Graveyard Shift R1 Event Full

It's near the end of another long, slow day. You've all recently settled into your respective roles in the business and arguments have finally slowed to a more tolerable level. The restaurant and gym have only been open for a couple weeks now, and you're still struggling to find a regular clientelle. The gym had been empty all day, while the restaurant had seen a total of four parties, the last of which was still sitting in the booth closest to the restrooms. Three guys dressed in robes with large red collars; they were quiet enough, and almost disturbingly thankful and polite, but haven't ordered anything but water for over two hours now. Looking over at the group, you can't help but think if they'd just leave already you could close up early.

Outside the window, you notice the group is back again. Four rough looking types with shaved heads loitering in the street in front of the restaurant, each wearing a leather vest with some kind of symbol on the back. A sickle? A cloud? An egg? it's too poorly designed to make out. You remember telling them to scram a few days ago to disgruntled agreement, one of you is still steamed about sweeping up that bottle they smashed in protest. As much as you want to lay into these guys and make sure they don't come back, starting trouble in this district without knowing who you're dealing with is a quick way to paint a target on your back.

"Excuse us," The break of silence snaps you out of your revenge fantasizing. "Could we get one more round of drinks?"
You roll your eyes, just how much longer are these guys going to stick around? It's less than an hour to close, and you all could really use an early night tonight.

>A. "Of course, coming right up!" (Ignore the group outside for the sake of your clients.)
>B. "Look, we're about to close here." (Not-so-subtly ask the robed group to leave.)
>C. Ignore clients, deal with the group outside. (Specify which characters)
>D. Other (Please elaborate)

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>D. Other (or, in reality, all of the above)

William, just as tired as much as everyone else but not wanting to get into a confrontation, says "Of course, coming right up!" and starts pouring three more glasses of water to bring over to the robed trio. Meanwhile, Fira goes into the back and calls London and Byte over from Dukes, then returns to the restaurant to say "We're closing soon. You three need to finish up and go." London and Byte walk in, and Fira asks them to intimidate the hooligans outside, which they're both glad to do.

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The robed men thank William, but before they can get back to their conversation, are interrupted by Fira. The three of them look at each other with frustration, before turning to the manager.
"We are sorry if we have overstayed our welcome." The first explains in a friendly tone. "We are waiting for a..."
"A business partner to arrive," The second one interrupts. "He's unusually late, you see."
The third one holds up their phone. "He assures us he is almost here, we'll be gone soon. Again, very sorry to hold you up."
The three again turn in to each other and begin mumbling amongst themselves. From the tone, they seem a bit disappointed with the service.

Meanwhile, the group outside are laughing it up in the empty street. Between smacking each other around, they notice Byte and London exiting the restaurant with a glare on their faces. The uniformed group looks much more pathetic up close; three of them are twigs and the last has a beer gut. Your honed intuitions tell you they wouldn't be much in a fight. The group's laughter slowly dies down as they turn their heads, but none of them move from their formation on the boulevard. One of them cracks a smile.
"We'll take 4 beer, guv, chop chop!" The rest of them start laughing again and chime in:
"Fish us up some grub wif 'at 'air of yours, mate!"
"Cor, you fellas fight bulls in 'ere? Looks like you lost wif that shiner!"
"Whassa matter, sunshine? Gonna toss yer 'superpowers' at us wif that look?"
They settle back into their lack-of-business after the ribbing is over, jabbing each other in the arm in congratulatiory fashion.The mention of superpowers takes you back for a second, did they mean stand abilities? Do they know you all are stand users? Why would they be looking for users even if you were? Or did they just make a really, really lame taunt?

While in thought, you notice a tall, well-dressed figure crossing the street toward the restaurant.
>A. Intimidate the group, return the taunts, try to make them leave without a fight.
>B. Keep your 'powers' a secret for now, knock some heads the old fashioned way.
>C. Turn the approaching party away before you have an even bigger problem.
>D. Other (please specify)

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>D

Byte, wanting information from the group, rubs his eye as a signal to London to keep eyes on the situation using Sweet Light. Byte SAVEs himself and walks over to the men. Byte fans out 4 bills and asks them "These are yours if you tell us where you heard this crazy rumor, it might scare away customers."

London leans back, closes his eyes, and uses Sweet Light to switch POV from the inside of the restaurant, a face on the bill facing the storefront, and face on a bill facing the men.

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Upon seeing the bills, all four members of the group jump to their feet and give Byte their undevided attention, the beer bellied one taking point. "Ain't no rumor, guv; word from up on high, it is. The Queen of the Slums herself be huntin' superhero types, prob'ly on account of 'em Temple lads."

"They worship that kinda bollocks, y'see." One of the twigs chime in. "Load of rubbish, says I."
Another twig jabs the first in the ribs. "Whot y'mean rubbish? 'Aven't y'seen the alleyway back of Ol' Barry's place? Ev'rythin' floatin' around like yer in space."

"You git, d'ya really believe in 'em child rumors? Just 'cause they got it all boarded off don't mean it's 'mAGiC'." A miniature fight breaks out in the peanut gallery. You seriously start to question the group's collective IQ. The leader starts again.

"Them Bakker blokes sent the word out months ago, payin' good money for leads, too." You can see the gears slowly starting up in his head as he leers inquisitively into Byte's face.  "Now why would such a thing go scarin' yer customers away, eh? Got somefin' to tell--"

A massive hand lands on the leader's shoulder from behind, causing him to freeze. The man in the suit had arrived, nearly 7 feet tall with a face tattooed with shading around the cheeks and chin to look very angular. "Haven't we already discussed harassing the local businesses, Percy?"

The leader rejoins his group on a flash, laughing sheepishly as they back away. "N-no harm bein' done, Mr. Kilroy, sir, j-just welcomin' me new mates to the block is all."

"Oh, so you're trying to put me out of a job now, are you?" The huge suited man roared, causing the group to make a hasty retreat down the nearest alley. He laughs nearly as loud as his roar. He turns to Byte, still holding the bills he offered for the information. "Don't mind them, they're a pretty big joke around here. Are, uhh, you folks still open?"
>A. There's time for a drink, you suppose. Be a good host and let him in.
>B. Turn him away, politely or otherwise. You want this day to end, already.
>C. Other (please specify)

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>A. There's time for a drink, you suppose. Be a good host and let him in.

London, interested in the sheer bizarreness of the situation and what might come out of it, stands up straight to answer the man's question. "We are, in fact. Come on inside if you want." He wants to know where this will go.

Byte, witnessing London talk to the man while he walks up to stand beside him, decides to go along with it. There isn't much the two of them together can't handle, after all.

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The man sighs in relief, nods, and reaches for the door, holding it open for the two. As they all enter, the three robed men stand the instant they see the new patron, leaving their booth for the first time in over two hours to greet him. "Kilroy, my friend, we were beginning to get worried! Are you alright?"

The suited man chuckles, wiping the front of his dark suit as if trying to hide something. Eyes drawn to the area, you notice a few speckles of blood on his lapel. "I'm real sorry, Elders, got caught up in a Domestic up near Ol' Barry's place. You know how the Boss is about that kind of shit."

The three nod. "Serve and protect, of course. Sorry to rush you, but do you have the package? It's rather late and I believe we have overstayed our welcome." The three cast an apoligetic look toward the manager before bowing deeply. The suited man turns slowly to see the accused. His brow furls, turning back with a manila envelope from his jacket and handing it to the three. They bow again as one hides it away. "As always, the Temple thanks you for your support."

"And as always, it's our pleasure. I suppose a friendly drink will have to wait until next time." The four exchange goodbyes before the hooded men finally exit the restaurant. An awkward silence fills the air for a few seconds.

"You all are new here, so I'll explain," The huge man begins wandering through the restaurant, appeasing the decor as he speaks in a deep, clearly angry tone. "The Temple runs charities all over the place. Folks around here owe them a lot, so we expect them to be treated like VIPs." He stops in his tracks, about to begin poking at the grand piano hanging from the rafters, spinning in place with a sudden smile. "Right, introduction. My name is Kilroy, I am your... 'Representative' for the Bakker Syndicate in this precinct. Welcome to our district." He claps his hands together loudly, looking over the employees expectantly.
>A. Ask Kilroy some questions. (up to three, it's getting really late)
>B. Offer the Bakker boy something, may as well be hospitable.
>C. Thank him and push him out the door already.
>D. Other (please specify)

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>A. Ask Kilroy some questions.

Fira folds her arms. 'I don't like to be kept in the dark. What do you and the syndicate want from us?'

William chimes in. 'You said those people were from the temple... do you follow the temple's faith?'

London finds a lull in the conversation and speaks up. 'Those people outside mentioned something about the 'Queen of the Slums'. Who is she?'

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Kilroy snaps his fingers into a gun gesture pointing at Fira, continuing the oddly jovial mood swing. "Loyalty! You operate on our turf, we expect you to play by our rules. In return, we keep law n'order and make sure you get what you need to keep this place running." He leans on the round table closest to the door and takes in a good long panoramic look of the oddly decorated room. "It's easy, really. Just keep your nose clean, maybe do an errand here or there if asked, and treat your fellow man wi--" His eyes stop on Shelldrake, purched up in the rafters above him. Kilroy clears his throat. "Err, fellow residents with respect."  He turns his attention back to Fira, finishing in a less playful, more sincere tone. "We keep our business to ourselves, and just ask you do the same. The people around here have been through enough without the city ignoring them like it does; we're just tryin' to keep the lights on."

Again, Kilroy fires off a finger gun, this time toward William. Noticing his jumpy disposition earlier, he can't help but tease the poor kid a little. "NO!" He shouts very suddenly, pausing for a second to take in his reaction before smiling and putting his hands up in apology. "Never been one for a higher power, myself. Though to their credit, if there's any city to be preachin' the mysterious ways of god, Fortuna's the one." He shrugs. "No one can leave the city limits, there's alleyways with no gravity, apparently even some fuckers are walkin' around with super powers. Maybe I'm the crazy one for not believin'." He pauses, brow furled, and wags a finger in the air, apparently to himself. "Reminds me, you see anyone throwin' fire or somethin' like that, you make sure you give me a call. Boss has a reward out for any leads."
Leaning back on his table again, Kilroy stares London down with a dead expression for a few seconds before having a quick chuckle. "I wouldn't go callin' her that if you like where your knees are, 'specially not lately." He shakes his head. "Boss doesn't like people throwing her name around, and I doubt she'd appreciate a biography by yours truly either, even if I did know enough to tell you one." He scans each employee briefly, looking into their eyes as if to establish some vague resemblance of unspoken trust. "They used to call her "The Gambler", back before she took over. They say she was some kind of hitman that went nuts, took down all the big players in the slums personally in a single night and combined their gangs into the Syndicate." His cold, dead-serious tone is suddenly broken with a laugh. "That's some bullshit, right? I don't believe most of it myself. Alls I know is I call her Boss, and I recommend you all do the same."

>A. Thank Kilroy for the info and close down for the night.
>B. Other (please specify)

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>B. Other

Most members begrudgingly thank Kilroy for being straightforward and answering questions. As Kilroy is about to leave, Byte steps out from behind him and holds the door open, but only just enough where Kilroy would still touch it as he leaves. Byte puts BRB to the door and SAVEs the door and Kilroy as a group on contact. London continues to watch Kilroy through any eye iconography on the street and keep an eye for anything muttered or said; he can read lips via Pattern Recognition 4.

Upon successfully SAVEing Kilroy, Byte would go to a computer and view his 3-D model through his save file. Allowing the team to search through Kilroy's pockets after he had long gone.

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Suddenly, a muffled series of words can be heard in the room. "All units be advised, robbery in progress at Kendo's near the western bridge, assistance has been requested." Kilroy's eyes roll as he reaches inside his jacket and pulls a handheld CB radio to his mouth. "Copy that dispatch, I'm on my way." Returning the radio, the Bakker rep claps his hands again, rising from his spot against the table one more time with a beaming smile. "Well class, sounds like we're dismissed for tonight. I hope this was as enlightening to you as much as it was to me." Looking knowingly over his new acquaintances, the suited gangster heads for the door with a long stride, nodding to Byte as he pulls the door open but grimaces as he is forced to finish opening it himself. Clicking his tongue, he spins in place in the doorframe to face them all one last time, again with a wide smile. "You know, I should really bring the boss by here sometime, I really think she'd love the place.." His smile slowly disappears, tone once again shifting one-eighty into a cold, threatening warning as he thousand-yard-stares at the wall infront of him. "For your sake, I hope your food is better than your service." With that, Kilroy vanishes from the doorframe into the night, bell above the door jingling one last time to signal the end of another day.

London sees the gangster pass by a series of old bus advertisements, heading west from the restaurant in a light jog. He has an old cell phone up to his ear: "...estaurant on the west side, donation was given without incident. ...A Domestic across from Barry's place, took a bit longer than I planned. ...No, the scumbag won't be causin' her any more trouble, you know me. ...Yeah, all three of them left the place with it. You might like it there, boss, the decor is-- ...A bit fuckin' out there, but they seem on the level. ...Yeah, heading there now...." He turns down an alley and out of sight.
Upon review of the 3D model, you don't see much of note outside of some heavy armament; a telescoping baton spattered with blood, a clean knife holstered above his right foot, a fully loaded semi-auto pistol in a shoulder holder, and a pair of what look to be stun grenades. The only other objects on his person are the radio, a very populated keyring, a phone, a wallet, and what looks to be a freshly severed finger wrapped in a hand towel.

You feel much better about your decision to not antagonize him.

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SCENE END.