|
Rumor had it that Darren Lynch was looking for a fresh batch of initiates and was conducting interviews at Bottom of the Hill, in Kensington. Only those that were already among the criminal bent, and with a knack for breaking and entering might hear of such a rumor. Of course this meant that all those that would like to apply would find themselves among the K&A, and getting hired was a ticket in if one wanted it.
The 'interviews' were nothing official. Just that those that wanted a chance might find themselves at the Bottom of the Hill, and if they did, and Darren happened to be available, they'd ask for a word.
Tonight, the Bottom of the Hill sat cheekily in a dry gravel lot, nestled up against a large warehouse that may or may not have been connected internally. An Irish bar, it was known for its cheap booze and loud patrons. Though what went on in the back was anyone's guess. Tonight Darren sat at his booth, Shan the barmaid happily providing drinks as the occasional young hopeful asked for a word with Mr. Lynch. In a black jacket and slacks, his hair neatly combed aside, freshly shaven, albeit tired and now these days looking a bit weary, Darren sat with a few others, listening as they spoke.
Calamity waffled for a bit, about whether to show up. B+F finally seemed to get their collective shit together and actually let them in on jobs, and since then they'd had more to do. And made more money, besides. And it wasn't like the gang didn't already have tenuous ties to K&A, not to mention the fact that Calamity already knew this guy, so. The guys nudged, and Calamity huffed and gave in.
And so they slip into the Bottom of the Hill, hands shoved in their pockets and the hood of their sweatshirt up over their head. That comes down as the bar warms them, and they run a distracted hand through their short curls, looking around the place before padding toward Darren. Eyeing whoever he's talking to while they wait their turn.
Darren didn't seem horribly interested in the topic at hand. It was light-hearted and fun, and while he supported such things, his mind was laced with heavier thoughts these nights. When Calamity neared the table, his focus rose and settled on them. "You need somethin?" he'd asked, reaching for his drink, near finished now. The few others at his table, snickering as they went about telling their story, looked at Calamity and to Darren wondering if this was one of those moments they'd need to move or he might leave with them.
"A word?" They arch an eyebrow, and shrug, their sea-green eyes flicking toward Darren's companions and then back to him. Their expression is fairly neutral, though they're frowning a little too much for it to be considered 'polite'. If things like politeness matter, in cases like this. Clearly this kid thinks they don't.
He looks back at the table. Too many of them to move, even if it were within his power to tell them to. He nodded and stood, stepping out of the booth to his full height and wandered towards the bar, collecting two drinks from Shan, double whiskeys neat, handing one to Calamity and heading for the back hallway. Here, he pushed through a door, one that obviously went to the connected warehouse, and Calamity found they'd entered a softer buffered version of the bar. It was quiet and cooler and the music dampened by the heavy door as it shut. The room they entered was dark, though there was plenty of light from a bare bulb that hung in the walk way. Beyond it was anyone's guess. A tiny breeze came from it being completely uninsulated, though they were standing on dirt now, if that was any indication of what this room was used for.
Darren set his drink in the window seal, "Calamity," he said, around lighting a smoke. "Is that right? Sort of hard to forget." he inhaled, making the space around his face glow pink in the midlight.
Calamity manages to stand their ground, despite being a good foot shorter than Darren, and they follow him - first to the bar, and then through the back door.
The slight breeze makes them shiver slightly, and they glance at the bare lightbulb before their attention returns to Darren.
"Yeah, that's me. I uh...heard you're lookin' for people, Mister Lynch." They do their best to make the honorific not sound sarcastic as fuck, but it's pretty clear that they don't usually call people 'mister' unless they're being an asshole.
What's maybe more important than any of this, though, is that Calamity...isn't quite alone. There's a ghost, hanging out in Twilight. Youngish guy, burly, the right half of his body charred to bone. He's got a ghostly revolver shoved into the waistband of his pants, a bandanna around his neck, and the expression on his face is one of anger and agony.
Calamity doesn't acknowledge the spectre, though most people can't see into Twilight anyway, so it's possible they don't even know he's there.
He'd inhale looking the kid over and nod, "I am. And why should it be you I'm lookin' at?" running his tongue over his bottom lip, though Calamity might see his gaze traveled to the left of them, towards their companion. It only lingered for a second... maybe he hadn't seen it. It was hard to tell. Darren's face was usually pretty empty of emotion or reaction.
Their gaze follows his, their frown deepening, but they definitely look through the ghost, rather than at it. The hand in their pocket shifts, and there's a quiet clink of metal on metal, and they look at Darren again.
"I'm fast and I'm quiet, and I don't look like shit. No one pays attention to me. Dunno 'f you've heard about the takes B an' F have gotten in the past few months - been part of all'a those." The Bristol and Fairhill gang are small enough that Darren may or may not have heard about their recent jobs - small targets, but professionally done. And it's rumored that at least one of their crew's dipping their fingers in the weapons business, now. Probably not the same one who's already got K&A ties and is a small-time drug dealer.
He nods slowly. "Bristol and Fairhill not enough for you?" he asked, reaching to take a sip of his whiskey, chewing on his inner cheek a bit. "Not unimpressive work, but I'm not into subcontracting, if you get my meaning."
"Oh nah, the rest of 'em don't have nothin' to do with this." A beat. "Well. They got me off my ass to get here, but. 'S much at I owe 'em for this, I'm doin' this on my own." They take a small sip of their own whisky and grimace slightly.
The grimace gets a slight look of warmth out of Darren. "Why the K&A? It's not somethin' you begin and then step away from. You wan' in, it's gonna be until the end." he said. He had no judgment on those lookin to make money or those that knew their life was cut short by their choices. "I'm not lookin' for those that want a quick smash and grab. Truth be told, I want those I can count on. Those I can trust."
"I...mm." Another sip from their glass, another grimace. "I mean it's...I was kinda looking at it like just another job. We all take outside work - hell, I'm pretty sure Ty deals your goods." They shrug. "Somethin' more permanent...I'd have'ta think about."
"I understand. Tha's fair really. I jus' need to know you've got somethin' in it for you. I'm 'appy to call upon ya when it's just a job. But those lookin' to become more than footman... I make a note." he said. "What are you after? With a name like Calamity an' all?"
"What d'you mean, 'what am i after'?" They cock their head. They're still frowning, but the question is one of curiosity, not defensiveness.
"The fuck you wanna be? You lookin to make money an' get out? Go straight? You lookin to get deeper? I'm not judging. Just means I know what to pile on ya'."
Calamity blinks at him scoffing quietly. "Dude, I'm nineteen, I dunno what I'm gonna be eating tomorrow, I sure as fuck dunno what I wanna be. I wanna steal shit and set shit on fire, and 's cool when I get paid to do it."
Darren's lips pressed thin and he nodded. "Right.." amused. "You never know. And where do you draw the line, then? What will you say no to?" he asked this in all seriousness. Would he kill a man if paid enough? Or was stealing and arson the extent of it? Everyone had their talents. He looked to the burnt man beside them.
"I don't kill people." Says the youth who sets fires and had a very burnt-looking ghost next to them. "And I uh...I mean I try not to steal shit from people that aren't like...rich." Which, of course, is a pretty relative term. "An' I don't hurt animals, 's just fucking cruel."
"So no kickin' puppies then," he nodded in understanding as if that was the first job. "Right... well.. you're name's on a list now isn't it? You got a number?" he asked, pulling out his phone. Calamity wondered if this was one of those instance of a harsh I'll be in touch. If ever was the time to make an impression. Now was it. Darren waited for their number, looking up expectantly. Emerald green eyes glimmered in the darkness unnaturally.
They huff and roll their eyes at the comment about puppies. "Yeah, I got a few." They pull a shitty flip phone from their pocket and rattle off a number.
"You uh." They take a sip of whiskey, like they might be reconsidering what they're about to say, but they press on. "Your girlfriend know about any'a this shit?"
His tongue worked over his tooth as he looked up at Calamity with quiet threat. Something in his gaze took that as a challenge and one he did not take lightly. His thumb hovered over the buttons of his phone as he entered the number Calamity gave. "Who?" his gaze heavily set in theirs now.
Calamity takes a step backward, curling into themself as the hand holding the whiskey glass starts to tremble slightly.
"Ah. No...no one. I -" they shake their head. "Doesn't matter. I uh. Thanks for seeing me, Mister Lynch." They say all this to the ground, and actually manage to sound slightly deferential.
He watches them for a long moment and then nods, seeing the matter dropped. "Don't be busy next Wednesday. 'ave your runnin' shoes on." A heavy suggestion as the light caught his features in shadows and he turned to grab his booze off the window sill again. Those green eyes watching them as they backed up. "We'll see if Calamity is a boon to the K&A or a disastrous event, aye?"
"Wh -" they blink in surprise, and nod sharply. "Oh. Yeah, I can...yeah. And I mean...long 's I'm not officially associated with you, any shit that goes wrong just comes down on me, not all'a yinz. Which 's better for you, yeah?" There's the ghost of a smile on their face, now.
"There's a benefit in 'avin' associations. I'm not puttin' my neck out for an idget, but I'm not leavin' a good'n stranded for work I asked 'em to do. Eventually you'll 'ave to make a choice. In or out. Jus' ... don' get too deep before you choose out, hmm?" He'd take a pull of his whiskey, and consider them. "If I caught one a my boys asking B & F for work..." he tuts. "Fuckin' embarassin'."
Another nod, and they turn their glass in their hands. "We make a point of not gettin' big enough that anyone feels like they need to fuck with us. 'S far as I know we're keepin' to our little corner, an' not fuckin' with anyone. 'Cept the Yellow Jackets, they can get fucked." They grimace. "But 's small-time shit, you know. Nothin' any'a yinz wanna get your hands dirty with."
He nodded gently in understanding, "You're young yet. I'll keep that in mind when givin' jobs. And when you're ready to do more we can 'ave another drink." It seemed Darren wasn't one to push when it came to levels of work. Integrity? Loyalty? Absolutely. But he'd not push one to do more than they were ready for. And he'd not damn a kid to decisions they couldn't come back from. Their number in hand, Darren put his phone away. "Wednesday then."
Calamity downs the rest of their drink with a grimace, and nods. "Wednesday. Yeah. Thanks." They glance at the door and make to leave, keeping half an eye on him as they do.
"ave a good evenin'," Darren says as Calamity departs, stepping further into the darkness of the room, the smoke of his cigarette wafting behind him in the light.
|