Ask Coruscant Enter Gomorrah

[Frantz Lorsoni]

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CALAMARI SEAFOOD

Coruscant was always too dark. Level 1313, home of the illustrious Calamari Seafoods, was eternally shrouded in a cloak of night. Only the hideous, neon lights refracted across the polluted air provided a semblance of ambient light in the underground hovel that many called home. Frantz Lorsoni was now, unfortunately, one of those people. He remembered his meeting with his father, an irrelevant and loyal member of the Lorsoni clan, where he was ordered to the planet.

"Frantz, the family needs you to operate on Coruscant. There's a lotta Corellians there now, capiche? New business opportunities."

They had never shared an especially close relationship. Frantz had tried to protest, to find an excuse that let him stay on Corellia indefinitely. On Corellia, the family made life easy: Restaurants always had tables open for him, he could always find the best spice or wine in any city, and the beaches...che bella! Seas that stretched beyond the pale of imagination, fish so fresh it would slap your mother in the mouth, that was what Frantz had grown accustomed to.

Not this flash-frozen, vat-grown scaly cazzate. Frantz poked at the fish on his plate sadly, before taking a deep breath and biting. It was...surprisingly good. The chef must have made it special for him, he reasoned: Maybe the Lorsoni name did command some respect out here, after all. And the mushrooms, locally grown, were just divine in their sauce. Was that a hint of behot he tasted, too? Che figo!

He patted the corners of his mouth with a synthweave napkin, delicately, to avoid getting any sauce on his suit. He checked the time, anxiously: Today was an important day. It could serve as an official announcement of their presence on Coruscant, if they weren't careful. Everything had to be perfect. He glanced once more at the time, deciding to stave off his anxiety by filling out the daily crossword on his datapad.

@Eccles @Nor'baal

 

[Beto Lorsoni]

The bitter taste of caf lingered in his mouth as Beto watched his younger cousin play with his fish, "Freight captain said it was caught on Mon Cal, believe it or not," he said as he displayed his signature melancholy smile. "fresh off the ship," much like they were. Frantz, him and his brother. Beto had never trusted the fish that came from Corellia itself. The planet was way too polluted to have fish swimming in its seas that could still be depended on not bringing disease with them. No, it was better getting it fresh from planets like Mon Cal. The trick, ofcourse, was to have the freighter refuel at the same refueling station in the Mid Rim where a certain smuggler had just delivered a shipment of spice. Do the old switch-trick and their seafood order didn't just deliver fish anymore.

He sighed as his eyes, too, glanced at the time. "Tone's late," he stated with a sigh and a shake of his head. "Thought they'd at least teach punctuality in the kriffing army," the mocking sound was intentional, after all, his cousin had served in the armed forces as well.

From an ocean view apartment in Coronet City to a dark filthy diner in the bowels of an Ecumenopolis. Kriff. At least it was better than the prison ship, but still.. their uncle couldn't have gifted them something classy in the upper levels instead? Nice penthouse, four-star restaurant and a couple of Twi'leks to warm their beds. Those things would've been nice, but instead it was this diner and a simple kriffing order: go establish a presence on Coruscant.

@Fine Dining Set @Nor'baal

 

[Frantz Lorsoni]

"Freight captain said it was caught on Mon Cal, believe it or not, fresh off the ship,"

Frantz rolled his eyes. "That captain's been chewing the luna-weed a little too much, if you catch my drift." In reality, Frantz had no idea if the freight captain was honest or lying. He was in a new environment, though, and a healthy amount of distrust would be warranted. Can't go around smiling in everyone's faces here; who knew what eyes were watching them in their own diner. With that uneasy thought, he brought his hand down to his waistband and rested it on his blaster pistol. DC17 - a little, common gun. Perfect for self defense, and barely traceable. Just having it on him made him feel safer, here. With his opposite hand, he set down his data pad and picked up the caf. They drank it...differently...here. But he appreciated the change - he had grown accustomed to little, bitter shots of caffeine that he barely enjoyed. His drink was rich, aromatic, and sweet; it practically hugged his throat as he drank it. "At least this is different."

"Tone's late, thought they'd at least teach punctuality in the kriffing army." Frantz smirked at his cousin's jab, showing off his pearly whites. When he was younger, he always had a gold crown on one of his teeth. A sign of good fortune, he thought, that he could be so flashy without consequence. Now he was in a stinking diner in Coruscant. The Lorsoni men were both feeling it - both grieving their lives on Corella. Beto, of course, got locked up for some years - anywhere was better than a FWA prison ship. Frantz imagined Beto wanted to return to that life, where it was so much easier. Frantz believed Beto had even earned a break, after the bad luck that got him in prison for years. But, the family always comes first.

"You think an army could teach Tone how to get somewhere on time? Fuggedaboutit. That goombah moves to the beat of his own drum." He took another long sip of his coffee. "Anyways, I can just get started without him. I've been scouting out locations for the business - figured we'd do a couple of tours today, meet the current owners, see if we can't work out some kind of deal?" Frantz set his coffee cup down and slid his datapad across the diner table. The familiar, blue color of a holoprojection lit up, showing a map of Coruscant. On it were three cherry-red pin points, attached to 3 different holo-renderings of smoke-churning skyscrapers. "I'm thinking we look in the neighborhoods on this level with heavy industrial zoning. Less residential in the first place, so fewer prying eyes from our friends in CorSec." Funnily enough, the same acronym for his homeworld's famous police force worked for Coruscant. At least he didn't have to change his vocabulary. "And, this way, no one will be around to complain about the smell of vinegar and blurrgh piss when we start working." He had only been in a spice manufacturing den once, the smell alone was enough to deter him. He burned the suit he wore that day afterwards. A shame, he had really liked it.

Which reminded him. "Say, Beto, when's the last time you bought a new suit, huh? You look like you've been locked in a shoebox for the last four years." He laughed, quickly typing into his datapad across the table. The map flickered out, replaced by the bright image of a model wearing an intricately tailored suit. He gestures to various parts of the outfit, making loud "ooh" and "aah" sounds as he points at different parts of its cut. "This is from a Corellian tailor, she's living on Coruscant these days. A little closer to the surface than us, but still not too far away. I'm thinking, after we finish our business today, we get you some new clothes, eh?" He reached across the table, patting his dour cousin on the shoulder. "I just bought a box of Chandilan cigarras, too. C'mon, let's do something besides work tonight, huh? When's the last time Beto Lorsoni had a good time?"

@Eccles @Nor'baal

 

[Beto Lorsoni]

Beto listened to his cousin's plan and instinctively nodded. "Locations look good," he said in an approving tone of voice. He knew that Frantz was new to this life and hadn't had the years of cooking up synthetic spice under his belt as he had. Still, it was nice that the lawyer actually shows up to do the dirty work for once. It was important that the building for their first proper lab was easily accessibly by nondescript transport speeders, preferably large enough so the speeder could drive or fly inside, and that prying eyes could be spotted by their own lookouts. Beto figured they could pay the KnowOnes to help with the latter, but again, his uncle didn't want the association with the Crymorah Syndicate right now and so that was out of the question.

What Frantz said next prompted a heavy frown on Beto's face, "bought a new suit?" he repeated incrediously and then watched -partly stunned- how his cousin switched the holo from the map to an image of a model in an intricately tailored suit. "You want to stand out or what?" Beto waved his hand in dismissal. It was always the way for established families to dress the part, but that was back on Corellia when dressing up signals to everyone around you that you were exactly that, a member of an established family, and CorSec had to think twice before standing in your way. On Coruscant is was probably best to not draw too much attention to themselves yet, although, thinking about it, this was the infamous level 1313 already. "If you stop making those noises, ever. I'll consider it."

Although his cousin's attempts to brighten up Beto's sullen disposition, which some get through prison isolation, their spirit being far less unbreakable than they believed when they were younger, were obvious, he did appreciate it. "We buy the place for our operation today and then we'll celebrate, okay? Figure out what all the fuss is about this level's nightlife."

@Fine Dining Set @Nor'baal

 

[Frantz Lorsoni]

Frantz frowned. No new suits? Couscant was, at the very least, known for its high-society nightlife; it was a place where flashing some money around, especially in the form of nice duds. Beto, of course, was right. Announcing themselves before they had really built the business was a foolish decision - a signal to the local toughs that there were new, weak competition in town. Keeping their heads down, however they could, was a smart decision. He would defer to his older cousin's experience. And when Beto's disposition changed for the better, he would return to his cheesy grin.

Frantz's eyes kept drifting towards the door, though. He had never been this deep in...unknown territory. There was little risk to speaking here; it was their establishment, and the diner was nearly empty except for the staff. He was made at this point, with all of the gruseomeness that entailed, but it still felt nerve-wracking. He decided to chat to fill the time - Beto had approved his initiative earlier. He decided to lean into that, talking about more of the prep work he had done. Maybe it would also help convince the brothers that he belonged with them - he was an asset to the family. Maybe it was to convince himself.

"I'm gonna hold you to that, cuzzo. Already heard about a club in New Ryloth." He looked down at his own suit, briefly adjusting its misaligned black collar before continuing. "Anyways. I pulled some strings, got connected with a buddy from the Legal Corps. He's barrister on Coruscant, now; some district higher than...this." He used his fork to gesture around the diner. "We get to talking, and he offers to write a letter of recommendation to the district's Bar Association. He put me on the fast track to have my license transferred here. So, I got these made." Frantz reached into his grey jacket's pockets, pulling forth a handful of business cards that bore his tagline. FRANTZ DUO - Attorney At Law - Honor | Purpose | Service. He fanned them out to his cousin. "Anything ever happens to you. I'm talking CorSec sticks its nose into your business, or a terrible accident happens and something needs cleaning up, you call this number, yeah? Goes straight to the office." He offered another pat on the shoulder to Beto before settling back into his coffee.

@Eccles @Nor'baal

 

[Beto Lorsoni]

New Ryloth, eh? Beto smirked as that reminded him of the Twi'lek he'd been dating before he got busted. There weren't many species in the galaxy that knew greater mistreatment than them and yet they continued to thrive in the very industries they were enslaved to participate in for millennia. Whether or not they got in the profession by choice, somehow they managed to always make it more believable than when you visited a Zeltron parlor. Zeltron pheromones as they are, Beta always had a hard time believing the intoxication he felt was real. It felt a bit like getting poisoned..

..and he'd know. Roughly eight years ago the Lorsoni Crime Family got into some beef with the Crimson Dawn over a building project on Corellia. Now, Vivienne Donatade wasn't known for playing nice but getting drugged with an overdose of Gliterryll-laced soup was still a kriffing surprise. Took three months of cleansing and that Systech detox adrenal to finally be free of the withdrawal symptoms.

Regardless, Beto took Frantz' card and looked at it with raised -clearly impressed- eyebrows. "You know what," the older mobster smiled as he tapped the card and put it in the left inside pocket of his jacket, "to my brother and I, you're a Lorsoni." full stop. It didn't matter what Frantz' last name was. He had their blood and he was a made man in the family now. "You'll be the first I call," he made a show of looking at all the empty chairs and booths in Calamari Seafood, "Because kriffing Tone is always karking late."


@Fine Dining Set @Nor'baal

 

[Toni Lorsoni]

Thirty Minutes Earlier....

+++ BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE....

"Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee....." a hand slammed down on the alarm clock "Fuck!" shouted the broad Corellian tones of the half-naked man lying face down in his bed, an arm draped over him and a hangover that could have made a Hutt bedridden.

"The hell are yous?" he drooled at the young lady next to him, extracting himself from her arm as he stood and put on his shirt and jacket, rubbing his eyes and remembering what he needed to do. "Go on, get outta here." he drooled, throwing a handful of credit chits at her, as she scampered out of the room. Toni Lorsoni could not remember much about the previous evening, his first on Coruscant, aside from the fact that he had doled out a beating to some schmuck who'd made fun of his scar, and then ended up in - well, wherever the hell this was.

He pulled on his boots, and then suddenly realised he was meant to be meeting Beto and Frantz.

"Oh fu...."

---

Now....

A loud crash by the main door heralded the arrival of Toni Lorsoni to the family joint as he pushed his way through the door, and fell over a trash can. Catching himself before he spiralled into the floor, he swore loudly "Who the f..." he grabbed a passing droid "This your smart idea sparky? Huh? Pick that shit up." he spat into the droids faceplate and turned away, catching the eye of a large man in one of the booths, sat with his equally large son "The fuck you looking at?" he snarled, before spotting his brother, which lightened up his mood no end.

"Hey, Beto!" Toni shouted across the room, walking over and grabbing Beto in a bear hug "How you finding life outside your cage buddy?"

 

[Frantz Lorsoni]

Frantz laughed heartily, slamming his hands onto the table. He was a member of the family. His cousins knew that, he assured himself. "Ay, be easy to the big man. We're lucky if Tone is even still on Coruscant." He smiled again, retracting his business cards after Beto took one. "And thanks, Beto. It means a lo-" There was suddenly a commotion outside the diner. Frantz became alert, his hand back on his pistol, as he listened intently to the uproar outside. Then it spilled inside: Toni. Frantz sighed a breath of relief as the ever-bombastic brother stepped into their bar.

Frantz smiled, looking at the strange pair of brothers as they said theirs hellos. They were always a curious pair - Beto's natural dourness providing a perfect counter for Toni's unending, rambunctious energy. Wonder if that's the reason things shook out the way they did - Beto in prison and Toni in the Army. Sure, Toni could be...insubordinate, but it was obviously superior to being sent away to an FWA prison ship. The big brother had to take the heavier rap, and Beto did it with flying colors. With Toni's attitude, he could've wound up with 42 shiv marks lined up nicely in his back.

Now wasn't the time to linger on such dark things, though. There was a reunion happening before his eyes. Frantz flashed a smile at his cousin. "Good to see ya, Tone." He sat back in his seat, allowing the brothers a moment to catch up. Another sip of his coffee. Today was a good day, after all.

@Nor'baal @Eccles

 

[Beto Lorsoni]

There was a comfort and calm professionalism in the conversation between Frantz and Beto, something the latter preferred as he exhaled smoke and let his tongue glide over the caf-bitterness that lingered in his mouth. All of which were things he had missed during his imprisonment and he had perhaps learned to appreciate more in the absence of proper-

-Beto grinned as he shook his head towards Tone (@Nor'baal). "You're late," he playfully reprimanded his little brother as he rose to his feet and accepted the hug from him, "What cage? Durasteel walls of a prison ship or the durasteel walls of this kriffing cesspool?" A sharp comment of displeasure over their assignment to Coruscant escaped him before he fully realized it himself. It was something only his brother could illicit from him. To make up for it, Beto suddenly laughed it off and waved with his hand as if it was just an offhanded joke. "Frantz picked a place to start," the older mobster quickly changed topic, "Get your caf on the go," he turned to Frantz (@Fine Dining Set), "Get up."

If he knew the boss, which he did, then he knew that their first monthly report back to Corellia couldn't be a "we're working on it". They needed to get a space and they needed get a synthetic spice lab up and running before the end of the month or one of their uncle's enforcers would come down on them with more than just stern words. Being related by blood wasn't an excuse for poor performance.

@Fine Dining Set @Nor'baal

 

[Toni Lorsoni]

"Well you heard him, c'mon -" Toni slapped his hand on the table as a takeaway caf was slid across the bar-top to him. He avoided taking a sip right away, having scolded his mouth on a hot cafe on more than one occasion. "Where we headed then Frantz? You angling for some," he made a crude pumping gesture with his arm and winked "- or some sniff?"

As the man most likely did not immediately laugh, Toni looked downtrodden for a second and nudged Frantz "Lighten up Pal, I mean look at this place." he said loudly, walking back out through the front door "It ain't piss you smell, it's opportunity pal." he laughed again, boundlessly jovial despite their surroundings.

Deep down he was pleased to no longer be serving at Corellias pleasure, rather at his own.

But he was also very much aware that if the credits didn't start coming in, they had nothing - and the family back home would not tolerate failure. When one of you went to jail, and the other probably should have, the boss back home expected the best, and they would give it to him.

 

[Frantz Lorsoni]

Frantz rose wordlessly, fixed his suit, and moved towards the door. The boys were starting to get anxious. Best to get a move on. "I'll drive."

He hopped into his speeder, a vintage SoroSuub muscle speeder. It was polished so bright the trio could see their reflections in it as they approached - stood out from their dank surroundings. Evidently, Frantz hadn't yet digested the message about laying low. Sullustans knew how to make a strong speeder, Frantz had always reckoned; their landspeeders lit a fire in the driver's heart. It was what driving was all about.

Frantz hopped in the front seat and beeped the horn twice. "Hop in, lets get a move on." Once the pair had entered - Frantz was curious as to who would ride shotgun - he took off. After repeating the message he had earlier told to Beto, he continued on with business. Fast Corellian jazz played quietly on the car's speakers, its frantic, at times off-kilter, notes providing a soundtrack to the fast and furious life back on their homeworld.

"One of the places I scoped out, I think we go to it first: An abandoned fish-vat factory. They would grow lab-enhanced fish by the thousands, use the place to slaughter and ship them all across the level. Old owner went bankrupt, now the property is squatted in by some skag addicts. I figure, we're still just restaurateurs here, yeah? Makes sense that we would be looking into a local distribution center for Mon Calamari Seafood."

Two cars veered in front of theirs, flying wildly as blaster bolts flew from the two other vehicles. The haphazard shootout was marred by the gunners' inability to aim, putting all but their targets at risk. Frantz leaned on his horn and veered out of the way, flying down a different alley as he cried out in shock and annoyance "Bafangu chooch! This shithole is an opportunity all right, Tone. For an early grave." He spit out a window and took a moment to regain his composure. "Needs real order here. Not just local toughs high-off-their-minds on hooch and spice running loose in the streets."

Frantz continued to drive without incident until they reached their destination: A dreary-looking, abandoned warehouse building deep in The Works. It was relatively small compared to the rest of the streetscape - also filled with a variety of different industrial building, all in a disparate state that veered between "barely operating" to "completely abandoned." Sure, there were some legitimate businesses there: Shipping trucks moved unknown product out of the back alley while Frantz found a nice place to park. Locals knew that these buildings would periodically get cleaned out - by CorSec, by gang interests, by corporate industry - and returned to productive use. But they had a life-cycle; all returned to the dreck from which they emerged, eventually.

The windows to their building were completely boarded, covering broken glass and rusted wire that could have sat untouched beneath dust for a thousand years. But this, as far as Frantz could be convinced, was their winning ticket. So, Frantz announced the building with a smile and arms wide open. "Welcome, boys, to our new home."

​

​

@Nor'baal @Eccles​

 

[Beto Lorsoni]

Beto climbed in the back of Frantz' speeder after first whistling loudly, "Lawyering pays this much?" he asked incrediously and made a face to Toni to tell his brother he was actualy impressed by their cousin. "I picked the wrong profession, after all" Not that he could do what Frantz could. Beto always considered himself to be smarter than the average scoundrel, but going to one of those proper universities? Nahh, that was never in his future. He broke jaws and pushed spice when other kids studied.

Frantz filled them in during the drive and Beto had been impressed again. The logic was sound. Fish restaurant invests in old fish factory to grow their own fish. Wouldn't take a large bribe to make CSF believe it if they resembled the security forces on Corellia.. you know, two hands, both with a hole in them that needs to be filled.

He was about to voice his approval when the sounds of blasterfire erupted in front of them and Beto instinctively dove flat onto the double backseat, his hands going for the Kyuzo Petar blades that would be absolute no use in a blasterfight. This wasn't his scene! This wasn't his scene at all! Then Frantz steered them into another alley and away from the blasting. Beto breathed a sigh of relief, sat back up and pocketed the blades. "You'd almost wish for a ranger presence, eh?" he smiled, placing his hands on the shoulders of the men up front. "Amateurs are kriffing unpredictable," and if they're this present and dominating the streets it was definitely something they'd have to be wary of. Wouldn't want to lose your life in a simple sidewalk robbery.

When they reached the place Beto was immediately enamored as he climbed out of the speeder. "An absolute shithole of a building," he laughed, "probably fits in our budget."

@Fine Dining Set @Nor'baal

 

[Toni Lorsoni]

”Don’t be so blue Beto,” he remarked, shutting the side door to the speeder with a slam ”...like o’paint and you’re golden.” Toni finished his caf and dropped the cup on the floor and kicked it toward the building ineffectually. Looking the place up and down with a smirk on his face, Toni could already see the potential. There was space for a facade operation to be clamped out front, allowing the building to blend in just enough that the authorities could be convinced to ignore it, whilst leaving room in the buildings rear for the real work.

It was perfect.

Frantz clearly had an eye for such opportunities, something Toni reminded himself to thank his cousin for later. ”This is great Frantz, y’sure that lawyering work is your callin’ - you could be a realtor, I can see it now “Frantz Lorsoni” just over there on a big frag off sign.” he mapped out his imagined location for the sign with his hands ”Hey, you’d be a bigger crook that us then!” he burst out laughing as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a packet of stims, and offered one to Beto before taking one himself.

”You got a light?” he asked Frantz, offering him the packet of stims as well as if that was somehow payment for the light. ”C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.”

 

[Frantz Lorsoni]

Frantz smiled at his cousins - they were more impressed by his work ethic than he expected. In the military, especially in the Legal Corps, such thoroughness was a matter of course. Anything less than absolute knowledge was unallowed. Being in the military had given him not only the discipline to follow through, but also, the willingness to do what needed to be done, even if it was unpleasant.

In this case, though, that 'unpleasantness' was only a few nights' worth of work. Reading up on level 1313's Zoning Code, understanding its elected officials and the government of Coruscant, and going through the publically-available records about delinquent properties that were currently on the market. "Hey, before we all just tug each other off, let's make sure we have a strategy to actually buy it, yeah?" He wanted to appear humble, or tough, but his cousins' approval filled him with deep elation. "I'm a lawyer, fellas. If I wasn't a big crook, I wouldn't be doing my job right." Frantz produced a lighter - a shiny, brass-plated one with the initials FL inscribed on the cover. It was a gift he had bought himself, after he was 'made.' Lawyering did pay quite well, especially when you're doing it for a crime family. "Way I see it, we have a couple of...flexible options. See, property has some serious debt on it, which means its due to be seized by Coruscant Security, specifically the Coruscant Underworld Police." There had been a number of protests recently about this practice - community organizers raising a stink about CorSec evicting poor homeowners and selling their homes to any buyer.

"CorSec has a massive backlog on these types of properties, though. And there's a big enough public distaste towards the practice that they take it real slow. Properties change hands constantly, in Coruscant; I think we could either buy it out from the old owner by paying off the debt owed to the property," thus restoring it to its original ownership, but under the helpful guidance of the Lorsoni family. "Or, we could cut a deal with CorSec directly, buy it outright, and clean it up ourselves." Which meant, dealing with Coruscant's police directly. He smiled, though; a devilish kind of grin.

"Or there's a third option: We take it. Property changes hands real fast here, got a lotta the geriatrics in the upper levels scared at 'deed fraud.' We could forge the original owner's signature to transfer the deed to one of the shell companies we have on the books, have it change hands a couple of times, and boom...it's ours. No purchase necessary." He still had a rosy view of the world of crime; he loved the thrill of the idea. Just stealing a whole factory felt like the kind of moustache-twirling behavior he had signed up for. "Save some money, too. A win-win."

As the trio discussed this, they stepped all over the floors of broken glass and strangely-growing-and-glowing plants. This crunching sound, the sounds of visitors, would begin to irritate this hovel's current residents; sipice-addicts and scrappers who were busy peeling away every inch of this old factory for any salvegable metals. From far away, one of these scrappers cast his gaze on the trio. He was an older human, face weathered by years of harsh living on Coruscant's dirty streets; he crouched behind the boxes to get a look at the trio.

Frantz did not notice him - he was turned to face the brothers currently. "So, those are three options. Any other ideas? Or thoughts about those three?"

@Nor'baal @Eccles

 

[Beto Lorsoni]

Beto listened closely to Frantz' options after taking one of Tone's stims and let Frantz light it just as he did his brother's. He took long drags until he finally killed the half-finished stim by pressing it against the walls of their prospective new racket. "Us keeping this for longer than a forthnight is gonna raise questions," especially if they started to hire perimeter guards, "so gotta buy legit. Let's see if it has a basement." A fake wall to to hide the synth spice lab behind would do wonders if they employed workers for the front company.

At this point the old man started butting int, "Oi you fancy karkers!" he shouted in a hoarse voice. Beto was somehow a bit flattered that his clothes were considered fancy after Frantz had so rudely implied they were ill-fitting and from last decades Corellian fashion. Ah what did the kid know! Real style experts like this old spice-addict squatter knew their stuff!.. oh kark it! "You always walking into other people's palaces!?"

Beto reached inside his jacket and pulled out his kyuzo petar, "Listen, that's no way to treat the new owners." His intention was clear; either the squatter kept quiet or he'd let his little brother go wild. "Tone?"

@Fine Dining Set @Nor'baal

 

[Toni Lorsoni]

...palace?

Toni was not expecting to have to deal with idiots today, and he let out a long drawn-out sigh. ''You call this a palace - for frakking who?'' he turned to face the loud-mouthed man as he dragged on his stim once again. ''I ain't sure what palaces you've seen but tihs shit,'' he gestured around with his spare hand ''- this sure ain't a palace.''

The loud-mouth snarled, irrational dislike and anger for the 'fancy man' in front of him swelling up inside him. First these three had rocked up into their home and now they where insulting it?

Meanwhile, Toni was not reacting well to the snarling of his new-found enemy. His face dropped into a low scowl, one Beto had seen many many times before.

''You need to learn some fucking respect.'' he snapped, as he walked toward the man and sized him up. With a jabbing movement he thrust his still lit stim into the mans face, sending him reeling back with a howl of pain. Toni wasted no time, and planted his right foot into the mans chest, sending him to the ground. He was on him in seconds, pummelling his fists into the mans face as he shouted ''You got a problem?'' a crunch could be heard ''You got a damn problem?'' he slammed the mans head back into the ground and stood up.

The loud-mouth was alive, but wheezing heavily.

''Get up, and get out of my new home.'' he shouted, spitting onto the floor in front of the loud-mouth, as his 'friends' scarpered.

 

[Frantz Lorsoni]

Frantz flinched when Toni's first punch connected. It was brutally loud: an old, withered tree snapping from gale-force winds. Toni had fists like bricks, knuckles tougher that durasteel. Frantz still remembered Toni's drinking stories - how he knocked out two Devaronians with one right hook, . When he let loose, Toni lost his humanity; he became a torrent of blood. Now, too, his fists were purple and maroon from the . Years of fighting had likely toughened Toni's knuckles to be a nearly unbreakable, permanently tight fist. Frantz hoped he would never be on the receiving end of them.

Frantz undid his coat, leaving his small pistol visible in the front of his pants. "You heard the man. Get the fuck outta here." The scrapper, still dazed from his beating, crawled away from the trio. At a safe distance, he slowly rose to his feet and staggered out of the building.

Frantz turned back to Beto. "Legit it is. I can try and arrange a get-together with the 1313 Sherriff's Office. Have some stooges stand-in on our behalf. Unless you two wanna make face with the Underworld Police." They could try to play it totally legit, get some friends in the police, and use legal loopholes and a more complicated network to keep up appearances.

Frantz looked at the crumbling walls of this building. Walls that had been ripped open, wires torn out of the wall. It would cost a fortune to fix what the scrappers had ripped from the building; Frantz almost wished Toni would beat the stuffing out of the rest of the delinquents, too, just as payback for the amount of work in front of them.

He popped up the publicly-available blueprints of the building. "Hate to say it, Beto, but there's no record of a basement here. Maybe we can try and cut off some of the walls here, or try to mix it in the normal work." Frantz had never worked at a spice lab before, he was just throwing out suggestions. He continued to think about the problem when he stepped to a wall, also ripped open, that hid a ladder inside of it. It was hidden behind the wall's structure - it had been built over, at some point, to keep the structure one-story. He glanced up at the ceiling - was there really room for a second floor, an attic, in this building? The rust and rot had destroyed whatever the attic was; only a handful of boards from any kind of upper floor remained. He supposed they could restore this hidden floor, create a false ceiling that really held their spice factory.

"Maybe this'll work?"

He gestured at the old ladder as he thought about next steps. "Obviously, we have a lotta work ahead of us here, pals. The sooner we close on this place, the more we can do."

He turned towards Beto, the eldest of their group, searching for direction. "This is about where my expertise dries up, fellas. What do we do next?"

@Nor'baal @Eccles

 

[Beto Lorsoni]

Beto returned his kyuzo petars back to his pocket as he watched Toni beat up the old scrapper. Apparently the army really didn't teach him anything. Still the same Toni he was twenty years ago.

"We'll need to replace the doors and windows first," he said, pointed at an unhinged door and the many broken or removed windows that were either points of entry for scrappers or merchandise a junkie thought he could sell for his next hit of glitterryll.

Frantz found a real gem with the ladder and the hidden second floor, "The false ceiling is great for a stash," Beto looked at Toni, who would immediately understand that in their line of work you always needed a small fortune in credit chips and some throwaway blasters stashed in case the entire operation went to shits. Unfortunately it'd be one hell of a job to carry space vats up the ladder. "The spice vats are too heavy, they'll need to be ground floor-" he turned towards Frantz and walked over to him to look at the holo-map, "-right here will do." In the end it was always as simple as throwing up a fake wall in a place it might make sense and in an old building like this there were a lot of places that made sense for it. They'd just claim the scrappers made a real mess and they had to do considerable reconstruction of the place.

As for the deed, well, Beto did always prefer the simpler route. "Might as well go and introduce ourselves to the sheriff, right Tone?" he looked at his little's brothers bloodied knuckles, that wasn't going to help paint a very law-abiding picture with local law enforcement, "Maybe you two should get started here. I'll go see about a deed."


@Nor'baal @Fine Dining Set