hmmm...

Ditsy Bird! Eddie thinks to himself.

Of course their gonna send a letter to your place if their looking for me. We've been married for 10 god damn years Rose. For Christs sake Rose. Where else they gonna send it.

Eddie grabs the letter, puts it in his pocket and shakes his head. He didn't want to get into it with Rose in front of the Fatman. All men have to eat crow at some point and Eddie wasn't any different. He knew he owed Rose some time tween the sheets for this one for sure. Maybe a basket of fancy buns from France's. She loves them French Croissant rolls. They ain't half bad!

Eddie plans to read the letter at the library. It looked official. And official always meant someone's gettin' paid. These days that someone was some other smuck but Eddie didn't mind.

Joe whispered something in his ear about a comeback and Eddie smiled and leaned back in his seat.

oc. if eddy's not going to read the letter yet then you might as well advance us demon.

Max ponders out the window.
You think those birds ever electrocute themselves?

2:30 PM Saturday, June 22, 1937 - Chicago Public Library



Helen pulls as close to the front door as possible. Cars drive by slowly, and the sidewalks are fairly busy with weekend shoppers and tourists.

"You be careful out there. You two don't exactly blend in, you know."

She looks in the rear view mirror.

"I'll be back at 5 PM, closing time. I'll meet you right here, okay?"

Group Luck,Give me a Group Luck roll. That means, whoever has the lowest Luck, please roll under it.

...

The inside of the library is warm, but cooler than the heat of the road and the sidewalk. It smells like old books. The book shelves are high, and surround a large seating and reading area.

A middle-aged woman glances up from a desk as you enter. She stares at Max's massive girth for a moment too long.

"Good afternoon. Is there anything I can help you with, or do you know your way around the library?"

Skill Check,Max,after you post, roll Library Use. Depending on what you're looking for, I might ask for a Hard Success (half your skill) or an Extreme Success (1/5 of your skill). Hard and Extreme successes are new to 7th Edition as well. After you roll, there are two ways of possibly improving your roll, but I'll get into that in the next post. This is kinda like a Tutorial intro mission. :)

ooc,Luck Roll [dice=total]0[/dice] - Luck roll for Max and Eddie. Max has 60 Luck and Eddie has 70 - Pass

Eddie walks past the librarian waving a hand dismissively and sits down at one of the cubicles.

Let me know if you need anything Fats. I got some light reading to take care of.

Eddie takes out the letter that Helen handed him and begins to read it over.

luck 60
library use 50


Max brushes past the librarian with a grunt.

OC. He starts his research with the microfiche, looking over the Tribune archives for any mention of the specter in the sky six years ago or the incident at the Union Theater. He'll also look through Johnny's rise to prominence starting with the mayoral election. He'll keep up with that for a couple hours unless he finds a lead. Then he'll switch to anthropology, religion and occult looking for a trace of that cross or the tentacle motif.
[dice]0[/dice]
[dice]1[/dice]

4:32 PM Saturday, June 22, 1937 - Chicago Public Library

After couple hours, Max has unearthed a mass of articles about Johnny Collins' election race, and starts to piece things together:

Collins was a prominent socialite before the Union Theatre explosion, with reclusive tendencies and obvious ties to organized crime. Some articles call him the King of Chicago. After the Union Theatre explosion, Collins completely disappears from the news for three years. When he shows up again, he immediately announces a desire to run for Mayor. He wins because several prominent politicians and celebrities vouch for him. Some of these politicians were staunchly against Collins in the past, and there was a great deal of surprise that they would suddenly change their mind and support Collins.

Mayor Collins' policies are all obviously intended to support his business interests. Gambling and casinos are almost unregulated in Chicago now. Federal representatives openly condemn what Collins has done to Chicago, and some have complained that he has "the whole State of Illinois in his back pocket." Collins was re-elected last year, this time with the support of Harold Humes, a Los Angeles-based American business magnate, investor, record-setting pilot, engineer, and philanthropist, known as one of the most financially successful individuals in the world. Again, the sudden alliance of Humes with Collins was a surprise to reporters.

The strange events at the Union Theater are not mentioned in any newspaper articles... However: There are articles about the Theatre Burning down, and a massive explosion, and suspects being detained. There are numerous articles that source a 'leak' in the police probe that suggest Eddie Cicotte, and "An Extremely Obese Man named Max O'Malley" were the perpetrators of the crime at Union Theatre. There are no pictures of Max, but there is a an old baseball photo of Eddie in a couple articles.

OOC:   There is some information about the cross as well, but I want to know if you want to spend Luck to turn your roll into an Extreme Success. Also, mark a successful roll for Library Use, for future advancement!

Luck Spending for Max,Max rocked his Library Use roll. Your 14 is 4 points from an Extreme Success (1/5th of your total skill of 50%). With an Extreme Success, I'd give you some info beyond what you're looking for, that could be a future resource.

In 7th Edition, you can lower your die roll by decreasing your Luck, on a 1:1 ratio. Luck can go up and down! So if you spend 4 of your 60 Luck, you'd have an Extreme Success. Let me know if you decide to do this and spend the Luck.

...

After Eddie finishes reading the letter, he hears a phone ringing.

He's not sure how long it's been ringing for.

It's at an empty librarian's desk, quite near to him.

There are no librarians around, and strangely, no one seems to be disturbed by the sound of the phone in the library.

Eddie jerks his head in the direction of the ringing phone with a wide shit eating grin on his face. He hadn't been this excited about about anything since god damn Joe and his fucking shoes or lack there of.

You hear that Joe? Big Time Oriental Contract! Eddie says aloud.

Eddie pumps his fist and even goes so far as to do a little dance. He stops, having risen from his chair and squints again at the terrible noise coming from that blasted telephone.

Jesus lady! You gonna pick that up?

Noticing that the desk is empty, Eddie slowly creeps towards it, craning his neck in search of the absent Librarian. He looks back towards the rest of the patrons of the Library and squints again when the phone rings.

You Eggheads don't hear that? Buncha Queers!

Eddie raps a knuckle on the librarian's desk and jerks suddenly when the phone rings a fourth time. The noise was really grinding his gears.

Ah for fucks sake lady. A fine time to be takin' a squirt on the company dime. This sqwuaker sings one more damn note....

Max leans back in his chair in astonishment.
Extremely obese. Who in the fuck do they think they are?

oc sure, max will spend 4 luck to get a better library use. noted on sheet

Eddie leans over the Librarians desk to see if she is passed out or giving some lucky feller a humm-dinger on the down low.

Close your eyes Joe.

When the phone rings a fifth time, Eddie can't help himself but to pick it up.

Public Library... Offering a wide variety of super shitty selections, boring books and missing Librarians. My name is Eddie Cicotte and as it seems.. I'll be here all fucking day.

4:33 PM Saturday, June 22, 1937 - Chicago Public Library

Max discovers nothing about the changed stars in 1931, or the strange cross that he found, until he moves to the far rear corner of the library, where the Occult section, and other esoteric publications, are kept:

- He discovers a series of pamphlets by the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, a small Chicago-based group, who mention 'portentous shifts in the night sky over our foul city', which culminate on the evening of the Union Theatre explosion: "The stars themselves are showing themselves foul - twisting in the ways I have foretold in my dreams. I do not dare to look directly upon them for more than a glance, that I might be stricken mad by what I see." The author of these pamphlets is one H. T. Gunn, who lives in a low-income area of Chicago.

- In a collection of nautical legends called Witches of the Sea, he discovers a story from the 1700's wherein a 'sailor from Ottomans boarded our ship, the Merganser, who was later found to be carrying a Crosse which was upside-downe. Carved unto the Crosse were a stunning and odious array of sea creatures, such as no one aboard our ship has seene. The Captaine ordered the sailor to leave the Merganser, for the Crosse did appear to be the Toole of the Devil himself. The man from the Ottomans claimed the cross was a Sign of Protection against beasts that lie 'neath the waves, and in the stars above. He warned the Captaine that he might Damn the ship to Dread if he left, and threatened to draw Beasts from the Aether into being, using the Crosse. The Captaine did set the man free in Maine, and I left the ship then as well. As far I I know, the Merganser was ne'er heard of again after leaving port, and leaving the man and his Crosse behind.'

- Perhaps coincidentally, the very next story in Witches of the Sea talks about something called the Star Mirror, carrying similar properties as the Ottoman Sign of Protection, which was used by a famous pirate ship in ancient Shanghai.

Some other things you discover but don't have the time to read right now:

- A thirteen-volume cyclopedia called The Golden Bough, published 1911-1915. The volumes are a work of anthropology exploring the evolution of magical, religious, and scientific thought. [OC: You can't take this out from the library, but studying it here over 1-2 weeks would improve your Occult skill, and maybe impact your SAN]

- A single book called Nameless Cults, published 1909 by Golden Goblin Press, NY. This is the translation of a German man (Friedrich Wilhelm von Junzt), who maintained connections with various cults and secret societies. Even at a glance, the book is somewhat horrific - describing various awful rituals and gatherings, and including some terrifying engravings. [OC: This book is not permitted to be taken out of the library, but if you spent 30 total weeks studying it, your Cthulhu Mythos skill would go up 3-6% (which is pretty good), and your SAN would drop. You can also use this book to find Mythos references, with a 27% success rate. There may be actual spell(s) in this book as well, but you'd need the time to read it.]

- A volume of poems called People of the Monolith, bound in dark red buckram at Erebus Press, Monmouth, Illinois, in an edition of 1200 copies. These are odd poems about the transitive nature of the stars, and omens found within them. [OC: This book is not permitted to be taken out of the library, but if you spent 1 week studying it, your Cthulhu Mythos skill would go up 1-2%, and your SAN would drop slightly. You can also use this book to find Mythos references, with a 9% success rate.


...

The people reading around Eddie are clearly staring at him now.

Eddie picks up the phone, and there is a raspy static sound on the phone for a minute. Then there is Rose. Her voice sounds far away, and hollow, and also interpersed with static (or is it a breath?) occasionally.

"Eddie? It's me, Eddie. Rose. Listen, I know what you're thinkin' about travelin', but you can't do that no more. You can't leave me an' the kids behind like that. It will split this family - I just can't take it any more, Eddie. All the traveling, you bein' away, me never knowin' where you are, waitin' up at night for you to call like you promised, and not hearin' from you. Don't do this to me, Eddie. Eddie, are you listening?"

Eddie stares wide eyed at the rest of the people in the Library, frozen like a possum caught in the head lights of an oncoming Hearse.

He snaps back to it and turns away suddenly covering his mouth with a hand in hopes of keeping his voice down and his conversation with his wife private.

Jesus Rose! I'm working here... I'll be sending you some dough soon baby! Just like I promised. Got a new gig coming up! Gonna be rolling in it all over again baby! You wait and see! How are the kids?

Eddie wipes a large bead of swet from his brow and glances around looking for Max. He whisper into the phone.

They saying their prayers Rose?

Max whistles a note, impressed at what he's found. He looks around first to make sure no one's watching, then as discretely as he can he slides the pamphlets and the three individual books into his briefcase (Witches of the Sea, Cults, and People of the Monolith). He'll leave the weighty cyclopedia set behind.

Sleight of hand (10%)
[dice]2[/dice]

He snaps the case shut then goes to the front desk. On the way he grabs a random book off a shelf and speaks to the librarian.
Good afternoon Ma'am, I'd like to sign this book out please, checking the cover, Menstruation in Adolescents.

JESUS, he says nodding over his shoulder towards Eddy's antics, Look's like the circus is in town, eh? Because that guy's from the circus i think. Heh.

I'm blowing this goddammit.. Be cool be cool.

Persuade (20%)

oc. i fucked up the dice. i think i got the two thirty rolls first
[dice]3[/dice]
[dice]0[/dice]
[dice]1[/dice]

4:33 PM Saturday, June 22, 1937 - Chicago Public Library

The Librarian looks at the reverse cover of "Menstruation in Adolescents" for a moment, then asks for Max's address and name (unless he has a library card). "That will be due back in two weeks. And I'm sorry to do this, it's library policy, but can I see inside your suitcase before you go?"

...

Rose's voice hisses strangely, and fades into a garbled distant series of giggles for a moment. Then there is the same strange static (or breath ?), and her voice returns:

"It's not about the money, Eddie. Listen, you can't go play ball again. You'll be a laughing-stock, after what you did in the World Series. They're setting you up, Eddie, dear. Can't you see that?

Just... shrrsshhhhh.. just come home. Just come rest with us. The kids miss you. shrrhuurrhhrrrrssshhhhhtthey want to see you."

A younger librarian has approached Eddie while he's talking. She takes a couple cautious steps towards him. All the people in the adjacent area, who are sitting at reading stalls, are watching. A couple others are watching from around the bookshelves. [OC: It might not be clear to Eddie what he has done to attract this much attention. It's almost like he was shouting or something, based on the stares he's getting.]

Eddie whiapers into the phone.

Gotta go babe. I'll call you again from the Orient. Old Knuckles is gonna be on top again. You wait and see. I'll make you proud!

Eddie hangs up the phone before Rose or whatever that was could say another thing.

Eddie smiles sheepishly at the Librarian.

Sorry! Domestic Bliss RIght? Never a dull moment in Paradise!!

He then hushes himself and smiles again, holding his palms in the air in surrender.

OK! OK! I got it!

Eddie then saunters up to Max at the checkout and, suspecting Max might be in some sort of trouble, tries to distract the check out librarian with his boisterous demeanour.

We'd like a whiskey sour and Jack and Coke to go there Dollface!

As odd as it sounds, Max does have a library card or did at one time, about a hundred pounds ago when he was still a sleuth - a sleuth who got paid. Before life kicked him in the balls. Before he was on a first name basis with the dark principalities haunting the Windy City. He gives his old address on W35th St, maybe they'd still have it in their books.

See inside my case? Of course! He fumbles with the combination lock long enough for Eddie to appear on the scene. He opens and closes the briefcase comically fast and shouts in the librarian's face OH MY GOD!!! It's a minor celebrity! Hey aren't you that guy that every hates?. Max is already heading out the door.

Nailed it.

Persuade 20%
[dice]0[/dice]

oc. Spent 1 luck

Eddie gives the librarian a wry smile and winks. He then leans over the desk very close to the librarian and changes his facial expression to a very serious glare, seeming on the very brink of violence. The smell of whiskey is no doubt strong on his breath.

Is the phone number to this library listed? Can anybody just.... call in?

4:33 PM Saturday, June 22, 1937 - Chicago Public Library

Eddie: Is the phone number to this library listed? Can anybody just.... call in?

The Librarian stares at Eddie, squinting her eyes, trying to place him.

"No, people cannot call in. I'm sorry. We're just installing phone lines inside the building right now. This is only phone that works." She points to the phone at the main desk. It's not the phone that Eddie was talking on, which lies deeper inside the library.

"Did you know that fellow that just left?" She looks like she's still trying to place Eddie, when the waft of his breath hits her and she clearly steps back from the desk to create some distance between them.
...

5:05 PM Saturday, June 22, 1937 - In Helen's Car, headed back North

The choking heat of the asphalt and brick dissipates into the soothing smell of pastures and waterfront as you head back north. The windows to the car are open.

Max and Helen listen as Eddie shares his invitation to join the Alameda Kono All Star team. Helen shakes her head.

"This is a trap, you two. I mean, I know you were a famous baseball player, Eddie, but do you really think they'd call you in to play, after all these years? No offense, but.." see glances across at his aged, disheveled face"...they could pick more.. 'current' players, I think."

"Look. I don't know if you think you're crazy or not, if you were locked up and hallucinated everything, like the doctors said. But it really looks to me like Collins has it in for you. This is the only way he could lure you out of hiding - through a letter sent to me. Do you think it's a coincidence that you're invited to China - at the exact time when Collins is also there?"

"I think you're better off letting this go. Make yourselves scarce, start up a business in Alaska or something. You have skills, Max. You're a good P.I., when you put your mind to it. And you, Eddie... well, I'm sure you could find something to do. Heck, maybe I'll come with you, eventually, if this heat doesn't let up. And I'm not talking about the sun."

"Just promise me you're not going to fall for this."

You get the gold star doll... it's a trap for sure. But nobody puts the bag on Max O'Malley.
He takes a bite of a dinner roll.

Besides, <chew> every Bull in town is looking to pinch us. In the orient we might be able to get close to our good Mayor... might even get away after.. and save us a trip to old sparky.

What do ya think Eddie?

Eddie isn't listening to Rose as she yammers on about his failed career. She was never supportive and she was sure she would use this to turn the kids against him once again.

When Max asks him what he thinks Eddie wakes up from his day dream distraction and throws Rose a dirty look.

I think you're right Fats.

Eddie fingers the pearl baseball in his pocket.

We can pop this son of a bitch between games for sure. Even if that rat bastard finks out on us, we still get a dinner and a show right? I bet those chinks lay out one hell of a spread.

You said it Eddie. Can anyone else go for some egg foo young?

Max starts leafing through his stolen books.

Egg Foo Young...

Eddie wonders...

Max had lost a truck load of weight since we went into hiding and here we were.. back on the case and fats was already back on the wagon.


Eddie reaches into his inside suit jacket pocket and pulls out his flask.

7:15 AM Wednesday, June 26, 1937 - Union Station, Downtown Chicago

Four days later, train tickets in hand, Max and Eddie find themselves in Union Station. The platforms are crowded with passengers, the air reeks of hot soot and exhaust from the engines.

The 7:30 AM train to Los Angeles leaves in 15 minutes.

Helen dropped you off twenty minutes ago, without much fanfare. In the last four days, you've remained hidden at your cottage. The sudden press of people (some who stare longer than you're comfortable with) is unnerving after the long weeks of quiet.

The Milwaukee Express to Los Angeles is a ten-car passenger train. It's on a quieter platform. Most passengers have already boarded the train, but a few are lingering on the platform, bidding farewell to family and friends.

ooc, If there is any way we can spring for a cabin? Some place with some privacy. Max and Eddie don't do well in public confined spaces.

Eddie practices pitching the whole time. He tries to quit drinking but it just seems to cause him to slip further under the bus. He stops filling his flask on the sly and just wanders around the house grounds with a baseball bat and a forty pounder of Wild Turkey. Eddie calls his wife the night before he leaves for Union Station. By the end of the conversation he is not sure whether he made the call or the phone rang and he picked it up. The conversation went well and was disturbingly peaceful so he's assuming the latter.

Jesus Eddie, you look like shit. Max says grabbing him by the lapels and straightening him out a bit. You sleep last night? C'mon, this is us. You got your ticket?

Max shepherds Eddie into the cattle car and dumps him into his seat. Sleep it off man, it's a long way to LA. I'm going to see if the diner car's got breakfast yet.
Of course, Max came prepared with a big bag of Chicago pretzels, just in case.

He leaves his briefcase beside Eddie. There's a half a dozen books in it, already tabulated, along with extensive notes. He spent the last weeks reading. It kinda feels like he's back at NYU. He's been looking forward to this train ride - he plans to make good use of his time.

On the way to the diner car he walks slow, scanning the cars for anything suspicious or anyone taking a strange interest in him. Could be Johnny's got a mole on here already.

Spot hidden 28%
[dice]0[/dice]

Eddie smiles as Max straightens him up. The Fatman was right. Time to start looking the part. Time to shine baby.

He calls to Max as he takes off for the breakfast car.

Grab me a Manhatten buddy! Top Shelf!! Time to start livin'

Eddie gives Max both two finger guns and makes a clickey sound with his cheeks.

Classy! He thinks to himself.

With max gone. Eddie sneaks a few nips from his flask and then fills it one more time as sneakily as he's able to in his condition.

Sleight of Hand 60,[dice=total]0[/dice] Pass

Then bored, he picks up a couple of Max's books and starts to finger through them for the juicy bits

7:25 AM Wednesday, June 26, 1937 - Union Station, Downtown Chicago

Max and Eddie find their car- it's a shared four-bed affair. At the moment, the beds are folded up, and the seats are down. The two other passengers who will share this cabin with you are not present, but small "seat reserved" cards lie on two of the chairs, showing that they are indeed taken. You will be sharing the cabin with two other people, apparently. They must be elsewhere in the train, or late getting on.

OOC:   Given your terrible Credit Rating, I'm afraid that you couldn't have afforded your own cabin without a (pretty good) roll. I don't want to rewind, but happy for you two to solve this problem in another way, if you'd like.

...

The two of you squeeze through the narrow centre aisle of the train, past passengers loading their bags, into one of the dining cars. This dining car car is half full at the moment: Two clean-cut businessmen, tucking into sandwiches and talking earnestly. An older man in a corner, wearing a faded suit, reading the Chicago Tribune. One perfect-looking family with two polite looking daughters wearing clean dresses. A woman in a brown trenchcoat, traveling alone.

...

You order your food, and it arrives, and the train has not yet left the station. Checking the clock, you notice that the train was due to leave ten minutes ago.

OOC:   Max, you rolled a Spot Hidden, but I no longer see the result on this die roller. Can you do it again? Also, I'd like a Group Luck roll. This means the least lucky person rolls Luck. That'll be Max, with 55 Luck.

Testing die roller:

[dice]1d100[/dice]

OOC:   [dice]1d100[/dice]

spot hidden (28%) 83
luck (55%) 90

Max sits down with his coffee and takes a bite of his Reuben. He takes a moment to study the woman in the trenchcoat. What's she hiding under there?

C's probably.

Eddie looks down at his Major League Baseball Memorial World Series watch for the time and frowns, remembering he had pawned it for hooch.

Instead, he spots a pocket watch hanging from the apron of a cook clear across the car. Eddie reads the time and mumbles to himself as he was aught to do in these troubled times. Eagle Eyed Eddie. They'll say it again...

Eddie smacks Max on the shoudler.

You said it fats. C's if they were B's for sure.

What do yah thinks the hold up?

7:26 AM Wednesday, June 26, 1937 - Union Station, Downtown Chicago

The train finally starts to rumble as the diesel engines roar to life. A clean-cut steward in a Burlington Rail uniform steps into the cabin.



"Weeelcome to Burlington Northernnnn! Apologieeees forrr the dee-lay folks! We'll be on our way shortly! Over night, every night, Chiiiiii-cago to Denver, transfers to Salt Lake City, San Francisco, Fort Worth, Houston, Dallas, BIllings, and points beyond! Eeeeiiiiff you have any questions or need any help at any time you know where to find me!"

He grins naively and points at his hat.

The train jerks, shudders, then with a low screech and stench of black smoke, it lurches forward and slowly moves forward. Union Station passes out of sight, and you're soon roaring out of town. On one side, industrial buildings whip by, and on the other is the North Branch Chicago River, reflecting the fierce glare of the summer morning sun.

Judging from pamphlets lying around, you have an overnight on this train, and will transfer to another train at 6 AM tomorrow, in Denver. Until then, you have the whole day to pass the time.

OOC:   Since Max failed his Spot Hidden and Luck, you don't notice anything. I can step ahead a bit, unless you want to interact with each other or anyone in this train car. Or if there's anything you generally want to do on the train, let me know.

Click to zoom in if you'd like.

Max enjoys a travel montage. Stock footage of famous sites fades in and out around him.

Back in their compartment, Max takes his shoes off and puts his dirty smelly feet on the seat across from him.

Nearby is a classy leather-bound attache case with an embossed plate reading "J.C.". In the case is the sports section of Monday's Tribune. Joe Louis knocked out that bum Braddock at Comiskey Park last night and Max plans to read about it later on the shitter.

There is also a collection of literature he stole from the Chicago Public Library: an anthology called Witches of the Sea, a volume of poems called People of the Monolith, and a booked called Nameless Cults. He had only briefly thumbed through the first two, but had spent the last several days studying the book of cults. A man like Max easily confuses existential dread with hunger. He turns an empty bag of pretzels over and salt dusts the cabin floor. Max returns to his book.

Before he left Chicago, he had asked Helen to track down the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. All he has is one of their pamphlets written by a H. T. Gunn. Helen aint no sleuth though. Not a bad looker, but she couldnt use her gams to save her life. Jack hired her for her typing, of all things. At least she can keep her mouth shut.

There is also a collection of pencil drawings Max made of an ancient ornate cross which occupies his thoughts nightly. Each day he grows less sure whether he actually saw it at the Union Theater or only dreamt about it afterwards.

Eddie returns to his seat just as Max puts his feet up.

He winces and sits down a couple seats away. Not cuz of the smell. Eddie was used to the stink of Gluttony by now. Between his time spent with the Black Socks, his partner Max and stewing in his own junk, Eddie was used to stink. Eddie didn't like it when Max's fat touched his throwing arm. Bad.. Bad Hoodoo.

Eddie pulled out a smoked meat sandwich on sourdough all wrapped up nice and oily-like in red and white checkered wax paper. His fingers glistened with the fat dripping through the wrappings. He hands it to Max before the waitress arrives with three double gin and tonics. Eddie had his Vices but so did Max. Eddie learned a long time ago that the Fatman didn't bother him about the booze when his face was stuffed with pastrami. Kind of like the pot calling the kettle black he always thought. Whatever in the name of shit holy Christ that meant.

One Pastrami on Sourdough your royal Fatness!!

Eddie bows low.. something he'd been practicing quite a bit to impress the big time slopes in China once he started chukin' again.

Eddie leans over and takes a gander at Max's doodle.

What yah doodlin' Max old pal?

Eddie's eyes suddenly collide with the "JC" emblem on Max's attaché case and he doesn't give Max a chance to answer. His mood suddenly shifts to a sickly dark shade of eggplant.

That Jack's case?

Previously said:   One Pastrami on Sourdough your royal Fatness!!

Thanks Eddie, it's just want I wanted! Gee I didn't get you anything.

He unwraps it and pauses for a moment. Guess we're going to be eating Chinese for a while, huh Eddie?

Max isn't too cautious about his study materials. They're strewn about. Mustard quickly gets in the pages. He starts telling Eddie about some Babylonian cult but it's difficult to make out because he's eating.

Previously said:   That Jack's case?

Listen Eddie, there's too many ghosts on this train already. The only J.C. you need to concern yourself with is Johnny Collins and sweet little baby Jesus. You understand what I'm saying? This ain't no comeback, and this ain't no chance at redemption. That invitation you got wasn't from no slant-eyed baseball commission. And it wasn't from Johnny Collins either. It was from Beezelbub himself, and you and I just RSVP'd.

Max looks around. A few faces seem to to be watching him. Sure as eggs is eggs, Johnny's got people on this train. He seems to want us alive for some reason.

Eddie's eyes teared up for a fraction of a second and a flash of anger crosses Eddie's face so twisted he'd give that devil Max was yammering about a run for his money. He looked like he was just about to strike Max... at least a dozen times. Then follow up with his Louisville Slugger. A snarl began to form on his lips as his one eye narrowed and he glared intently at his fat friend. His hands balled into fists and Eddie leaned closer to Max with a predatory stare Max had never seen before in the happy go lucky drunk.

There was an evil in his tone as he whispered softly though gritted teeth.

What did you just say?

The train whistled....

Then just as fast, that Eddie Cicotte shit eat grin suddenly plasters his face from cheek to cheek. Eddie leans back with his Gin and Tonic and chuckles, perhaps a bit too forced.

You gotta learn to relax Fatman! We're on easy street here. You gotta have faith pal.

Eddie taps his drinking arm twice.

Once this heater get's warmed up we ain't gonna want for nuthin!!

Eddie looks out the window of the train and Max can see the shadow of that deadly serious, twisted man he just witnessed in his reflection.

For nuthin!!

Max doesn't flinch but he's relieved when Eddie finally calms down.
All right, all right. Save it for game time Knuckles.

Max cautiously takes his greasy mitt off the heater in his pocket.

1:20 AM Wednesday June 26, 1937 - Denver Zephyr, En Route to Denver

Nameless Cults is a thick tome. It looks like it's never been opened. Printed in 1909, and claims to be a "Faithful revision clarification of the Bridewell Octavio Edition" which was published in 1845. And apparently that version was a translation of "Unassprechlichen Kulten", a four-part book printed in Germany sometime in the early 1800's.

The book reads like part-journal, part encyclopedia, written by a man named Friedrich Wilhelm von Junzt, who apparently spent a great deal of time researching and also attending the ceremonies of various secret societies and cults. In many instances, it is implied that Junzt is also participating in the ceremonies, and doing quite awful things. He writes about these events in a disturbingly matter-of-fact way - a drunken orgy in the Dark Forest of Germany, including human sacrifice, is written about in such a plain way that it's hard to imagine Junzt had his head on straight.

The sheer volume of such events is hard to accept - why does no one talk about these things, if they truly happen with such frequency?


4:06 AM Thursday, June 27, 1937 - Denver Zephyr, En Route to Denver

The steward knocks loudly on your door and rings a large bell.

"DENVER COLORAAAADDOOOOO! Thirty Minutes! Rise and Shine!"

It's still pitch black outside. The sky is clear.

4:35 AM Thursday, June 27, 1937 - Union Station, Denver, Colorado


Union Station - Denver, Colorado.

Halfway to San Fran. The sun is just starting to light the sky in the east. It's damn cold up here in the mountains at night, even in the middle of the summer.



You've found the platform where you're supposed to wait for the next train. Your bags are leaned up beside you. The Denver Zephyr is two platforms over, now empty - and no other trains are on the platform right now.

You have 25 minutes before the train to San Francisco arrives. At 4:30 AM transfer doesn't afford much sleep - if any.

Moths flap against the two pitiful lights that illuminate the platform. Virtually everyone has dispersed from the platform - it seems that only the train to San Francisco is leaving soon enough to justify waiting outside.

You recognize several groups of people from the Chicago-Denver train, who have also moved to this platform and are waiting with you. But one pair stands out like a sore thumb. Even if the big guy didn't keep looking your way, they'd still stand out:

Two men in Big City Suits. One fits the business part - a thin english-looking blonde guy, so thin you can see shadows under his cheekbones. Tight little suitcase. Round spectacles. Probably couldn't hammer a nail to save his life. Reading a newspaper so he can look busy.

The other guy though. Straight Italian. Smoking a cigarette in the way you do when your past is haunting you. When you can't forget. You know the feeling.

He's tapping his foot, impatient. Keeps looking your way - no eye contact, though. Just enough to confirm that you're still around. Broad shoulders, pouty lips. Might as well be hanging off the side of a Model T with a Tommy Gun. That's the type. He's the right age, too. Years back when Collins was running gangs, this guy would have been young and ready. Now he has a bit of a belly, but it still looks like he could crack skulls, and might still enjoy it too. He has two suitcases. He might be taking a longer trip than Office Boy.

The two of them are as far down the platform as they can get from you. Another dozen people are also on the platform, and more are arriving from the station.

Eddie watches the two men through his peripherals with perfect clarity. A trick he'd gotten quite good at on the mound keeping a close eye on some assholes taking a big lead on first base. Eddie takes out a cigarette of his own and fumbles clumsily through his jacket. His hand presses firmly on the zippo in his left inside pocket. Eddie shakes his head and smiles wryly at Max

Well what d'ya know fats. I left my torch on the train.

With a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, Eddie strolls over to the intense looking Italian fellow smoking across the platform. Upon reaching him, Eddie takes a nip from his flask and smiles warmly.

You got a light Mac? Mine's out... Too many fags on the train. You know what I mean?


Eddie takes a quick look up and down the Italian to check him out. Not to suspicious. But enough to see if the WOP was packing.

"No, Eddie... Eddie."
Max tries impotently to stop this disaster from unfolding.

ooc- Spot Hidden toll was 28. - Pass.

4:38 AM Thursday, June 27, 1937 - Union Station, Denver, Colorado



The big guy purses his lips and gives a little chuckle at your comments. He cups his hands around the lit match, holds it carefully to the tip of your cigarette. Big hands, thick fingers. The smell of cologne. Smells pretty good - probably expensive stuff, but he wears too much of it.

He looks you in the eye as you draw in the smoke.

"That's pretty funny stuff. You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere? I swear... I swear you look like someone I know. Here, listen, buddy. Let me do you a favour. You look like shit and you smell like shit. Here."

He flicks the match away and reaches into his jacket pocket.

As he does so, you see a strap over his rumpled shirt and under the jacket. A holster, tight to the body. Yeah, he's packing heat all right.

He draws out a fold of bills, and fingers through them. Probably about a hundred bucks in there.

"Here's a dollar. Do yourself a favour. Maybe do everyone a favour. You got time - go into the station and buy some soap. Wash yourself. Get a razor too. Here."

He pulls out another dollar from the wad of money.

"Get something for your friend there too. Jesus Christ, he's big, isn't he? Isn't he a big guy, David?"

'David' shakes his head and looks at Max apologetically. He looks flustered and obviously does not want to see an escalation.

[ooc - Okay, I marked a Check by your Spot Hidden, Dan. Can you two give me a Sense Motive check as well?]

Eddie grins wide and accepts the dollar bill.

Thanks Mac!! That's some solid sage advice you got there big fella!

There is an obvious sarcasm to his voice. Eddie likes this guy a lot. So obviously he wants to kill him.

Eddie fumbles purposefully for the dollar bill as he puts it in his pocket. He sighs and shrugs as he drops it.

Whoopsy!!

He meets the Italians eye as he steps on the bill, secretly not wanting it to blow away. He does need the cash.

Or should I say WOP-sy!! emphasizing the word WOP sharply in WOP-sy very clearly. I'm not just not so sure anymore.

Eddie quickly snatches the bill up off the ground and presents it with a short wave.

Got it!! I'm gonna go buy my fat friend a cheeseburger and think long and hard about such sage advice.

Eddie looks at the Italian with his wry crooked smile before nodding to his friend David and tipping his cap.

See yah in the funny papers David!

ooc- sense motive roll is 09.

Eddie will walk back to Max if there is no further trouble.

C'mon pal, let's go get that cheeseburger and leave these gentlemen to their business.

Max ushers Eddie away, and gives the both of them a look over, especially david.
Sense motive 14

Eddie chuckles to himself as Max ushers Eddie away from the growing conflict and whispers to Max.

I just called that dirty Mook a WOP... Heh! Heh!! I bet you're doing a god damn jig over your pot of gold now eh Fatman? You fuckin' Mik you!

Eddie straightens himself out, smiling at his friend and straightens his collar. He was slipping alright.

Let's spend that dollar!! I'm starving over here.


ooc - Eddie will spend the luck to make his Psychology roll.

6:15 AM Thursday, June 27, 1937. Somewhere West of Union Station.

Max waits until David and the greasy wop are at breakfast.

He tries to get away from Eddie for a few minutes.
"I gotta drop a deuce." He exits the cabin abruptly with a newspaper under his arm. He heads to the diner car. No time to shit.

He approaches David and the greasy wop at their table and sits down. His massive heft presses David against the wall in the cramped space.

"Gentlemen, I just wanted to apologize for the behaviour of my friend earlier. You see, he's an asshole. But we have a long trip ahead of us and I do believe in mending fences. Let's say this piece of toast is a fence that got broke because of some careless words. Max takes a bite of it to illustrate the point. Now there's no putting that fence back together. You simply need another piece.... so lets start over.

"The name's O'Malley."

[he tries to discretely pass David a folded up piece of paper. Sleight of hand (10%): 49]
It has a detailed pencil drawing of an ornate cross. Underneath is written. "You seen this?"
On the back is a few cock and balls, sketched quickly.

Back in time for a sec:

4:38 AM Thursday, June 27, 1937 - Union Station, Denver, Colorado

Eddie spent 4 Luck to pass Sense Motive on the big mook. I marked that on your sheet - Eddie has 66 Luck now. Note that spending Luck to pass a roll doesn't let you check off a success on it.

This guy is tough, no doubt. But the blood-shot whites of his eyes and the dark bags of skin underneath are from more than just one rough night of sleep. What keeps this guy up at night?

What's really unsettling, though, is that the big guy is staring right back at your face, and scowling a bit. Looking a little nervous. You can't help but think he's thinking the same thing, or worse, looking back at you.

And for an instant, you feel like you both realize this at the same time.

This guy looks like he's seen something no one wants to see.

Union Station, the fire, the thing in the stars looking down. You can see it in his face. He sees it in yours.

He looks away quickly, as you also turn.

"Fuckin greaseball," he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear.


Back to the present...

6:15 AM Thursday, June 27, 1937. The California Zephyr - two hours out of Denver, en route to San Fransisco. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

I just looked - it takes 33 hours to train from Denver to SF right now! I'm calling it ~48 hours in 1937. We can speed through this for sure. Cam, you can choose to do this on Friday morning instead, if you'd like. But it'll move you way forward on reading your book, at least!

David gives Max a quizzical look over his glasses, like a disapproving schoolteacher, and looks down at the note. The big guy leans over too. [OC: Failed sleight of hand.]

He flips the paper over (sees the cock and balls), and flips it back again.

"What is this? Looks like a cross, with... something crawling on it? I don't understand, what's this all about?"

The mook snatches the sheet out of his hand, gives the cross a quick glance, then flips the paper over and snorts. "We got a' comedian here." He does look genuinely amused, and snorts again. The cock and balls is obviously more interesting to the mook than the cross.

Eddie, feel free to let me know what you're up to on the train, generally. You're not in this scene with Max. Max, please roll Sense Motive.

Max sighs and leans back. Outside the window the Chicago skyline recedes into a sea of corn.
"Shit. You two are just a couple of mooks ain't ya? You don't know who you work for. You don't know what you're in."

"Do me a favor. You see Johnny, you tell him, no one puts the bag on Max O'Malley.
"No one." He takes a last glance out East.

"Well.. " Max tucks the newspaper under his arm. "I gotta pinch a loaf".
He struggles to get out of the booth.

"Push David. David, push."

Eddie winks at Max and grins his lopsided grin as his partner excuses himself to the lavatory. The booze was starting to get on top of him once again.

Measure Twice... Cut Once there fats!!

Eddie stretches his legs once Max exits the cabin and imagines briefly the deuce that dumpster of a man must be battling in the can.

He laughs out loud for a moment and then drifts off to sleep.

As always , he dreams of Rose and the kids...

ooc- Eddie will remain in the cabin unless disturbed.

9:00 PM Friday, June 28, 1937. Sleeping Car of The California Zephyr En route to San Fransisco. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

(Two days later)

...So you see, Nature itself is not a stable thing, nor is it neat and without controversy. Knowing this, is knowing that there is no kind God, nor a righteousness that his angels would seek to preserve. And so we come to understand that the true creativity of the World is premised on its deep-seated monstrosity. The closer we lean into the bloated and entropic nature of the World, the more we are inspired to sympathize with the Demon Lilith, and her abandonment of things-as-they-should be...

Max looks up from People of the Monolith, and stares back at the reflection of himself in the window of their sleeping-car. Pasty skin, evil-looking purple crescents under his bloodshot eyes.

Sitting across from him, Eddie looks no better. Monstrosities, indeed.

Normally, four people would be assigned to each sleeping car, but the previous passengers took a look at you two, and politely asked for another berth. So you have the car to yourself. The sliding door from your berth to the hallway of the train car is closed, but small windows show you that the lights in the hallway have been turned off. The bar is closed, no more food service until morning.

It's been three days on a train, and you're finally six hours out from San Fran.

You haven't seen David and the goon since Max passed them the note, early the day before. Maybe you just keep missing them in the dining car, or maybe they got off, and weren't headed to San Francisco after all.

KNOCK KNOCK

There is a sharp rap on your door. (Let's assume you haven't locked it. Though the train staff all have keys).

"Complimentary Service!"

A tired-looking train Steward - a young guy, short blonde hair, no doubt at the tail end of a grueling shift on a scorching summer California day - enters with a tray. A full bottle of Scotch Whiskey, two glasses, a jar of ice, two white paper napkins.

"Mister Eddie Ciccone? Ciccote. I'm sorry, sir. And congratulations are in order as well, it seems? This is a complimentary service, it will not go on your tab. From the..." He glances down at a piece of note paper. "...From the Alameda-Kono All-Star Team. I guess this is a new job, is it? Well, I'm sure this is well-deserved! Remember, the train arrives at 3 AM. Don't drink it all, ha ha!"

The steward opens a fold-down table from the wall, and places the tray between the two of you.

Only now does the steward allow himself a good look at Max. The reaction is not uncommon - a deep discomfort, a desire to look away, but a darker desire that wins over, so that he keeps staring at you.

To lean into the bloated Nature of the World. Monstrosities, indeed.

"Food service is closed for the night, but is there anything more I can do for you two?"

I added 2 more days of reading People of the Monolith, and put your books on your Character Sheet, Cam. 6/120 days on that

Eddie brightens immediately. His heart fills with an energy only the great Shoeless Joe Jackson could muster in dark time such as these.

Eddie Cicotte clenched his fist at the mere metal mention of his old friend from left field and pushes him away before things started to get strange.

Not now Joe....

Eddie claps his hands and rubs them quickly together like two pieces of kindling. His eyes lingering on the expensive Scotch.

You see Fats! Everything is coming up Aces!! I toldja there was nothin to worry bout. Old Eddie Ciccote is back baby. Me and you Fats!!! We're gonna live like kings I tells yah. Like gad damn celebrities.


Eddie begins filling two glasses with ice. Rolling the cubes expertly in each glass. Before the attendant had left, Eddie was handing a four fingered glass to max and was filling a healthy glass for himself, taking in the fine aroma as the amber liquid poured.

A train wreck in a bottle. Delivered neatly and on time. I think I might be in over my head.

Previously said:   is there anything more I can do for you two?"

"Hit the bricks kid, you got your whole life ahead of ya."

This situation stinks. We're walking into the maw of the beast and Eddie will be three sheets to the wind before we hit the Golden Gate.
Still, Max is happy enough to put down the People of the Monolith.

"To your comeback Eddie... Salut."

To our comeback Max!!

Eddie clinks glasses with Max ands takes a long disturbing swallow of the whiskey as his friend's name echoes in his head. It's unclear whether or not Eddie had even used the PI's real name in a conversation before. It sounded hauntingly strange on his tongue. Almost as if it his brother was talking and not himself. He didn't like it but smiled wide with his Cicotte grin all the same.

9:50 PM Friday, June 28, 1937. Sleeping Car of The California Zephyr En route to San Fransisco. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

Ice tinkles in the whiskey-filled glasses as the Zephyr creaks and sways down through Rocky Mountain passes. Cool air comes through the window, washing away the stifling heat of the day. The setting sun washes the pines with striking orange hues.

Max shifts in his seat as he feels a sharp pain in his side. Probably nothing major.

Roll 08.

Max savors the top shelf booze.
"Not enough "o's" in smooooth to describe this. Don't ya think Eddie?" "Eddie?"

Roll 21

ooc - CON - 60

Eddie rolled a Regular Success.

Eddie swirls his glass examining the odd taste in his mouth. He sets it down holding back a gag reflex that he hadn't experienced since his rookie days.

Old knuckles was slipping.

Top shelf my Hiney!! We're gonna have to have a word with the manager...

9:55 PM Friday, June 28, 1937. Sleeping Car of The California Zephyr En route to San Fransisco. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

Eddie's forearm suddenly feels extremely itchy. He pulls up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal an ugly red rash. He suddenly feels extremely nauseous. His stomach convulses and tightens into a knotted cramp.

Max's stomach pangs worsen. He also feels itchy and nauseous, sweaty and weak. His bowels loosen and diarrhea seems imminent..

Okay, so this is a deadly poison. Eddie, you can spend 9 more Luck to get your roll down to an Extreme Success, which means you'll take only half damage (2d10 instead of 4d10). There's nothing more that Max can do. Let me know what you choose. Your bodies are weakening, but for the moment you can act however you like, with a couple criteria: Eddie needs to vomit and Max needs to defecate. Wetly.

"That little rat fuck poisoned us.

Max corks the bottle and hides it under his bunk.

"Don't die on me Eddie, this the best lead we've had. Get your bat - we're gonna.."

"oh shit"
Max slides the cabin door open and stumbles into the hall towards the lavatory.

Eddie suddenly has his bat in his hands pulling it free from his over-sized tattered trench. He never left home without Joe.

His urge to swing quickly faltered as he plants his Louisville slugger firmly on the ground and takes a knee.

Eddie vomits.

Dark coagulated blood and thick veiny balls of phlegm splatter the cabin floor from deep within. For a brief moment, Eddie feel fantastic. Like his lungs and heart had finally cleared themselves of the thick dark rancor that had plagued him through years a self abuse and depravity. On his knees, on the mound, in front of all these fans, He could breathe clear again.

As a strange sort of delirium washed over his mind, Eddie dropped his bat and lit a cigarette to the sound of the wood rolling across the dirt.

It sounded like hardwood floors. Eddie loved that sound.

Eddie spends the luck on the extra success

? PM Friday, June 28, 1937. Sleeping Car of The California Zephyr En route to San Fransisco. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

Maybe it's been ten minutes, maybe hours. It's hard to tell when all your muscles are knotted in the worst cramps you have ever experienced. Your skin is covered in red welts and rashes, your throat is so itchy you want to tear it out, you can barely see through the tears. You have been moaning, rolling around in the fetal position, vomiting and shitting.

Max's place of hell has been the tiny lavoratory one car down from your sleeping cabin.

Eddie has been on the floor of your sleeping cabin.

...

Max eventually stumbles out of the lavoratory. The lights are on in the hall of his train car, and the door leading to their sleeping cabin is open. He weaves down the swaying hallway, still sweating, now filthy, and sees Eddie on the ground, wet with sweat and worse.

Two other people are in the cabin: The chief steward is covering his mouth and gagging into a hankerchief. He is retirement age, needs a shave. White stubble covers his red and wrinkled neck.

He kneels down next to Eddie and pulls him out of the vomit, and onto the sleeping bench.

"Sir! Sir! Can you hear me? Okay, you're coming to. Listen. You need to lie down. There is a professional on the train who knows first aid, they're on their way. Just lie down."

The young steward who served you the drinks is hauling in a bucket and a mop. He is in shock at the mess and obviously has no idea how to even start cleaning up. He spins around when Max leans into the room.

"Oh! Oh. Are... You look very unwell. Oh - you need to change, sir. Perhaps... we need to leave you two to change. Let me get your suitcases down."

The chief steward turns and stares at Max's soiled body with horror and concern.

"Yes. You two - lie down. Please. Do you need help changing? Let's get you clean, and under the sheets. There is a doctor, they will be here any minute..."

He leans out and looks down the hallway of the train, impatient for the doctor to arrive.

I reduced your HP and Eddie's Luck. For anyone else reading - we rolled in a separate app. Max took 5 damage and Eddie took 4, with 2d10!

Max grabs the kid by the lapel.

"You tried to poison me you fancy little shit - I'm gonna sue Milwaukee Railroad and name you and the Chief Steward personally as co-responsible parties. Try this on for size: loss of earnings, medical bills, mental anguish..."

"Jesus look at that mess", Max say pointing at Eddie, "he's a goner. We call that negligence causing death. You're going up the river for a long time, son.

"Now where'd that whiskey come from? Where'd you get it? Who opened the bottle?"

Law (45%) roll: 43
oc. Max has a law degree from NYU

Eddie struggles to his feet and looks at all the wasted booze and blood on the floor.

Fucking Hell!! You get the number of that train.

He scrambles a few feet to his bat and grips it tight in both hands before turning on the young steward Max was threatening. He held his bat up high in a strange and awkward stance he had adopted at the plate as his own. Both elbows more down than up, his wrists cocked in an S pattern. His power stance.

Hold him Fatman! I don't even care who sent the drinks.

? PM Friday, June 28, 1937. Sleeping Car of The California Zephyr En route to San Fransisco. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

The young steward swallows hard. Visibly nervous. He glances at the Chief Steward.

"It was a gift, I never opened the bottle!"

The Chief Steward touches the bottle, now lying on the ground, with his toe.

"That's not whisky we serve on the train. What is this?"

The young steward literally backs into a corner, flushed.

"I never knew something was wrong with it! It was sitting in the kitchen car in Denver, with a tip, and the note, and your names. I don't... it didn't... I didn't think this would happen!

The young steward rifles through his pocket and displays the note and the money. It's written on a piece of note paper, like something you'd pick up in a hotel. Nice clean handwriting, though. It's the handwriting of an educated person - someone who's used to doing that kind of work. Probably a man, too.

The note reads:

Please deliver to Mr. Eddie Ciccote on the evening prior to arrival in SF:

Complimentary gift and with congratulations,
on behalf of the Alameda-Kono All-Star Team.


The "tip" that the young steward took with the bottle is five one-dollar bills. Hefty tip.

...

At this point, Eddie wobbles to his feet, pants soaked in vomit, drool dripping from his chin, hefting the baseball bat.

Hold him Fatman! I don't even care who sent the drinks.

Both Stewards spin, staring at Eddie. The young steward is somewhat cornered by Max. He looks directly at Max, trying to assess whether Max is going to grab him or not.

The Chief Steward steps back into the hallway, arms raised protectively against the bat. He looks sideways for a direction to run.

"What, are you mad? Put that bat down! Right now!"

Initiative in CoC 7th edition is based solely on Dex, no rolling. (There is an optional rule for rolling, and we'll use it in gun duels and when it's worth the time for dramatic sake):

Eddie, you go first. Then the Stewards, then Max.

Eddie, since you go first, I'm going to give you a decision here. There's no Opportunity Attacks in CoC, but the Chief Steward is going to run unless you do something.

Then the Chief Steward will run.

The younger steward is going to delay his action until after Max. If Max tries to grab him, as Eddie is requesting, he will try to evade.

You can both write what you're going to do, no need to write it in order. Roll appropriate dice when you post. Then I'll resolve things in the order of Eddie - Chief Steward - Max - Young Steward.

"JESUS!"

Max spins the kid around and uses him as a shield.
"PUT IT DOWN NOW YOU CRAZY GUINEA BASTARD, JUST PUT IT DOWN!"

He backs towards the door

fight (65%): 44

Eddie lowers his bat and slides the looped Louisville slugger back under his off arm. His head clears, He was really gonna hit the kid.

Jesus Fats!!! I was just following your lead!! I wasn't gonna hit the kid!! We gotta get some answers..

Eddie takes out his flask and takes a short swig, swirling the potent whiskey in his mouth to wash out the taste of one poison with another.

Good Cop!! Bad Cop!! Like back in Chicago!! And see, we got what we were looking for.

Eddie snatches the note from the Steward's hads and reads it, mumbling the words as he tried to make them out. The letters blurred slightly together until he moved the note further from his face. His vision was going. How old was he? Same thing had happed to his pops around this time.

Then Eddie's knees started to tremble as the truth pummelled him like a hard rain. It was quite sobering... The colors in the train car seemed to dull slightly as his vivid dream world collapsed all around him. He heard the sound of shattering glass.

Oh God Knuckles... You idiot!

I don't think think Almeda -Kono has an all-star team at all Max.

I wasn't gonna hit the kid!! We gotta get some answers..

A bead of sweat rolls down his fat cheek "...the what?"

"oh right...",
Max releases his grip on the kid's blazer.

"Listen tulip." Max straightens the kid out a bit. " You're going tell me the name of that Italian meatball you picked up in Denver. You know the one. He had cauliflower ears and a mug only a mother can love. I want his name and his consigliere too. And I want to know where he got off. You do that and maybe we'll forget about all this. Otherwise, you're gonna be picking out curtains in Alcatraz grey for your new boyfriend. Capeesh?"

Max slaps him in the head. Not clear why.

1 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. Sleeping Car of The California Zephyr En route to San Fransisco. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

The young man winces, touches his ear, and looks at it to see if Max's slap drew blood.

The train wheels screech and the car shifts slightly, decelerating somewhat. The lit suburbs of a modest city roll past the window: you are entering the outskirts of Sacramento, California.

Judging from your speed, you'll be pulling up to the station in ten or twenty minutes. This is the last stop before San Fransisco. You're no more than a couple hours from your final destination now.

Please roll Group Luck to see if the steward is able to give you information right here. Group Luck means the player with the lowest Luck, which is Max with 55%. I'm also marking a success for Max's Brawling roll, previously.

"Give me a name limp dick"

Luck (55%): Rolled 01

1:03 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. Sleeping Car of The California Zephyr En route to San Fransisco. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

Wow, 01 for Luck! Okay, this will be good, then. I'm going to play into Max's successful Law roll right before this..

The young steward trips over himself in an effort to extricate himself from this mess.

"Oh, the big guy with the other man? The guy with the glasses? Yeah! Yeah, they're still on the train. Two cars over."

He tips his head towards the back of the train.

"On the right. They're in the second cabin on the right. They have it to themselves. Paid for it that way. Does that help? Are they criminals? You think they did this? I never... I mean, I guess they coulda snuck the bottle into the steward's cabin. Yeah! I bet that's what happened! That door is never locked. Kids even come in and steal sodas sometimes if we're not careful! Here, wait."

He fumbles with his belt and pulls out a key ring.

"Here. I can even open their cabin door for you if it's locked. Are you going to arrest them? Listen, sir, I - I really didn't know any of this would happen. I'm an upstanding citizen. I don't want to get in any trouble here. You'll vouch for me, right? I never met those guys before, I swear! And you know, they've been actin' kinda funny. They ordered extra food at dinner, packed it away with them, and have been cooped up in their cabin all night. That's suspicious, right?"

[OC: If you're okay with it], The young steward leads you along the swaying hallway of the train, two cars back. There are two more cars past this one to the caboose. He stands by the closed door to the cabin where the Mook and "David" are apparently resting.

The lights are off in the hallway, and you can see that the lights are on in their cabin. At 1 AM.

The curtains to the small window on the door of their cabin are drawn shut, however, so you can't see in.

"This is the one. Should I knock?"

Eddie holds the kid's hand from knocking on the door and puts a finger to his lips to keeop him quiet.

He grips the bat he had picked up after vomiting all over his cabin floor for this very purpose. Some one, mostly likely that fuck from the platform, was
gonna have to see an orthodontist tomorrow morning.

Eddie is about to lean into the cabin door and then pauses. He hears Helen's voice behind the door. Kinda sounds like she's underwater but she's doing that finger waving thing she does when she disapproves of something Eddie had said or puked on. It just naturally comes with the tone.

ooc - If Max want to stop Eddie from kicking the door down he's got about a 5 second window between the pause and fuck it.

"Be cool Eddie."
Max pulls out his .38 and checks it.

"Unlock the door for us kid. Then go see what's keeping that doc. We might need him after all."

1:05 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. California Zephyr n route to San Fransisco. Just outside Sacramento. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

The brakes on the train squeal as the Zephyr decelerates for Sacramento Station.

The young steward nods, wipes sweat from his brow, swallows, and tries to quietly unlock the door.

The door is indeed locked. And the lock is a little stuck, so he has to force the key a little, jiggling it back and forth.

"Some locks are like this," he whispers, grimacing at the stress.

Even with the sound of the train, you can tell that he's made some noise. The people inside are surely alerted.

The sliding door is still closed, but it is unlocked.

I rolled 90 for his Stealth on unlocking the door.

Eddie smiles wildly at Max expecting some action.

Here we go again Joe.

He pulls out his own pistol and steps to the side in case the occupants have a shotgun. This wasn't his first rodeo.

Knowing the jig was up and they most likely had lost the element of surprise, Eddie calls out.

The kids opening the door yah fucking over dressed Guinea prick!! He wants a chat bout a bottle of hooch - made me shit out my eyeballs you piece of shit! So don't you fucking shoot em!!

Eddie smiles again. He forgot how much he loved this game. For some reason this reminded him of the time Max blew that Guinea Tony's head clear off. Got to love a good standoff.

1:05 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. California Zephyr en route to San Fransisco. Just outside Sacramento. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

The steward stares, wide-eyed, at Eddie.

"I'm not opening the door!" he hisses, quietly enough that they couldn't hear on the other side.

"I'm... I'm getting the doctor."

He tries to back away, down the hall towards the front of the train.

In the distance, you can hear dinging bell of a railroad crossing approaching. As the bell crescendoes, crimson lights flash inside the hallway of the train and the wheels clack loudly on the tracks. The red light of the railroad crossing casts eerie shadows along the hall, and washes across your faces like bloody masks.

There is no sound inside the cabin.

Eddies hisses back at the kid and puts a finger to his lips to keep the lad quiet. He takes a step away from the door holding the young steward by the lapels of his uniform. and whispers closely in his ear. Eddie's hot breath wreaks like sweaty socks, two different whiskeys and fresh vomit.

Is there a constable on board?

Max pushes the kid clear of the door as soon as it is unlocked.
He kisses his St. Michael medallion and mutters something quietly under his breath.

Eddie, how do you say don't shoot? Non spara?:

"Non spara pistoles you fucking dagos."
With pistol drawn he slides the door open quickly.

1:06 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. California Zephyr en route to San Fransisco. Just outside Sacramento. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

The berth looks the same as yours - minus the vomit and broken glass. Two benches, one window. The benches aren't folded out for sleeping - strange for 1 AM.



On the left is David. He's standing back, near the window. Looks like maybe he was trying to open it. His jacket is on. He's twisting to face Max, and is holding his briefcase up in a desperate attempt to shield himself from an attack.

On the right is the big mook. He has one foot on the ground, the other knee is up on the bench. Wide-eyed, already wet with sweat. He's also wearing his jacket. He's pulled the jacket up, reaching inside for something, but his eyes are on Max. Max can see the strap of a body holster.

Everything is happening so slowly now.

First up is Max. Dan, please don't post until Cam and I both post again.

Max, you can fire once but if you do, you have a Penalty die because it's a pretty wild shot.

A Penalty Die means you roll the Tens Die twice and use the highest.

You can use Luck to succeed at your shot, but you can't push a roll in combat.

The doorway into the cabin is quite narrow so (1) it would be easy for you to take cover but (2) it will be hard for two of you to both get clear shots. There is no cover whatsoever for the two men in the cabin.

At present, Max is in front and Eddie will have a hard shot to fire past him into the cabin.

The two men have the option of foregoing their next action to Dive For Cover and give you a second (!!) Penalty Die. If you do fire, it's pretty obvious that David will Dive For Cover (using his briefcase and generally trying to avoid your shot), but the mook isn't going to Dive For Cover.

With a guttural bellow Max lunges forward and tries to flatten the mook and pin his arms.
Fighting/brawl 68%: roll 72

oc Max will use 4 luck to pass the fighting. Max may probably drop his pistol in this melee but maybe i should roll for that?

1:06 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. California Zephyr en route to San Fransisco. Just outside Sacramento. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

Max throws himself onto the Mook, slamming him backwards onto the bench. The Mook grunts and tries to knee Max in the groin, but fails. He's not giving up though.

Eddie now has a clean shot into the room, but the mook is almost completely covered by Max's body from his current position in the hallway.

David looks at Eddie in horror. Still holding his briefcase up as a shield, he shakes his head, begging,

"No - please. Don't shoot!"

Eddie, you're up then the Mook.

Right now the mook is restrained by Max - he couldn't possibly dodge or block any attacks by Eddie, and he's unable to fire on his turn. He'll have a chance to cause damage to Max or wriggle free of Max on his turn, but I'm giving him a penalty die because of Max's weight and the fact that Max is on top of him.

The Mook has 65% Brawling, needed a Hard Success (0-33) to beat Max's regular success and turn around the maneuver. He rolled a 53 - I send you two a video of my roll and the combat flowchart.

Eddie points a finger at David and feels like the Babe calling for his next home run. The crowd goes wild with anticipation for his next at bat. Eddie clicks his Louisville Slugger against his spikes and spits in his left hand stepping back into the batters box as he does so. The ritual was just as important today as it...

Jesus snap out of it Cicotte. Holy Shit! You gotta get back on your god damn meds.

"Don't you fuckin' move Poindexter!!

Eddie darts in behind Max, His bat held out in front of him. He keeps an eye on David in case the book worm was packing. The first opening Eddie had , he thrusts his bat forward like a thick pool cue, past Max at any piece of the Mook Eddie could make contact with. Beggars can't be choosers.

ooc - If Eddie doesn't get an opening then he waits for one. Eddie doesn't shoot though. If you need a combat roll it's 42 with my bat.

1:06 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. California Zephyr en route to San Fransisco. Just outside Sacramento. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

There is a wet CRACK as Eddie thrusts with his bat under Max's heaving body. Eddie feels that he hit something solid on the Mook's face, but whatever he hits crumples and collapses. His nose? The temple?

Under Max's body, the mook instantly falls limp on the bench.

David, the wiry pencil-pusher of the duo, takes this opportunity to run for it.

Before Eddie or Max can restrain him, he's pushed past them and is running down the hall of the train, towards the engine in front, briefcase in hand. The hallways are fairly dark and empty, but some passengers are starting to move out of their cabins in preparation for the Sacramento stop.

It was David's turn in the initiative order, and according to the rules, "A character can use their action to escape melee combat on their turn in the order of combat, provided they have an escape route and are not physically restrained." I'm ruling that Eddie could have only done one thing - block David's escape route or hit the Mook. (I think we talked about this in WhatsApp 3 months ago). Plus, a chase through a train is more dramatic (if it goes that way).

We're now out of Initiative. A possible chase could ensue. Just so you know the rules - a lot depends on your MOVement stat in chase scenes. Eddie's MOV is 9 - maxiumum for a human, at least for another 1-2 years when he turns 40 and it goes to 8.

Max's MOV is 5.

David's MOV is 8.

If Eddie decides to give chase, you make a DEX roll to see how well you'll be able to navigate the narrow train and possible crowds etc*. Extreme Success gives you +1 MOV (which will really help). Failure gives you -1 MOV (which will make it much more likely that David escapes, since you have the same MOV. David will roll as well.

I'll wait and see what you do next, but if Eddie does give chase - Dan, make a DEX roll.

Max, there is no way you can mechanically participate in this chase, so you can narrate accordingly.

*Usually you make a CON roll for foot chases, because it's about physical condition and endurance - but I'm ruling that it should be DEX here because it's going to be a more sprint-like Chase, and require finesse in these close quarters.

Max heaves for breath as he pushes himself up off his flattened foe.
"Jesus..."

Eddie's bloodshot eyes dart toward David as he makes his exit and he fancies a quick glance back towards Max, grinning his his wide junkie's grin. He was just as hooked on the game as he was the hooch. He missed these gangster types and the way they crumpled under his Louisville slugger. Eddie smashes into the wall of the corridor, his trench coat flapping about like a cape in the funny papers as he spins and begins the chase.

I got em Fats!!

1:07 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. California Zephyr en route to San Fransisco. Just outside Sacramento. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29
Hurling himself out into the hallway, David glances to the front of the train, changes his mind, and heads for the back. He and Eddie push aside a family that are gently coaxing two groggy children out of their berth, in preparation for disembarking at Sacramento. The husband, yawning and dishevelled at this early hour, instinctively shoves back at Eddie to keep him away from the children.

David hauls open the rear door to their train car and slips outside, briefcase in hand. There is a small metal balcony here with a low and flimsy iron railing, and a door to the caboose.

This is the end of the line.

The smell of hot diesel, grease, and desert air fills the air. The brakes screech loudly directly below. The connectors of between the train and caboose ring and bang, and safety chains rattle. It's hard not to imagine the weight of the train crushing your body if you landed on the tracks.

David glances at the warehouses, scrub brush and gravel sailing past - assessing whether he can make the jump. He figures that if he jumped out far enough from the train and rolled with the impact just right, he could probably land on the biting gravel without twisting an ankle.

David vaults onto the railing of the train and prepares to jump.

Eddie gets to the back of the train car and sees all of this. The washed-up baseball player can only rely on instinct and reflexes to react before the man leaps.

..

Back in the train car, Max hears the family man in the hall shout out indignantly, "Hey! What do you think you're doing, pal?"

The goon groans as Max stands up. Blood is pouring everywhere from the twisted wreck that was once this man's nose. Pale cartilage pokes out from thick red-and black bloody chunks. The sound of the blood running onto the floor is not unlike a glass of water spilling off a countertop. He's not dead, but is obviously in shock for the moment.

Max disarms the mook and takes his wallet. He pats him down and takes anything else in his pockets.

When the mook starts to stir, Max breathes a sigh of relief. Thank god. Finally some good luck.
"Buongiorno sunshine!"

Max locks the door.

Eddie hears the crack of the bat and the crowd goes wild.

Eddie Chicote rounds first base and glances back once at the first base coach. He had definitely gained weight... like 180 lbs.. which was definitely strange. Max gives Eddie the OK for second and Eddie digs in. He still had his Louisville slugger in hand which was definitely illegal in the Majors. Here at the Kono All Star Game, however, anything goes.

Eddie sees the second baseman, David something or other approach the bag for the tag and the win as the left fielder finally recovers the ball and launches it towards second. Eddie sees the throw is wide but David could reach it if he jumps for it. Maybe even still make the tag and get the win.

Eddie slides cleats up, not to knock the baseman down as per his usual play, but to prevent the second baseman from leaping to catch the throw from the outfielder Shoeless Joe Jackson. Eddie blinked for a second... Shoeless Joe was on his team. He didn't play for the Italians.

Stop the Leap.. Stop the Tag. Win the Base... Max is a Fag!

ooc - rolled a 51 Eddie's attack is to slide past David just enough to pull him back and away from, the railing.

1:07 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. California Zephyr en route to San Fransisco. Just outside Sacramento. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

I did the opposed roll for David on WhatsApp with Cam and Dan, rolled a 66.

Eddie drags David off the railing and back onto the narrow ledge between the last car and the caboose. The train sways and squeals.

David clutches the briefcase to his chest and screams: POLICE! Help! Someone help me!

Judging from the speed of the train, it will be coming to a stop in the next two to five minutes.

Eddie, at this point you can have him restrained (please describe what that looks like) but make another fighting roll to keep him restrained if you want to do that.

...

Max locks the door to the berth where the goon and David were traveling, and flips open the mans wallet:

Judging by his Michigan driver's license, the man's name is Nicholas Gucci.
He has about $100 in cash in the wallet, and another $150 in a folded wad in a pocket.
His wallet holds a receipt for the train you're on, and a steam liner ticket from San Francisco to Shanghai, leaving in 2 days' time.
There is a folded piece of paper with a California phone number on it and the name "Carlo."
There is another folded piece of paper with a name and address of a hotel and reservation number in San Francisco, for two nights - tonight and the next night.
There are a few other cards as well, including a membership to a fairly elite golf club outside of Chicago.

For a guy who talks like a gangster, this fellow seems to do fairly well for himself.

"Nicholas" lets out a choking, gurgling cough and leans off the bench, spitting out a wad of thick blood.

He leans up onto one elbow, still dazed. and stares dopily at Max. His eyes are watery and unfocussed, and his face is a mask of blood onto the floor

"Yer gonna... they're gonna put you back in the looney bin for this... *cough* ...you... *cough cough* ...you fat f*ckin piece of sh*t."

He tries to pull himself up to a sitting position and feels around for all the places where his gun should be. Then he sees the gun in your hand and his eyes clear as he realizes that Max has full control of the situation.

Eddie spins from his slide, his legs illegally wrapped around David and hears the umpire’s call on the play.

“SAFE!”

He puts one knee on the egghead’s chest and leans into it . Once secure, Eddie presses the business end of his Louisville slugger to David’s neck and grunts.

Pipe Down Poindexter. You poisoned us!! I’m gonna sit you back up and we’re gonna walk back to the cabin. You’re not gonna say a single word to nobody less I says so. You can keep your case.

Eddie puts pressure on David’s neck with the end of his Louisville slugger.

Nod if you understand the gravity of this situation David?

ooc, rolled a 52 for staying on top of David.

Max is thumbing through the wallet, and stops at the ticket to Singapore.
You a devil or an angel Saint Nick?

Why are you following us? You work for Collins? Humes?
You better start talking or I'm gonna remodel this cabin in Tuscany Red.

Intimidate 30% rolled 84

1:07 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. California Zephyr en route to San Fransisco. Just outside Sacramento. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

Nick Gucci smiles and coughs blood.

"You got minutes before the train stops and they lock you up again, asshole. You got better things to do than ask for my resume."

He eases himself gingerly to a seated position. He's doing his best not to look at your gun but you see him steal a glance at the way you're holding it as you sift through his wallet. Sizing you up.

Max, do you want to push the roll to Intimidate? That means re-rolling, and describing how you 'raise the stakes' on intimidation. Failure will mean a significant shift in the narrative, to your detriment (though you can still use Luck to make that Pushed roll pass...)

Also, please add Nick Gucci's .45 M1911 into your inventory along with the wallet if you want. The gun has a full mag, 1d10+2 damage.

...

Eddie puts pressure on David’s neck with the end of his Louisville slugger.

Nod if you understand the gravity of this situation David?

David nods his head vigorously. He's covered in sweat.

"I'll do whatever you say."

As Eddie eases him up and prepares to guide him back into the train car, you can see that the family has moved to the far end of the train car (no longer obstructing your passage to the cabin where Max is). There are a few other people behind the family - all are gaping openly at the sight of you forcing the thin back back up the hallway towards his cabin.

Before you get to the door of the cabin, David calls desperately to the onlookers,

"Call the police! Please!"

His voice cracks, his throat sounds dry. Either David is genuinely afraid for his life, or he's a great con artist, or both.

Eddie, you can enter the cabin - David will make a show of it and force you to show a bit of force to make it happen. I want to give you a chance to respond while people are watching, and to tell me how to force him to enter the cabin if he stops and resists (no matter how weakly). This will also give Max a chance to Push the Roll inside the cabin if he wishes.

I rolled for David to resist your takedown, and he rolled a 74 and failed.

"That's okay shit-for-brains, I know who you are. You're one of Collin's goons from the old days, which means you know more than you let on.

"Do you still see it when you close your eyes? I do."
"Its looking at you too. Did you know that?"
Psychology 5% roll 87

Max unlocks the cabin and backs into the hall.
"See ya in the funny pages, Saint Nick"

"EDDIE! STOP FUCKING AROUND... ITS TIME TO GO!!!" Max rushes to his cabin, quickly as he can.

Eddie grabs David by the scruff of his collar and halts him close to the cabin door. He turns back to the crowd of frightened passengers.

It's Ok folks!! We got him! Everything is under control here! This man tried to poison my fat friend and I. Really!! Can you believe it? The staff delivered it and everything. We were both getting sick all over the place! Smells like a god damn mongoloid brothel in there. You know?? Those little bastards with the big heads?? Flat foreheads??

He pauses nervously for a moment and looks for the train employee who had originally escorted Max and Eddie to the gangster's cabin.

It was crazy!! I think I shit myself!!!

ooc - rolled an 84 to convince the passengers. Not sure what skill that would be but he most likely failed.

1:08 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. California Zephyr en route to San Fransisco. Just outside Sacramento. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

"Do you still see it when you close your eyes? I do."

Nick seems to be pretty good at holding his composure, but when Max says this, the aging gangster sits up a little.

"Oh, shit. You really are crazy. I thought they'd just locked you up to keep you quiet."

...

In the hallway, the family and other passengers back away, ogling the gun in Max's hand, and press to the side of the hall to allow them room to pass.

David isn't making things easy, though. As Eddie pulls him past the passengers in the narrow hallway, he pleads with the other passengers, whispering,

"Please! Someone!"

Max pockets the 1911 and pushes past the family.
"Stay in your cabin folks, it ain't safe out here."

He moves quickly to the cabin and collects his papers into Jack's briefcase, and brings the bottle of poison too.
[oc. he hid it under the bench in a previous post]

A moment later he's back in the hallway heading toward the rear of the train.

I've had had it with this screwball.

When he finally gets David into his room Eddie gets in real close, his breath heavy with the lack of whiskry bubbling up through his stomach and putting a super hurt on his innards.

What I say poindexter? He doesn't give David the chance to answer.

You do what I say and you can keep the case.

Eddie smashes David in the nose with the fat end of his Louisville Slugger and attempts to rip the case from his hands.

ooc, - rolled a 48 to smash David in the nose. and an 18 to grab case if required.

Max is standing in the hall outside their cabin.
Just grab it from him Eddie, we gotta haul ass!

1:08 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. California Zephyr en route to San Fransisco. Just outside Sacramento. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

The family draws back as you pass. Others in the hallway stare openly as Eddie pulls David into their cabin (out of their sight) and Max stands outside the open door to their cabin.

The train shudders and you're forced to hold onto the wall for an instant, as the train decelerates more quickly. The lights of the city are rolling past the window now. You'll be pulling up to the station at any moment.

ooc, Eddie rolled a 48 to hit David. rolled a 1 and a 4 for damage. 5 damage total.

With his Louisville Slugger under one arm, Eddie cracks David' in the nose with a quick jerk of the Bat. He scoops up the bookworm's briefcase as he pushes him further back into his cabin.

Yoink!

He whirls on Max and gives his old pal the two fingered salute. He bows slightly and presents Max the case.

Yes Mon Capitan!! Let's Scram!

Eddie picks up the pace sliding his lumber back into the sling under his arm.

He looks outside and grins nervously at the speed the train was travelling. He redirects his grin to Max and whistles through his teeth.

We jumpin' Fats? It''s gonna get messy at the Station. I'm pretty sure that family back there thinks I'm a rapist!

"On the button Knuckles! Them Japs won't know what hit 'em."

Max looks towards front of the train then back. He nods towards the caboose.
"That's our best bet. When the train slows down we jump."

Max pushes the briefcase back to Eddie (Max is already carrying Jack's old briefcase).
He draws the 1911 and moves quickly towards the rear of the train.

1:08 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. California Zephyr en route to San Fransisco. Just outside Sacramento. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

David raises his arm to block Eddie's blow, and the full force of the bat drives into his ulna bone. He lets loose a shriek of pain.

As Eddie and Max bustle to the caboose, David can be heard yelling,

"THIEVES! HELP! HE BROKE MY ARM!"

Nick Gucci was leaning out of his cabin, wiping chunks of blood from his face and watching. As you move towards his cabin on the way to the caboose, he slams the door to his cabin. Everyone else has already rushed into nearby cabins, but some people can't help themselves and gawk through windows or partially-opened doors.

...

From the rear of the train (between the last car and the caboose), the jump wouldn''t be so bad if you weren't reeling from the poison coursing through your veins. You're not going fast. The risk is twisting an ankle, or not jumping out far enough and clipping the caboose and falling underneath. You'll be hitting gravel, but if you roll just right, it shouldn't be bad.

The train is moving through an area of wooden warehouses. There are no streetlights in this area. The desert night air is much colder than you would expect for June in California.

A bit of historical flavour - this would be laying around in Sacramento somewhere (if you get there):

Eddie follows Max to the caboose of the train and rests a shaky hand on the rail, looking somberly down at the tracks as they speed past him.

He pulls out his flask and takes a long overdue pull. The amber fluid burns his stomach and sends waves of nausea through his poisoned system. His neck cranes and strains like a snake trying to swallow an oversized hamster. Eddie pulls himself together.

You ready Fatman? It's just like falling off a bike!


Eddie grins his maniacal grin at Max , the insanity dripping from his eyes like cold spectral slime. He holds David's case tight to his chest and jumps.

ooc, - rolled a 25 - Dex check passes.

Eddie hits the tracks running. His long pitchers legs keeping pace with the backwards momentum of the rail ties. He comes to a quick sliding stop and turns to see if his friend made it safely off the train. He pictures a juicy sausage link bouncing wildly on a granite kitchen tabletop and winces at the thought.

"Holy shit. He made it."
Max prays the rosary.. the abbreviated form... and stows his gat.

He tries to let himself down carefully, crawling over the railings, descending backwards, searching for a foothold.
He tosses the briefcase first onto the shoulder, then reaches down with his foot.

He smacks the ground hard, like a side of pork, and careens into some bushes.

Debris settles.

[oc. rolled 84 and 2 for damage]

Eddie turns to watch Max jump. He's happy to see the Fatman simply take a hard bail into some bushes. It could have gone a lot worse and he didn't think he could carry the obese detective anywhere in his current cardio condition.

He jogs up behind the bush that Max ended his tumble in and picks up the briefcase along the way.

He holds out his hand to max to help him up, not wanting to see his partner wobble around like an overturned turtle to get to his feet.

Nice!!! Real Graceful! there Pudgy Markova!!

Eddie grins unable to hold in a genuinely healthy laugh.

Yuk Yuk Yuk!

What's our next move. Lets find a place to hole up. I'd like a chance to see what's in these bags. Poindexter was holding onta this one like it held the key to his cack!

1:09 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. California Zephyr en route to San Fransisco. Just outside Sacramento. ETA 3 AM Saturday June 29

Max and Eddie are covered in dust and scrapes. Their scanty luggage (containing only cheap, well-worn clothes - nothing identifiable) is left behind. Max carries Jack's old briefcase - the briefcase of his once-partner and Eddie's brother. Eddie carries the briefcase of "David".

A few hundred yards down the track lies the Sacramento train station.

Two more hours away (by car), in the same direction, lies San Fransisco. The Pacific Ocean. The gateway to the Orient. Eddie's promise of a return to glory as a baseball player. And most of all, a chance at revenge against the man who ruined their lives and possibly threatens to do much more.

...

Judging from the modest skyline silhouetted in the distant glows of the orange sodium-halide street lights, Max and Eddie are a long walk from downtown. They're surrounded by dark wooden warehouses, factories, and a few shacks and poor-looking houses. Straw-dry grass crunches underfoot. The air is bone dry out here.

There is no doubt that the cops are on the way to the train station, if they're not already there.