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.
[IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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coffeedemon
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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.
Carlos slumps helplessly at the corner of the bed, at a loss for words.
Spoiler:
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Basketvector
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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.
"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.
Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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.
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.
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coffeedemon
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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.
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.
Spoiler:
Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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?
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Basketvector
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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?
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.
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. |
"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.
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coffeedemon
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coffeedemon
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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.
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.
Spoiler:
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Basketvector
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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."
"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."
Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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.
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.
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coffeedemon
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
Driving through San Fransisco - thanks to Cam for this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZFfRDN ... annel=NASS
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZFfRDN ... annel=NASS
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coffeedemon
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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."
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."
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Basketvector
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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.
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.
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coffeedemon
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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.]
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.]
Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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.
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.
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coffeedemon
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
[OC: You have a note that says Nick Gucci has a reservation at this hotel for this evening, but there is no room number. At present, you don't know what room Nick Gucci is staying in. If you want to wait and come back way later that's fine. Based on a conversation I had with basketvector, I thought you wanted to arrive around this time.]
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Basketvector
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
"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."
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."
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coffeedemon
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
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 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.]
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Basketvector
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Re: [IC: Chapter 2: Bruised Knuckles in San Francisco]
"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%
Voice acting (61%) 52%
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