Post by The Marquess on Apr 18, 2017 18:12:42 GMT
The Marquess sat quietly at his desk, looking at the documents that had been brought to him, reporting his men's activities and achievements. After dealing with Kesa, his men had gone to the remaining gang members as requested. Some of them had been a bit more compliant than their late boss, and had agreed to work for him. Of course, there were those that were upset over Kesa's death and had demanded revenge. The plan had been to simply eliminate them, but then another option was presented to him. Simply give out their information to the local gangs that they had crossed. Let them turn their anger on those poor bastards, while the Marquess snatched up the properties the late gang had taken. And it was working. With him providing a more reasonable alternative to those violence happy thugs, the establishments were turning their protection money over to him, and with the gangs distracted, it was mostly going off without a hitch.
The door to his office opened and a young Brenchian woman, who the Marquess had employed as a secretary, entered with some more papers for him. "Here's the rest of the reports sir. Everything seems to be going smoothly with the acquisitions. Though one of the gangs seems to be trying to take back its business." The Marquess glanced up from his work to see her. "Is that so? Well, no matter. We've already increased our capitol, and our workforce with this little venture. What's one lost business that wasn't even ours to begin with? Though I'm curious, which gang was it?" If they were savvy enough to not fall for the distraction the Marquess had set up, then they were someone worth keeping an eye on. The secretary looked at the papers. "They're called the Cold Front sir, headed by an Arcosian pirate named IseBocks. They had their headquarters here and racketeering's only a minor operation for them. They specialize in smuggling and...oh..." The woman paused, unsure what to say. The Marquess glanced up at her, curious as to what caused the pause. Noticing her boss' gaze through his mask, she gulped. "And...trafficking sir...of the sentient variety..."
The Marquess paused as the words sank in, and reconfigured themselves in his mind. Trafficking of the sentient variety. It was clear she was uncomfortable about saying what it really said in front of him.
Slavery.
"Is that right?" The Marquess' voice had a cold, sharp edge to it. One that sent a shiver down the Brenchian woman's spine. There was one thing in this universe that immediately put anyone on the Marquess' bad side, and that was slavery. He made it a point never to practice that in his organization, and anyone caught indulging in it was terminated...often very brutally. And the Cold Front had now shot up to number two on the Marquess' hit list. "Kireem, tell me. How are my men doing out in the field right now with their assignments?" The Brenchian woman trembled as she fumbled through the papers. "Th-They're all finishing up now sir. They should be back any minute now."
The Marquess nodded, rising from his desk. "Good. Inform them I wish to see them all once they're here. I have another job for them all. One I wish to see to personally."
The door to his office opened and a young Brenchian woman, who the Marquess had employed as a secretary, entered with some more papers for him. "Here's the rest of the reports sir. Everything seems to be going smoothly with the acquisitions. Though one of the gangs seems to be trying to take back its business." The Marquess glanced up from his work to see her. "Is that so? Well, no matter. We've already increased our capitol, and our workforce with this little venture. What's one lost business that wasn't even ours to begin with? Though I'm curious, which gang was it?" If they were savvy enough to not fall for the distraction the Marquess had set up, then they were someone worth keeping an eye on. The secretary looked at the papers. "They're called the Cold Front sir, headed by an Arcosian pirate named IseBocks. They had their headquarters here and racketeering's only a minor operation for them. They specialize in smuggling and...oh..." The woman paused, unsure what to say. The Marquess glanced up at her, curious as to what caused the pause. Noticing her boss' gaze through his mask, she gulped. "And...trafficking sir...of the sentient variety..."
The Marquess paused as the words sank in, and reconfigured themselves in his mind. Trafficking of the sentient variety. It was clear she was uncomfortable about saying what it really said in front of him.
Slavery.
"Is that right?" The Marquess' voice had a cold, sharp edge to it. One that sent a shiver down the Brenchian woman's spine. There was one thing in this universe that immediately put anyone on the Marquess' bad side, and that was slavery. He made it a point never to practice that in his organization, and anyone caught indulging in it was terminated...often very brutally. And the Cold Front had now shot up to number two on the Marquess' hit list. "Kireem, tell me. How are my men doing out in the field right now with their assignments?" The Brenchian woman trembled as she fumbled through the papers. "Th-They're all finishing up now sir. They should be back any minute now."
The Marquess nodded, rising from his desk. "Good. Inform them I wish to see them all once they're here. I have another job for them all. One I wish to see to personally."