Cue The Distracting Trumpet! [open]

[sethwynd]

Time: It's 11 o'clock...do YOU know where your children are?
Date: September 4th, 1978
Place: Dock overlooking the East River.
Status: Leap before you look!

A lot of things were dumped into the East river nowadays. Trash, bodies, empty bottles, and...well, bodies. Lotta that going around for some reason. And while most people would seek to put a stop to that sort of thing, it was none of Desmond's concern. He wasn't on the board promoting tourism, so dead bodies washing up on beaches didn't particularly make his job harder. And he wasn't a fish, so it's not like he was having corpses thrown at him with cement overshoes, though he had to admit if it ever DID happen, he'd be pretty inconvenienced. Maybe in need of a shower afterward. But at the moment, the only cadaver in the area was presently sinking to the bottom, and he wasn't anywhere near it. The person he was after on the other hand, was playing a much more important part in the scene.

A bigger part than Fancy Dan even, and that needed to change, and how.

"'Lo there, Vito-" he stated loudly, hopping down onto the wooden planks with a loud clunk, grinning a bit as the man and his two goons jumped at the noise before turning around and reaching for their weapons. They seemed to be put a little at ease once they saw the oddball of a hitman, however. And it made sense; he'd done business with Vito before, though he hadn't known that was his real name. "So, your real name's Vito? So that'd make these two, what, Michael and Fredo? I'm gettin' a big Coppola vibe here..."

Aaaand nary a chuckle from anyone present. Yeesh, what a crowd. Still, if all went well, the only dying Fancy Dan would be doing tonight would be figuratively. After all, it'd just be a shame to ruin such a good suit, and he shuddered at the thought of some homeless scrounger running around with his pocket watch and leather shoes. Or worse, his hat...

"Jesus, you tryin' to kill me, Ritz? You know I got a heart condition!" Vito complained, motioning with one cut up hand to the two men with him to ease up. He was a big man, even as far as bruisers go, so it was no small wonder the Mannino Family jumped at the chance to allow him into their ranks as an enforcer. Of course, he was getting on in his years now, and there were plenty of gray hairs filling out his receding hairline, but it didn't mean he was any less of a threat in a scrap. Hell, even Fancy Dan didn't wanna risk a straight up brawl with the man. The two younger men with him though, hell, they were practically green. If Dan had been dealing with professionals, they'd still have their hands inside their jackets on their guns.

"Actually, it's funny you should mention that. Did you know the nitrates in gunpowder can be used to treat heart conditions?" Dan asked, trying his best to strike an 'intellectual' posture as he spoke. Of course, the Mannino didn't seem particularly impressed, and the two men with him still seemed pretty clueless. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum must've been assigned to Vito once he started getting on in the years, there was no way he'd have been given such lousy help in his prime.

"Bullshit," he scoffed, and even if the two men with him were slow on picking it up, Vito seemed to be homing in on the notion that something was wrong. Fancy Dan could see it in his face; eyes narrowing as ailing vision tried to search out a motive or hidden weapon, mouth opening and closing as if asking a silent question as to the real reason for the gunman's visit. Fancy Dan decided to cut him off before the question got asked aloud.

"Got me there. Hell, in some cases, even makes it worse..." he replied, sounding defeated even as he quickly reached into his jacket with both hands and produced two Colt .45 pistols with a practiced quickdraw (which, sadly, he DID practice rather frequently), and took down the two guards. He didn't want to call them bodyguards, they were just too incompetent to deserve the title. The first took a bullet right through the heart and slumped down onto the dock. The second was shot straight through the throat and stumbled backward off the dock and into the cold water of the East River with a loud splash, slipping beneath the water's surface with one hand clasped over his throat.

"See? Fredo over there ain't doin' so well, and I don't think he had a pre-existing condition. Wonder how you'll fare."

Most people would have fled once shots had been fired. After all, rumor had it that the Guardsmen had moved into the neighborhood, and gunshots usually meant trouble. Sticking around now would be like slashing tires at the police station in broad daylight. But hey, Dan was feeling lucky. He'd found the guy Murphy'd sent him after within a matter of hours, and the man didn't even have proper bodyguards. What harm could come from watching him sweat as he stared down the barrels of two smoking .45s, just for a little while? After all, if the Malley Boy was telling the truth, ol' Vito'd done some pretty despicable things to his sister. Nothin' wrong with savoring the moment of judgement, right?

[Artemis Davon]

Restlessness had been the foe to wake Artemis and like a irritable child, she kicked off her covers, rubbed blurry eyes and tried to shake the fuzziness from her head. She pulled herself up, sliding her feet to the edge of her bed and met the cold wooden floor beneath. Spreading them she leaned elbows on knees and dropped her head down glancing at her open palms. Rolling her neck, Art worked out the kinks and stretched raising her hands over head and ran fingers through the tangled brown mane scratching behind an ear. Since she had gone to bed at nine, it had been a losing battle with an outcome she already knew. No sense in fighting it, she mused and stood.

In a black tank top and underclothes, Artemis padded barefoot across her bedroom and into the large connecting bathroom. She flicked on the lights and blinked, momentarily blinded by the flood of light and moved to the large sink before a vanity mirror. Bloodshot eyes stared back edged with faint lines of elder years. She pulled at the bottom of her eyelid smoothing out the crows feet and frown lines appeared before she flicked on the faucet. Water filled the porcelain bowl and the tall woman bent splashing the cool water across her face. Her skin prickled in goose bumps and she shivered, letting the water drip down her neck as she straightened before grabbing a towel. Artemis grabbed the white robes on the counter that had previously been tossed an hour before and wrapped it around her body. Despite being in her own house, underwear was not the most appropriate attire to be caught in by a roving servant. She had heard the elder woman enter her room several minutes ago but feigned not to.

“Going out?”

Artemis swiveled her gaze to her maid, Winnifred and noted the pristine white hair pulled into a elegant bun at the nap of her neck, each strand in its place. She was already dressed for bed in her loose pajamas and thick pink robe that hide her small frame within its bulk. Art finished tying a loose knot in her own and faced the elder. “Yeah.” And then added, “Bad day,” as if it would justify her reasoning.

“And you’re to take it out on someone?” Silence was her answer and the maid sighed disapprovingly and a hand went to the neck of her robe, pulling it closed. The beginning of a reprimand faded, knowing it would fall on deaf ears. “Make sure to be safe.”

Artemis attempted to smile but the mirth feel short and she slipped past the elder woman, planting a quick chaste kiss on her cheek. “Don’t wait up for me, Winnie.”

“I never do, my dear.”

---

The low thundering roar of the dark silver bike echoed along the open road that ran parallel to the East River. Dressed in her heroing gear, consisting of the black and silver armored cat suit, belt of gadgets and crossbow with a simple black trench coat to cover the oddities. She left Ben at home for the simple reason of wanting to get out now and fast. Artemis slipped through the Manhattan borough and through police scanners, picking up a crackling of details in her helmet’s mic. There was a robbery across town, suspicious activity on fifth and another fire in the Bronx. None she could get to in time to be of any good. She tightened her gloved hands on the motorcycle bars and pushed the bike faster.

She crossed the main bridge over into Brooklyn and followed side roads towards her shipping yards. The night air did nothing to soothe the building agitation of the day’s events. She should really be at the office instead of gallivanting around the city, maybe if she went back now she could still get in a few hours after changing but that would mean waking up her driver. He had a six sense about him whenever she needed to get somewhere and after her stint the other day, there was no way he was going to just let her jot off to work on her own.

Passing the docks, she titled her head to look past the curve of her helmet and studied them briefly as she passed. The biked instantly slowed under her command when she spotted moving figures, dark blurs against the city lights across the river. Slowing to a stop, the engine idled as she planted her feet and straddled the bike. She reached into a pouch at her lower back and pulled free a pair of a compact binoculars and raised them to eye level after flipping her helmet’s visor up. The dimly lit dock came into a blurred focus and she read the buildings logo before ghosting it back to the four individualized bodies, three men faced the fourth, movement revealing the two she could see while the middle man remained blocked by the fourth whose back was turned to her. Art mentally urged the fourth to move just a little and studied what she could see. Body language spoke volumes and the pair were definitely restless but obedient and suddenly the fourth person stepped out of her line of sight and oh shit, she knew the guy’s face in the middle.

The brilliant crack of two well placed gunshots filled the thick silence of the dockyard and Artemis was already moving. She shoved the binoculars back into its pouch and snapped her visor down before her bike shot forward under the direction of her hands. Her front tire hit the docks and bounced slightly, running parallel to the waterline towards the now two people standing at the end. A fast entrance was best though not her style and she had hoped the stigma of the Guardsmen would aid her somewhat dramatic arrival. A good hundred feet away Artemis locked her bike’s throttle and leaned back, balancing her weight evenly on the moving motorcycle. She reached behind her and pulled loose the silver colored crossbow and swung it out in front of her. An arrow followed and she nocked it against the string before pulling. The unyielding string was new and it took more force then usual to pull back and she felt the burn through her shoulders.

Aetole took one deep breath and held it to center her focus and sent the arrow flying. It met its target, burying itself two feet into the dock away from the men and Artemis dropped forward back into her seat and hit the breaks. Her back tire fishtailed bringing her to a overly dramatic stop sideways and she snapped her bow up, already fitted with another arrow. She was still a good thirty feet away from the duo and with her helmet and coat still on, she made a quasi imposing and possibly crazy image. She hadn’t done this in years and she felt nothing short of a fool doing it. Just like old times, she mused. With her heart racing with the unaccustomed thrill, her gaze danced between the two and figured she had to say something, however nothing but cheese came to mind. A little late to be going swimming, no one invited me to the party, and something about three’s a crowd, but she couldn’t make a proper line out of that one.

“I advise you two to break it up and go home.”

[sethwynd]

The troubling 'thunk' of an arrow embedding itself in a defenseless plank not far from where he was standing. He was half tempted to turn around and make a wisecrack about how the plank probably had a family, was unarmed, something along those lines, but he abandoned the plan when he saw the entrance. Well, that'd be a lie; entrances didn't impress him. Women of course, did a far better job of holding his attention. Not that he was going to pass up on the chance to give this one hell for butting in on his gig, though.

“I advise you two to break it up and go home.”

"You advise me? f**k, you're as bad as my attorney," Desmond griped, cocking the hammer back on the Colt in his left hand, the one still pointed at Vito. He'd heard footsteps that didn't belong to the broad in front of him, which meant somebody was forgetting they had a gun pointed at 'em. Not surprisingly, there were no more footsteps to be heard. Well, not from Vito anyway. A quick glance over the new arrival, perhaps taking a little too long for the woman's liking, and Leo continued. "Course, you don't have her ass. Pity. But hey, you're the one in tights, guess I gotta listen, right?"

Of course, before the heroine would have suitable time to think the situation had been resolved to her liking, Dan's finger squeezed the trigger of the nickel plated .45. His aim probably would have been a little better if he'd been looking, but since his target hadn't been moving, it was good enough. The first shot entered just to the right of Vito's heart, quickly followed by a second and third, which hit the heart dead on and entered just below his throat, respectively.

"Happy to oblige, miss," Dan cheerfully proclaimed, "Now if you'll excuse me, I believe it's pay day, and then straight home. Scout's honor even! Course, if you wanna tag along, you're more than welcome."

Not many people could make the transition from homicide to flirtation quite as fast as Fancy Dan could. Of course, more often than not he was outright horrible at the latter, but he was damn good at the former. Still, he had an image to maintain, and Lady Leather-clad wasn't going to be the exception to the rule.