| Smoke And Mirrors; Showdown 8, Rp 1 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 7 2007, 08:04 PM (144 Views) | |
| Jack | Dec 7 2007, 08:04 PM Post #1 |
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sVo Champion
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It must be stated that like many businessmen, Jimmy Moretti kept two offices. The first the viewers of the Sanctioned Violence Organizeation were already familier with; it was the smaller, tastefully decorated room where superstars like Mike Polowy and Spring-Heeled Jack had often shot promos. This was also the room where Jimmy conducted most of his serious business, as evidenced by the banged up fileing cabinets and sociopathic secratary. It was nicely peaceful in there as well, tucked as it was within the labierynthine coridors of the sVo's backstage area. So it was with more than a little curiosity that Jack walked to a meeting in the second office. This second workspace was a grand, overdone place. Jack had been there only once before, during the tour given to all new hires. The central feature was of course, Jimmy's desk. Unlike the battered and scarred thing that took up most of the working office, this was a set piece. It was a massive wooden thing that stood raised on thick, clawed legs. It's top was a single, smooth plane of glass that could be written on without any bumps or divits. Behind this behemoth desk loomed Jimmy's chair; a high-backed, leather monstrosity that had asperations of being a throne. This whole set up was placed on a dias at one end of the room, some ten inches or so above the rest of the floor. As a result, the desk took on the appearance of a heavy alter. Perched behind it Jimmy could easily look the part of some dark priest; ready to sacrifice anyone to his ambitions. Below this, on the regular floor of the space, sat a long table. Chairs were placed strategically around it, ready for a board meeting. It was always an even number of seats, so that Jimmy would be the deciding vote in all things. All in all a room designed to impress. If a visitor could tear his gaze from the decor, he'd be impressed by the floor to cieling windows commanding a splendid view of the desert. This was a room that spoke if the wealth of the Moretti empire, and how a prospective partner could share in that wealth. Jack pushed open the door slowly. It swung smoothly with a muted fwoosh over the plush maroon carpet. The dark jester slipped inside and stopped short. Moretti was already speaking to someone. "Charlie, I just had a long conversation with our accountants. Do you know what they told me?" Jimmy was saying as he cut the tip off a cigar. A tall man in a cheap suit and an expensive haircut faced the desk. He was flanked by a pair of nondescript Moretti family goons. This didn't seem to phaze him much. He responeded calmly to his boss: "No sir." Moretti struck a long wooden match and began to puff on the cigar. When it's cherry glowed red he snuffed the match and looked at his subordinate. "They told me that someone had been taking an unauthorized bonus on the slot machine earnings." Charlie swallowed hard, but made no other comment. "Five percent, to be exact. Five percent of the total take over... I'm horrible with numbers, how long was it again Edward?" The goomba on Charlie's right answered: "Eight-hundred seventy-eight days, twelve hours," Edward checked his watch, "Sixteen minutes." "At two deposits a week, roughly ten million a month. Edward, what does that work out to?" Jimmy asked, without taking his eyes off Charlie. "Twenty-seven million, two hundred eighty thousand dollars and seventeen cents." Jimmy took a long pull on his cigar. "Where's the money Charlie?" Weather it was Jimmy's formidable reputation or just being forced to stand so close to Edward, Charlie began to break down. "Mr. Moretti, I can explain..." "Not. Interested. Charlie." Jimmy bit off the words, "You've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, it's time to reap the reward." "Shall we handle it in the usual fashion, Mr. Moretti?" Edward asked over his co-worker's pleas. Jimmy leaned back in his seat. "Living in this city is expensive. But with every twelve-year-old that can afford to buy or steal a hip-hop CD concealing a gun in the pants that they wear around their knees death has become cheap. It's not something to inspire good behavior any more. "Our forebearers were fond of saying: Let the punishment fit the crime. An eye for an eye and all that." Jimmy looked thoughtfully at the now blubbering Charlie. "Since he stole from my one-armed bandits, let him become one." "Sir?" Jimmy got up from his desk and stalked down to the three men. Edward and the silent man had to grab Charlie as he tried to bolt when Jimmy drew near. Moretti looked down at the sobbing, struggleing man. "I'm afraid to tell you that you're about to have a woodchipper accident, Charlie. It's a good thing you got all that insurance through the casino, isn't it?" Jimmy looked at Edward; "Make sure you take off his wedding ring first. It'd kill his wife if anything were to happen to it." "Yes sir." Edward acknowledged his boss. Charlie was dragged away through the office doors. Jimmy looked up and frowned at Jack as the thugs passed him. "I'm sorry you had to see that Jack." Moretti told him. It was utter bullshit of course. Moretti didn't make mistakes like that. He knew when Jack would get there, and that there would be a camera trailing the superstar. This way the whole episode would be on TV, and the world would think it was just a stunt to cement Moretti's mobster image. Jack had no doubt that there would soon be a one-armed security goon posted far, far away from the slot machines. This ranked with Moretti's "weakness" for gambleing and how Jon Page had come to be part owner of the brand. What better way to secure your assets against your enemies than to share in the the profits? Enough so that hurting your nemisis hurts you just as badly? Jack could only shake his head in wonder. Mike claimed Jack lived in a world of smoke and mirrors, but Jimmy Moretti created those worlds. Jack snapped back to the here and now: "You called me up here boss?" "Yes, you see it's been brought to my attention that there is an unanticipated angle to the upcoming Hardcore match. It seems that you and Hollywood Howie Banks feuded in another federation." Jimmy's hard, gray eyes bore down on Jack. "Yes sir. He came out second best in that debacle." "Did he? Good. Let us hope that it doesn't affect his judging the match this week." Another bullshit statement. Jimmy was playing to the camera, dropping hints. But to Jack he was clearly saying that he wanted something to happen. This was to be more than just a match, this was going to be an event. On the surface Jack only nodded to the tinkleing of silver jester bells. "Let's hope." |
| The Dark Jester... | |
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6:55 PM Jul 11