Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

Gin, crowed 'Nickels' Rossi, laying down his cards. Everyone else at the table frowned and swore and threw their hands down as he raked in the pot. Fuck this, grumbled Jimmy Rizzo as he stood up. Hey, Nickels laughed. Don't be a sore looser! Yeah, yeah, fuck You too, Jimmy replied without any real heat. I'mna go take a smoke, check the warehouse while I'm up. He lit up, then sauntered off. You all hear the latest about Capone's boys? Nickels asked, gathering up the cards. Word is, the Raven... Ain't no fuckin' Raven, spat Pat Malone, a cauliflower-eared mock who'd signed up with Malone a couple of years back. He's some hop-head's... He shot up one of Capone's deliveries, Nickels protested. Fuck that, Pat grunted. Capone's got enemies. They're just... Everyone jerked as a gunshot echoed through the warehouse, and then another, and then another. Game forgotten, the seated gangsters erupted to their feet with revolvers and automatics in hand. Jimmy? Pat shouted. Jimmy! The only response was a clattering sound as a canister bounced and rolled across the floor. They had an instant to register it before it erupted, spewing an orange-tinted smoke into the air. Choking and gasping, eyes watering, none of them heard the approaching footsteps until a shape kept onto the table. Nickels had a confused impression of a black shape, something in a black coat and black hat with a black, blank face and huge, in winking white eyes. And then a tongue of flame roared from its hand and Pat went down in a spray of blood. The figure spun, gunning down the other gangsters in turn, and suddenly Nickles was staring to not a smoking muzzle. He twitched. The gun roared. Nickels screamed as his leg gave way. The dark form dropped from the table, booted heel grinding into his hand as he clutched at his ruined knee. Then the dark shape grabbed his lapels, jerking him ip to stare closely at him with those huge, dead white eyes. You'll live, it said, placing a hand over Nickels' face. And you'll take a message to Vincent Morello. What... Nickels scrabbled, trying to pull himself away with a broken hand and a shattered knee. What... message...? Something brushed against Nickels' forehead, and he screamed again as searing pain burned into his skull. Distantly, he felt the figure release him, felt himself drop to the floor. Nevermore. Flame erupted into the Chicago sky, great hours of blue flame fueled by wooden barrels and hundreds of gallons of bootleg alcohol. Two shapes emerged from the blazing warehouse, one dragging the other. The standing shape stood for a moment, watching the dance of the flames, and then turned to walk towards a nearby alley. And then it stopped. The figure's blank face turned slowly, huge white eyes like diagonal slashes reflecting the flames. It raised a pistol in a gloved hand, aiming into the darkness. Come out. Slowly.
Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

There hadnt been much thought put into this plan. In the wake of her husbands assault, all Mercedes knew was that she wanted to hurt the bastard, and hitting him in the wallet would hurt the most. So, she donned slacks and a button up shirt, tied her hair back in a handkerchief and tied another over her face, just below her eyes. In the dark of night, it would hopefully convince any witnesses that a man committed the crime. Let Vinnie think a rival gang attacked him. Let him go to war over nothing. She loaded up the Cadillac with a couple jars of kerosene, a box of matches and her gun. She knew where the liquor warehouses were. If she left now, she could move about with a chaperone, and could hit one or two of them. But when she arrived, she heard gunfire, and saw smoke. Was someone already hitting Vinnie? There was a moment of fear before her resolved hardened. No, this was perfect. Let this other person caught the blame for her arson. It would muddy up the issue, and leave suspicion off her long enough to exact her revenge. She retrieved a grease rag from the truck of the car and tied it around the kerosene bottle. The rag caught on fire easily, and she tossed it through a window on the south side of the building, hoping striking some of the barrels containing liquor. She prepared another kerosene bomb as she made her way to the north side of the build, where it seemed the shooting had stopped. She still had her revolver in her belt, ready to deal with any survivors who might try to stop her. Through the northside window, she could see two figures, talking, before one was dropped. And then dragged out, as the fire spread from her first strike. She lit and threw the second improvised bomb before dashing for a nearby alley, hoping to evade the survivors. Shit, she cursed, as the alley closed in brick and mortar. Maybe she hadnt been seen, as she stood flat again the wall, in the shadow of the moon. Holding her breath, praying shed still live long enough to get her revenge on her husband. Come out. Slowly. Mercedes swallowed hard. Fuck that! She wasnt going to roll over and die. Not for anyone. Never again. So she pulled out her own revolver, aiming toward the figure at the mouth of the alley. I dont know who you are, but I aint got beef with you. she called, trying to make her voice sound deeper, like a mans. So why dont you go your way and I go mine, and aint neither of us seen nothing.
Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

The masked woman - and in the firelight, it was obvious that she was a woman despite how she was dressed - responded by drawing a revolver. I dont know who you are, but I aint got beef with you. she replied, trying to make her voice sound gruff. Despite the bravado, her weapon trembled a little in her grip. So why dont you go your way and I go mine, and aint neither of us seen nothing. The Raven stood like a rock, the blue steel of his automatic glinting in the flames. You're not one of Morello's boys, he said slowly, head shifting a little as he looked over her. Not one of any of the gangs, from what I can see. The mask crinkled a little, as if the face inside were amused. Nice look, but you'd be better off with a balaclava - it hides the features better. And baggier clothing, maybe with a coat. He paused for effect. Unless you aren't actually trying to pass for a man, that is. Sirens could be head in the distance. I've done what I came here to do, he stated, voice flat. I just wish I could see the bastard's face in the morning, when he reads about it. What about you? The muzzle of the automatic shifted a little, aiming right at her heart. Because I don't plan to be here when the cops arrive. And while I don't ordinarily hurt women, I don't plan to let you turn me in for bruning down one of the Enforcer's warehouses. So decide.
Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

I just wish I could see the bastard's face in the morning, when he reads about it. If we run into each other again, maybe Ill tell ya all about it. Mercedes smirked, dropping the deeper voice. It didnt seem like he was going to shoot her, especially not after he remarked about not hurting women, but she still didnt like having a gun pulled on her. Still, he seemed to hate her husband as much as she did, and could be a useful ally. I dont want to get pinched any more than you do, and Id be gone already if you didnt have a gun pointed at me first. Seems like we both hate that rat bastard, and it seems to me that we could get a lot more done together than we could pointin guns at each other. Sirens grew louder, more urgent, and theyd have to move if they wanted to avoid trouble. She lowered the gun, not daring to put it away while his still aimed at her. But it was an act of goodwill, an act she hoped hed reciprocate. My cars around the southside, if you need a clean getaway.
Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

The woman lowered her gun. My cars around the southside, if you need a clean getaway. The Raven seemed to consider that for a moment, then lowered his own automatic and tucked it into a battered black holster. I have one just over there, he replied, nodding down the street. So I suggest we both leave now, by different routes. He started to walk away, seemingly unconcerned by the revolver she still held. If you want to hurt Enforcer Morello, though, I suggest you contact the editor of the Daily News . He doesn't believe I exist, but he's the loudest anti-mob voice in the city. I'm sure he'll talk to you. Then he turned, white eyes crimson in the firelight. And you may want to work on disguising your voice better, if you're going to wear a mask. You have a lovely and distinctive voice, Mrs. Mercedes Morello. Smoke erupted around his feet, billowing like swirling ink into the night. When it cleared, he was gone. The office of the Chicago Daily News The next morning You look like something the cat dragged in, Bill! Late night? Morning, Emmett, William grunted, sipping his coffee. No need to look up. Emmett Harris was the only person in the history of ever that called him 'Bill'. Yeah, a bit of one. Emmett dropped his sticky frame into a chair, and tossed a paper on his desk. MORELLO WAREHOUSE TORCHED! screamed the headline. Grinning like the cat that ate the proverbial canary, he leaned back and twirled his mustache. Thought you'd get a kick outta that. Good headline, William agreed, scanning the accompanying article. Jimmy got this one? Yep. Crazy guy rode along with the hook and ladder trucks. See that bit about the dead guys? Emmett looked smug. We scooped everyone with that! Every other paper in the city thinks it was an accident, but we got the goods on it being a gangland killing. The office door opened. Actually, declared a tall woman with dark hair cut in a fashionable bob, it wasn't. She took a seat across from Emmett. It was the Raven. William sighed. This 'Raven' is a myth, Marilyn. He... Marilyn Stone smiled sweetly. He burned a stylized crow onto the face of... she consulted a stenographers notebook she retrieved from her purse, Nicholas Rossi, a racketeer and pimp associated with Vincent Morello. And how did you find that out? Emmett demanded, impressed. Marilyn lit a slim cigarette, and took a drag. I saw the ambulance, and spent some time flirting with Detective Sean Mallory, CPD. She took another puff, and looked smug. He's one of the officers watching him at the hospital right now. Figure I can get a column out of it. Oh, God, William groaned. I'm not running a yellow press rag here. But it is news, Emmett insisted. Even if you don't believe in this ghost, something burned his face. Before William could reply, his door opened a crack. Boss? said his secretary. There's a lady here to see you...
Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

William sat and listened as Mercedes spoke. He didn't interrupt, although his expression hardened at her humorless joke about having been beaten. By the time she finished, journalistic instincts were warring with chivalrous ones. I'm sorry for what you've been through, Mrs. Morello, he finally said. But... are you sure you want to come to us? The Feds would love the same sort of information, after all, and the Fifth Amendment doesn't apply if you voluntarily testify. Not that he thought she would. If she turned states evidence, the Feds would still need more evidence. And trials could take a long time, during which she'd probably meet a terrible accident. But he felt it was necessary to say it. But if you want to funnel the information to us, there's ways we can use it without naming you as a source. He pursed his lips in thought. Clearly we can't just run aan interview with you, but your tips can drive investigations. Tell me where to send reporters. Splash his dirty dealing right across the front page in 48 point font. He was up and pacing now, prowling his office like a panther as he spoke. You understand that it will be cangerous for you, right? Enforcer Mirello's a dangerous man, after all. So, the least I can do is... He stopped at his desk, scrawling something on a notepad. Here. He handed her the note. My address, and home and direct office number. I suggest memorizing them, but this way you don't have to go through the switchboard. The fewer people who know about this, the safer you'll be.
Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

Its not enough to get Vinnie arrested. Someone else will just end up as the boss, and theyll come after me, to send a message, Mercedes countered, as William suggested she go to the Feds. I wont be safe until Ive torn everything hes built to the ground. And that mean putting everything out in the open, where it cant hide in the shadows. If no one is willing to work with him, then he wont be able to work. William then outlined how he could use her tips, and she nodded along, hopeful. Watching him as he paced the room, overwhelmed by energy and a need to do something. She could appreciate that, appreciating his firm figure under the well-tailored suit. Vinnie used to look like that, before he got complacent with his life. You understand that it will be dangerous for you, right? Enforcer Morellos a dangerous man, after all. Its always been dangerous, and staying quiet hasnt saved my ass so far, she challenged, At least now perhaps I can make up for my years of silence. He was writing something on a notepad, something he handed to her. My address, and home and direct office number. I suggest memorizing them, but this way you don't have to go through the switchboard. The fewer people who know about this, the safer you'll be. Thanks, thats awful sweet of ya, she noted, folding the paper and slipping it into her purse. Then she put her scarf and sunglasses back on, standing to leave. Ill be in touch, when I have something you can use. And I hope to see you in the audience again, sometime soon. She gave him a wink on that one, before turning to leave. She couldnt stay long, if she wanted to avoid suspicion, and there was still she needed to do while she was alone. Nice look, but you'd be better off with a balaclava - it hides the features better. And baggier clothing, maybe with a coat. Unless you aren't actually trying to pass for a man, that is. The Raven knew who she was, figured it out despite her attempts to conceal herself. What if it had been one of Vinnies boys instead? She couldnt take the risk, and at the same time, she couldnt stand on the sidelines anymore either. So, shed need a better disguise, and his words returned to her as she browsed for clothing. She picked out a few pairs of pants, a few shirts and a coat. All black, all quite loose on her. She even managed to find a balaclava, despite it being late summer, with just a thin slit for her eyes. Tonight, shed be ready to hit another warehouse. And maybe shed even see him again.
Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

Thanks, thats awful sweet of ya, she noted, folding the paper and slipping it into her purse. William laughed at that. Sweet? Are you certain I'm not just ensuring my paper can get the scoop of the decade? he said with a genuine smile. Then he leaned back in his chair, watching her don her scarf and sunglasses. She was dressed in a much more conservative style than she'd worn on the stage, but even in a tea dress she was worth watching. The realization surprised him. He hadn't really looked at a woman in that fashion in years. Not since Sandy... not since Sandy had died. Had been murdered. He'd never expected to, not again. Certainly not at a married woman, especially the wife of Tony Morello. Ill be in touch, when I have something you can use. And I hope to see you in the audience again, sometime soon, she said with a wink. I'll be looking forward to it, he replied, watching her leave. When the door closed behind her, he let out a long, low whistle and shook his head. The door swung back open. Marilyn stalked in, planting herself in the seat Mercedes had just vacated. Spill it, she demanded, resting her elbow on the desk and her cheek on her fist. That was Mercedes Morello. What did she want? William stared past her, as if trying to look through the frosted glass of the door. Revenge. She wanted revenge. Marilyn nodded understanding. Well. Isn't that just the bee's knees. So, she added brightly, that mean you're catching her show again tonight? You need to get out more anyway... Maybe, he replied. I have another appointment, but it might wrap up early. You could go. Nope. Marilyn's grin was impish. Got a hot date tonight.
Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

It was noon by the time she returned home, and not surprising to find Vinnie waiting for her. Whered you go? Just went to get my dress fixed, Mercedes explained, holding up the mended garment. He looked her up and down, before nodding. Looks like you aint too sore about last night, he remarked, running fingers down her arm. Course not, she cooed, planting a preemptive kiss on his cheek. When he pulled her close for another, she let him see the flinch in her body. Turning rage into a display of dread. For Vinnie, fear and respect were the same thing, and if he thought she feared him, hed be satisfied. Maybe a little tender, she murmured, hoping that would be enough. Guess you dont like it as rough as we used to, huh? Vinnie teased, sliding his hand down her hip. Guess not, she answered with a forced laugh. It was difficult to stifle the relieved sigh when he finally let up. Doubt you heard yet, but some fucking joker is targeting me and my boys. Afraid he might target you too, to hurt me. Going keep some boys around you, doll, keep you safe, so I can work on bumping off this Raven punk, he explained, cupping her chin to force her to look at him. She smiled, letting him think it was because she appreciated the protection. Youre always looking out for me, she laughed, But I should be getting ready to perform tonight. Finally, he let her go, Thats my little canary. She flashed him a playful smile before escaping into the sanctuary of the bedroom, braced against the day as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. This was going to be harder than she thought. Mercy wore a black sequined dress that evening, with a carefully placed black feather boa to cover the bruises Vinnie had left on her arms the night before. Sipping her gin and juice, she glanced out into the crowd, looking to see who was out there. The Raven had to have been a fan of hers, to recognize her voice, hadnt he? Was he here tonight? Or maybe William Stone?
Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

Hey! Aren't you Mercedes Morello? The speaker was slim, dark-haired woman with large eyes accented by dark eyeliner. She wore a white, fringed dress and matching gloves , and a white clouche hat with a black silk ribbon. She gaped, awestruck for a moment, then awkwardly offered her hand. Oh, where are my manners? I'm Marilyn Stone. I've been coming here since the Gilded Cage opened and, well, I never thought... Awkwardly, she withdrew her hand and laughed nervously. I'm sorry. I just, well, you have such s gorgeous voice, and... Mrs. Morello? the stage manager called. Your set starts in five. Marilyn's expression settled a little, becoming more confident. I'm a reporter as well. For the Daily News . Could I interview you, after the show? Do a little profile, get you and the club some free publicity? Waiting for an answer, she signaled the bartender. South Side Fizz, please, she said with a smile.
Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

It looked like the information was correct. The Raven watched from a rooftop across the street, peering through a pair of compact opera glasses at the figures on the docks below. Most of them lazed about, chatting and watching the dark waters of Lake Michigan, while a few watched the approach to the docks. The cargo that was coming on the midnight run was worth a small fortune, and the North Side Gang wasn't taking any chances with it. Not after what happened to the Outfit warehouse controlled by Enforcer Morello. Hymie Weiss wasn't taking any chances. At least, that was what Nick Jantz had said. The Raven saw no reason to doubt him, either - the small-time actor and two-bit hood had been liquored up and shooting his mouth off in an effort to impress a skirt with how important he was. And the timing fit - Weiss would be a fool not to capitalize on the Outfit's losses. The Raven smiled mirthlessly, the expression creasing the canvas mask slightly. All the gangs needed to be stamped out, not just Morello's piece of the Outfit, and hitting their supply was just one part of that. Keeping low, the Raven moved across the rooftop and down a fire escape, keeping to the shadows. Watching the guards for a moment, he shot across the street as their attention was drawn by the sound of a distant motor. Then he hunkered down in a narrow alley, loading a round into the breech of the bulky rifle he unslung from beneath his long coat. Then he settled down to wait. The boat would be here soon.
Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Corsair and Xana)

Alright, I am heading off to bed, Mercedes announced with an exaggerated yawn, Lock up behind ya. Vinnie said to keep an eye on you, Paulie countered. He was tall and gangly, the sort that could only manage intimidating with a gun in his hand. You think he wants you to watch me sleep? she challenged, gazing up at him with narrowed eyes. Or are you tryin to get fresh with me? His eyes went wide at that, Nah, Missus Morello. It aint like that Leave me then, she snapped, shutting down his babbling excuses, And maybe I wont feel a need to tell Vinnie nothin Paulie hesitated for a moment before turning to leave. Clearly he was having trouble figuring out which bad situation would turn out worse for him, and for a moment, she made a better case. Overall, Mercy had gotten lucky. There were a handful of Vinnies boys that wouldnt have worked on, but they were all going to be busy tonight. A little tidbit she had caught on to as she finished a drink in the back office of the club. Vinnie was talking about making up for the liquor that she burned. Talking about a shipment coming in for Weiss, over on Lake Michigan. Talking about showing up, packing heat, and taking all of it. And there was no way Mercy wanted to miss that. Her husband wouldnt be there, of course. He wouldnt get his hands dirty. Instead, Vinnie was off with his mistress this evening. Once, she would have been annoyed and jealous. Tonight, however, Mercedes was relieved. As much as she was willing to pretend to love Vinnie while she systematically destroyed him, she couldnt stomach the thought of being with him tonight. And the amount of alcohol she would have need to forced herself would have left her unconscious. So once Paulie was safely out of site, she changed into the uniform she bought for herself. It certainly concealed her identity better than the one she threw together last night, to the point she might be able to pass for a man. So she put together the same supplies she brought with her the night before. She still wasnt sure what she was going to do, her plan boiled down to get as many people killed as possible. Let Vinnies greed cost him some good men, and the rest wont be so loyal. She drove up to the lake, parking about a hundred yards before the docks, walking the rest of the way. Hiding the in shadows as she approached, she lurked around the next dock over, waiting for the prime moment to fuel chaos among the gangs.