Gangs of Corneria City

[Shmibli7]

It was late and the rain poured as mob underboss Donovan Ohashi walked down the sidewalk of the entertainment district in Corneria City. The luminescent glow of the many neon signs was like paint splattered over a black canvas as the rain fell around him. 

Cars sped by on the road beside him, creating a mist as they passed by.

He approaches a large building of faux ancient design with a sign that read "Yoshikawa's Tavern". He walks to the side of the building where there was a large metal door. He knocks and a voice from the other end starts to speak.

"Who're you?" It asks.

"The guy who accounts for half of your income." Ohashi replied sarcastically.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Ohashi." The voice says as the door opens to reveal a bouncer and a set of stairs descending into blackness. 

Donovan passes the bouncer and begins walking down the stairs, giving the guard a one hundred credit note as he passes by.

At the bottom of the stairs was another door, which he opens, entering into a dark room designed with furniture of Sargasso. a large desk stood in front of him with a prim female malamute behind it looking at a computer screen. She looks at him and asks "Right or left?" Referring to the two areas beside her. Right was the betting ring and large televisions displayed many events as people at large tables called to increase, decrease, or pull out their bets.

Left were the auctions. Drugs, people, vehicles, and weapons were sold respectively in their lots. The lots were seperated by a three foot tall gate and were comprised of a large laser proof glass viewing port with a door that opened to bring in and out the goods from the back of the building. In front of the port was a hibachi grill with seats around it. Throw the chef a few credits and you ate while you bid.

"Left." He tells her and she walks him over to the auctions. He stays close to her and looks at her thin black dress.

"Which lot? She asks as they enter the auctions. 

"Four. Weapons." He replied.

He was sent by his boss, Don Lombardi, to purchase weapons in surplus. Their gang was large and needed arming so Lombardi trusted his most productive underboss with a line of credit which rounded out to five billion. He sat in one of the chairs and threw a twenty credit note on the grill as he looks at the viewing port. A crate of fifty five Fortunan XJ-77's were being auctioned off. He looks as the auctioneer holds one up. The polished wood and greased metal shone and he was impressed by the thirty round banana clip. 

"Let's start the bidding at fifteen thousand." The auctioneer said. Ohashi looks down in front of him at the two buttons beside him on the table, one red and one green. Green represented who was in and red represented who had stopped bidding.

"Might as well get started." He said as more people sat down. He presses the green button.

[Arminius H O Fiddywinks]

Sandor started at the screens displaying the live products behind closed circuit cameras. They were chained to the wall via the neck, and handcuffed, standing straight up. One of the products had his head down, a Russo-European Laika. The name displayed on the bottom of the television said "Roy Carlisle, musician". Sandor tilted his head, and stood up. His black v-neck, faded blue jeans, and worn white sneakers blended in with the dark scenery. But he was not alone. Korben sat silently at their table, his black, crisp Armani suit and Rolex watch flaunting his great wealth, while his black sunglasses shrouded him in mystery. Then, the auctioneer gestured two thugs to bring up Carlisle, which they did from a back room to the auction stage. He was wearing a white, dirty tank top, worn jeans, and old shoes. The auctioneer began to speak, describing Carlisle.

"Item no. 2257, name, Roy Carlisle. Occupation, unemployed. Height, 5 feet, ten inches. Weight, 125 pounds. Build, skinny. Carlisle's guitar will be sold with him." The auctioneer had one of the goons show Roy's guitar to the potential buyers: an old acoustic. The bidding will begin at ten thousand credits." Immediately, Sandor rushed to his and Korben's table and slammed on the green button with great force. He was the only one in the bidding to do so. After a few awkward moments of no bidding, the auctioneer yelled "Sold! To Alexander Kalocsai and Korben Dallas for ten thousand credits!" Korben looked at Sandor in confusion.

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

"Because I felt like it," answered Sandor. "And look at him! He's so adorable..." The goons then brought Carlisle down from the stage and into the two men's hands. "Your name is Roy Carlisle, yes?" Sandor asked.

"Yeah," replied Carlisle weakly. He was tired, hungry, and thirsty.

"We'll get you something," promised Sandor. The hibachi chef had already prepared Sandor's food, but instead he gave it to Roy, who sat down and promptly ate it. Sandor had also ordered a bottle of water. A few moments later, it was in his hands, and he gave it to Roy as well. Roy unscrewed the cap and gulped down the bottle in no time.

"Thanks guys," said Roy gratefully. "So, I'm you're property now, huh?"

"No," said Korben, his Armani suit as neat as ever. He leaned forward on his seat, putting his arms on the table. "You're number five," Korben said cryptically.

[Zaphyr Stone]

Jasper Boone was a man of impeccable style, culture and sophistication. He dressed sharply, always in suit and tie and polished shoes; not a hair was out of place. The man could sell dirt with that silver tongue of his, his greatest weapon. With such fine qualities, he was still a man of contradiction. His species often viewed as filthy, foul-mouthed, and unspeakably crude, he went to great lengths to set himself apart from that stereotype. The opossum had risen up in the ranks of the Triad and had fallen into favor with his most esteemed leader. So much so that he had been chosen to go to the auctions and purchase a number of goodies to sweeten the pot for some clients they were attempting to finesse into playing ball. Green would only go so far for certain people.

He thanked the server who delivered a bowl of teriyaki stir-fry. He ate delicately at the steaming bowl with a pair of chopsticks as he watched the proceedings. He supposed it was strange to auction people. A tad barbaric even, but everyone had needs. He watched as the rather skinny musician was bought off for a measly price. He wasn't surprised. Women were more popular in these dealings. He sipped at a thimble-sized cup of warm sake and waited for the next item.

[Shmibli7]

Donovan had won the first auction, and the second, and all of the ones that followed. As the arctic fox sat looking at the port he outbid everyone at the table. 

They grimaced so he shrugged and ate his hibachi shrimp. Besides, he had enough weapons to supply an army without putting a dent in his line of credit. He had everything from pistols to assault rifles to missile launchers and it was only thirty million credits. 

Needing a break, he left the auction table and asked  the woman from before to give him hi receipt so he could pick up his wears.

On his way back he notices Korben and Sandor. Associates of Shadow. He didn't know why they were there, probably on leisure time. "Hello, gentlemen." He says, coming towards them, he notices Carlisle. "Who is this?"

[Arminius H O Fiddywinks]

"This is the newest member of our squad," proclaimed Sandor, patting Roy on the back. "His name is Roy Carlisle." Both Roy and Korben were taken aback. Apparently they were hiring now? "Do not mistake him for simple slave labor. Mr. Carlisle is a very dangerous man. No wonder he was chained up." Sandor put on his best smile. Roy's confused look darted between Sandor, Korben, and Donovan.

"Yeah," Roy said, deciding to play along. "If you cross me, I'll drop you. I've done it before, no problems." That statement was indeed true: Roy has killed before.

[Shmibli7]

Donovan chuckles. "You drop me and you'll have problems." 

"So, I've got some stuff in the back if you guys want to see it." He says.

"Bring your new friend."

[Arminius H O Fiddywinks]

Sandor and Roy looked back at Korben, who was still sitting at the table. He got up, and nodded in approval. The trio then followed Donovan.

[Zaphyr Stone]

Jasper placed bids on a select number of women who were sent through the auction, winning each one. The Triad of the Red Dragon wasn't exactly hurting for cash, and this businessman produced results. He took a drink of water and returned to another delicate mouthful of rice and chicken. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the musician walking past with his new handlers. There was no mistaking their cut, and he about spit out his food. What had members of Shadow wanted with him!? The whole thing stank to high heaven. He gathered his things and left his booth. It was time to collect his bounty and report his findings to his boss.

[Shmibli7]

Donovan walks through the lots again until he came to a large metal door with an armed guard in front of it. He shows him his receipt and the man opens the door for them. When he finds the area where his items were stored, he throws his hands out and gestures to the crates.

"Killware from almost every corner of Lylat." He said. "Under Lombardi's orders, of course." These'll find there way to you anyway, might as well take what you want."

He kept a hand in his jacket as he invited them to look through his collection. He rested it on his compact 12 millimeter blaster pistol. He  had the idea they were being followed.

[Arminius H O Fiddywinks]

Sandor looked into the crate containing the XJ-77s. Meanwhile, Korben and Roy examined a table lined with rocket launchers. "You burned good money on these?!" Sandor complained. He picked one up. "Wood? Wood?! What is this, the 20th century? Get outta here...!" He threw the assault rifle back into the crate. "The mags are too small and the fire rate is too slow. Come on man! Can these even handle plasma cartridges?"

"Alex..." pleaded Korben quietly, putting his hand on his shoulder and trying to pacify the boy. Surprisingly, it worked (more or less).

"Fine, fine! You wanna use 'em, do it. Just be sure you cleared this with the Don." Sandor went back to examining the other weapons. Roy was looking at some plasma magnums: scary stuff right there. He picked one up and examined it. Testing the sights, he aimed at the wall. After squeezing the trigger and feeling the release, he put it down in its place.

[Shmibli7]

"Back in the 20th century there was a little thing called "quality." Back then, a gun actually had to work to be mass produced. Those 77's prove it. You know what today's weapons are, Sandor. All flashy and cool until you pull the trigger. They jam and lock up." Donovan said almost impulsively. 

"Anyway. I bought these milsurp, the firerate and compatibility were fixed with these."

"I'm about to go back to the auction anyway. What do you suggest I buy, oh angel of firearms?" He asks Sandor sarcastically.

[Arminius H O Fiddywinks]

"Semtex," said Korben, not even glancing in Donovan's direction. "A lot."

"And some sniper rifles," added Sandor. "Very long ranged and powerful ones."

"Hey," Roy said, trying to grab Donovan's attention. He presided over the table of magnums. "Can I have one of these?"

[Zaphyr Stone]

Jasper scuttled off to collect his receipt and instructed his accompanying subordinates to have the girls transported back to their safe house. They were under orders to be well looked after until their debut. He was still curious about Shadow's interest in that scrappy dog. Keeping his guard up, he slipped quietly after them, getting as close as he could to their area without being spotted by security. He stuck to the corner nearby, out of sight, and donned a pair of seemingly ordinary glasses.

These were custom-made, ordered through one of his many advantageous connections. With a tap of a hidden button on the frame, he could see through the walls and into the vault from a distance. They were looking over weapons. No surprise there, the hooligans. So what was the connection with the musician?

[Shmibli7]

Donovan squints, then shrugs and says "Okay."

"I'm heading back to the auctions, holler if you see anything else that interests you."

He heads back, taking his hand off his jacket.

[Arminius H O Fiddywinks]

Roy smiled, and picked up the magnum he put down, and grabbed a box of ammunition. He then looked to the duo that bought him. They were examining a heavy machine gun.

"Hey," Roy said, grabbing Sandor's and Korben's attention. "Whatever you guys are doing, I don't care. But ah... any of you got someplace I can live in?" The duo looked at each other, questionable of Roy's inquiry.

"We have a penthouse," claimed Sandor. "It's at the top of this giant apartment building overlooking Corneria Center. It's a good place." Korben looked pensively at Roy for a few moments, and elected to help the starving artist out.

"You can stay," he said. "Be our guard. Hm?" Roy nodded, almost obediently.

"You got it, Boss."

"And you can play us a tune or two!" said Sandor. Roy grinned.

[Zaphyr Stone]

The marsupial was agawk as the man picked up a gun and tucked it away. A recruitment?! What a strange way to acquire new hands. Perhaps it was nothing, but he would report it to his superior nonetheless. He saw one of them start to head his way, quickly deactivated his specs, and hurried back the way he came.

----

The underbelly of Corneria City was as gritty as ever these days. The metallic streets pinged lightly as rainfall gave them a slick and oily sheen. A thin trail of smoke crept out from beneath an underpass.

Zane Godfrey puffed idly at his cigarette, the spotted merle gray of his fur blending in with the smoke, metal and concrete. He looked out at the dingy setting around him, buildings fogged by bilgy rainwater. There was truly nothing that could scrub this place clean again. All he could do was watch its slow but steady demise, just as he could feel him slip slowly but steadily into madness with each day that passed. He scratched a persistent itch on his forearm and stood up. His hoodie pocket vibrated, and he pulled out his cell phone to check a new notification. 

"Time to punch in." he sighed, extinguishing his cigarette.

He descended the slope of the the underpass with care and mounted a motorbike waiting for him at the bottom. His work as a smuggler was never a dull one. The Seekers made sure of that.

[Arminius H O Fiddywinks]

Bohdan had hoped that Zane received his message. As a lieutenant in the Seekers, it was his job to tell the grunts when and where to deliver their packages. But although he respected all of the men in his designated zone, he gave Zane more appreciation than the others. He was pleased with Zane's work ethic and determination to get the job done, no questions asked. However, he was more brutal than the others. Bohdan always wondered why.

Bohdan, upon sending job details to all the other men, put his phone back in his pocket. He went inside his nondescript sedan and closed the door. Turning on the car, he drove out of the parallel parking spot which he skillfully went into earlier and drove down the street, the rain creating a blanket of water that was wiped away by the blades of the window wipers. His large hands gripped the equally large steering wheel, and his solid gold wedding ring on his right hand reflected the light coming from the neon signs adorning the buildings he nonchalantly drove by.

Arriving in an underground parking garage owned by a shell company of the Seekers, he parked next to a support column with the label A6. Bohdan got out of his sedan, and closed the door. He leaned on the car and waited for all of his men to come with their designated shipments. Taking out a small device, no larger than a pen, he pressed a button on it. Suddenly, holographic images appeared. They were of him and a female painted dog - his wife. He scrolled through several pictures of the two of them, smiling at each one, praying that she would never find out any of this Seeker business.

[Shmibli7]

Donovan had a long and eventful night at the auctions. One hundred million credits worth of weapons. This would keep them stocked for years. 

He walks back to where his merchandise was being stored and calls one of the lower level mobsters to bring an eighteen wheeler to where he was and start loading.

Soon enough they arrived. As the truck was being loaded, Donovan took his pistol out in full view. He didn't want any surprises.

[Arminius H O Fiddywinks]

Elizabeth parked her GTO in front of a large tract mansion, its hideous salmon exterior and orange-tiled roof housing a man of great wealth and prosperity. She stepped out, carrying a briefcase. Accompanying her was a large rhinoceros, Jacob. Elizabeth was dressed rather business-like: blazer, dress shirt, and slacks. She, however, would not subject her feet to high heels, and instead wore women's loafers. Jacob had a dress shirt as well, but with the sleeves rolled up. He, too, wore slacks and loafers. The duo walked towards the entrance to the mansion, which was at the end of a rather lengthy paved walkway, flanked by potted plants. A sharply dressed security guard with an earwig and sunglasses nodded in approval as they approached. He knew who they were, and what they were here for. He opened the door, and allowed the two of them in.

"Well, at least the two-faced bastard's ready," uttered Elizabeth to Jacob quietly. Jacob nodded. They went into the dining room of the mansion, where a man sat at the head of the table, eating quietly by himself. Another security guard was positioned outside in the patio, and one sat by the eating man's side, munching on a sandwich. The eating guard looked up, and put down his sandwich.

"They're here," he said to the dining man. The guard stood up by the dining man.

"Hello, Mr. Walker," said Jacob. Elizabeth approached Walker and placed the briefcase beside his plate. She opened it, and turned it around, its contents in full view of Walker. Millions of fake credits.

"It's all there, all green," she assured.

[Shmibli7]

Ceaser Ramirez, the guard standing beside Mr. Walker looked at the money in front of them. The young ferret had never seen so many credits, real or fake, in his entire life.

"You must have some very good presses." He says, intrigued.

Mr. Walker snapped his fingers violently, signaling for Ramirez to stop talking,

[Zaphyr Stone]

Jasper hurried out to the chauffeur waiting for him only after ensuring the Triad's precious cargo was secure and on its way to the designated safe house. Giving the driver instructions, he took a moment to blot the rainwater from his hair, face and jacket with a handkerchief procured from within his jacket pocket. Really, this was why he couldn't have nice things. He enjoyed the ride in relative silence, relaxing in the smooth leather seat.

When the driver slowed to a stop outside a posh manor estate, the marsupial tipped the driver generously and stepped out to meet with security. Once he was cleared, he walked briskly inside. He was intercepted at the foyer by another security guard. "Sorry, sir, Mr. Walker is currently entertaining."

"Is that so?" Jasper sighed, "Well, I can wait. He likes to keep things concise."

----

Zane rolled along the highway, the rain stinging his face as he whipped past. It was really the only downside to riding bikes he found particularly irritating. Following the GPS on a monitor attached to his dashboard, he made his way to a parking garage and tunneled down the ramps to the underground platforms. He stopped at a parking toll booth, but instead of handing the guard money, he held out the arm he had been scratching at earlier. A device scanned the implant buried beneath his skin, a hidden barcode that served as his ID verification. He continued down beneath the structure once he was given access. Spotting the column marked A6, He found a parking spot nearby and sent a text message in reply that he had arrived.

[Arminius H O Fiddywinks]

Bohdan peeked his head out from behind the column. "Hey," he said to grab Zane's attention. "Check your surroundings, Zane. You never know who is hiding behind column A6." Bohdan stepped out from his hiding spot. "We must wait for the rest of them," he ordered, glancing around.

[Zaphyr Stone]

"If you're all that could be hiding out, I think I'll live." Zane joked with a smirk as he joined the dragon, "They should be along shortly. I spotted a couple on my way here. What's the job today?"

[Arminius H O Fiddywinks]

"Pavel Neskakchkin, a high-ranking lieutenant in the Ruthenian Mob, wants some drugs delivered to the LGBT-CS across the city," explained Bohdan as he looked down upon Zane, literally.

"Now, why are we the middle men in the deal? Well, the last time Pavel sent his own men to deliver the goods, they were jumped by those vigilantes who call themselves the 'Concerned Citizens' Brigade'. They killed the mobsters and burnt the drugs." Bohdan turned his head as he heard motorcycles rolling in: more Seekers.

"The Mob's boss, Henryk Sienkiewicz, is breathing down Pavel's neck. Now, Pavel wants someone else to do this job. Someone who is not part of their organization. That is where we come in."

Edited August 23, 2015 by Arminius H O Fiddywinks

[Shmibli7]

Donovan sat in a chair in his executive apartment. He looks out at the city and sighs contently. He thinks back to when he was first recruited to Shadow thirteen years ago. He was a wide-eyed door gunner on a gyrowing and had worked close with Starfox Team. When Falco Lombardi left the group a second time and started up his gang, Donovan was one of the first to be called.

Yeah. Shadow had been good.

He reaches over to the hologram projector and tells it to call Sandor.