Play@YSDC

1:09 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. Sacramento California. June 29

The rail yard is a few football fields down the tracks. The train's brakes squeal loudly as the cars moves away from you. You are in the warehouse area of Sacramento, and have two days to meet the Alameda-Kono All Star Team in San Francisco, and (if all goes well) to begin your journey to Shanghai.

What do you do?

Eddie walks the majority of the distance travelled so far in somber silence. His baseball cleats seemed polished and sharp when he had first leapt from the train with his friend Max. He was excited... back in the game. Now, reality was screaming in his ear to take the next pitch. Now more swinging for the fences for Eddie, Knuckles Cicotte. He wasn't wearing cleats at all. His loafers had two holes beginning to form where his little toe pressed up against the side of his shoe. They were about to fall apart. His uniform was an old work shirt stained with the stink of poison and used up spirits. His ball hat was a knotted wool Ascot and reeked of vomit and whisky. His ball-jacket was a trench coat that was surprisingly still in very good condition. Eddie was confused at how he could mistake the long dark coat for his old White Sox jacket that barely went past his waist. He felt beneath the coat for his official Louisville slugger baseball bat. That was real. The blood on the sweet spot was real too and Eddie finally smiled at the thought of that gangster crumpling beneath his swing.

It took a long time for Eddie to realize he had been duped. This was all a set up to get max and Eddie out into the open. They had seen something back at the Theatre in Chicago. Something that they were not supposed to see and now the owner of that Theatre and of god knows how deep a criminal organization wants them dead and silenced to the rest of the world. Silenced for the supernatural horror they witnessed firsthand. The light....

or....

Baseball - 74% rolled 44 - Pass

Maybe someone wanted Eddie out of the picture. Eddie had been practicing hard and the scouts knew it. The kinda heat he was chuckin' made his glory days seem like a ride on the tilt-a-whirl. And what the scouts knew might just make it back to the competition. Guys like them guys...
wise guys.... they didn't want old Knuckles Cicotte messing with their precious numbers. Maybe they got a big score on Alameda-Kono taking a dive in the Orient. They must know Eddie Cicotte don't take dives no more. Not after what happened in Chicago with the “Black Sox.” Maybe Ol' Tad Hayashi would take a dive. Tad Hayashi currently ran clean-up for the Alameda Allstars. Eddie could pitches circles round that Jap. Hayashi used to be a Gardner... probably knew a thing or two about poisons. Yeah that's it. You're just too good Knuckles. They had to take you out. We'll show em.

Eddie picks up his pace and finds he's got a hop in his step. And what do you know... He was wearing cleats again. Shiny Black baseball cleats with spikes that made those wonderful crunching sounds on the mound.

Eddie snaps out of his melancholy.

You Ok there Fats? I mean you did not too shabby jumping off the train back there pally.. I mean I thought you was gonna bounce like a god damn link of chorizo back there, but you did good fats! You did real good. All this walking eh? You OK there FatS?

You're gonna make it. I can tell these things. Once we get to Sanfransisco, we'll show that Tad Harisha fruit a thing or two about pitchin.. You betcha boots and bob's your uncle Fats. We'll show em all.

Eddie slows slightly, and looks back at Max. There is a momentary flash of doubt that oozes from Eddie's face like fear over easy on a hot skillet. Eddie knows he's not ever going to play baseball again. That something behind the blacklight still wants in. Max understands.

The doubt disappears and Eddie is grinning wildly again. Grinning madly…

We'll show em all.

Max winces. "You still got it Eddie. Serve up them Japs some sweet chin music when ya catch 'em."

Max shuffles along slowly, painfully and sticks to dimly lit streets.
We're a couple miles from downtown. Let's get in there quick, find a cab. Maybe hit a greasy spoon.

Hey Eddie, you ever read about that guy Hume? Mr. Moneybags what financed Jimmy Collin's re-election? I'm guessing he bankrolls the Alameda-Kono All Stars and our little vacation too. He's based in California. I figure your friend David is his lap dog.

On the other hand, that tall drink of water was heading to Shanghai. Max passes Eddie Nick Gucci's drivers license.
I don't think they was there to kill us Eddie. Most assassins I know pack lighter than that.

Maybe the briefcase has the answer.

oc.
I had the bottle of poison scotch in jacks brief case. probably needs a roll to see if it exploded.

Eddie looked kinda cock - eyed at Max for a second and then thought about what he actually said.

Eddie was so pre-occupied with his own melodrama that he had pretty much ignored David's briefcase.,

Eddie stops and opens the briefcase over some dusty back alley furniture. He shoos away some pigeons and places his flask over some papers to stop them from blowing away. He takes a long swig and offers it to Max before rifling through the contents aloud.

Tall drink of water??? David????

Max you like dames right?

1:15 AM Saturday, June 28, 1937. Sacramento California. June 29

Red and blue police lights are visible in the far distance, in the vicinity of the railroad station. Max and Eddie are well away from there for now - in a dusty alley amongst a warren of warehouses and shanties on the edge of Sacramento.

Your throats are parched and your bones and muscles are aching from the poison. But you're alive. The sky here is exceptionally dark and the stars shine brighter than you've ever seen in Chicago.

David's briefcase is secured by a cheap combination lock and it only takes a few sharp blows to work it open. But the briefcase is destroyed and can no longer be used.

The most prominent object within is an incredibly old and thick leather-bound tome embossed with the title De Vermis Mysteriis. The text inside is inked calligraphy - all in Latin. This book is well used, and some pages have fallen out and been taped back in. On the margins of many pages are handwritten notes (made far more recently), and written in both German and English.

The book shows a printing date of 1542, transcribed in Cologne, Germany, by Ludwig Prinn. From the date alone, it must be worth thousands as an artifact, and should be in a museum.



In a smart leather case, there is a loaded .22 short automatic pistol, and a box containing 50 additional bullets. The gun looks unused.

There is a pouch in the briefcase that was meant for a small book, but is now stretched and shaped as though it carried a bottle or container for a significant period of time. But there is no bottle present.

There is a leather billfold in the briefcase containing $1200 in clean new bills. Twelve crisp one-hundred dollar bills. The billfold is tightly wrapped with a leather strap, and looks more like a stash than money that is frequently withdrawn from.

There is an address book with an incredible array of names and numbers.

There is also an accounting book showing accounts in the order of one hundred thousand dollars. Even a cursory glance indicates that this is probably one of Johnny Collin's personal accounting books.

There are several mostly blank notepads and pencils. Some of the notepads contain accounting calculations.

There is a steam liner ticket from San Francisco to Shanghai, leaving in 2 days' time.

Lastly, folded within the front cover of De Vermis Mysteriis are two sheets:

Eddie clears his throat nervously and chuckles.

Heh heh! Yikes!

Eddie look cautiously at Max for a few seconds, looking for any sign of doubt on his partners face he could cling to.

What a load of Hooey eh Fats? What a crackpot! What a card!!!

Heh Heh Heh! Hey max?

Eddie quickly reads over the last page of David letter and then back to his friend. Memories of the large robust detective greedily pouring over dark ancient Tomes came suddenly back to him. Max had an interest in all of this. To what end?

You'd destroy it wouldn't you Max. The mirror I mean? Or the light? Wouldn't you Max?

While Eddie reads the letter, Max takes the bottle of poisoned booze out of Jack Ciccote's brief case and he tests the fit with the bottle pouch found in David's briefcase.

Previously said:   You'd destroy it wouldn't you Max. The mirror I mean? Or the light? Wouldn't you Max?

"Uh, ya Eddie, 'course." Max squares things away quickly and takes a glance over at the light display... "Let's get moving."

Max puts the tome, address book, accounting notes, bottle, and bullets in his own briefcase. He discards everything else in a garbage can.

Oc. We divide up the money evenly (including Nick Gucci's $250 we have (250+1200)/2=$725 each. Eddie can have the .22 so we both have 2 pistols. So Max has a .38 and .45. Eddie has a .22 and a .38.

Dan: add to your character sheet: $725 and a .22

1:14 AM Friday, June 28, 1937. Rail Yards, Sacramento California.

Steam liner tickets to Shanghai read: Liner Departs Promptly at Noon June 30 1937. All Passengers Aboard by 9 AM.

The bottle of poisoned booze does indeed fit snugly into the briefcase compartment.

...

6:45 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Homewood Suites Motel, Sacramento California.

Drawing from their now substantial cash surplus, Max and Eddie easily find a motel and fall into a troubled sleep. They waken groggily to the hot sun already searing through the cheap curtains and baking the small room.


7:23 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Helga's Rise N Shine, Sacramento California.

After a quick shower, and a perfunctory wash of your vomit-stained clothes, Max and Eddie are sitting at breakfast in a quiet and cheap cafe in the lower-income area of Sacramento.

Headlines in the newspaper discusses the end of the Lewiston–Auburn shoe strike (the workers lost their bid), and a productive Canadian trade meeting between Prime Minister Mackenzie and German Chancellor Adolf Hitler and Hermann Göring. The paper makes a bit of fun at the Canadian leader for delivering bison to Germany prior to the meeting, and also quotes Prime Minister King as saying that Hitler was a man of "deep sincerity."*

Outside, Fords and Buicks drive slowly along the dirt road. Even though it's the capital of California, Sacramento appears to be a dopey town, especially since it's early on a Saturday morning.


*These are true events from the date, though King's quote was only recorded in his personal diary

Eddie counts the cash Max hands him twice before folding the wad and stuffing it into his pocket.

That's alot of hooch Eddie thinks to himself.

Eddie notices the hotel reservation card as Max fingers through the wallet and snatches both out of his hand.
He s up the reservation card and the wallet reading the name aloud.

Yoink!!

We can can catch a flight tomorrow Fats!! We got business with this son of a bitch in the Golden City!! Nobody's passin' up a rest in a joint like this one so we aughtta catch em both with their pants down. We lay a heavy dump on Mr. Nick Gucci here and put the squeeze on old bookworm while we're at it. These two are just begging to sing!

Maybe we can use some of this scratch to hitch a ride to San Fran hey Fats?

"You got that right Eddie. David and Saint Nick are giving their confessions tonight - and Johnny Collins is gonna get the message loud and clear all the way across the sea in Indochina that he's messing with the wrong lunatics.

"We gotta find a car. We find a car then we go in on the sly."

Max dumps a bunch of money on the table, including a hefty tip for la señorita who kept his coffee hot.
"First I gotta make a call."

Max picks up one of the dimes off the table, and flips it into the air and catches it. He whistles on his way to the pay phone at the back of the cafe.

He's studying the piece of paper in his hand.
"Carlo"....ahem
"Carlo, it's Gucci."....
"Carlo. It's Gucci."

Max picks up the receiver... and dials.
The key to impersonating a greaseball is you gotta move your arms a lot while you're talking. Even though it's on the phone, somehow that old world repugnance still comes through.

"Carlo. It's Gucci. We're all set."
Voice actor 61% Roll 84

7:23 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Helga's Rise N Shine, Sacramento California.

On the other end of the line, 'Carlo' pauses. Maybe for a little too long.

"All set, are we? Who's this again? Gucci? What 'Gucci' am I talking to?"

His voice carries weight. He's used to sounding big. He has the voice of a guy who gets impatient real quick - and he sounds like he's already on the edge of losing his cool.

..

At the other end of the cafe, a tired-looking middle aged waitress refills Eddie's cup. She looks at you for a little too long before serving another customer. A hint of recognition?

A bead of sweat rolls down Max's fat cheek. He must inhabit this character.
"Hang on...",

Max sets the receiver down and quickly strips down to his undershirt. He slicks his hair back with pork grease... there is ample supply on his fingers and face. He limbers up with a few obscene gestures and picks up the phone.

"SHADDAPPA YOU FACE!!!!"

"We just got our asses beat down by that wash out drunk, so forgive me if I ain't in the best mood no more! Now why don't you drop the horse shit act and we can get our business squared away before my social security checks start rollin' in?"

Max pushes the roll. Voice actor 61% Roll 29

Eddie grins after Max rubs the grease into hair.

That Man has his finger on the pulse of high society.

He chuckles to himself as the waitress fills his cup. That reminds him. Eddie takes a drink from his cup to make way for some hooch before emptying the rest of his flask.

He listens patiently for Carlos’s answer., but can't hear what Max was saying. This was all the funnier to Eddie and his chuckle turned into a strange nasal noise that startled Eddie into taking a longer swig from his drink.

ooc, Listen 74 - Fail

Eddie makes a note to himself to keep an eye on the restaurant's phone in case that dotty dame recognized him and tries to call the coppers.

7:24 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Helga's Rise N Shine, Sacramento California.

"Whoa, whoa! Jesus Christ, Nick, calm down. You got beat down? Listen, Nick. I don't want no part of that. I don't even want to hear about it. Well, who am I kiddin', I'd love to hear what happened. Nicki fuckin' Gucci took a beat-down, did he? You're getting old, Nick! But I don't want no part of whatever it is."

Carlos laughs heartily. He's a long-time smoker. You can hear the rasp in his throat, and a strong Chicago accent.

"Are you gonna come by or what? Where are you? I have that package for you. It would be good to catch up. I don't miss Chicago though, I'll tell you. Fuckin' dirty city. California is where it's at, Nick! The dames, Nicki - the dames here are top notch! And the air is constitutional. Enough about me, how's the wife and kids? You two still together, and goin at each other like Louis and Schmeling*?"

...

At the other end of the restaurant, Eddie notices the waitress slips into the kitchen area, in a place that is conveniently out of sight from him. She's talking to someone. The cook? Maybe she's on the phone? It's hard to tell - you would only be able to see her if you got behind the counter and went into the kitchen or looked through the pass-through window between the kitchen and counter area.

*famous boxing match in 1936 - Joe Louis vs. Max Schmeling.

That old battleaxe? Na, she was two-timing me... with a democrat. I'll tell you all about it.

Listen Carlo, you're the only one I trust out here. I just got my ass beat and robbed and I need you to come pick me up. I'm in Sacramento. Homewood Suites on 5th St. Room 4. You writing this down? Keep it on the down low, would ya? I ain't done with these jokers.

And Carlo, one more thing. I need to borrow some cabbage. Just, whatever you got lying around. You know I'm good for it.

fast talk (55%) 48

A bead of sweat begins to form on the edge of Eddie’s brow. Eddie reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his key chain with the little pearl baseball he’d been carrying since his downfall in the majors. His Anti-luck charm.

He pops the small silver latch that connects the pearl to the chain and makes his way towards the pass-through window connecting the kitchen to the restaurant. when it seems like he shouldn't be moving any further in that direction, Eddie pulls out his wallet and makes it look like he is trying to get a different waitress’s attention to add to his bill. He fake fumbles with the pearl and send it rolling slowly across the floor in the direction of the pass- through window. Eddie times it just right and picks up the pearl directly in front of the pass- through window.

ooc, Sleight of Hand Roll : 47 - Pass.

How clumsy!

Eddie risks a quick glance through the window to confirm his fears. He was hoping he was just being paranoid, and that his server had not recognized him and Max at the table. He then quickly turns back to the second waitress, holding his baseball shaped pearl in the air and with that old Cicotte charm, Eddie winks.

It's OK doll face, I snagged it!

OOC - If it wasn’t clear. Eddie was checking to see if the Waitress was on the phone or talking secretively with anyone in the back.

7:24 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Helga's Rise N Shine, Sacramento California.

7:24 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Helga's Rise N Shine, Sacramento California.

There is a pause on the other end of the line.

"Fuck. All right. I'll come pick you up. But that's all I'm doing. I'm not getting involved in whatever this is, Nick. And what the hell you need money for? I thought you was on the payroll over there. Whatever. I don't want to know. I'll be there in two hours. Fuckin' Nick Gucci."

He hangs up.

...

Eddie takes a short step behind the counter and leans in towards the pass-through window leading to the kitchen. The waitress is leaning against the wall. Yeah, she's talking. Real quietly. Something is up.

Is she on the phone? It's too hard to see from your vantage point.

Eddie takes in another step. Now he's right behind the counter. It's not a place where customers usually go.

An older couple stops eating their breakfast, and turns to watch. Warm, pale yolk drips from the old man's fork, lands on the cheap formica table.

Eddie leans in further. He can see the woman better now. Who is she talking to?

"What the... what are you doing? You need something?"

A fat cook with a sweating face like a ham wipes his hands on his apron.

"You need something, we'll come to your table, sir."

The woman turns and stares at you. Her hands are empty. She wasn't on the phone. Maybe she was talking to the cook. Maybe she wasn't even talking. Maybe you imagined the whole thing. She's looking at Eddie in a way he's familiar with. It reminds you of the way Rose used to look at you sometimes. Like she was scared. Like you'd done something unpredictable, and like she didn't know what you might do next.

OOC:   Feel free to continue to roleplay this scene, maybe do another post. If you decide to amp it up, we can forget the scene below (for now) and keep playing in the cafe. If not, feel free to post for both scenes.

9:35 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Homewood Suites, Sacramento California.

Carlos is due to arrive any minute.

Homewood Suites is an L-shaped motel with eight rooms, facing in on a small parking lot. Your room exits straight onto the parking lot. There are three cars parked in the lot, but the place is pretty quiet.

The Suites are on a two-lane road that sees a fair bit of traffic - bicycles and cars. A couple shops are across the street, but both are closed at the moment. There's a bus stop on the sidewalk nearby.

Next door (on your side of the road) is a hardware and garden store which is open. The parking lot of the hardware store adjoins the motel parking lot. Someone is putting out potted plants on a stand, setting for a day of sales.

It's going to be a hot one. The pavement is already shimmering with the heat.

A cream-coloured convertible - a Ford Cabriolet - pulls up the road and turns into the parking lot. The top is down. There's only the driver. Slicked back black hair, sunglasses. This has to be Carlos.

OOC:   Let me know how you've set up for Carlos' arrival and we'll go from there.

"Thanks Carlo... I owe ya" ...click

Max buttons up his shirt and tucks it in. He puts his fedora back on and runs his finger along the brim.
"Good news Eddie, I found us a car.... ah shit." Max realizes instantly that Eddie is terrorizing this poor waitress.

He acts quickly to extract Eddie and defuse his paranoia... "C'mon pal, no time for autographs...". He drops an extra two bits on the table on their way out.

Max takes Eddie for a short walk outside and explains his plan.
"Eddie, I think you should wait for Carlo inside the room... you and your Louisville Slugger. I'll wait outside with a gat, and I'll signal you if Carlo is alone, or if he ain't. If he's alone, we take him inside. If he ain't alone, well then you just keep the door shut....simple."

But first we gotta go next door to the hardware store and check out their selection of ropes and adhesive tapes. C'mon.

I'll let Dan set up the scene at the motel if he agrees with the plan. If not, just modify it and Max will go along with it. i erased 2.5 dollars for breakfast and rope which is equivalent to $51 according to a consumer price index inflation calculator.

Outside, Eddie shake off Max's ham sized hand from his shoulder rather roughly.

He glares darkly at Max.

Wait inside? Why me Fatman? You don't think I can handle it out here. You think I'm gonna do something stupid? get us pinched? Who were you really talking to back there? What are you playing at?

Eddie shakes his head and rubs his temples. He takes a much needed swig from his flask. Just a nip to take the edge off. He looks back to Max, the darkness just a glimmer in his eyes now. Under control.

He smiles friendly now.

You just don't wanna climb the stairs! Ain't that right Fats? That'll give you a god damn heart attack won't it? Ok Fatsman! I'll wait in the room. For your sake. No problem, I see where your goin' with this. We steal the mooks car that shows up... after me and Joe here ask some questions. Eddie taps a finger on his bat.

That's good thinking fats! Real good thinking.

[OC I'll post tonight or tomorrow. Just to get on the same page in our imaginations: There are no stairs to your motel room. This is a ground floor motel. Your room opens up right onto the parking lot, there are no interior hallways. I was thinking about the motel from No Country For Old Men where the protagonist hid the money in the vent. Something like this:]

9:35 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Homewood Suites, Sacramento California.
Peeking through the thin curtains of the motel room, Eddie sees the convertible roll into the parking lot. It drives slowly past door number 4, then parks nearby.

There is just the driver, no one else.

Max is outside, about fifty feet away, and also in sight of the car. [OC: Max, that's about as close as you could be without attracting attention. Could be looking through the plants at the hardware store's outdoor display, or at the bus stop, or whatever.]

The driver exits the car in a leisurely manner, and adjusts his sunglasses. He takes the keys. Looks around the parking lot, assessing the place. He's medium height, dark hair is combed back, losing his hair in the front. He has the frame of a butcher, and the belly of someone who eats well. Decent light-grey suit with baggy pants that must be the style here on the West Coast.

He takes his time, lights a cigarette, takes a long drag.

The man walks with confidence towards door number 4 and knocks on it sharply.

"Nick! It's me. Lets go."

Behind the man, the parking lot is empty. The office to the motel is about 50 feet away from Eddie and Max's room, and the street is 40 feet away across the parking lot. There are some people walking on the other side of the street but at the moment things are quiet in the near proximity.

Eddie risks a quick peek thro0ugh the curtains and his hands squeeze tightly around the taped handle of his Loysville slugger.

This fucking guy!

Eddie thought for a moment if this guy really deserved the beating he had coming his way but only for a moment.

ooc, see ooc thread.

When the car arrives Max flicks his cigarette and casually walks across the street towards the motel. He times it so that he arrives as Carlo is knocking.
Max approaches him. He's holding a pistol in his pocket.

"Don't do nothing stupid Carlo. I ain't gonna kill you unless I have to, now get inside."

Stealth 20%: 94

9:36 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Homewood Suites, Sacramento California.

Carlos turns and takes another look around as he steps up to the door. His eyes fix straight on Max and you make direct eye contact with each other from halfway across the parking lot.

His body stiffens, he drops his hand into his pocket and takes two steps away from the door, facing Max, watching intently.

...

Inside the room, Eddie waits for Carlos to knock. The knock doesn't come. He must be standing right there, outside the door.

Through the thin curtains, Eddie can see Max approaching the door. It's hard to know exactly what's happening out there.

OOC:   In another chat that Dan and Cam can see, I rolled a 01 to Spot Hidden and successfully contested Max's failed Stealth. Let's go to Initiative, in DEX order: EDDIE CARLOS MAX

Eddie lets his looped Louisville slugger slide back to his side and chooses to approach the door with his pistol to the ready. He waits for the shadow the man casts under the hotel room door to shift slightly indicating he had turned or moved slightly to face Max and then makes his move.

Eddie swings open the door. If Carlos is close enough, he grabs him by the lapels and yanks him into the hotel room. If not, he simply trains his gun on Carlos and smiles.

Morning Pally! You re late!

ooc, might I suggest Eddies own spot hidden roll to see if he can time the surprise right by the shadow under the door.

9:36 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Homewood Suites, Sacramento California.

Gun in hand, Eddie throws open the door. Carlos is close enough to grab - only a couple steps away.

Carlos' eyes widen and he takes another step back. His cigarette drops to the ground.

OOC:   I already called for the "Surprise" roll with Max's Stealth, it doesn't make sense for there to be a backup surprise roll after Carlos has already determined something is wrong. In my mind, it made more sense for Max to make that roll since Eddie is pretty blind to exactly what's happening outside. Also, those types of Stealth / Surprise rolls are supposed to be made by the person with the worst chance of success, which would be Max. Dan, I need you to decide whether you're going to (1) grab or (2) train your gun on him. And if you decide to grab, you have a couple options: (A) inflict damage (B) restrain him (but remain outside) or (C) Pull him inside (but not have him restrained) or (D) any other wild ideas, but not a combination of two things. Combat rounds in CoC are quick. Some things to consider: A Grab will be an opposed Fighting (Brawl) roll as per the rules. Restraining him in the parking lot risks someone seeing you. Pulling him inside first still involves some risk of being seen, but less than wrestling outside. If you pull him inside successfully, he has freedom to act how he wishes on his turn inside your room (ie. your gun can't be aimed at him once he's inside, you're using two hands to haul him in.) Training a gun on him means more time outside in a potential deadlock. A pointed gun is much less likely to attract attention than a physical struggle, but if anyone sees then it's highly likely to eventually attract law enforcement. If you Grab, let me know what exactly your intention is, and roll Fighting (Brawl) If you train your gun, no need for a roll, and I move on to Carlos' turn.

ooc, Eddie’s intention was to move Carlos under control at gunpoint back into the room. It sounds like Carlos is too alert to be startled as he spotted Max so Eddie will not grab him. The grab would have come into play only if Carlos didn’t pay any mind to Eddie when he opens the motel door because his focus was on max sneaking up on him. Eddie would have grabbed him and stuck a gun in his back. Both to accomplish the same goal of getting Carlos back into the room with as little noise and resistance as possible.

Eddie swings opens the motel door, his gun trained on Carlos’s belly. A gut-shot… A slow and grinding death from Eddie’s experience. Eddie keeps things smooth, trying not to startle this deer suddenly caught in the headlights into action. He meets Carlos’ eye when he turns to see Eddie at the threshold of the motel room. Eddie suddenly misses his old Zoot suit and the respect it commanded with these gangster types.

Ah Ah Ah! No sudden moves ol’ buddy ol pal. We just wanna talk.

9:36 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Homewood Suites, Sacramento California.

Carlos raises his hands immediately. Eddie's pistol is pressed into his portly belly.

"Holy fucking shit, what is this?" he hisses.

His eyes still aren't visible under the sunglasses, but you see a web of wrinkles from his eyes. He has a strong jaw. He's not super tall, but has a solid frame under the fat - like he could have played football when he was younger. He's at least forty, if not fifty.

By this time, Max has closed in and he addresses both of you as you lead him into the room.

"I didn't do nothing. I don't know who you guys are. Listen, I'm out of this game. I left this game a long time ago. I have a wife and kids. You got the wrong guy!

His features are dark - definitely Italian. And, try as he might to conceal it, he still retains a bit of that old Chicago accent that takes you both back to the days of tommy guns and gang wars...

OOC:   Eddie, roll Sleight of Hand to keep your gun concealed from any potential onlookers as you lead him into the room. Max, if you pull your gun, please do the same. You can have him in the room now - he's in your control. We can leave initiative.

Max waddles in and shuts and locks the door behind him, then turns around with pistol drawn.
"Recognise this?" Max brandishes Nick Gucci's attractive nickel plated M1911 .45 pistol.

"''Course you do. This gun belonged to your good friend Nicholas Gucci." Max sings it.

Max chuckles "That's right shit for brains, it was me you were talking to on the blower. Don't worry. Your friend Nick ain't dead... at least not yet he ain't. You were right about one thing though, he's getting old. He wasn't smart like you, coming out to Cali to get away from those devils."

"Hey Eddie. Why don't you tie up Mr. California here?" Max throws him a length of rope.

"Ya, I imagine you seen this gun plenty of times in the old days eh? Back in Chicago? Say, 10 years ago I'm guessing by your waistline. Ran with Johnny Collins I bet, back when he was a two bit street thug, not the diva he is today. Probably got in all kinds of shit back then."

"Weird shit."

Max trains the gun on him.
"Didn't ya?"

Remember we bought rope at the hardware store, i put it on sheet

9:39 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Homewood Suites, Sacramento California.

Carlos allows you to tie him up. He sits on the corner of the bed, and looks you both up and down. The man's fear is overcome by his curiosity at the pair who he's facing: an incredibly obese man and an obviously unsettled drunk with a baseball bat hanging inside his pant leg... both looking sickly and wearing battered clothes...

"Yeah, I recognize Nick's piece. Jesus, it's been a while since I seen that. Yeah, I ran with Nick back in Chicago. Back when it was the Micks on one side an' the Wops on the other. Simpler days."

He smiles.

"It's not like that no more though, is it? Johnny Collins turned that around, didn't he, after that blowout at the Union Theatre. Fuckin' turned the scene upside-down, didn't he? Fuckin' mayor now... and he's got everyone working for him. Even Nick! The old gangs didn't matter no more. One man had all the money, all the power. Whaddaya gonna do?"

He shakes his head.

"I miss those days, but I also don't miss them, know what I mean? Things got weird with Johnny real quick. I got out. Glad I did, even though the money was good."

This is a guy who likes to talk. He looks surprisingly calm. Maybe all the talking is what's keeping him that way. Pretending you're friends so he can keep his head on straight.

"Now, I told you already... I don't know who you are, and I don't wanna know. I don't give a shit. I got a wife and kids. They know I came out here. I was just meetin' Nick to give him some pills to keep him goin' for his trip. He's headed overseas? Or was?

I got nothing in this game, he's an old friend, he called me up cuz he knows I have connections, he just wanted some fuckin' pills. You can have 'em. They're in the car. I don't give a shit. Nick can fuck himself. It's Benzedrine*. You know what that is? Keeps you sharp. I don't use 'em, I just know a guy is all.

I'm just sayin' - I don't know who the fuck you two are, but I got nothin' to do with this. Don't mess me up - that's just gonna make more of a mess for you for no reason. That's not a threat! I'm just sayin'. The less pieces you give the cops to follow, the better off you are. You know what I mean? Trust me, I have some experience with this shit.

But I don't do that shit any more, though. I keep clean. I have a little girl, and a boy. Five and seven. Real sweeties. I love the shit out of them, you know what I mean? Good kids."

OOC:   Both of you roll Psychology. Dan, it doesn't make a plot difference if Carlos sees the bat in your pants, so I just made the call that he sees it. I just wanna say that it won't be a default that you can wander around with a bat in your pants without people noticing. Have you cut down the bat to make it smaller? Or is it full sized? *Benzedrine were the first generation of amphetamines, which are available over the counter for a variety of conditions. FYI, I was personally perscribed them for ADHD. Wink wink.

ooc, see link below

https://www.steinersports.com/coopersto ... 3730777143

It's full size and a bit awkward. The one Babe Ruth used looks like a toothpick compared to the bats the heavy hitter use these days. A conceal roll makes sense though for sure but its not as big as you think.

Eddie's face goes white and vacant when he mentions the theatre.

The Theatre.... Were you there.. Did you see it?

Eddie doesn't give Carlos a chance to answere and quickly snaps out of his reverie.

So Nick's a popper eh?

Eddie grabs the pills from Carlos.

Yoink!!

He reads the bottle squinting as he makes out the letters or lack there of. He can't read squat in this lighting. Eddie puts them into his jacket pocket.

You can't trust a guy on Pills Fats! Turns em in to a fucking asshole.

ooc, Psychology Roll - 16 - Fail

Eddie feels true compassion for the ex-gangster turned family man. He missed his kids. That's all behind him now.

You don't gotta worry bout us if your straight Carlos. You just tell us what you know and we'll be on our way. Maybe even give yah a few bucks for that car of yours we're about to lift and I apologize most sincerely for that one ol' Carlos old buddy old pal... Specially if we gotta take you with us to keep yah from calling the coppers. But we ain't gonna harm a hair of that head of yours if yah give us the skinny Carlos? if'n yah sing real sweet Carlos right Fats? Maybe the Fatman can drive while me and you tie on a few knots in the back seat eh Carlos? Nothin' Fruity Carlos!! Just a couple ex- Guinni's sluggin' back a few while their Mick driver keeps us rolling on down the road eh Carlos?.


Eddie was getting very uncomfortable with the number of times he was saying Carlos but just couldn't help himself.

Carlos..




Carlos....

Max nods and smiles at Eddie's antics. You can always trust Eddie to lighten the mood.
Max is sitting on the edge of the bed. He struggles a bit to stand up.
"So ya got kids, do ya Carlo? Five and seven.. Ya, those are fun ages."

Max cranks him in the head with the butt of his pistol.

1d4+1d6 rolled 5

"I AINT CRAZY YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH. YOU WERE THERE THAT NIGHT!"
"Them monsters were coming into our world. That cross. It called to them."

"The cross!" Max remembers.
He rifles though his case and finds one of his sketches. He shoves it into Carlo's face.
"You seen this cross? Where'd Johnny get it? How's it work?"

Max holds up Nick's gun like it's a microphone.

"I'm getting real sick of people telling me I'm crazy, Carlo. Now, what were you doing at the Union Theater that night?"

Intimidate 30% rolled 36
psychology 05% rolled 98

Cam, Max should use some luck to pass his Intimidate roll. Same as Eddie with the Psychology roll so he can level up in the skill.

At the sudden violence and the mention of the cross. Eddie takes a a couple steps back until he's pressed back against the motel room wall. Max had never spoken with him about the cross and the truth of the thing was squeezing into his minds eye like a block of cheese through a mail slot.

His kind demeanor was slipping away and Eddie found his hand squeezing the taped end of his Louisville Slugger, his knuckles whitened with the strain.
His eyes grew dark as he squinted, his happy go lucky Cicotte smile slowing twisted into a toothy snarl. That night at the church changed everything. The light was always on his mind. Shoeless Joe could take him out of the light for a while with his charm... Joe liked to drink so Eddie would be distracted. Happy... Complacent.. But Eddie always ended up on the floor of that fucking church holding his best friend in his arms and trying to light a blood soaked cigarette. That light soaking his very soul with a strange calmness Eddie could only compare that feeling to what he thought space might feel like. Out in the black surrounded by light.

Eddie speaks softly to himself. to Shoeless Joe Jackson.

Not now Joe.... You were always a pussy!

Eddie takes one step closer as Max begins his interrogation.

Shoeless Joe had left the field. Eddie Cicotte, liar... cheater.... gangster was back in business.

I don't need a drink right now.

ooc, is Carlos wearing a suit?

9:45 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Homewood Suites, Sacramento California.
Eddie sees it in Carlos' eyes - he's been telling the truth, he's out of the game and not involved in whatever is happening at the moment. He's talking easily and freely. But something is off... something in the way he looked at your two when you first pulled him in. There was some recognition. Maybe he's heard your description, maybe something more.

Eddie: "The Theatre.... Were you there.. Did you see it?"

"Yeah, I saw it! Well, not the first explosion or whatever it was. But I was there soon after. Damned near burnt down the whole city! The Great Fire and all that! Johnny Collins bought that site after the fire, didja know that? Fuckin' cracker."

Eddie notices Carlos' tone change here. Now he's lying. Or there's more to it. He's bringing up Johnny to distract from something more.

Max: "You seen this cross? Where'd Johnny get it? How's it work?"

Carlos lets out a short shriek when Max hits him. A rivulet of blood flows down the back of his neck, under the collar.

"No, I never seen nothin' like that."

He looks away. Eddie knows he's lying. He's starting to break. There is a deep fear underneath all the bravado. Was it the violence? The cross? Something more?

Max: "I'm getting real sick of people telling me I'm crazy, Carlo. Now, what were you doing at the Union Theater that night?"

"Come on, I wasn't there. Please."

He's begging now, contradicting himself. His skin goes pale, he looks like he's going to be sick.

"Please, please don't kill me. I didn't do nothing, I wasn't part of it. I worked for Matricardi and Rockaforte* - the Maquette Park gang. You, know? We was good Italian boys."

"I...I... I don't want to think about that night."

He looks you in your eyes, now pleading. All the fear is there. Fear, and terror.

"Don't make me tell you. I don't want to remember."

Eddie gets it now. He knows who you two are. Whether it's from back in the day, or from more recent descriptions - he knows who he's dealing with and he doesn't want you to know that.

A breeze blows the curtains in the motel room. A single drop of water drips into the sink in the bathroom. It's a bright, hot day out there. The blessed sun, holding back the darkness, the night... a pulsing blackness between the stars...

It occurs to you both that you've not looked up at the night sky since you've woken up in the asylum. Your brains have shut off the possibility of such an action.

"Eddie, I'm thinking maybe you're right about that road trip. Once we're out in the desert maybe Mr. California here might feel a bit more like talking."

OOC:   I'll give Eddie a chance to do something more. Otherwise Max will suggest we use a coat to hide the fact that Carlo has his hands tied, and we'll get him to sit in the passenger seat. Max suggests that Eddie drives and he's sit in the back.

Eddie slowly closes the distance between himself and Carlos with a swagger Shoe-less Joe could never quite pull off, his eyes were fixed on the blood free-flowing from Max's fresh pistol whipping.

His voice was calm and smooth, lacking that nervous sardonic Italian hustle he d taken on over the last few years.

Oh. Carlos is coming to the desert alright.. Maybe he ain't coming back. Less he gets tah talking...

Eddie smiles warmly at Max knowing that was what his partner had in mind. Max hadn't seen that smile in a long time. Since the early days of Chicago.

He lights a cigarette, picks up his flask from the bedside table where he d been hitting the sauce sauce pretty hard before Carlos showed his ugly mug.
He doesn't even take a nip. Eddie hadn't picked up his flask without drinking in years. Unless he was filling it. He tucked the flask inside his trench.

Duckies on the pond....

Eddie notices a phone book on the night-side table and casually flips it open. He leafs through the pages, quickly finding what he was looking for and tearing off the page.

CABLE CAR CLOTHIERS
Fine Suits and Accessories
No Appointment Necessary

Eddie grins. He couldn't help letting Joe's crooked smile leak through. He walks towards the door and calls back to Max.

Bring em Fatman! If he don't put up a fuss, he can sit in the back. If he gets stupid... Well I hear a man can roast like a turkey in the trunk in this kinda heat. We got a stop somewheres on the way so take the lead out.

9:47 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Homewood Suites, Sacramento California.

Carlos slumps helplessly at the corner of the bed, at a loss for words.

Eddie, you just gave me an idea. I think Mr. California here might be our meal ticket. And you don't just splatter your meal ticket's brains all over the desert floor. Good news, huh Carlo? Max says, grabbing Carlo roughly by the scruff of the neck.

"Instead, what say the three of us pay your old friend Nick a visit tonight. I'm sure he'd be happy to have an unannounced visit from his old buon amico turned popper peddler. He might just invite ya right in!?"

"There's just one problem...."
Max pulls out Nick Gucci's Reservation Card for the Palace Hotel, San Francisco.

"We can't go to the ball looking like this... we wont get through the door."

"Ok Eddie, let's get some new digs. Can't go to Indo-china looking like shlemiels."
"However, someone has to babysit meal ticket, so I'll wait outside in the car while you go into the clothier. Just buy me the biggest goddamn sport coat they have and tell 'em to let it the fuck out!

Max will sit in the rear seat, and Carlo will sit in the passenger seat with his hands tied. Max will be able to cover him better with a pistol like that. Max takes Carlo's wallet and searches him. We can go to a San Francisco clothier, Max wants to get away from Sacramento. We will find a secluded place to park where Max and Carlo wont be bothered, and Eddie can walk.

Eddie starts up the car and listens to the engine purr.

It had been a while since he was behind the wheel, and he had forgotten how much he missed it. He and Rose used to take the kids out for long drives…

No….. that wasn’t real. Eddie didn’t spend time with his kids. That was one of the reasons Rose left. Joe had made that one up and Eddie had fallen for it, hook line and sinker, as long as Shoeless Joe kept the drinks pouring, he’d buy anything Joe was selling.

Eddie shook off the false memory and grinned rather wickedly at Carlos as he took his seat on the passenger side.

We got a long drive ahead of us Carlos ol’ buddy ol’ pal. So, we might as well start with the heavy hitters


Duckies on the pond!


Tell us where you really were in the theatre that night, what you saw. You see Carlos, just up intil.. well.. a few minutes ago. I was in your shoes. I didn’t want to think about it. That light me and Max saw before everything went screwy… I know you saw it. I can see it in your eyes. You were lying to us Carlos ol’ buddy ol’ pal. And believe you me I get it. I’ve been lying to myself for damn near a coons age just to keep from going screwy myself. Trouble is Carlos, lying bout it is what makes you screwy and I ain’t screwy no more.


Eddie pauses and twitches just a little. Joe was crawling to get back in… take a drink and forget the whole thing. Make that pitching appointment in the Orient. Crock a shit!

So I’m gonna give you one chance to come clean as best you can Carlos ol’ buddy ol’ pal, cuz I know how hard it is talking bout it. Something don’t want us talking bout it. Real bad…

You lie to me this time though Carlos ol’ buddy ol’ pal, I’ll know it. I goy your number see… If I don’t think for a second you’re at least trying to figure this out with Me and Max here. I’m gonna let you bake in the trunk for a few hours while Me and Max drink a god damn lemonade and think it through without yah.

Eddiie reaches into his insode jacket pocket and finds his flask was replaced with his lucky baseball pearl keychain. Things were chaning...

Start with the theatre... End with the cross. That's how I sees it.

10:34 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Yolo Bypass en route from Sacramento to San Fransisco



The land around here is flat, but more fertile than you imagined. Wide swathes of lush grassland reach as far as the eye can see. The air is hot and humid, but the convertible eliminates any of that discomfort. Carlos' car sails smooth over the blacktop.

Carlos himself is quiet and sullen until Eddie finally speaks up.

"Listen, you gotta believe me - all that shit is behind me and I want nothing to do with it. I want a quiet life. I won't say nothing about you two. I'll do whatever you want, I don't want trouble.

"Yeah, I was there. Those nights leading up to the Union Theatre... I heard about you two. We were all talking about it. We called you 'Knuckles and the Fat Man.' Fuckin' pro baseball player, who woulda thought. You had us all scared! You were killin' everyone! From both sides! How many was it? Ten? Twelve? You two were a fuckin' legend. Fuckin' boogey men, coming to take all of us."

He lets out a nervous laugh. That fear you imprinted on him, back in the day, is still engraved somewhere on his soul. But there is something more.

"I never messed with you two, though. I never even seen you until..."

He pauses and takes a deep breath, shakes his head.

"We got called in after the explosion at the Union Theatre. I was having a drink with a buddy. 'Go check it out', they say. So we jump in the car and make our way over to the Theatre. We were the first ones there, before the cops or fire trucks."

"I'll never forget. It was the most fucked up shit I ever seen."

"There was smoke everywhere, pouring out of the front of the theatre. Bodies in the streets. Like a bomb went off."

"Then I seen Johnny Collins, and you two. And a couple more."

He shakes his head.

"I still can't piece it together. He was... like, leading you four. You two were like zombies or puppets. He was walking behind you and you were all lined up in single file in front of him, walking down the sidewalk... your legs and arms were swaying and jerking like it wasn't really your bodies, like something else was moving you. It was the sickest shit I've seen. I swear sometimes your arms and legs were bending the wrong way, like you were all broken and floppy."

He's looking at the floor of the car, and looks sick even at the memory of it.

"But that's not the worst of it. The worst of it was what Johnny was doing."

"He was holding up a cross - it musta been the one you drew - holding it up for his dear life, pushing it up to the stars, like he was holding the weight of the world up with it. He was screaming up to the sky. He looked fuckin' insane - scared and angry and high as fuck all at once."

"And I swear... you were all surrounded by something... I can't even find words for it. It was like I was looking into space, like it was nothing... not even blackness, just nothing. Emptiness, but worse. It was moving. Like, pulsing and stretching, and it was so fucking huge I can't understand how it wasn't sucking up the whole city. I think Johnny was holding it off somehow with that cross."

He pauses for a second and looks Eddie in the eye, and chooses his next words carefully, assessing your reaction.

"When I think back, I always imagined that thing was feeding on you. I don't even get it - it was like Johnny was saying, 'I'll let you taste these ones, if you do my bidding.' That sounds fucked up, I know. I don't even know why I think that."

"I'm not even explaining it right. Even worse, I knew it SAW me. And I was nothing. I coulda died right there if it wanted. Maybe I did die. Who fuckin knows anymore! You know what I mean? It was a fucking nightmare."

"Funny thing is... I can't even look up at the sky any more. Not at night. Who wants to see that shit any more? I lost all hope. There's no heaven, I'm sure of that. All there is out there, is... something fucked up. Something bad."

He pauses for a while, watching the verdant landscape pass by, and seeing no beauty in it.

"So my buddy who was driving, he didn't see it all. Lucky fucker. I told him to drive, get the fuck out of there. I was screaming at him. I quit pretty quickly after that. I was nervous as hell after that. I took pills, enough to put me in the hospital. Maybe it doesn't sound like much, but trust me... I was a wreck.

I got the fuck out of Chicago and I've been here ever since."

"I heard you two were killed, or in a loonie bin. I didn't believe it. Johnny had you like puppets. I always imagined he hid you away and experimented with you. Cut you up or fed it to that thing or some shit."

"Who knows, maybe he did, and you're dead with me. Or worse."


Roll SAN.

ooc, Edddie rolls an 8. Lose 1 SAN. Good thing. That crazy story might have brought Joe back.

Eddie listens closely to Carlos'' story, soaking in all the details. Joe might have poked fun... but Eddie was all poker face d on this one, except for a little tick that popped up when Carlos described the scene where Collins was controlling him like a puppet.

God Dammit you'll die for that one Mr. Collins. Sure as snot!


Who were the other two Carlos! The other twoo puppets. Do you know where they are now. Did they make it?

San (61): rolled 61

Max listens to Carlo's story with growing unease. Now that he's finally talking, Max wants him to shut the fuck up.

He prods him instead. That's what dicks do and it's still a case. Just another case.
What about your friend Gucci? He was there with Johnny? Did he go inside the theatre?

Previously said:   Johnny had you like puppets. I always imagined he hid you away and experimented with you.

Max remembers. "Na, we was saved. By a copper... imagine that. And he wasn't alone, neither.
"That copper... Brown, he saved us from Johnny. Probably saved us from Beezelbub too, but why?
Maybe someone out there doesn't like the Mayor's platform, hey? In the old days the outfit had the whole town in their pocket."

Max gets the shakes. "Jesus! You couple 'a chicken-livered..."

"Look at you two sad sacks. A bad day on the farm and now you're boozin' and popping pills and whatnot. I got news for ya, ya can't hide from this thing in a bottle of whiskey. Once it sees ya it gets in yer head. That's why I'm gonna face it... see? I'm going out standing like a man, maybe get some payback for your brother Eddie. Keep your eyes on that prize and there ain't no need to look up.

Doughnuts Eddie. Doughnuts.

778 319 2405

10:39 AM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Yolo Bypass en route from Sacramento to San Fransisco

Eddie: "Who were the other two, Carlos? The other two puppets. Do you know where they are now. Did they make it?"

Carlos: "I couldn't even recognize 'em, they were so covered in ash and blood. Clothes all torn up. They looked worse than you. One had a huge wound in his head, worst I ever seen... Look, I didn't know them. Did they make it? Hell, as far as I could tell they were already dead. But if you made it, anything's possible. Maybe they made it too."

A wound in the head.

An image flashes in Max's mind of the sanatorium where you were interred for years. It was early in your stay. Maybe the first days. You remember screaming, being strapped to a bed. You jerk your head to the side, trying to escape. Next to you is another man, who is pale-white almost blue with a lack of blood, head completely wrapped in a bandage, so their entire face is covered except for holes at the eyes, nose and mouth. Eyes wide in terror. Blood soaking the bandage, dripping to the floor...

Max: What about your friend Gucci? He was there with Johnny? Did he go inside the theatre?

Carlos: "No, Gucci wasn't there that night. He was on my side, back then. But no one was surprised when he took a job for Collins. Gucci was different than most of us. And let's get something straight, he's not my friend. He liked the killing. He was always up for it. And sometimes he'd drag it on a bit, if you know what I mean. A hit to the kneecap, shit like that. He's a fuckin' psychopath.

Carlos snaps his mouth shut, regretting the last word he spoke, and glances anxiously at Eddie. Eddie has this guy read like a book - he thinks you're both psychos too, and doesn't want to trigger anything by using the wrong words.

Max: "Na, we was saved. By a copper... imagine that. And he wasn't alone, neither."

Carlos starts to laugh, then stifles it quickly - as though his life depended on it.

"Yeah, maybe it was a copper. You're right. Coulda been."

A wound in the head.

Max recalls something more: Later, in the sanatorium, when the drugs were wearing off enough that you could think a bit. You were being led from one room to another. You walk barefoot down the corridor. You peek into a small window as you walk past - a padded room. In the corner, that same man, face covered in bandages, curled in the corner, arms strapped like a mummy to his torso. Shadowed black holes where the eyes should be, the mouth hanging open too wide...

...Lying so still, you remember wondering if he was dead or not.

Oc, I'm assuming that we have left the clothier and we have our new clothes. Max is wearing his new jacket. Eddie is driving and Carlos is in the passenger seat. Max is in the back seat. We're heading to the Palace hotel where Nick Gucci is staying.

"You look beautiful Eddie. Don't he? Don't he look beautiful? "Max prods Carlos hard in the back.
"Yes Sir, those Golden City socialites have met their match. Dashing, daring and mad as a hatter.
Hey there's peanuts back here!"

"Now listen, when we get there we're gonna go call up to his room. You got the stuff he wants right Carlos? I don't care what ya tell him, but you get us into his room. You do that and maybe you'll make it back in time to have breakfast with those two rug rats of yours."

Eddie pulls at the cufflinks under his new navy-blue pin-striped zoot suit. He over exagerates the motion and eyes Max through the rear view mirror flashing him that ol' Chicotte shit -eating grin.

You bet your chubby cheeks there Fatman!! Eddie's back baby!

Eddie felt fresh... like he was finally waking up from a long sedated ass fucking. There wasn't gonna be chucking more. Not in the majors... not in the minors. Not in the orient....

These gangster scumbags were fucking with Eddie all over again... they were gonna pay. He still had a score to settle for Jack.

Eddie rolls down his window and lights a smoke. He plays with the large pearl baseball at the bottom of his suit pocket and feels something familiar. He fingers his small metal flask for a long moment and then pulls it free from his jacket. Eddie takes a long drag from his cigarette and then tosses the flask out the window. It bounces off the black top making a pleasant " tonk tink tink tonk" noise.

You listen close Carlos. Me and Max... we got a score to settle with your old boss. We spent a lotta time in straight jackets cuz that son of a bitch. So you're gonna do as the Fatman says or..

Eddie straightens his arm across Carlos' chest and a small Louisville slugger, loosened from Eddie's zoot suit, appears and wraps violently on Carlos' window.

Or Eddie's gonna go to town with ol shoeless joe here on the back of that pretty head of yours.

Eddie whispers the next one so only he and Karlos can hear.

Then maybe we visit your place.... see what Joe's gotta say to yours...

Eddie didn't mean it. He played Romeo in high school. He banged juliet and juliets mother... he was fucking great.

Eddie taps the bat against the window one last time.

You just get us in the room.

Eddie was back....








Eddie was back.

Driving through San Fransisco - thanks to Cam for this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZFfRDN ... annel=NASS

12:34 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Palace Hotel

San Francisco: The Pacific ocean, the beautiful summer heat. Lush plants in stalls, palm trees in parks, long-legged dames in flowery calf-revealing dresses strutting down the sidewalks.

Carlos pulls up a block away from the Palace Hotel. The roof of the car is down, and people are walking past a few feet away.

"There she is. So waddaya want me to do, go in there with you?"

He twists around and put his arm over the seat, and makes eye contact with each of you

Look. I'm rusty at this shit. You don't want me in there, messing things up for ya. I got a wife an' kids. You know what happens with people like me - I don't make good decisions in situations like this. I got too much to live for. You know? Look. I got you here. Your man is right in there. Let me go, no one will know I was even a part of this.

I go in there, then it's messy. I'm another factor. Someone else who someone might recognize. But right now... Right now, you can cut me loose. I drive away, I don't look back, Fuck Nick Gucci and fuck all this business. I told you - I'm done with it. Just let me be."

Just to review:

Note that Johnny Collins flew to Shanghai, so he'll be well ahead of you if you take the cruise ship. With the money you now have, a flight is also possible, and you would have more flexibility on the time that you leave.

A probably incomplete list of some leads, though I doubt you have time to do it all in 24 hours:

-Harold Humes, who apparently financed Johnny Collins' bid for mayorship, lives in LA.
-John Scolinos, the Manager of the Alameda-Kono All-Star Team (you have a SF phone number, not an address.)
- A pre-paid hotel reservation for tonight at the Palace Hotel SF - found in Nick Gucci's wallet.

TRAVEL TIMES

LA is a 6-hour drive from SF.

Max sizes up the building, the clientele.
I'm glad to hear you turned over a new leaf Carlos.

He looks for any do-gooder traffic cops, a side entrance, whether all the rooms got fire escapes.
And I think you might be right... you'll fuck things up for sure.

Keep drivin' Eddie. It's lunch time and I dont think good on an empty stomach. We'll come back tonight on the prowl.

Besides, we gotta drop off Mr. California at the bus station so he can get home. You can pick up your car at the docks in a few days... I'll even fill it up wit gas for you. It's that or I can plug ya, capeesh?

Now, I dont want no mush, see? Max stuffs a $20 bill in Carlos' breast pocket. I always hate goodbyes.

8:45 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Palace Hotel

Tap thumbnails for larger image





Carlo is relieved to leave your presence. He's lent you his car and given you his home phone number. You've picked up some fashionable suits and cleaned up as well as you could.

...

As evening falls, the cool ocean air blows over and provides a cool relief from the sweltering day. A massive bank of fog hangs offshore, and dulls the setting sun.

It's Saturday night, and the Palace Hotel is hopping. A dapper young man plays a fox trot on the piano, and a beautiful woman sings mournfully. The inner court of the hotel is filled with tables, and the tables are full. Wine pours from bottles, glasses are clinking, waiters slide easily between the seats with trays loaded with drinks.

The courtyard is a majestic piece of architecture. The upper five stories of the hotel are open to the courtyard. From above, more patrons and drinking and leaning against the railings, looking down. The courtyard is topped with a massive glass ceiling. The darkening sky is visible above.

In Nick Gucci's wallet, you found a note that he had pre-paid for a room in this hotel. You're hoping he's here, somewhere.

[OC: I'm going to post a summary of what's up in the OC thread.]

takes his leave. He glares at th ex gangster with a dark vengeful look in his eyes and caresses the end of his Louisville slugger tied skillfully around his shoulder.. His glare promised violence.

When finally alone with Max, Eddie's demeanor drastially improves. He eyes up the hotel with a playful curiosity and looks over his fat friend.

We're headed to the slammer tonight for sure fats. You think we should case this joint out first or just come back tonight swinging.

My doughs on swinging. Our track record in fancy joints like this ain't the best.

"Keep the engine running Eddie..."

Max walks down the street a short ways to a phone booth.
After a heavy sigh, he squeezes inside. The glass squeaks to a high shine.

He flips through the telephone directory. His fat fingers scroll down the page.

He picks up the receiver and drops in a dime.
"Uh, Palace Hotel. Klondike 4-2246."

Max checks the coin return.

-----

"its the dames Nicki" ahem.. "the DAMES Nicki. Top notch!"

"Uh, Nick Gucci please."

8:54 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Palace Hotel

"Nick Gucci? One minute please. You'll have to excuse me, we've only just installed phones in the rooms."

There is a pause. You can hear the hiss and crackle of static on the phone. Then there is an audible CLICK, and the static clears a bit. You hear heavy breathing.

"Hullo. Who's this?"

It's Nick Gucci. He sounds tired.

[OC: I just did some research - this is right around the time that really fancy hotels would have phones in all the rooms.]

"Nick, Carlos. Jesus, you ok? You sound rough. Listen I have that package for you, but we gotta do it now. Can you meet me outside the Palace? I'm in Cabriolet."

Voice acting (61%) 52%

Eddie taps his fingers on the wheel to some Big Band tune he can never the name of and seats the hook.

BOO DO DO DAP DAP DA DOODLE DEE DOO BAP BAP BAP! DA DOODLE DEE DO DO.... FUCK YOU DEE DO DO DO... FUCK ME DO DEE DEE...

Singing along to the classics , Eddie lights a cigarette and reaches into his inside jacket pocket for his flask. He holds the sterling silver bottle up to his lips and pauses. His hand shakes violently and he slowly lowers it to his lap. The silver shimmers in the light and Eddie suddenly can't remember putting it in his pocket. A tear forms in his eyes and drips quickly down his chin landing on the flask with an audible "tik".

Eddie closes his eyes, which begin to blur as they well up with tears. He wipes them off and shakes is head.

"No"

As his eyes clear the shape of his pearl baseball slowly replaces the flask. He hadn't packed the damn flask....

Jesus Joe... You better not say nothing bout this to fats. You just got your game back...

8:55 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Palace Hotel

Max: "Nick, Carlos. Jesus, you ok? You sound rough. Listen I have that package for you, but we gotta do it now. Can you meet me outside the Palace? I'm in a Cabriolet."

"Carlos? You don't sound so great neither. An' no, I'm not okay. Have I got a story for you. I'll be down in five minutes. Oh. Carlos? Thanks for comin' through for me. I'll be right down."

Nick hangs up the phone.

...

The street in front of the Palace Hotel is fairly busy. Groups of people walk along the sidewalk, enjoying the summer weather. A cinema is on the next block, and people are flowing out from a film that just finished.

There is space for parking in front of the Hotel, and you manage to find a spot for the Convertible.


OC:

Max saunters back over to the car.
"Eddie, he's coming down. We're gonna need some of that Ciccote charm."


oc. I think we might need to draw a map here. If possible, Max is going to want to hide out of view of Nick, inside a shop if necessary. He'll ask Eddie to move the car across the street so that Nick has to walk a distance away from the hotel. I assume the convertible roof is closed right now (or I'll ask Eddie to close it).

Eddie wipes his eyes clear of tears and sneezes audibly mumbling something about about the sanfransisco seals and all the God damn pollen in the Infield.

Back in the game, Eddie smiles wryly at Max and starts cranking the coverible's top to its up position.

No, problemo Fats. DUCKIES on the pond.

When he crosses the lot. I ll wave him over. Thats the signal. If he takes the bait. I ll get him close enough to the car so we can get him in.

Eddie winks at Max.

Under threat of violence and all that.....

Eddie throws the car in gear and looks over the wheel and away from his friend. He speaks in a low serious tone.

If he hesitates to get in.. You stick him Max. We're done clowning around with theses low life guinni bastards. You stick em and you throw him in the back seatv so we can have a word with old saint Nick.


Eddie moves the car to the furthest end of the lot without crossing the street. He parks in a vacant spot so the car is lined directly ahead of the main entrance so nick would not be able to see his face until he was close to the driver's side window. Even closer if he approaches from the passenger side.

Previously said:   If he hesitates to get in.. You stick him Max. We're done clowning around

Eddie seems lucid. For a moment, Max sees his old friend Jack. Good time for it too. With Jack's head and Eddie's arm, we got a chance.

"No Eddie, I need him alive. I have plans for this son of a bitch. We're going stay one step ahead of Beezelbub, and this is how we do it."
Max chances a furtive glance towards the Eastern sky.

9:02 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Palace Hotel

A few minutes later, Nick emerges from the Palace Hotel. His nose is covered with a cast, which is taped to his cheeks. He's wearing a rumpled suit and walks slowly - clearly exhausted.

He looks left and right, down Market Street, and spots the Cabriolet down the road. He waves weakly, hoping you see him, and starts walking towards it.

[OC: Eddie didn't want to be across the street. Does this layout work? The Cabriolet is just across from a wide alley, and Max is in the alley. Dan, Do you want the car to be facing towards Nick, or away from him?]

OOC - Away from Nick. If he has to be parked perpendicular to the direction Nick is walking hell light a cigarette so the car is haze with. Better even if he could light one of Max's stogies.

Eddie rolls down a window just a crack to flash a hand to waive Nick over and signal the Fatman to move in.

Come on Max. Let s roll this gangster fuck along.

9:02 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Palace Hotel

Nick slouches along the road. He moves past the alleyway that Max is in. The sidewalks are wide and he's moving closer to the road, where the car is - so his closest point to Max is about ten feet. He closes on the passenger side of the Cabriolet, which is up against the curb. Eddie's side of the car is closer to the traffic.

Given his trajectory, he's likely to open or knock on the passenger side of the car.

A young couple walks past, arm in arm, laughing at an inside joke. Clots of people move along the sidewalks, and cars ease past lazily. Car windows are open, arms are hanging out, cigarettes between fingers. The city is relaxing into this beautiful summer evening.

Max will hang back until Nick opens the car door, then he'll move in behind him.
Max wont interfere unless Nick realizes the ruse. He's hoping that Nick will climb into the car.

9:02 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Market Street near the Palace Hotel

Nick walks to the passenger-side door of the car. He leans over to peek inside the car, to confirm that it is Carlos' car.

Max is trailing behind.

Nick and Eddie make eye contact through the passenger side window.

Eddie sees that his baseball bat did a number on the old gangster, back in the train car about 24 hours ago. His face is heavily bruised and there are black circles under his eyes.

Nick's eyes go wide. He mouths something like "mutherfuck..."

It looks like he's going to step back from the car. But Eddie is faster.

[OC: Initiative in CoC is straight-up DEX, so it goes Eddie, Nick, Max. On your turn you can do one action. Eddie is up!]

Eddie meets nicks startled gaze with a friendly smile.

He leans over with his pistol leveled at nicks face and pushes the passenger door open with his Louisville slugger. Then Eddie turns the pistol and holds the gun out flat to his palm in a submissive gesture.

Easy mac!!! We just wanna talk! No moves here nick! Honest to Betsy! We need your help here.. we re desperate nick!

9:02 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Market Street near the Palace Hotel

Nick has been in the game for a long time, and he knows a hit when he sees one.

As soon as he sees Eddie's gun, he ducks down and back, hoping that the front passenger seat and door will block a shot.

"FUCK!"

Keeping low, he starts running away down the street - away from the Palace Hotel. People stare and step out of the way.

There are 3-5 people in the near proximity.

OC: Eddie, we can assume you were holding your fire. If you want to shoot when he ducks (essentially Dodging you), then you can fire now. If you miss, you could hit Max or a bystander. Simultaneously, Max, you can do something. He doesn't know you're there and you can be within arm's length of him before he gets some distance from you.

"Salute Nick!"
Max grabs Nick by the scruff of the neck and smashes his head against the roof of the car.

Brawl (65%) 94.

Market Street, San Francisco - 1937

9:02 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Market Street near the Palace Hotel

Nick slides under Max's meaty hands, shoves away from you, and starts running down the street away from the Palace Hotel. He starts to shout...

Everything is happening quickly - people on the street are barely registering that something abnormal is happening at this point.

[OC: Eddie is up. If you want to give chase, he's got more of a lead on Eddie than Max, because Eddie is on the other side of the car. Max had his chance to stop Nick before it turned into a chase situation, and failed.

There may be other options too - just sayin', Nick has distance to move on his turn, which is next - and Eddie isn't in a position to stop him.]

Eddie grins even wider and reaches into the back seat for his mitt. His hand slides into his Rawling pitchers glove with the ease only a professional baseball player could manage. He kicks open his door and takes the mound.

No one steals second on old Knuckles Ciccotte Nick!

he shouts out to an imaginary crowd. And the crowd goes crazy as Eddie winds up for the fastball.

In 1920 major league pitchers could throw heat averaging close to 90 mph. A select few at the top could throw heat closer to 95. Eddie wasn't a select few sort of fella. Eddie was the best. He had to throw a game to lose in the hot seat and Eddie Chiccottte could throw gas closer to 101 mph


Duckies on the pond!

Eddie aims for the knee. The Beaner.... Old Nick might steal 2nd but he ain't winding for third with a bum knee. Hyuk Hyuk Hyuk !

9:03 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Market Street near the Palace Hotel

[OC: Dan rolled 4 damage from the baseball, +1 damage bonus, which I rolled = 5 damage.]

The baseball hits Nick in the side of the kneecap.

Nick drops to the ground, screaming, holding his knee.

People on the sidewalk call out involuntarily.

"Hoo-lee!"

"I think it was that guy! Look!"

"Did he just throw a baseball at him?"

A younger man, on a date with his girlfriend, decides to play hero. He steps forward towards Eddie.

'Hey, pal! What the heck do you think you're doin'?"

Max is close to Nick. Eddie is a little further away, near the car. Nick seems to be in great pain, and isn't going anywhere fast.

[OC: Max is up next.]

Max nods in approval.

Previously said:   A younger man, on a date with his girlfriend, decides to play hero. He steps forward towards Eddie.

Max hurries over to that side of the car. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don't mess with him kid. Instead you're gonna take this C bill here and show your lady a good time, see? Lookit, she's scared already."

Max stuffs a bill in the kid's blazer.
Max uses his substantial girth to separate Eddie from the kid.

fast talk (55%): 85

9:04 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Market Street near the Palace Hotel



The young man recoils from Max. "What th...?"

He reaches disgustedly into his pocket and pulls out the one hundred dollar bill. He stares at Max, incredulous.

"Wh.. thank you, mister!"

He retreats to his girlfriend, who is now part of a circle of 8-10 people who are watching the events unfold.

Nick (with his upper face masked in a bandage), drags himself away from Max and Eddie, and calls to the crowd in a hoarse voice,

"These fuckin' guys! They're gonna kill me! Call the cops!"

The crowd murmurs and takes another step back. The young man and his girlfriend confer quietly, and start moving quickly and quietly to the back of the crowd, in the direction of the Palace Hotel.

Further down the sidewalk, other people are starting to wonder what's going on.

[OC: We can leave initiative now - either of you can post!]

Eddie winks at the crowd thinking they were there to see him pitch. He gives a thumb and forefinger saluted click to the spectater inquiring if that was a baseball.

He calls back.

Nope! That was a fastball!


Eddie continues with his loud banter as he makes way to Nick raising his hands in victory.

Ladies and gentlemen! Yes that was a baseball and no we aren't going to kill this scumbag... who has been dealing drugs and prostitution, to your children mind you, and often out of this very hotel. And for the very mob boss the police have failed to convict in this city. My associate and I have evidence to this fact collected here.

Eddie waves his baseball glove as he reaches down to bring nick to his feet by the scruff of his shirt

My name is Eddie chicotte. Pitcher for the Chicago white Sox and newly deputized agent of the law.

EDDIE pulls out his sparkly pearl Keychain as if that explained everything.

But don't you worry. I'm here with ace detective Max O'malley and we are on the case!!!

Everyone relax. My colleague and I are acting in our capacity as agents of the Court. We are taking this turkey into custody for violation of bail conditions. Stand back now, he may be armed. Stand back.

Max opens the rear door.
Eddie, put that greasy son of a bitch in the car.

Max climbs into the drivers seat and struggles to put the seat back all the way.
oc Max has 2 years of NYU law.

9:08 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Palace Hotel

Nick screams in pain when you pull at him. He tries to resist, but you manage to get him halfway to the car.

"Ah FUCK! That hurts!"

He turns to the crowd.

"They're lying! They're mobsters! They're going to kill me! They're gonna take me in that car an' kill me! Someone FUCKIN DO SOMETHING!"

The crowd doubles in size. Nick is really making a scene. One half of the bandage hangs off his face, revealing nasty scabbing and a huge black-and purple- bruise across his nose.

The group looks concerned and uncertain. They're not sure what they're witnessing at the moment.

[OC: Lets do an opposed Fast-Talk - Nick vs. Max. Nick has 35% Fast Talk and rolled a 17 - Hard Success! Max needs a Hard Success (27 or less) to tie and an Extreme Success (11 or less) to win. A tie will mean the crowd remains uncertain - the cops will definitely look into this. A win (Extreme Success) means you convince the crowd. If you don't get a Hard Success, the crowd will turn against you in some way.

Remember, you can use Luck (you have 60) to bump up the roll on a 1-to-1 basis. Or you can amp up the situation somehow and Push the roll - reroll, but the consequences are greater.]

Don't worry everyone, this violent mobster has been brought to justice with the throw of a baseball by All-American hero Eddie Ciccote - Diamond Dynamo of the Boston Red Sox. Who can forget his 25 game win streak in '17? With a cunning blend of curves, sliders, and his signature knuckleball, he brought Beantown to victory and danced his way into the hearts of fans and foes alike. Everyone give a big round of applause for EDDIE CICOTTE!!!
YEAH!!!

But, the mobster is probably armed though. So, clear out. Seriously, clear out or you'll get shot.

oc Rolled 21 and Max will spend 10 luck to get the hard success for Fast Talk.

9:08 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. San Fransisco - Palace Hotel

The crowd stares, uncertain about what exactly they're witnessing.

Nick is in too much pain to resist being manhandled into the back of the car.

You quickly ascertain that he's not carrying a gun.

His bruised face is covered in sweat.

"Don't fuckin' kill me. Listen. I swear, I'll do whatever you want."

Once Eddie and Nick are in the back seat Max floors it. That little bit of action has left him drenched in sweat, heart pounding.
"Nick! Nick! You listening?" "I'm not gonna kill you Nick."

Max takes a violent left onto Mission St. He checks his watch. He doesn't have a watch. Damn.
He looks up at the fast darkening sky and nails the accelerator.

"See Nick, strange as it seems, the three of us share a kinship. Devil's had a taste of MAX O'MALLEY and HE LIKES it!"

He takes a hard right onto 1st. He sails through the intersection at Harrison then cuts across the center two lanes onto the Bay Bridge Ramp. Once they're on the bridge he really open it up.

"See, I got a bet with my old head shrinker, Dunning... Eddie, you remember Dunning right? Anyway, he thinks I'm CRAZY Nick!"
Max harrasses a slow moving Packard with his horn before jutting around him. "YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"

"Doc says this shit is all in my head. Nice story Doc, except even Beezlebub leaves a paper trail."

Max bottoms out on the apex of the bridge. On the downslope, he really starts picking up speed.

"I think you know what i'm talking about Nick." "... and we're going to prove it to him tonight." The way I figure, the three of us got marked by the almighty. We got inside him and he got inside us. You starting to get the picture Nick?"

"And when Beezlebub finds you tonight all trussed up with a pretty little bow on your head, then we're gonna find out who's crazy."

"It's gonna be a long night for you Nick, but in the morning we'll understand what we're up against."

Max comes roaring down the offramp towards the unlit expanse on the edge of town. He is reminded of black seas of infinity from one of the books strewn beside him. By now, Max's manic drawings of glyphs and sigils litter the floor of the car.

Eddie picks up one of the glyphs Max had scribbled onto paper and the looks sideways at Nick. Cocking his head slightly as if in question. He secures his pistol deep within his zoot suit so nick can't simply grab it from him. He then scrounges up a few more and leafs through them as if He was seeing them for the first time.

Uh... you ok Fats?

9:39 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Oakland. Twenty Minutes East of San Francisco

Nick grimaces and holds his knee as Max turns sharply and the car jostles through the suburbs of Oakland. Eddie can see that Nick's knee is already very swollen, and pushing against the fabric of his pants.

He whispers to Eddie,

"What the fuck is happening here? Is he talkin' about killin' me?"

Then he speaks more loudly, to Max as well.

"Look, I need a fuckin' hospital. Just drop me off an' give me cab money, an' we'll call it even. I'll tell you everything you wanna know. Tom Collins is a cockamamie bastard anyways. Fuck him. Waddaya say? Let's make this right."

Under the bravado, there is the hint of desperation in his voice.

The streetlights of Oakland burn a sickly sodium-halide orange. You are making your way through a quaint, fairly new suburban area - small homes on small lots. The shadows are dark, and no one is walking the streets here.

"This looks good."

Max pulls into a derelict vineyard. He drives a short way down an access road. On both sides, dead vines wrap around the arbors like skeletal fingers.
The air smells like damp soil and decay. A lone scarecrow stands watch over a field of splintered barrels staves and twisted metal.

Max stops the car. The headlights illuminate a old rusted water pump.

"Outta the car, Gucci."
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SAU2G9 ... rkSIN/edit

oc. Max opens the trunk to get the rope. Is there anything else in the trunk?

10:20 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Derelict Vineyard, Outskirts of Oakland.

As Max heaves himself out of the car and pulls rope out of the trunk, Nick hisses to Eddie,

"This guy is fuckin' crazy. Tell you what - I'll pay you anything. I got a good bit of money socked away. I'll pay you. Just jump in the drivers seat, leave this guy behind and get me the fuck outta here. Two thousand dollars. Waddaya say?"

He cranes his neck to see what Max is doing in the truck, and also pulls himself towards the door on his side of the car.

In the back of the car, Max finds:

A length of rope
A tire iron
A spare tire
A cloth bag with some gym shoes and dirty socks in it.
A canvas bag with a new tools in it: screwdrivers, wrench, jack for the car.
A near-empty jerrycan of gas.

Eddie pulls his revolver and points it at Nick for a brief vacant moment before his wry smile returns to his cheeks. He then tilts over the Revolver back anb\d empties the bullets onto the floor of the car. In as gentle of voice as he can muster. Eddie begins.

No ones going to kill you Nick. Max was a cop. My brother was a cop. I was a god damn major league pitcher for christ's sake. True, we may have slipped off our cracker as of late. Some... more than others.

Eddie points a thumb towards Max rummaging in the trunk.

Now I can't promise old fats here won't smack you atrouind with those hamms of his bless his heart, but honest to god we're just trying to makie sense of things Nick...

Eddie grows suddenly grimm and looks nervously around the field as if expecting to see someone.

You were there Nick. At the theatre... Way back... we had our show down with your boss. We was winninbgf that show down far as I can reckon donb't you think Nick.


Eddie pauses for a second and continues before Nick has a chance to answer.

You saw that bloody light... we know you did. And all that came with it. You've been having dreams haven'y you? Unexplained shit's been happening all around yah. You think you're going nuts but its not enough to be nuts... You can push it away and blame it on the work.. Or whatever you gotta tell your self to get through the damn day. Now you saw the light and we wanna chat about it. Me abnd Max haven't even had that chat yet. This is our first bonified meeting of the deadlight. That sick, thick mind fuck of a light. You hear me Nick. Between you and me, I think my Max has cracked. He's been thinking too much bout that light and now he wants to chat about it. I know you don't want to chat about it. Hell, I don't want to chat about it. But it looks klike we're gonna chat about it... So...

Eddie open the car door, steps outside and stretches from the short ride. He bends into the car with his smile and friendly demeanour closely in check. Eddie holds out a hand to Nick.

C-mon Nick... This is a safe place. If I'm lying, I'm dying. Lets's hear what the Fatman has to say.

10:21 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Derelict Vineyard, Outskirts of Oakland.

Nick stares at Eddie. It takes him a moment to figure out how to respond. He tries to sound measured and reasonable.

"I wasn't there. But I know what you're talkin' about. I heard rumours. The Union Theatre, right? That's when Tom Collins turned. Sure, I can talk to you two about it. I can tell you what I know about Tom, if it helps."

Nick winces and pulls himself out of the car, behind Eddie.

"This fuckin' knee."

Eddie knows hand tricks. He's seen a dozen types of spitballs, back in his day. Hell, he threw the World Series. He knows how to cheat.

And Nick's a beginner. Eddie sees what's going to happen before the gangster even does it: On his way out of the car, Nick hangs an arm down low, picks up a plum-sized stone off the ground, and palms it.

Nick lifts himself up slowly, favouring his knee, leaning against the side of the car. He's eyeing Max warily - trying to look casual, but also trying to get a look at what he's doing in the trunk.

"Sure, let's talk. I'll help ya out."

It's real dark out here. Only the headlights, shining on the old pump, light the dead vines and dry earth.

[OC: Eddie passed Spot Hidden, Max failed. I marked the success on Eddie's character sheet.]

Max grabs the rope and slams the trunk. He starts walking towards Nick.

"Now take it easy, Nick. We're just going to leave you tied up out here."
"What's the matter, you afraid of the dark?"

10:21 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Derelict Vineyard, Outskirts of Oakland.

Nick backs up, away from Max, maintaining his distance. He favours his wounded leg.

Eddie can see that he is still palming a plum-sized stone in one hand.

"Don't be stupid. You want Tom Collins. You didn't come all the way out here for me. You're goin' to Shanghai. You think you can just fly over there an' find him? You need me. I'm supposed to meet him there."

He's eyeing Eddie and the pistol.

Easy Max. This is the social part of this here gathering of the minds. We don't need the rope.. Not yet.


Eddie takes a step away from both Max and Nick and brings his louisville slugger to bare from the sling in his suit. The motion is quick and slick.

And I don't need this neither, right Nick? Just like you don't need that brain beener you're holding there in that big mit of yours. Now's not the time pally.

No rock... No rope ... No bat.

Just us boys... chatting in a cornfield... like bossum buddies we'll be.


Eddie smiles, tilts his head pleadingingly and waits for Nick to drop the rock.

10:22 PM Saturday, June 29, 1937. Derelict Vineyard, Outskirts of Oakland.

Nick drops the rock.

"Keep the gun outta my face and we can talk."

He tries to stand up a little straighter and regain his composure.

"Look. You can use me to trap Tom in Shanghai. I have a boat ticket for Monday. You buy yourselves a ticket, we take a nice trip, talk things through on the way. I can tell you everything I know about the guy. I've been workin' for him for years. I'll give you the ins an' the outs."

The sweat on Nick's face glistens in the light of the car. The old water pump looms ominously in the headlights, and the grape vines surround you with strange shadows. The car's engine ticks as it cools.

"I said it before an' I'll say it again. I have nothing against you two. I was paid to kill you, yeah. But it's not personal. I consider that job to be done. I failed. Fuck it. I quit workin' for Tom. You win. Let me help you out."

[OC: Max, make a Psychology roll if you feel like you're watching him carefully and trying to get a read on him. Eddie failed his roll.]

Summary of Connections and Leads

1) John Scolinos, the manager of the Alameda Kono Allstar team, asked you to take the train (which you did) and contact him about the contract in Japan. You took the train, but you have yet to contact him. (Though I think you suspect this was a trap and not a genuine request).

2) "David", whose briefcase you stole, was with Nick on the train. He's still out there somewhere.

3) David had a ticket for a steamship, which leaves on Monday.

4) David also had a strange letter, transcribed from a letter that Tom Collins recieved from a Priest-Historian named Emil de Briac. Emil wrote the letter from Shanghai. The original letter was recieved by Tom Collins on June 10, and transcribed by David on June 13 - about two weeks ago. In other words - you don't necessarily need Nick to find Tom Collins, assuming Tom went to talk to Emil (and you do have Emil's location). Nick might not know about this letter from Emil, since you found it in David's briefcase, tucked in a weird old book.

5) A millionnaire named Harold Humes helped finance Tom Collins' bid for mayorship. He lives in L.A., a 6-hour drive from here.

OK Nick. I don't think that will be necessary but I appreciate the teamwork vibe you got gobng here pally.

Eddie slings his loisville sluuger back into his zoot suit and jeans against the car. The motion is slick.

I don't know abouts fats here Nick. But I'd like to know what you heard about that night at the theatre. Who all made it outta there and what did they have to say?

Eddie winks at Max.

And believe you me pally.. Nothin you say's gonna spook us, or make us think you're nuts... Matter fact Nick... You don't sound a little crazy in the next couple versus of this tune, I might let fats here make use of that rope.

Max backs off.

"All right Nick, since you're feeling talkative. We spoke with your pill pusher... Carlos. Nice guy. Family man. Not a piece of shit killer like you. He said we three were being controlled that night in Chicago, at the Theater, by forces unseen. Like, like, marionettes."

"Or maybe, like we was part of its body."
Max giggles...

"Heh.. I guess that makes me the big toe huh Eddie? Max gives his fat a little jiggle. Hee hee, woo!"
Max is winded.

He pulls out his revolver.

"And that makes you the little the toe, right Nick?" Max bellows. "BWAA HA HA! That's rich! Ain't it Eddie?"
"Nick Christmas, little toe of the devil!"

He wants to say more but instead he rests his fat ass up against the Cabriolet and breathes for a while.