How to exploit.

[Ϛ Neilen Darkshire]

At the loaded dice comment, Neilen turned to look at the kid, and raised his eyebrow a little. "High quality shit? Kid, you could make good money making those things. I know a guy who could..." He trailed off as they entered the place, it being far too loud to continue a conversation with someone while also walking. When they found a table, he leaned slightly forward, his elbows on the table and his palms pressed together.

"I know a guy who could distribute those for you, if you can keep up a decent pace making them. Untraceable, of course. He's solid." He broke off once again, to smile and wave at a good few people who recognized him, among them the barkeep. Tedious people work, but he knew better than to be rude to anyone in the place. Being tough was necessary in his business, but being rude was just stupid. It was a good way to get a knife in the back.

He turned his head back to the kid, though, when he heard the 'weird' comment. There was a strange sort of smile on his face, almost an amused or surprised look. He turned his body full round to face the kid and listened to the rest of his little speech, clearly enjoying it. When he'd finished, Neilen full out chuckled, and waved his hand in the air behind his head. A moment later, the bartender had made is way over himself.

"Two beers for starters, and get me a couple fingers of clean whiskey too," he said, mirth still apparent in his voice. Then he settled down for business.

"I'm no small-time crook, kid, you've got that damn right. I started out as one, sure; we all do. It a way of paying your dues, you know? But then I got into some serious mercenary work. I'm not talking 'hired thug' type stuff either, I mean real heavy shit. But we'll get back to that. Point being, I've moved up. Sure, I still do merc jobs if they're lucrative enough, and they usually are, but I mostly deal with real mafioso types, or wannabes anyway. I'm sort of a renaissance man, though. I do middle-man work, I do management, I get my hands dirty. Some people, when they get to be powerful, they think they're above doing a little work, and they go soft. I don't want that to happen. I'm too young to go out like a mobster kingpin, in a hail of tommygun fire, you know?"

The drinks arrived then, conveniently timed with the end of his speech, and he shot back his whiskey and opened his beer before going on.

"To answer your other question, it's part of the job description to study people. For all I know, every person on the street is a hitman after me, so paying attention to the people around me is key. I don't care how professional you are, I can smell suspicion on you. Only ah... with you it goes a little deeper. I think you've got a... 'special talent' of a more unusual sort, and the Academy you were headed to is far from some run-of-the-mill 'troubled teens' place. Well, I happen to have a 'talent' or two of my own, so we've got that in common too. And one more thing I think we could stand to have in common is avoiding that Academy and the 'Agents' it employs as often as possible."

He took a sip of his beer and leaned back in his chair a little. "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for educating the youth and all that, I was a teacher myself for awhile, but there's shit going at that place even I think is low. A good example; four kids were kidnapped right under their noses by some shady guys recently, guys so shady even I'm having a hard time finding them, and the Academy tried to just sweep it under the rug. One of the kids was nine fucking years old. Tell me that isn't more of a crime that gambling, conning, or dealing could ever be."

A hairline fracture appeared in the beer bottle he was clutching before he got a hold of himself and loosened his grip. Clearly he wasn't too happy about the situation.

"I'm not asking you to become some freedom fighter, I'm just telling you the place is bad news. Besides," and the calm, smiling demeanour returned, "they'd cramp your style, kid. They've got ways of making you see things their way that no Problem Youth Centre could ever hope to have."

[charles]

Charles listened to the waterfall of words coming from Neilen. This time he barely succeeded in showing his excitement and amazement. This guy... was so awesome. He smiled through out the entire monologue and had dreams of becoming rich selling the loaded dice, he had hopes of becoming a big shot himself, killing people with a movement of his hand. All these thought of grandeur, succes, drugs, cash and money filled his head when suddenly Neilen brought him back to earth. He was talking about the Academy. Hah, Charles had almost forgot about it. When he heard Neilen talk about it he was sure he was one of the 'special' people as well. Maybe he could learn him about his gift. When he saw the brutal strength of Neilen forced upon the beer bottle, he felt a shiver going down his spine. He reminded himself again that this man was a ruthless gangster, a mercenary, who could kill him if he wanted. Then the man softened up again. Charles relaxed. Now it was his turn to talk. But first he drank half of his beer and put it down, crossing his arms after doing so and leaning slightly foward looking at Neilen.

"Good. I think you, we, understand each other. About the dice? Good, I'll do that for you. But the real thing is... you amaze me, Neilen. I knew there was something, errr, dangerous about you, but this... this is... I mean, I never worked with big shots. I have always worked with small time crooks. The closest to gangsters I've been were my local dealers, pokerplayers and teen thugs..." He took a sip of his beer and scratched his hair, "You're... a whole different class. But then, what I really wanted to talk you about. This... 'talent'. How does one control it? I, err, accidentely killed some people a long time ago when they tried to kill me. But that seems to be the only time I can control it. And the Academy? An agent was supposed to meet me there outside. I was left behind by another one. Just like that. So, uh, yeah."

He looked down at his beer and finished the last drops. He grinned at Neilen. Charles needed a place to crash for a while, but he'll be damned if he asked Neilen. Charles had done harder stuff in his life, he could survive on the streets. Then again, this wasn't his town. No, he had to ask this more carefully. He had so many questions, he could barely phantom what this Academy would be like and he was scared that there was this group of men, so shady that even Neilen could find them. Yikes.

"Eh, listen, Neilen, if there's anything I can do to help? I could deal cards at poker games? Make you a little profit? Deal some stuff? I don't know. It's just that I need a place to stay, and these place cost money. Heh." He smiled and looked at Neilen again. Charles was very curious about the Academy, but Neilen was right. It would cramp his style. And Charles had some wicked tricks, when he thought about it. Sighing that his bottle was empty, Charles smiled again. Things were looking up.

[Ϛ Neilen Darkshire]

Sorry that took so long.

Neilen nodded appreciatively as the kid talked, holding his beer up to check if the crack was leaking at all. He liked this kid. He was observant, quick on the uptake, pretty damn street smart, and he mostly seemed to have his head in the right place. Well, as much as any criminal can be considered to have their head in the right place. Satisfied the crack wasn't leaking, Neilen drank the rest of his beer as he watched the kid talk. He smiled while the kid talked about him, but his look shifted to a far more thoughtful one when he mentioned his Gift. That was the tough part. It was where the Academy actually came in handy. Well, the teachers anyway.

He was just about ready to reply when he noticed the kid looked about ready to go on, so he kept his mouth shut. Well, figuratively speaking, because before long he was chuckling again. Given ample opportunity, he would have suggested the same thing to the kid, but he figured out and suggesting it himself might not fly. He signalled for another round of beers and began talking while he waited for them.

"First off, controlling your ability is different for everyone. All I can tell you is you should find a secure place and practice til your eyes bleed, you know? Just keep trying. Second, I'm not surprised no on came around. The Academy is a mess right now. Rumour has it they're moving because of the whole kidnapping business. But if your ability killed someone, I'm amazed they haven't given you priority. They must be more disorganized right now than I thought..."

He trailed off, as if this presented quite the problem (opportunity?) for him, something he needed to think over, but he quickly shook it off with a sort of unconcerned grunt. "Either way, they'll probably figure out you're missing eventually. If we're lucky, they'll try covering it up again, just like with the other kids."

The beers arrived then, and he cracked one open and took a generous drink of his before speaking once more.

"In the meantime... Yeah, I could probably hook you up with some odd jobs. I can do most things myself, but I still haven't mastered being in two places at once. And as for a place to stay... Well, I have a penthouse apartment in a ritzy building around here, and for security and privacy's sake, I leased the apartment below it too. You're welcome to stay there for now if you want. It's conveniently close to me and it's not being used anyway. What do you think?"

[charles]

Charles blinked a few times and smiled. This wasn't possible. This... this guy was supposed to be a feared gangster, but yet, he offered him a place to stay? It almost felt as if it was a trap, but somehow, he knew it wasn't. He couldn't believe it. The only thing he wasn't quite sure about was how to train his Gift. He barely knew how to control it, and it was only triggered when someone assaulted him. It had helped him in the past, but he didn't want to think about the strange feeling he had after killing the thug, the dealer and the jackass. He was scared back then. Really scared. Killing was... hard. But he was sure it would become easier. Time heals and learns, they say.

"...Hah. Eh. Well, normally I'm not the kind of guy that doesn't know what to say, but... wow. Thanks, Neilen. Thanks." He picked up his beer and saluted Neilen with it before taking a big swig. He needed to calm down. The possibilities... he could earn money and he didn't need to pay for an appartement. And when bad guys came after him, he could flee to Neilen who lived above him. Not that he would cause Neilen any trouble. No, he needed to become valuable. He needed to know how the things worked in this town, in Neilen's town. Then, he would move up. And maybe, just maybe, one day he would be so fucking rich that he would buy everything he ever wanted. But then again... the Academy. Charles must admit that he was curious. He shook the thought. The streets is were he belonged. He had time, he was still young. Maybe he'll go check the Academy out later.

Suddenly he extended his hand.

"It's a deal... boss." He smiled at the word and winked. He raised the beer once more.

"Tell me, what kind of jobs do you have in mind for you loyal servant."

And somehow he couldn't stop chuckling. Everything was alllriiiight.


(OoC: No problem! We might, eh, wrap this thread up and start another one were we do some business and whatnot so that I can post in other threads as well. And maybe we should find a way to get to the other town as well, some reason, because I don't think that many Academians hang around here anymore. I love this thread, by the way.)

[Ϛ Neilen Darkshire]

"No problem, kid," Neilen said noncommittally. "I may be a ruthless criminal, but I'm a pretty nice guy if you're on my good side. Just make sure you stay there." Again, there was a hint of something dangerous there, but it was more of a word of advice than an actual threat; he'd much rather have friends than enemies any day. For one thing, the closer people were to him, the easier he could keep track of them. For another, he just appreciated good company.

Neilen accepted the handshake, glad and even slightly impressed the kid had offered his hand. So many people these days took the strength of a gentleman's agreement for granted. Small-time crooks and punks still in school who thought they could lie to whoever they wanted and get away with it threw promises around like candy at a parade, but anyone who dealt with Neilen would learn soon enough that if a handshake seals an agreement and you betray that trust, you'll end up dead. Not that the dead really appreciate a lesson learned.

"Why don't we talk about it on the way to your new pad?" Neilen suggested, turning toward the bar. "Two for the road," he hollered, and then, "Don't worry about it, Sid, I'm taking a cab. I'm not an idiot." Neilen was confident he could still drive with this comparatively small amount of alcohol in his veins in a pinch, but he was too smart to take stupid chances like that if he could avoid it. Besides, he hadn't brought a car of his own anyway.

Moments later, Neilen had hailed a cab and the two of them were on their way to the apartment, talking business and sipping brews all the way. Charles was definitely a lucky kid, if nothing else.

[charles]

"Sure thing boss. I wouldn't dream of being unkind to you." He added this with a wink and a smile, but made sure that Neilen understood the truthness of his response. Neilen would hook him up with some jobs, a new appartement and -hopefully- good, decent protection. And who knows? Maybe he would learn how to develop his 'gift'. When they shook hands, Charles noticed that Neilen had a firm handshake as well. He liked it. One thing he detested about people was the kind that gave you a handshake but might just as well given you a dead bird to squish between your fingers. No, Neilen was different. Charles noticed the muscles and looked at the man again. He was very peculiar. He looked tough and big, while Charles was rather thin and not-so muscular. Then again, that was his way of hustling people. He looked harmless.

When they left the bar the sun seemed brighter and the world a little friendlier. But Charles reminded himself of the ugliness of people, their lies and greed. It was what he lived off, their greed. People did stupid things when they got the need for cash, drugs or women. It was up to his kind of people to keep them in line and learn them valuable lessons about life. You have to cheat or be cheated. Some never learned and died by their own hands, or by another man's hands. Sometimes both, but those were rare happenings.

Entering the cab, Charles felt at easy. He chatted a bit with Neilen, pointed out some sections of the city, asking if he knew people there and while they were driving, Charles suddenly gave his best dice to Neilen.

"These are really 'lucky'. Use them well. I've used them many times. Please accept them." He laughed shyily and then went on chattering and babbling pointing at various places and buildings. He was taking everything in and at the end of the ride, he knew, deep down there, that one day, he would run this city and that every thug, prostitute, policeman and citizen would know his name. Ambition. He never had a lot of it, but he was good at what he did. And he knew it. Now, he had been given an opportunity to improve and he would make good use of it.

Finishing what seemed to be another beer, Charles arrived at Neilen's appartement. They got out and Charles took his bag out of the cab. Slapping the rear of the car, he walked towards the door.

"Boy, am I a lucky kid."

[Ϛ Neilen Darkshire]

"You ain't kidding," Neilen replied, ducking his head out of the window of the taxi after paying the driver. Of course, Neilen didn't have any money on him, so 'paying' consisted of telling the driver to radio his supervisor and say that 'Neilen' was his fare. Neilen knew the guy who really owned the cab companies in town, so anyone higher up than a driver knew who he was by now. This effectively gave him a free ride, but he saw the look on the cabbie's face at losing a fare, and told the guy to come by later for double his pay. Neilen was a crook, sure, but ripping off the working class of their hard-earned money put a sour taste in his mouth, and he avoided it if he could.

He fingered the dice the kid had given him in his pocket as he walked to the building he called home. He wasn't much of a gambler, but he'd keep the dice on him anyway. For one thing, he never knew when he'd be in a pinch and need them, and for another, he saw it as a symbol of the relationship between the two of them. It was like a toned-down version of a wedding ring, he supposed. Not the sort of thing you throw in a drawer and forget about, anyway.

He nodded to the doorman, then at the kid, and the doorman, who had previously been tense as a spring in a vice, relaxed ever-so-slightly. He knew every single person who lived in the high-rise by name and by face, and he didn't like strangers coming in. The management had hired him, on Neilen's recommendation, for just these qualities, not knowing the man was a Gifted friend of Neilen's, in possession of both Eidetic Memory and Increased Muscular Growth. All they knew was that he kept troublemakers and solicitors out, was polite when it was called for, and didn't ask for more money out of them. They couldn't ask for much more in a doorman, and Neilen couldn't ask for much more by way of a warning system. Hell, half the staff at the building were handpicked by him for their unique abilities and unfaltering loyalty. This was the closest to a publicly advertised residence that he had, and as such, it had some pretty beefy security requirements. He hadn't had any trouble yet, though, so it seemed he'd been doing a good job.

They hit the elevators (operated by more of Neilen's employees), and Neilen said his farewells to the kid. "I've got a private elevator that goes straight to the penthouse suite," he explained. "You can still get to the penthouse on the main one, if you're in the system, but I prefer the quicker ride." He stepped into the mentioned express lift, and before the doors closed, gave the kid one final instruction. "Your room is the second on the right. By the time you get there, you'll be in the system, so just open the door and you're good. Enjoy your stay."

With that, he gave a quick wave/salute and the doors closed in front of him. If Charles was really paying attention, he'd notice that it didn't seem to be Neilen in the elevator just before the doors touched closed, but it was fleeting enough that he could attribute it to his eyes playing tricks on him if he felt so inclined.

Another elevator opened behind him and the operator nodded to Charles, seeming to already know who he was. His life as a respected and well-known gangster had officially begun, it would seem.

Feel free to roleplay him going to his apartment, or not. Up to you. The doors lock and unlock via instant fingerprint recognition when you touch the handles so he can get right in. The apartment looks something like this. And there will be a note in there saying if he needs to contact Neilen, he should phone the front desk and ask for him.