Thread: Empire -- City of vice. (BlackOut & Claire)

The face of the man was still washed with the red imprint of his impact with the back of the sedan. Nose twisted and bent, bloodied from the blow. He was barely able to move and the only one of the six that seemed capable enough at the moment to even try. Who tha fuck do you think you are, you fucking cunt, you don't own this fucking town... He snarled the words out of his busted up lips as he feebly tried to lunge towards his fallen weapon. Further down the alley, the only one to escape unscathed was still running. Duffel bag full of drug laced lollipops bounced against his side with every long departing stride he took. Except Stephen wasn't wearing running shoes and the discomfort caused by his deeply polished and tidy black dress shoes were wearing thin on his resolve. He had no idea if the hunter was still on his trail, even if she was he probably wouldn't know it. That's just the way Shade was always talked about. Coming out of nowhere, moving like a deadly blur, most everyone feared that vigilante. Except for his boss, the Baron, and others like him that held court in Empire City. The pattering steps of his feet clapping against the dirty cracked asphalt of the alleyway slowed after a solid minute of running. In the back of Stephens mind he figured if she was coming for him, she would of been on him by now. So he spared his aching feet a moments respite as he exited the alleyway and tried to assume a more casual stroll and demeanor. His chest heaved as he caught his breath and he leaned back against the wall to take a look around the opposite side of the block where he had emerged. Fingers fished into the soft silk lined pocket on the inside of his jacket while he looked about for a place that might over some refuge. His fingers were busy working over his contacts until he found what he was looking for, pressed down, and sent the call on its way. The two tone cruiser of black and blue, the staple color of Empire City's police force was meandering down Greenwhich Ave. The two officers inside, Hall the senior officer who always drove and Brubaker his younger partner were keeping look out for any potential soon to be DUI offenders. It was a nice way to line their pockets. Pull over a rich somewhat tipsy driver. Give em the shake down, make them feel like their night was about to take a really bad turn. Most were eager to open up their wallets in return for their blessing to let it slide. Plus there was just so much fine ass to look at along this stretch of capital night time real estate. The sudden beeping of Brubakers phone interrupted their interlude of eye candy observations. He immediately recognized the caller and looked to his partner briefly as he flashed the phone his way to let him see the name. Put him on speaker phone. Hall muttered under his breath as his partner flicked the icon and held the phone up to find out as he started the conversation off with a simple. Yeah? Whatever your doing, I need you to break it off now. Shade showed up. Shit went south, get to the alleyway on Forbes between the bank and the law firm, like now. Stephens breath had finally calmed enough, though the panic in his chest reflected into his tone. He continued talking as his head pivoted, looking about in a mix of casual paranoia as he turned and started off down the sidewalk. Make sure that you contain this. You'll get your biggest pay day ever if ends up like nothing ever happened. He took a moment to catch his breath and try to compose himself as he neared the front door of a high end corner pub that seemed inconspicuous enough. The blue spinning lights flashed on and the car immediately started to spin around as the moderate flow of traffic screeched to a stop around the cruiser. With gas pedal pressed to the floor the tires squealed from under the carriage of the sedan as it shot back down the road in the direction of Forbes Ave with its sirens waliing. We're on our way. Be there in a couple minutes. Brubaker stated before pausing a moment to listen for anything else Stephen might have to say and when it came with silence he hung up. Call Holly, make sure she's taking anything incoming from that quad. Hall was quick to say as he maneuvered the cop car through the parting flow of traffic. Brubaker nodded and got right back to work dialing up one of their partners on the inside. Holly would make sure that any incoming reports from that patch of land would start and end with her. Stephen wiped his dark sleeve over his forehead, took a moment to pass his hand through his ruffled up hair as he looked himself over in a mirror and then took a moment to look around. Quick steps took him to a solitary booth nearby a side fire exit. Good thing to have handy, he figured as he settled himself down so his back was towards the door and the looming billboard like back of the cushioned booth bench hid him from view of those who entered from the front. His fingers were already swiping through his phone to call into his boss when the waitress, a petite buxom girl with a nice set of hips showed up to check on him. He smiled her way as he brought the phone up to his ear. Glass of your best single malt scotch, one ice cube. Make it a double, no a triple pour. He winked and then ushered her away with a flash of his delicate hand. For a moment his eyes lost themselves in the sway of her hips as she turned and made her way off towards the bar. She should could be in porn, should be really his thoughts wandered away before the act of his finger touching the button that made the call to the Baron drew him back to more pressing matters. Greenwhich Ave was a long street, but it eventually ran out of real estate to explore and handed off its vibrant energy to a street that ran alongside its path. Bell Street. That's where one could find -The Eclectic- a successful and trendy strip club that doubled as a venue for a wide ranged of jazz acts that came through Empire. Wednesday and Thursday nights were always booked with some of the best up and coming talent. The owner, Deshey Tower considered himself something of an expert in that particular genre of music. In this way he figured he was helping to foster its growth, and building the name of his club up in the event that any of the acts that passed through his doors hit it big. So, yeah, Friday's like tonight were something of a let down for him personally. The place was busy enough, but he wasn't really in the mood for the racy hip hop music that was flooding the club. Instead he simply made due with the upbeat jazz funk of an old master, Herbie Hancock while he whittled away the hours from the comfort and privacy of his overlooking loft office. The windows were deeply tinted, meaning Deshey, or the Baron as he was known in certain circles could see out, but no one could see in. Currently he was lounged back in his rustic brown leather office chair. Thick and pungent cigar smoke wafted up around his heavy chiseled dark skinned face. He took a leisurely drag from the expensive cellar reserve cigar of some twenty years in age that was perched between his stubby thick fingers. Eyes shifted downward to his phone on the table as it hummed and caught the mammoth of a mans attention. Stephens name blinked on the screen as the one calling himself the Baron swiped the pad of his thumb across the screen to answer. Why do you have to interrupt me when I'm getting my dick sucked, Stephen? His free hand slipped down between his legs and patted the top of a curly blonde haired numbers head that was busy stroking and sucking around his thick black pipe.