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Night Howlers MC chapterhouse is a prominent nuissance in this part of North Philly. Loud, a nexus for crime in the neighborhood, plagued with nuissance calls from Police, and a constant source of annoyance. That said, there's sure been a lot less casual gunfire in the neighborhood since they took over, so you take the good with the bad in these sorts of territorial matters.
A concrete six foot ballustrade forms a wall at the front of the compound. Technically a retaining wall, sure, but it absolutely gives the compound built atop it the air of a fortified one. The ten foot fence atop that retaining wall is topped with razor wire, for example. And flood lights light up the street outside, but not the compound within. It's all quite formiddable from a gangland standpoint. The front gate has a metal archway over it onto which a custom chopper has been placed. That it is not a Night Howler's bike makes it a trophy. Just so we understand the kind of people we're dealing with, here.
It's Friday night, and the sound of loud music and general commotion is coming from inside the fence. While no guard is outside the gate, it's locked and has a digital keypad and two cameras focused on it from different angles. No guard does not necessarily mean unguarded.
Vincent was in business mode but looked the part at least, Bullet for my Valentine t-shirt and jeans on he walked over the the compound, only the Tony standing behind him looked out of place, of course he has his birbfriend somewhere. "Ok, let's do this Anthony." he says to the goon behind him and walks up, looking to the camera and giving a smile and wave to it. "No need to be sneaky, we are genuinely here to talk." he says to the Tony, "Being friendly pays off." of course Majesty blasting will help just as much
There's a beep, followed by a gravelly voice from a loudspeaker on a pole about thirty feet away. "You lost, friend?"
Anthony, Tony to his friends, does his best to look affable. He takes off a couple of his knuckle rings, for starters.
"No," he says, still smiling, "I was hoping to talk to Skipper." he says to the camera, assuming they can hear, "Something I think he'll be interested in."
It's been about thirty seconds, and there's still no reply over the speaker. The gate remains locked and closed. Tony looks to Vincent with a 'beats me' shrug, but doesn't seem too put out. He's getting paid either way.
Avery stuck to the shadows, staying out of sight but keeping an eye on Vinny at all times. They were absolutely BRIMMING with magic.
Vincent waits a bit, "Fine, if you don't want to take a chance, that's on you, I thought I could find some reliable folks to sell something to, but hey, I can always see if someone else is willing to buy."
"I was thinking, well, you seemed like a crowed of intelligent and ambitous folks, but hey, I get it, maybe the Italians or Irish would be intrested, their the big sharks after all." he shrugs, making a show of, 'maybe your not the right folks for this, like a monorail salesmen.
They're not left waiting too much longer after that, but there's still no reply over the loudspeaker. What does answer is the click and buzz of the magnetic lock on the gate giving way and the gate motor starting to wheel open. The stairs up to the lawn are dead ahead, and it's no coincidence that would make one hell of a killing zone. Toss a couple grenades in that concrete cattle chute and nothing is walking out alive.
The fact there's pock marks in the concrete should probably also tell everyone something. "Fuuuck me," Tony actually mutters as he adjusts his coat a bit, giving Vincent the 'if this goes badly, I don't know you' look of the professional mafioso.
Vincent smiles as he walks in, pulling out his pockets as he walks a 'nothing in my pockets or up my sleeves', giving Tony a smile, 'I got this', he walks up the stairs to the lawn, he puts his hands up as he walks, "I'm a string bean, nothing to threaten you fine folxs." he says, Majesty has been on since the door opened so hopefully they'll like the cut of his jib, now the real work begins
Tony is true to his word, and accompanies Vincent through the killing zone with commendable commitment to the family. Once they're both up on the lawn, several leather clad kutte wearing MC brothers step forward to begin the pat downs. Tony's first pistol is located, but they miss his ankle hold-out. A fact Tony makes clear by sending Vincent a wink.
His waist knife is picked up, too. But he seems comfortable with all of this. Just sort of the way the job is done. A whole lot of iron is pointed at the pair before the door to the double wide opens and the Skipper strides out front to lean on the railing. He's got a voice like a chainsaw running in a bowl of marbles.
He waves his hand at his men to be way, way, way more chill than they're being at the moment, and the iron starts lowering slowly.
"Well," Skipper says in a South Philly drawl, "pardon me for not having better hospitality, son. If I'da known you were comin' I'da baked a cake." This gets a chuckle from his men, and brings a grin ot his face. "What can I do for you friend, now you're here?"
Vincent smiles, "I'm here with an offer," he nods to Skipper, "Let me just say first, thank you for your service." he says, rather genuine for one thing, not the condescending pity that usually comes with the words from most people but an actual admiration for people who would be willing to take a tour of duty, "Now let me ask you, why is it that a group of entrepreneurs such as yourselves find themselves confined to one block?" he asks
"That one's easy," Skipper explains manner of factly, "we're little fucking fish. Had ourselves a big dog that did a lot of barking for us, now he's gone and fucked off. The Italians had their Irish Sausage, and now everyone's fucking chewing off pieces around the edges. And I'm not keen to start another shooting war in the Park. What'm I missing, Mister Copperfield?" Skipper's grin is wide and gold-flecked. More chuckles from the guys, most of whom are back to the party already. The music is back on, which is probably not a great thing for Avery's ears, but so it goes.
Vincent nods at the assessment, "I'm sorry to hear, but that's why I'm here." he says looking the man over with Auspex, "But that's why I'm here, I would like to offer you a way to become a Shark, if you would hear me out."
"All I got is time tonight, friend. Well. That, beer, pot, coke, some smack if you're that hot for it. Skin, too-- Wait. Is that Anthony fucking Trevino?!"
"Hey, Skip."
"Tony! How's the wife?"
"Good, good. Junior's going to Saint Vincent's this year."
"No shit."
"Yeah, they're growin' up."
A beat.
"Did you ever kill that one guy?"
"Oh, yeah. Yeah. Thanks." Tony sends him a bit of an awkward thumbs up.
Skipper then asides back to Vincent with a big grin, "One less Irish bastard, eh? HAH!" He claps his hands together and rubs them briskly, "So. What're you having?"
Vincent looks to Tony then back to Skipper and then just laughs, "Oh, oh this fantastic," he turns to Tony, "A heads up would have been wonderful." he chuckles, "Um, a Mt.Dew if you have any?" he says with a true genuine smile. "Do you have a place we can sit?"
"You did it all on your own, brother. A heads up would have gotten in your head." Tony taps his temple and then his nose as he steps inside, patting one of the boys on the shoulder on his way inside.
"I don't remember seeing you around when all the shit was going down around here, son. How's it you're here collecting rent?" Skipper's already cottoned to what this is. He's not arguing about it, either, which is probably a relief. "You know Sledge?"
"I haven't had the pleasure," he shakes his head as he finds a place to sit, "And I wasn't doing anything when shit went down, to be honest I worked the streets as a regular Slippin Jimmy, but I've caught a big break and I'm upgrading, I'd like you to be apart of it, done with the con jobs." he says upfront, "And now that I have the resources I want to start investing, and I've chosen the Night Howlers to take a chance on." he smiles, "I'll be straight with you, I'm looking into the Vice Trade, clean drugs and facilitate sex work, facilitation not exploitation," he says wanting to make sure he wants to be no trafficker, "But I need help, I have a gorgeous brain helping me, now I need someone to help with muscle and I was hoping I can interest you and your people, help you expand while remaining independent."
"Independent except for you, you mean," Skipper replies in a manner that makes it clear Majesty doesn't turn off bullshit detectors. It just makes them care less that they know it's bullshit. "You don't have to blow smoke up my ass, I know a good deal when I hear it. Assuming you can deliver. But I'm guessing if you're here with Trevino the gorgeous brain helping you out is an Italian. Which does have me genuinely asking you just how independent you really are, yourself. You checked your wallet lately?" He fishes out a tin of cigars and plucks one out, offering the tin over to Vincent with a nod of the head.
"Except for me yes," he nods, "Although I was hoping we could run things together, I don't want to steal your gang from you," he shrugs at the mention of the source of the money, "Yes, she's Italian, yes she's connected as hell, but. . .we're looking to make an empire within a empire. . .and maybe become the empire." he says, Tony's loyal to Maria, he knows that but he's also learned to not spill everything, he takes one of the cigars and gives a nod of thanks, "I don't work for the Family, I just date one," he chuckles, "My business are my own and her 'side venture', not a full affiliate." he motions to Tony, "I'm not on the official payroll, am I?" he asks, looking for both confirmation to his own words and double checking
From the nearest window, a laughing caw of a Raven was heard. This one seemed almost malicious.
"They don't tell me shit, Vinnie," Tony answers honestly. A commendable trait to have in a man who holds guns for you. "But I ain't seen him at any meetings if that's what you're asking, Skipper." Tony's testimony given and qualified, he sits down on the front porch and lights up a cigarette of his own.
"Fair enough," Skipper answers with a sniff. "Just gotta resolve one little problem for us, then, and we can get back to business as usual. The Warlocks been leaning on us. And like you said, I'm not keen on pushing horse and fentanyl and shit. Fucking meth and shit? Nah, man. Not the way 12 comes down on it around here, fuck. They're locking white people up for that shit out here now."
He straightens up and stretches and bobs his head, "I mean. This isn't an ultimatum or anything, man. Just a 'how it is'. If we start sending them your card when they start sending us threats, you're going to be answering for them anyway. Right? So let's bloody their fucking nose now and call it the start of something beautiful."
Skipper offers out a meaty, tattooed hand.
He thinks on it and nods, taking the hand, "I'm with you Skipper, your foes are mine now." he nods grinning
"Great," Skipper says succinctly. "Well, pass your info on to my guy, I'll see you get your shave. I'll have my boys send you what you need to know about the Warlocks, and if they come around again I'll tell 'em we're under new management. What am I telling them to call you, then?"
he thinks, oh is this the age of the gangland nickname, Walter White was Heisenberg after all, "Tell them. . .tell them to talk to the Shogun." he smiles, oh, the weeb thinks he's a gangster, "Also, did anyone else he a creepy Raven sound?"
Tony holds up his hands and shakes his head when Skipper looks to him in a 'is he serious' manner when he suggests he be called the Shogun. Shrugging, Skipper says, "Oookay. We'll do that." He chuckles at the question as he walks past Tony up and into the double wide again. Tony, for his part, notes, "Pretty sure every raven sound is creepy. It's kind of their defining characteristic." He then reveals that he is an onion, "I got that birding app. That the audubon and them do. Uh. Merlin." He sniffs and notes, "It's good for stakeouts. You know. Keeps your mind sharp. Lookin' for new birds."
"Yeah. . .just keep an eye on the birds," he looks around, a tad suspicious and worried, "Just. . .keep an eye out."
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