Cassie and Vic's Big Score (Closed: Bloody Hand)
Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 9:59 pmOOC: This is open only to Bloody Hand members and suchlike only. To hire the Hand or think of it, well, go here.
IC:
The Artemis wasn't the most delicate vessel, nor was it all that nice. But to Victor Miculek, gunslinger, lawyer, and dead ringer for Anthony Quinn, well, it didn't need to look nice. It needed to be somewhere, to hunt a couple of guys about to bite the hand that feed them. A couple of muties who needed to be taught a lesson that just because they were special, didn't make them above the laws of men, written or the kind commonly understood by all.
Miculek cleaned his gun, an aging but well-kept Smith and Wesson Model 629. It was a family heirloom, a gift passed among the Miculek men since Jorge Miculek, a Mexican man whose roots came from Hungary and Poland, with a dash of Pomeranian German, acquired it and used it to escape from a gata slave camp. It had a name scrawled on the side. El Invincible. Typical machismo, but Vic Miculek had a feeling Jorge felt big after using the revolver to slay a gata warrior known only as La Llorona. The Crying Woman.
The gunslinger then put the revolver into its holster, also inherited and passed down with the gun. It had been lovingly well kept likewise. Getting up, he pulled out a lawbook, noting the legislation which allowed him to deal with the Symingtons in the way he knew. Letting them have facetime with El Invincible. Earth SSR's lawbooks, Federal Lawbooks, PMOC Codes, etc. His legal training had taught him to decipher the lawbooks, to read their unforgiving secrets, and to get them to speak. And speak they did.
They said that the Hand had the ability to act in this case. Given their mandates, and given their PMOC licensure--which Vic had arranged with a very bland and analretentive PMOC Auditor--they would find no problem dealing with the Symingtons. After all, one could hire mercenaries to protect themselves, so long as they didn't act offensively. And there was evidence here, this was all in defense. Well, that was for the courts anyway. This was justice of a more personal kind, and he knew it was okay.
A message came upon his console. It was Gordon Langhurst, the man who had hired them.
"This a secure channel, boyo?"
Vic bristled at that.
"I'm no one's boyo, pardner. And yes, this is a secure channel."
"Good. The Gaming Commission has ears, and so does fucking Clark County Sheriff's Department and they don't like it when the Casinos do this sort of thing. Wasn't there someone else there with you?"
Vic nodded and went, "She's indisposed at the moment, en route to Las Vegas on her own damn time. She'll remain that way if you don't watch your mouth."
"Well, unindispose of her, and get her over here. I need you both for this briefing here, before I let you into my casino. I don't want your people to fuck this up, because Benny Symington isn't just another pissant motherfucker who intends to skip town with my money."
Vic nodded and went, annoyed at Langhurst's behavior, "You better be careful what you wish for. I'll get her. Just don't hold me liable for what happens, sonny."
Langhurst was thus left waiting as he summoned Cassie for a group chat over video with a simple, "Cass. You're wanted down here. Our client wants to update us with a few things." Adding with a slight bit of sarcasm, "It's important."
IC:
The Artemis wasn't the most delicate vessel, nor was it all that nice. But to Victor Miculek, gunslinger, lawyer, and dead ringer for Anthony Quinn, well, it didn't need to look nice. It needed to be somewhere, to hunt a couple of guys about to bite the hand that feed them. A couple of muties who needed to be taught a lesson that just because they were special, didn't make them above the laws of men, written or the kind commonly understood by all.
Miculek cleaned his gun, an aging but well-kept Smith and Wesson Model 629. It was a family heirloom, a gift passed among the Miculek men since Jorge Miculek, a Mexican man whose roots came from Hungary and Poland, with a dash of Pomeranian German, acquired it and used it to escape from a gata slave camp. It had a name scrawled on the side. El Invincible. Typical machismo, but Vic Miculek had a feeling Jorge felt big after using the revolver to slay a gata warrior known only as La Llorona. The Crying Woman.
The gunslinger then put the revolver into its holster, also inherited and passed down with the gun. It had been lovingly well kept likewise. Getting up, he pulled out a lawbook, noting the legislation which allowed him to deal with the Symingtons in the way he knew. Letting them have facetime with El Invincible. Earth SSR's lawbooks, Federal Lawbooks, PMOC Codes, etc. His legal training had taught him to decipher the lawbooks, to read their unforgiving secrets, and to get them to speak. And speak they did.
They said that the Hand had the ability to act in this case. Given their mandates, and given their PMOC licensure--which Vic had arranged with a very bland and analretentive PMOC Auditor--they would find no problem dealing with the Symingtons. After all, one could hire mercenaries to protect themselves, so long as they didn't act offensively. And there was evidence here, this was all in defense. Well, that was for the courts anyway. This was justice of a more personal kind, and he knew it was okay.
A message came upon his console. It was Gordon Langhurst, the man who had hired them.
"This a secure channel, boyo?"
Vic bristled at that.
"I'm no one's boyo, pardner. And yes, this is a secure channel."
"Good. The Gaming Commission has ears, and so does fucking Clark County Sheriff's Department and they don't like it when the Casinos do this sort of thing. Wasn't there someone else there with you?"
Vic nodded and went, "She's indisposed at the moment, en route to Las Vegas on her own damn time. She'll remain that way if you don't watch your mouth."
"Well, unindispose of her, and get her over here. I need you both for this briefing here, before I let you into my casino. I don't want your people to fuck this up, because Benny Symington isn't just another pissant motherfucker who intends to skip town with my money."
Vic nodded and went, annoyed at Langhurst's behavior, "You better be careful what you wish for. I'll get her. Just don't hold me liable for what happens, sonny."
Langhurst was thus left waiting as he summoned Cassie for a group chat over video with a simple, "Cass. You're wanted down here. Our client wants to update us with a few things." Adding with a slight bit of sarcasm, "It's important."