TROUBLE AT HOME
Paulie slaps a hand on Dino’s shoulder as he starts to exit the room.
“I believe the honcho said I was supposed to check everybody. And last time I checked, ‘everybody’ includes you.”
Trouble hits home
“Sure thing, Dino.”
Tony moves his leg, the bullet removed but the pain still there. He stands up and with the crutch provided to him makes his way down the hall and into the security room.
“I ain’t no fuckin’ computer whiz or nothin’ but let’s have a look at this.”
A notepad sits on the desk with various scribblings. Standing out is the word “Reprogramming.”
“And bingo was his name-o…”
A 7-digit security code is written next to the words: 6843496
“Bada-bing, bada-boom…I guess that’s it. I’m a fuckin’ genius.”
TROUBLE AT HOME
“Son of a bitch…” Paulie mutters as Tony hobbles out the door. He turns back to Dino. “This how you guys always listen to your boss? I’m going to check out Gimpy, and your ass had better be here when I get back.”
Paulie storms down the hall after Tony – he can hear the step-thump, step-thump up ahead of him. He turns a corner and spies a slightly-ajar door. He kicks it open and storms in.
“And where the hell do you think you’re going, Tiny Tim?”
The Report
Though I loved them for their faults
As much as for their good,
My friends were enemies on stilts
With their heads in a cunning cloud.
-Dylan Thomas
Forbes McCready put down his pen and looked at the piece of parchment. His tutors would have called it arrogance, but it was just so much fun.
He looked at his hands, gloved in rubber as to avoid prints, thinking. For fifteen years he had lead this double life. When would the lines blur and one side would find out who he was in the other life? Would it be Joy or “his boys” to discover where he went on those vacations, around the world and to nearby Coldstone, of cold coffee and dingy motel rooms bathed in red neon light? Or would one of his enemies come after him, destroying all he worked so hard to build here? Would the Academy be in danger? Would his boys? Was it worth it all?
He thought for a moment, and picked up the fountain pen. As an afterthought, he added:
But you already knew it was Thomas, didn’t you…friend?
He went out of his way that afternoon, making a stop in Coldstone’s post office, thus hoping that it could not be traced back to him. It was addressed to one Roman Carvaggio, care of the Capella manor.
There was no return address.
‘trouble at home’
Frank brushes back his hair and adjusts his tie as they reach the door.
Trouble at Home
(ATTN: Katanga and Fett)
The two of you approach the home of Mr. Bosca. The heavy oak front door is open, creaking a bit in the strong wind.
The two of you are simultaneously hit with a sinking feeling.
The utter silence only adds to the feelings of tension. Then, the moment is broken by a startled house cat, rushing out of the house.
The cat leaps slightly as it passes through the open doorway, something that wouldn’t normally attract your attention.
Then you see it. Roman first, and Frank right away after that. A thin, almost invisible wire stretches across the inner doorway.
A tripwire?
You no longer doubt that you have been followed and predicted. You are definitely not alone…
Trouble at Home
(ATTN: Verbal, Voltes, Poxy)
A rumbling sound stole Paulie’s attention for a moment. A quick glance reveals a nearby pager, vibrating its way across the counter.
As you close in, you make out a simple text message… in all caps.
“BOOM!” it says.
As you read it aloud, the three of you, as well as the remainder of the mansions mooks, are not comforted.
The Snoop
(ATTN: Dan Whitehead, and Blofeld I guess)
Hank grits his teeth, picking up a length of pipe. He proceeds toward the bound Tony “Alto”, ready to extract answers however necessary.
Palooka looks on, paralyzed with rage. This man’s interloping was obviously mafia-related. Sending one of his goons to investigate Mr. Weasel’s delivery is not how you had planned to do business. Still, you couldn’t have the death of one of the gangsters errand boys on your head. “Rubbing him out”, as they would likely call it.
But Hank beating him severely… that you could allow.
One swing of the pipe is followed by a slight clang. Alto’s cheek seems to bruise immediately as he recovers from the blow.
A second swing looms, but is held off.
A strange sound interrupts. All those gathered on the loading dock look up in unison. The crate snaps free from a weak cable.
The heavy wooden container smashes to the ground, enveloping Alto and Hank in its center. Sand spills out of the container’s cracked edges.
Again, the gross incompetence of his men leaves Jimmy Palooka stunned.
One of Capella’s men. Murdered. While shipping goods for the Don’s one true rival. It would be time to disappear, but the vehicle to illegal goods-dealer ratio was rapidly worsening.
Palooka’s hired hands had all turned tail.
The Rat
A thought struck Othello and he pulled his cellphone back out and said one word into it. “Palooka.”
The phone beeped a few times and started to ring.
TROUBLE HITS HOME
“EVERYBODY OUT! NOW!”
Paulie wastes no time with niceties and leaps out the nearest window. He ignores the glass shattering around him and rolls with his impact, and is up and sprinting before the pain can even register.
Trouble At Home
“What the–”
A loud explosion rocks Tony’s train of thought (or lack thereof) and sends him falling to the ground, covering his ears.
He glances to the window, gets up, and quickly hobbles over.
“Here goes nothin’.”
Tony jumps out the window and drops a few stories, a sharp pain in his leg from the impact decidedly better than being blown apart in the mansion.
TROUBLE HITS HOME
Paulie stops, mid-stride. That nagging sense of duty winning out over self-preservation. Again.
“Shit,” he mutters, and sprints back towards the mansion. Some minor-leaguer is high-tailing out the front door.
“You. With me. Now.” The look in Paulie’s eyes wins over the moment’s hesitation. He follows Paulie into the house. “No time for sightseeing, sweetheart, where’s the old man?” Paulie asks, gesturing for the man to take the lead.
“I can’t tell you that. Roman --”
His next words are halted by Paulie’s hand across his face. “Either you show me where he is or I’m knee-capping your sorry ass and leaving you here when I’m done.”
The man rubs his stinging jaw, then glares at Paulie. “Fuck you, man, you’re crazy.” He dashes towards the front door.
Paulie sighs. In one swift movement a pistol is in his hand, and the shot finds it’s mark in the fleeing man’s back. He drops without a sound.
“Fucking amateurs,” Paulie mutters.
Roman had said the old man was in a central location, so Paulie heads to what feels like the center of the house. There’s a big, thick-looking door at the end of the hall, looks likely.
And there’s a lovely little keypad on the wall next to it.
“Goddamn it!” Paulie shouts. “Do they want the geezer dead?!?”
He runs back to the computer room he’d left Tony in with his Evil Kneivel impersonation. He’s covered in sweat now, his face tightened, waiting for the inevitable explosion that’ll end his life and cut-short this mercy mission his conscience talked him into. he bursts into the room, and of course, Tony is gone. “Sure got the hell out of here fast for a guy on one good leg.” He scans around quickly, and his eye catches a piece of paper with some numbers jotted on it.
“What the hell,” he thinks, grabs the paper, and heads back to the geezer’s room. He stops in front of the keypad, and hesitates a moment. Then he laughs. “The way your luck’s been goin’, you’re probably gonna activate the self-destruct or something.” He swallows, punches in the seven digits, and the door slides open. He pockets the piece of paper – he’s playing them as lottery numbers 'til the day he dies.
Which he hopes isn’t this one in particular.
‘trouble at home’
Frank immediately turns and draws both his guns. He stares around quickly, not panicking, but desperately alert.
Trouble at Home
(Not meaning to post without allowing everyone ample response time, but…)
Despite the tense situation, there is still no explosion yet. Paulie arrives to find the boss sleeping soundly in his wheel-locked mdeical bed, an IV drip hanging from a wheelabout at his side. Two big bruisers with pistols look around nervously, one just accidentally put a bullet in the doorfram, a foot away from Paulie’s head.
TROUBLE AT HOME
Paulie stares at the hole in the door frame next to his head, then back at the startled bodyguard. “If you were worth a good god damn I’d be dead right now, you stupid prick!”
The bruiser starts to speak. Paulie raises a hand. “No, no time for the sob story, get the old man mobile right fucking now unless you want us all mixed together in a really unhappy way.”
Trouble at Home
As both Roman and Frank see the lethal filament, the permeable shroud of immediate danger covers them both.
“Bosca is dead.” Roman utters in grim finality. “I have to go inside.”
Roman looks to Frank Tobiasi. “You coming?”
‘trouble at home’
‘Whoever killed your man no doubt knew we were coming, which means there’s likely more booby traps inside. And someone is undoubtedly watching us right now. But while having someone on watch would be a good idea, we need to watch our backs immediately. So lead the way, senor.’
Trouble at Home
Roman cautiously enters, stepping over the trip wire. His eyes methodically sweep every available surface for any and all inconsistencies. He draws his other foot inside and measures each breath. Scanning the tiled entry way for pressure plates, infrared sensor emitters, or an axe wielding madman.
He turns to Tobiasi. “Nothing. Clear.” He offers tentatively.
Trouble at Home
(ATTN: Fett/Katanga)
The inside of the house is a chaos of strewm papers and upturned furniture. Trophies, books, even a prized bowling ball rest at your feet. Face down at his desk is Bosca, laying deathly still.
Once the two of you are inside, you hear the click of a hammer being cocked back. Roman can’t help but think that this bait and switch stuff is just getting ridiculous.
“Pathetic,” an unfamiliar voice offers. “Fucking pathetic.”
Unfortunately for the new arrival, the two of you scoped the placed out pretty well. Your would-be assailant is standing in the doorway. While he obviously knows about the tripwire, isn’t too bright about lingering in front of it.
‘trouble at home’
Frank looks down at the stranger’s feet.
‘Ditto.’
He immediately picks up a chair, throws Roman behind a desk, and throws the chair at the doorway. As Frank dives behind the desk, landing hard on Roman, the loud explosion is heard. Dust permeates the office as Frank stands up, and sees the huge gaping hole where the doorway once was. He brushes some splinters off his suit and helps Roman up.