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Post by Salvatore Scordato on May 10, 2015 6:34:08 GMT
One of Starcrown Heights' principal lane-ways, Jewel Street rests in the heart of the ghetto that is home to the largest population of Starborn in the world. Among the rundown series of allotments sits the modest home of Salvatore Scordato, a young Starborn and known local hoodlum.
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Post by Salvatore Scordato on May 10, 2015 6:46:16 GMT
Salvatore ran his hands over his pockets, double-checking that he had everything. He struck off a mental checklist as he felt the rough shapes that confirmed his phone, keys and wallet. Satisfied that he hadn't forgotten anything Sal made his way to the door, prepared for whatever the evening had in store.
'Ciao Mama!' He called out in farewell, though he doubted very much that he would be heard over the din of News America Tonight. Sal had always hated the show, it was just a big bunch of phonies talking about crap that didn't matter. But his mother loved it, if just for Dean Rose's chiseled jaw and flashy smile.
He stepped out into the cool night air, locking the door behind him as he did so. As he stepped off the modest porch and crossed the front lawn, he looked up and was unsurprised to see an unassuming figure casually leant up against a streetlight. It was the same place he waited every night, after all.
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Post by The Astronomer on May 12, 2015 10:18:19 GMT
Nicky 'the Nose' Sant'Angelo was probably born in Starcrown, but he would likely never know. He was certainly raised there, being found as a baby on the steps of what passed for an orphanage in this hellhole. He thought he was another Muggle until the day he learned he could hear the nuns praying through the walls. Nicky, being a bright kid, knew he was never going to find a good home once his secret got out, and rather than hiding what he was his entire life, the boy fled to the street with nothing but his clothes and what he could steal from the pantry.
The nuns had named him Nicholas, but Nick only picked out his last name when he was 14, after browsing the Internet in a library. He was not angry at the world like Sal, but he was just as cynical. When he learned he could hear, smell, and see information the rest of the world was blind to, he decided humans were just glorified meat, imagining it was more. He was not strong or graceful, but he made up for it speed and wit, and used it to good measure as an information broker of sorts in Starcrown.
He and Sal had connected early on the streets, and often relied on him to make right the things that were broken, while keeping his friend aware of everything he knew. It was as much a friendship as a partnership.
"Hey, Sal..." Said Nick, hands deep in his trenchcoat. He looked more tired than usual, the sensory overload making sleep a nightmare by default.
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Post by Salvatore Scordato on May 12, 2015 10:53:17 GMT
"Nicky." Sal replied in greeting.
He reached into his pocket and drew a pack of Newport, offering one to his friend. He learnt long ago that smokes helped dull Nicky's senses, and it was a rare privilege to see him not blazing like a smokestack. But this small ritual they performed each evening was one of the few exceptions for the chain smoker. For luck's sake, if nothing else.
"What've you heard?"
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Post by The Astronomer on May 13, 2015 20:30:00 GMT
"Harlan Slade just got bumped. All the bookies and dealers are flipping out." He lit the cigarette as Salvatore digested the news. Harlan Slade had been Ambrosia's biggest narcotics and smuggling kinpin. He had never made that many waves in Starcrown, but what product and stitch of organizes crime made its way there was almost always his. "Every dirty business he had his hands in is suddenly a black hole. Everyone's pointing their fingers at the Russians, but it doesn't sound like they know what's what either."
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Post by Salvatore Scordato on May 15, 2015 7:39:30 GMT
Salvatore lit himself a cigarette as he heard the news. "Fucking slug. Deserved it much sooner." Sal had never much liked Slade, a scumbag that made profit at the expense of the Starborn. He chose now to ignore the fact that he'd made quite a lot of dough running Slade's products. "A black hole, eh? And here I thought we'd be having a night off."
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Post by The Astronomer on May 16, 2015 0:10:53 GMT
"No rest for the wicked, my son," replied Nick, performing the sign of the cross. "And unlike a black hole, opportunity draws only the fortunate. Sammy Gnucci, colloquially known as Knuckles, has decided he and his brothers are going to knock over Bluto Reeves. Reeves, as you are no doubt aware, is a bookie with a lot of friends. I say we become friends with those friends via not having Bluto's head turned into paste, eh?" He gave the cigarette a few quick puffs before continuing. "Bluto's sister is the same Jenny Reeves who floats above the bed when she sleeps. You remember her, no doubt. Mmmm... you think Vriskae worry about cancer?"
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Post by Salvatore Scordato on May 17, 2015 2:00:01 GMT
"Who gives a fuck," he snapped. Nick had a bad habit of saying something important and following it with something trivial, a habit that often got on the nerves of a hot-tempered Sal.
Old Jenny Reeves...
"Alright. Let's do it. Where?"
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Post by The Astronomer on May 23, 2015 4:21:48 GMT
"Bluto's joint down on Heartattack and Vine." Starcrown was notorious for its street names. Being ignored by the greater municipal authorities of Ambrosia had given it a sort of autonomy the loose-knit community did not always put to sensible use.
Nick started walking there, puffing his cig along the way. "Hey Sal... how's your mother?"
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Post by Salvatore Scordato on Jun 1, 2015 0:49:50 GMT
"Same old." he murmured, a clear look of irritation surfacing across his face. "I can lift a truck. I can stop a bullet. I can fucking fly. But I can't do anything to make her happy." He tossed his half finished cigarette to the ground and crushed it under foot.
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Post by The Astronomer on Jun 1, 2015 1:14:48 GMT
"In Italy, they have a saying. 'L'affetto verso i genitori e fondamento di ogni virtu.' Translation? 'Loving one's parents is fundamentally the greatest virtue.'"
They could already hear Bluto Reeves screaming for aid around the corner. Once around it, they could see four masked men wearing what appeared to be Looney Tunes faces. Porky Pig was bashing Bluto's prized '45 Cadillac Excelsior which had survived the Reign without a scratch, while Bugs and Daffy were dragging a small safe into the van beside it. Bluto was already bleeding on the street, as the Tasmanian Devil stomped down on his back while the old shark tried to chase his livelihood...
Around the street, there were several onlookers, some already looking ready to make a stand by grabbing baseball bats and firearms, but it did not seem they were so fond of their neighbour to play hero just yet.
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Post by Salvatore Scordato on Jun 1, 2015 1:52:02 GMT
"So the saying goes."
Sal stepped forward coolly towards Bluto's masked assailants. With a quick flick of his wrist he pulled at their Looney Tunes veils, tearing the masks free from their faces and onto the cold ground.
"That's all folks."
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Post by The Astronomer on Jun 1, 2015 2:18:52 GMT
It took more effort to scratch his own nose. With the masks gone, a small hullaballoo broke out from the peanu gallery. ""It's the fucking Gnucci brothers! I fucking knew it!" To be fair, only Sammy, Vito, and Tony were brothers. Their cousin Steve wasn't even technically a blood relation, but he had the matching potbelly to fit in.
Sammy Gnucci FIN: 6
Vito Gnucci FIN: 4
Vito's attention lost, he drops the heavy safe on his foot. Sammy stops to help him while Tony drops the bat and pulls what appears to be an old police pistol. "At least I ain't no Marvin the Martian..."
Tony Gnucci FIN: 8
Salvatore Scordato FIN: 12
Sal uses Tony's need to be an ass and takes the moment to focus, stretching out what feels like an invisible limb with so many fingers. The air before becomes solid, the atom's density molded by his will. There is a brief sensation of vertigo as the first bullet strikes, like he has been struck in the head by a child's blow. Tony fires off two more bullets, screaming before heading to the van that Steve is already revving. Sammy is still trying to help his 'wounded' brother.
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Post by Salvatore Scordato on Jun 1, 2015 3:15:28 GMT
"I ain't no fuckin' martian." Sal spat. He flew himself forward and swung a telekinetically infused punch in Tony's back.
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Post by The Astronomer on Jun 8, 2015 3:50:32 GMT
Salvatore Scordato SOU: 32
There was blood on Sal's fist, and bits of bone hovering around it in the telekinetic field. The rest of Sal was across the street, still alive and whimpering like a wounded puppy. The van took off bearing the other three, deciding blood was thicker than water, but metaphors were cheap.
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