Coldstone 2: Devils West - Chapter 1

GAMING Boards, Cards and Tabletops
21

Veretta Security, Inc.
(Attn: Kid Ego & Seahawk)

The limo picked up pace without a word from the once mouthy driver. The limo clipped a curb as it did a hard right into the drive for The Savannah. Valets in blood red waistcoats opened the passenger door and another set of uniformed employees was already retrieving the luggage. The driver made his way around leaned against the open door.

“I’ll stick around in case you don’t make The Big Bust.” He sneered.

At that time an attractive woman in supremely cut black suit stepped out of the main entrance. Her hair was short and she wore glasses. She carried a palm pilot and was tapping the screen furiously.

“Mr. Veretta and Mr. Dahl. I’m Marcy Davenport, Mr. Redman’s personal assistant. I’d like to welcome you to The Savannah and personally escort you to your rooms to await your meeting with Mr. Redman.” She friendly face was open and warm. “Right this way, gents. I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have. We’ve got you in adjoining suites with a conference room. A buffet will be set up and you may indulge in the bar as our guest. We also have $500 worth of chips in each suite. Welcome."

22

Agenda
(Attn: Capteucalyptus & Voltes)

Othello and Tima walk through the bowels of The Savannah surveying every aspect of the shift routines. Cash is counted, machines recalibrated, and security triple checked.

“Boss, there’s some talent on the agenda. Ray Priest is the new guy in the Bella Donna.” Tima motions to a line of dressing room doors. A 3”x5” card on one door says “PRIEST”.

The dressing room is virtually empty save for a tattered picture of Amelia taped to the mirror, an empty bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin, and the torn panties of that showgirl what’s-her-name. The big brit stares at his reflection in the mirror. That Russian thug said the big man was going to stop by.

23

Hardcase
(Attn: Poxy & flyers)

Special Agent Hannity snatches the cash out of McClure’s hand.

“I’ll have this bitch lapping my cock like a well trained dog.” His eyes roll back and to the left as he catches the nastiness of that analogy.

He gets out of the vehicle and ambles down the street. McClure wonders why they let the physical standards slide in the Bureau for a sloppy fuck like Hannity.

Paulie watches some new girls and does his best Bob Fosse as they try to fling boobs and ass with little or no style. The sunlight invades the dark room and a slightly pudgy middle-age guy walks in. He has a fistful of sweaty cash in his hand.

To no one in general he shouts out to the assembled dancers, Paulie, and the bartender, a retired wiseguy named Vince.

“I’d like to rent Sinthia Slater for a couple hours.” He nervous scans the room as all there look to Paulie for reaction.

“I got lots of money.” He adds holding up the bills.

24

the arrival

‘Wait here.’

Frank looks around, and then steps out of the car. He walks around the van, and knocks on the side. Suddenly, the side door slides open about ten inches. A hand emerges, carrying an envelope. The hand is bandaged, and bruised. Frank takes the envelope, smiles and walks back to the car. As he steps inside, he nods at the van’s driver.

‘Okay. Now we go see Roman.’

25

Luck be a Lady Tonight…Tomorrow…and the Next Day
(Attn: Laugharn)

The Cutlass rattled down the strip back to the Safari Motor Inn on the interstate. From the open walkway, Wellstone could hear the high-pitched barking of Patches. From ten feet away to his room he could see his door was slightly ajar.

26

Agenda
(Attn: Capteucalyptus & Voltes)

The slightly damp smell that invaded all dressing rooms wafted into his nose. Othello enjoyed meeting all the new talent. He admired people whose skills didn’t involve an obscene amount of bloodshed. It was an infusion of light into his soul.

He took in the bottle, underwear and picture and let everything he had heard about this man come to a simmer. Alcoholism and a taste for the women could be a nasty mix. According to his report the man had lost a wife, no doubt the woman in the picture, and the big man could only imagine what pain that had caused. If Foxy were to die that way then heaven help the man.

As it was though Othello knew that he would most likely pass before she would, though these days it would be more likely to be due to her tendency to deep fry everything. That wasn’t a complaint but his personal trainer/bodyguard never let him forget it. But that pain of his loss couldn’t be an excuse for self-destruction, not on Othello’s watch anyway. He knew that he needed to handle the talent gently and this man had buckets of talent but that bottle had to go.

“Good day Mr. Priest. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I was present in the booth for your audition and I must say that everything I heard about you is true and let me assure you that everything you have heard about me is also true. I don’t care who you sleep with as long as it doesn’t interfere with your job and it isn’t on the property. I want that to be the last bottle I see in your room and if I or any of my people smell liquor on your person then you will be singing in someone else’s club by lunchtime, though I doubt it will be in this town.”

He extended a hand and smiled warmly.

“Welcome to the family.”

27

The Arrival

Viglio allows his recent observations to soak in as he makes his way back to the highway.

The driver of the pizza van had been shaking nervously–apparently the recipient of a fresh beating. In the back of the vehicle, a likewise battered hand had passed a thick envelope to Tobiasi. Viglio surmised that the racketeering in Coldstone had continued to flourish, and the man simultaneously determined not to become involved in such activities.

Did Tobiasi’s crew consider him a thug? A henchman, brought in as hired “muscle”? The assassin was not concerned with these factors himself, though he wondered what assumptions Frank had made.

It would soon be irrelevant, however, as Viglio noted the “Granite Hill State Penitentiary” sign approaching as he drove Frank into the northern stretch of downtown. Navigating Coldstone had proven to be easier than he might have imagined. With devout attention, Viglio absorbed as many streets signs and exits as possible, forming a mental map of the area in his mind.

He manuevered the car into visitor parking, and carefully parked the car behind the tall, barbed wire fence. The unexpected events surrounding his arrival would be swept away, as Viglio’s meeting with Roman Carvaggio drew close.

28

The Arrival

(Attn: Logan & Fett)

Two guards opened a double door as the vehicle rolled to a stop. These were not visiting hours at Granite Hill, but exceptions could be made.

The guards knew Tobiasi but greeted the new visitor with sidelong glances. They escorted them down a long unlit corridor. The visitors hall was dark. A guard flipped the flourescents to life.

On the far side of the room two figures approached. Visible through the Plexiglass was Roman Carvaggio. A guard escorted him in, lit his cigarette, and excused himself. Roman eyes the other two guards and they retreated to other duties as well.

“Viglio,” Roman spoke in hushed tones. His eyes flicked to Frank.

“Hey, Frank. Wait outside.” Roman halted conversation waiting for Frank to respond.

29

the arrival

‘Si.’

Frank nods, and walks into the hall, lighting up a cigarette.

30

HARDCASE

The stranger sees Paulie’s shoulders visibly tighten then relax before he turns to face him.

“Lots of money? Oh, well then please, take the whole fuckin’ bar.” He walks towards the newcomer, arms spread wide. “I mean, you got lots of money, right! Hey, wait,” he says, reaching into his pocket, “I got my car keys in here, I’ll throw those in too!” He’s face to face with the man now. Paulie puts on a mock grin. “'Cause Lord knows we ain’t never seen us lots of money before!” Then like that, the grin is gone, and he leans in close.

“Case you hadn’t noticed, we ain’t open. And nobody ‘rents’ one of my girls, ‘lots of money’ or not.” Paulie turns his back and walks back to the stage. As he goes, he signals the bartender.

“Lurch, get this piece of shit out of my bar.”

Lurch puts down the glass he had been cleaning and steps out from behind the bar. He’s a mountain, and he looms above the stranger like an impending avalanche.

“Mr. DiVialoso would like you to leave now.”

31

Hardcase

(Attn: flyers & Poxy)

George McClure sits in his vehicle watching the place. He mentally pours over details of the case in his mind. The vague notion that the case is eating at him is violently shattered as his partner just sailed ten feet into the street.

32

The Arrival

(The following is an edited transcript of an I.M. conversation RPed between Katanga and myself.)

Once alone, Carvaggio approached Viglio. “Welcome to our shores, Viglio Leonardo.” His guest bowed respectfully, kissing Roman’s ring. “The Capella Family is honored to host someone of your considerable talents and we are at your disposal.”

“Sono qui servire”, Viglio replied calmly, with an economic choice of words.

“To business then,” Roman continued, moving to whisper several sentences to the assassin. Without any change of expression, Lio Leo took in the details of his assignement.

When clear to speak, Viglio queried quietly, “Othello Redman?” His sharp reply indicated immediate familiarity with the subject. Roman then proceeded to whisper a few more words in reply.

The newcomer nodded, signaling full acceptance of his instructions. Carvaggio offered one final comment aloud, “This business is strictly between you and me. Not even Tobiasi needs to know.”

Viglio glanced around the visitor’s area, making mental note of the two armed guards’ faces, then nodded again. “È ci pericolo della rappresaglia?”

“Isn’t there always?” Roman offered casually.

Where a normal man would grin, Viglio only nodded one last time and spoke slightly, “Partirò immediatamente.”

Roman put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Buona fortuna.”

A parting bow of courtesy followed, as Roman returned to his cell. Once alone, Viglio made for the door. He walked the long hallway to the gate, around the corner to where Tobiasi waited. He approached Frank, who had just finished his smoke. Viglio looked directly to the man, speaking a single word. “Andiamo.”

Moments later, the two were en route back to Coldstone airport. The whirlwind tour of the town hadn’t fazed Viglio. Outwardly, he was content in following orders. In the private recesses of his mind, the assassin pondered the impending death in the West. He was being tested. His final loyalties examined under the watchful eye of his superiors. In the end, the family would be served.

33

Luck be a Lady Tonight…Tomorrow…and the Next Day

Wellstone approached his door and drew his firearm. Not like the standard issue .45 had ever been loaded in his many years on the force, but hopefully it would scare whoever was in his room enough to no longer be in his room.

Charles turned the corner, kicked open the door, and extended his weapon. A man in a moderately priced suit was sitting on his bed, watching television.

“You need better security, Chuck. I coulda been a communist spy! But that damn thing down.” Chuckled Edward Dewey.

“Mr. Dewey, sir. What brings you to my humble abode?” Wellstone replied as he holstered his weapon.

“I’m here to tell you you’ve been chosen for the new upstart subdivision.” Dewey had an odd mix of seriousness and delight in his voice.

“New subdivision, sir?” Wellstone was confused.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the office buzz…”

“…well, sir, I haven’t been to the office in two weeks. I’m on vacation here.”

“Not any more. As of this moment, you’re on assignment.”

“On assignment?!” Wellstone was flabergasted. “Doing what?”

A smirk came to Dewey’s face. “Underworld.” He said.

34

Veretta Security, Inc.
(Attn: Kid Ego & Seahawk)

Thomas Dahl sat back as the car picked up speed. Either the words had made him move his ass or he had taken offence to the Ms. Daisy comment. Whatever it was, the man was content. Content until the limo hit the curb and sent to the two in back jumping in thier seats. Dahl breathed under his breath.

“Motherfucker.”

The car came to a stop, thankfully smooth. The doors opened and men in red greeted both Veretta and Dahl. The NYPD officer nodded quickly as he stepped into the night. It was warmer then New York, but the air still held something, a taste of what was to come.

“I’ll stick around in case you don’t make The Big Bust.” He sneered. A sneer that made Dahl snap his head around. He made a move, but stopped himself and smiled thinly.

“Your asscrackin’ head would be a fantastic bust in my living room.”

A young lady, catching the eye of Thomas for only a moment before any thoughts were allowed to copulate, approached with her PDA.

“Mr. Veretta and Mr. Dahl. I’m Marcy Davenport, Mr. Redman’s personal assistant. I’d like to welcome you to The Savannah and personally escort you to your rooms to await your meeting with Mr. Redman.” She friendly face was open and warm. “Right this way, gents. I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have. We’ve got you in adjoining suites with a conference room. A buffet will be set up and you may indulge in the bar as our guest. We also have $500 worth of chips in each suite. Welcome."

Dahl nodded. A pleasent welcome, compared to thier ride, which reminded him. He turned around, pulling a ten doller bill from his pocket and approached the driver.

“Back for more Coppa?” Dahl nodded and held out the ten dollers.

“You made the ride colorful.” The driver raised an eyebrow and snagged the ten dollers as Dahl held his hand out for a handshake. Slowly, the driver complied. When the hands met, Dahl pressed down hard and pulled the driver close to him.

“You are a fuckard. I don’t take fuckards. Veretta doesn’t either. Consider this our parting gift.” There was a sudden snap as Dahl clamped down, snapping bones in the man’s hand. The boy reached to scream, but he couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. With a quick twist, the wrist of the man snapped as well, and Thomas Dahl shoved him back against the limo.

“Next time, I break something else. And I won’t let go until it snaps off, you bastard.”

Dahl turned and made his way, taking the smile off his face as his eyes met Veretta. The young man yelped in tha background as he made his way to the other side of the car.

“When we leave, I’d request a new driver.”

He waited. And watched.

35

Agenda
(Attn: Capteucalyptus & Voltes)

Priest appreciates the bluntness of his new employer. He wonders whether his new boss suspects that the photo on his mirror wasn’t his wife, Amelia. If he had known that Mr. Redman was African-American, then he would have taped Amelia’s true photo on the mirror. But, then perhaps, this is all for the best. He’s here to work. And only work.

“Call me ‘Ray,’ Mr. Redman,” Priest says as he extends his hand. “Thank you for hiring me. I’ll knock your audiences dead, as they say. That’s a promise from The Priest. Heh.”

He looks at the empty bottle of gin on the table and gives a warm smile. “Very well sir. Apologies for that. No booze and all other sorts of alcoholic beverages inside your establishment. I shall be respecting your wishes,” he lies.

“What’s my schedule, sir?” he asks as he thirsts for another shot of gin.

36

Agenda
(Attn: Capteucalyptus & Voltes)

He sees right through the little lie but lets it go. JJ was an addict once, enslaved to the pipe and the needle, so Othello knew all about their lies.

“Alright Ray, you call me Othello or Mr. Redman, whichever makes you more comfortable.”

He breaks the handshake.

“I know you’ll do well otherwise I wouldn’t have hired you. As to your schedule talk to Ronnie, the stage manager. He’ll be around shortly. Again a pleasure to meet you.”

He and his shadow heaad on to his next apointment.

37

Agenda
(Attn: Capteucalyptus & Blunt)

Out in the hall Othello stops and snaps out his phone. He speaks “Seraph” into the mouthpiece. Not surprisingly he gets voicemail.

“Virgil, this is Othello. I have a very delicate matter that requires your specific talents. One of my employees has run into some trouble. Call me soonest.”

The phone snaps shut and he and Tima continue on ther way.

38

Agenda
(Attn: Capteucalyptus & Voltes)

Priest watches his employer exits his dressing room. He then takes out his wallet and stares at Amelia’s photo.

I think I’m getting close, my darling. I can smell them. I’ll have your vengeance, he whispers to himself as he kisses her picture.

39

Agenda

Red digits flashes 12:OO as an alarm starts to blare in an LA appartment. From beneath the sheets, a hand emerges and violently slams on the clock, shutting off the ringing. A muffled voice mumbles “goddamnfuckingmachine”, as Virgil Abrizza rises from his bed. He stretches, the dim sunlight filtering through the windows casting a sort of aura around the tatoo on his back. He steps into the bathroom, showers quickly and get dressed. As always, his next move is to turn his cellphone on. A message from Othello awaits him. His old friend needs his help.

It’s the first time O has aked him for anything since he helped him set up his little venture 3 years ago. Apparently, the time to pay him back has come. Virgil decides to go directly to Vegas without calling Othello back beforehand. That’ll be a nice little surprise.

He goes back into the bedroom. Natalie, the love of his life, the woman he brought back from France, like his father had done before him, is still asleep. He gives her a soft kiss on the cheeks and leaves a note on the bedtable. He knows she’ll undertand. He heads for the drawers and pulls out a suitcase, always ready in case he has to travel. He then leaves the house and slides behind the wheel of his car, putting his sunglasses on. He smiles at his own reflection in the rearview mirror.

“Together again. Well, I’m ready…ready for the big ride baby.” He starts singing as the car pulls into traffic.

A few hours later…

It is now well into the afternoon and one can sense that all of Vegas is getting ready for another night of gambling,drinking and fucking. It’s been a while since Virgil’s last visit, but he easily finds his way and soon parks his car in front of Othello’s casino. He steps out, readjust his suit and head inside.

40

Hardcase

George McClure sits up, starts the car, and waits. None of this surprises him. As Hannity walks over, brushing off the dirt and checking for cuts, McClure cuts the engine and gets out of the car.

“Great fucking job, man,” McClure says. “Real smooth too, I bet. You fucking cock. Why did I even fathom that you’d go in there and get the job done?”

McClure gets out of the car, and goes back to the trunk. He goes to work on the license plate again, taking the current one off and putting his real plate back on.

“Why are you fucking around with that again?” Hannity asked.

“It’s my pops,” McClure answered. “It’s my good luck charm, you could say.”

McClure hid his dad’s license plate under his jacket at his went to the front of Paulie’s place. He took out his digital camera, snapped a few shots, and then walked back to the car.

“You, drive,” McClure told Hannity. “Stop in front of Paulie’s place when we go down the road.”

Hannity got behind the wheel and made a right and pulled up in front of Paulie’s joint.

“When I give the signal, I want you to speed off,” McClure told Hannity.

“What’s the…” Before Hannity could even finish his question, he saw McClure tying his father’s license plate around a brick. Before he could even stammer out another word, McClure chucked his cement calling card into Paulie’s front window.

“That’s the fucking signal.”

Hannity sped off as McClure calmly stared at the road ahead, not even looking back at the work he just did.

“Some good luck charm!” Hannity yelled, his hands shaking with a bit of fear, but mostly excitement.

“When it’s all over, I’ll have it back. Luck of the Irish, bud.”