Chicago Lightning

Bronzeville Chicago

Smitty’s hack careens through the streets of Chicago, wending its way into Bronzeville, one of the few neighborhoods where Jamison feels somewhat comfortable. Brownstone houses form neat and tidy rows, and even at this time of night, negro families can be seen sitting on their porches chatting.

Eventually, the cab pulls up at one of the many houses in the row, and Smitty turns to Jamison, “You sure this is it?”

Comments

That old, familiar smirk slithers across Jamison’s mug as he looks at the place.

“Yeah, Smitty. Yeah,” Jamison said with a sigh of relief. “I’d know this place snowblind, sapped, and stoned.” He turned to face the motley crew behind him. “This is a good man in a respectable neighborhood. He’s a doctor, a surgeon, and a clockworker. He’s a friend. He can help us, if we walk up like we’re visiting. Don’t scare the neighbors. Let’s go, guys.”

Wih a wink, he added, “Azog, bring the wine. And the dinners.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Walking up, Jamison rapped aggressively on the door. “Open up,” he barked. “It’s the Treasury!”

After the rattling of multiple door locks, the door swings open and a tall, thin man with glasses and a rather severe brown haircut, looks down on Jamison and scowls. “They’d never take you, Jamison. Never in a million years!” With a shotgun bark of a laugh, he runs his hand through his hair. “Who are all these people?”

“They’re friends, Davies. And we could use a bit of shelter. We come bearing gifts, so let us in!” After they clear the entryway, Jamison introduces everyone. “Guys, this is Davis, the best friend a boxer could ever have. He kept me in stitches, especially after a fight. Helped me keep my nose in a book, too. I never woulda graduated without him. Davis, the guys. Guys, this is Davis.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

Davis surveys everyone and nods smartly, “I can see this is no social call. Down the hall, to your left, and please try not to drip on the carpet.” He motions everyone in and then locks several locks along the door, then follows behind.

At the end of the indicated hall and to the left is a staircase going down. It makes one turn and opens into what might otherwise have been a basement, but instead is finished in white porcelain tile with gleaming white walls. The massive room is divided into two sections, and the furthest back section sports what appears to be a surgical table.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Jamison nudges Azog. “Give the man the bottle. He’s got refined enough taste to enjoy it, and we didn’t call before stopping by. In some quarters, that’s considered rude.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Wordlessly, Azog produces the bottle and sets it on a short table.

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“So..” Jamison starts. “So, Davis, what’s been going on lately? Tell me a story, brother! It’s been almost three years. What have you been up to?” He follows everyone into the basement.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

As Jamison steps downstairs and rounds the corner into the modified basement, his eyes widen not a little. Having spent no small time among men with means, he quickly sizes up the medical equipment and other accouterments throughout the room and tallies up a rough estimate. Davis is doing quite well, probably living decently below the station of his wealth, in fact. Given his fiscal situation when he and Jamison last spoke, Davis has been very busy and very successful over the last three years, but has also chosen to keep that wealth for the most part hidden. Jamison realizes that while he is able to assess the value of what he sees, the room is plain enough that most people would overlook the significance of what is present.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Nice digs you have here, Davis. Good to see you’ve been busy. Listen, I hope you don’t mind, but we haven’t eaten. With all of the bullets, we were afraid of lead poisoning, you know?”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Azog sits on a tasteful Davenport and begins unselfconsciously to devour the steak dinner right out of the box with silverware purloined from the Southmoor.

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GM:

Davis nods understandingly, “Just try to keep a mess to the minimum.” He motions towards Mugsy to sit on the surgical table, “You look pretty bad, but you’re walking under your own power, which is a good sign. Can you tell me what happened?”

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“I got shot, then fell out of a building and landed in a dumpster.”

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GM:

Davis arches an eyebrow, and his eyes sparkle with mirth as he examines Mugsy’s chest wound, “Well, sir, you put it quite delicately. That said, considering your ordeal, you’ve come through it rather well. This pendant likely saved your life, and the bullet did not even enter your body. No broken bones, either, which is saying something for a man who got shot AND fell out of a building.”

He bandages the cut, and gives Mugsy some Aspirin, “A friend of mine has enchanted these aspirin, I think you’ll find them quite effective. Might I also offer a prescription of less ‘getting shot and falling out of buildings’?” Again, he smirks merrily.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Thanks, Doc. How are these pills enchanted, exactly?”

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GM:

Davis smiles, “My experience is that people such as yourself likely need to recover faster than simple medicine can allow. I have provided several services for one of our neighborhood mages, and in payment he has enchanted some of my medicines to enhance their effectiveness. This Aspirin will behave as normal Aspirin, but much more effectively. So where normal aspirin will provide temporary relief from your contusions and lacerations, this enchanted aspirin will treat the bruised and lacerated tissue by completely mending it.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Thanks again, Doc. I need to eat something as I didn’t have dinner before I was shot and fell off a building. Aspirin always upsets my stomach if I take it on an empty one.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

Davis nods, “Smart man. Whether you take it now or not, keep it handy. Your wounds will take several days to fully heal otherwise, and it would not surprise me, given your recent activities, if you do not find yourself in a similar situation sooner than later.”

He pauses, “Given that you are a friend of Jamison’s, I will also tell you this, should you ever need additional….modifications to your body, I may be able to assist you at a reasonable price. But for now, go upstairs and hope that the Troll hasn’t eaten your dinner.” He grins and motions for Maeve to step over to the table.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Will do.” Mugsy pockets the aspirin and heads up the stairs. “Azog, your turn to be poked and prodded.” Mugsy jerks his thumb in the direction from which he just ascended.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

Mugsy now sports a significant amount of bandaging over his chest, and has been given an ice-bag to hold over the bruise on his hip where primarily landed in his fall. He’s also got some stitches under the band-aid.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Azog finishes the last of his potatoes and stands up.

“They got me in the shoulder, doc.”

He removes his coat, looses his tie, and removes his shirt. Yesterday’s claw and bullet wounds are also visible, but have healed to a remarkable degree already.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Rather, he says these things after descending the stair.

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Also, he chuckles at Mugsy’s appearance.

“You look a lot worse than you did before!”

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GM:

Davis studies the Troll and nods to himself, muttering – first he examines the the old wounds, then the new. “This will not do, Mr. Troll. These wounds are clearly recent, and from the look of them, poorly cleaned, brace yourself.” Before a word can be said, he produces a scalpel and deftly reopens them for cleaning.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Azog roars in pain and covers his eyes with the other hand.

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GM:

Davis pats Azog reassuringly and sets about cleaning the wounds. It’s quite painful, but he assures Azog that it is for the best. After several minutes of cleaning and bandaging the various old wounds, he nods to himself in satisfaction. “OK, now I’m going to take the bullet out of your shoulder. Do you want me to knock you out, or just do it? It’s going to be pretty painful.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Just a belt, please, to dull the pain. Also a belt to strap my wrists so as I don’t flinch. So two belts.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

Davis grins at you and steps away to a cabinet, “Anything for a drink, ey?” Returning with a flask of something, he hands it to Azog. “Here ya go.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Downa hatch.” He winces worse than before. “Whew! That’s some hooch! OK, Doc.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

The hooch is no joke, stronger than anything Azog has ever had before, and be immediately feels dizzy and lays back, still, the Doctor eyes him warily, “You trolls are some of the most difficult patients, well and the Dwarfs.” He shakes his head and offers the flask again, you’d better take another nip.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Doc I need my wits for catching bullets. Just give me something to hold on to and cut. It can’t hurt worse than being clawed by the undead.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

Davis shrugs, “It’s your choice, but I warn you, if you break my belts,” he motions to the belts now restraining Azog’s wrists, “you don’t get that choice again.” He meets eyes with Azog, then steps over to the wounded shoulder.

Before Azog has time to brace for it, Davis puts a long pair of forceps deep into the bullet wound and begins working to dig it out.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Through gritted teeth, Azog whimpers a little.

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GM:

The process takes much longer than Azog would like, as Davis digs around fishing for the bullet. Just when Azog thinks he can’t control himself anymore, the pressure stops and he hears the sound of something small and metal landing in a glass dish. Davis begins closing the wound, “Your shoulder’s a mess, but I see no indicator that there will be permanent damage.” he pauses, “But stay out of the sewers, and try not to get into any fights for a few days.”

He takes his time carefully cleaning and bandaging the wound, then releases the wrist restraints. As Azog sits up, he is amazed at the amount of blood that appears to be on Davis and the pile of once white rags on the table next to him.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Oh!” Azog turns away from the sight of the bloody rags and places his good hand over his mouth.

“Thanks, Doc. I… I gotta get out o’ here!” Azog runs up the stairs and makes his way to the stoop for some fresh air.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Azog blows by Jamison in the small, well-lit hallway.

“Hey,” Jamison starts. “I-” But Azog is thundering his way back up the stairs.

“Well, herr doktor, he’s back on his feet! That’s-”

Jamison mutely chews air while taking in the red sauce all over his friend’s previously pristine lab coat. “Woah, daddy,” he whispers. “That… …that’s all from just the one guy, huh?”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Jamison (and anyone else upstairs) hears a thud on the doorstep. Azog has passed out on the threshold.

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GM:

His work done, Davis spends a bit cleaning up his facility. As Jamison enters the infirmary, he looks up, then down at his lab coat, then shrugs, “Big fellas, lots of blood. He’ll be fine so long as he takes it easy for a bit. That steak he did will help…” he pauses at the sound of Azog hitting floor. Davis shakes his head and sighs, “That’ll be the troll passing out. It’ll take both of us to get him off the floor, no doubt.” Stripping out of his bloodied lab coat, he motions back towards the stairs.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Well, he’s my man, and I’m unharmed, for the most part. I’d be happy to help. I’d have Mugsy help me, since it’s kinda not your problem, but he’s kinda banged up right now…”

Jamison looks around the room. “Dave, you’re geared pretty seriously, here. I mean, I know medicine’s no poor man’s game, but… Seriously. You’ve done well.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

Davis winks at Jamison from above him on the stairs, “You don’t know the half of it, pretty boy.”

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Shaking his head, Jamison lets out a low, long whistle, and heads up the stairs to recover his man.

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GM:

The two men arrive at the top of the stairs and find the door wide open, Azog lying facedown across the threshold.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Jamison sighs.

“Okay, Doc. You get one arm, I’ve got the other, and we lift on three. Get him back across the threshold, and that’s gonna have to do. Okay?”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

The two of them heave together and after several moments, manage to get Azog’s frame out of the…..doorframe. Davis quickly sets him down and closes the door. As he does so, he notices Smitty’s hack,and more importantly, the bullet holes

“Geez, Jamison, what are you in to?”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Well, I’ll tell ya. Last you saw me, right before I fell off the world, I was losing everything and my family wanted nothing to do with me. You should know that whatever you heard about me was false. I never took the bribes they tarred and feathered me for. I don’t really know what was said about me after that. Someone took a pair of scissors to my nose for not playing ball, and so I figured it was safer for everyone to find a dark corner and think invisible, you know?

Well, tonight, I come out of hiding in time to get wrapped up with these guys. The gentelman who got defenestrated spent some time with the blonde on the couch when the goddamned US Treasury busted in, and tried to arrest them. There was a fire, and they lost us in the crowd, but, my rough luck, they found us as we were getting in the taxi, and decided to poke some holes in our friend, Nicely-Nicely the Troll.

That’s when I remembered what neighborhood we were in. It was all I could hope for that you hadn’t moved. You hadn’t. So, we’re here. It’s good to see a friend, man; it’s been too long since I’ve seen one. It’s rough how the other side lives, man, especially for a … …What did you call me? A Fauntleroy? Anyhow, it’s been a real struggle to get by."

Jamison scratched his chin.

“I wish like Christ I knew if my coming here would get you into trouble. I honestly don’t know. I think we’re clear, but a hospital is too high-profile if the Treasury is on our tail.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

Davis studies Jamison’s face, his own a study in concern, “You be careful, Jamie. It was hard enough when you dropped off once, I’d hate to see it happen twice. Don’t hesitate to call on me.” He pauses as he catches a glimpse of the bottle of wine. Picking it up he lets out a low whistle, “And if this is what you brought for my payment, then I’m in your debt anyhow. Damn, I don’t want to know who you’re mixed up with, but clearly you’ve found something… You know that I do more than just simple medicine, right? Come see me if you ever need anything more…substantial done.” He winks at you and stands up, "I’ve got to get the surgery cleaned up. You boys probably should be gone when I come back upstairs, just in case they are tailing you.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Whats wrong with my troll-kin?” Mugsy asks.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

Davis looks up, “Nothing serious, blood loss coupled with ill-advised activity. I’m afraid he needs to take it easy for a bit, but he’ll be perfectly fine soon enough. You gentlemen can wait here til he wakes, but I suggest you make your getaway sooner rather than later.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Will do, Davey. We’ll see if we can’t throw ’em off your place.”

Jamison grabs a cup from the dining-room table, fills it full of water, and pours it, slowly, onto the face of the still-slumbering Azog. “Felicia, you might wanna be the first thing he sees. It’ll lessen the shock. I’d leave him at rest, but we have to move, and, when he’s conscious, he’ll be fine.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Blah! Blub! Wha?” Azog hops up, teeters, then steadies himself against the door post. “Oh,” he says finally. “Let’s get out of here. Maybe we can make it back to our hotel in time for some shut-eye before daybreak.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Rest seems the best option.”

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“Yeah. I wonder if what was goin’ down at the Ambassador is already gone down. Maybe Smitty knows. He seems to know everything.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“I heard that the Ambassador got hit by the G-men last night. Tonight was all about the Venetian Room. I wonder why the Treasury’s so busy these days. Heya, Peck? Maybe your girl knows something. Could you ask her for me? All this excitement and good times, I just couldn’t stand to take no for an answer. Speaking of people who can’t stand…”

Jamison shoulders the Troll’s arm. “Come on, Nicely. Back to the car for you. Lean on me, but not too hard, you follow?”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Thanks, buddy. You know, you’re a reg’lar guy. Not like them other G-men that shoot their Tommys up public streets in the dark. I’s glad you’re on our side.”

Azog slides into the passenger seat of the cab.

“Sorry ‘bout the dents, Smitty. We’ll cover you out o’ the big wad o’ cash we got back at the Ambassador. Let’s go, eh? Almost dawn.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Jamions looked up the street. “Mugsy, use the house phone and call the diner. Tell Felicia to expect pick-up. We’ll come at the diner from the back-side of the Federal line, so as to avoid needless complications. And make sure to ask, first. It’s only polite.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Uh, what Diner? And who is Felicia?”

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“Oh yeah, I forgot about Felicia! She’s still with Benny and G. Clef. Smitty, can we swing back by the Five and Diner to pick her up?”

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“You guys want to run back into contact with the Feds? After they shot me for no good reason, forced me out a window into a dumpster, filled you and our ride full of lead? Ain’t you already got a dame, pal?”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Azog looks about and sighs.

“The Ambassador, Smitty. We’ll only make things worse for Miss Felicia if we go back for her. It’s Miss Maeve they’re after, far as we know.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Jamison nods. “As far as we know. So, Miss Maeve, not many people have the pleasure of the Treasury’s escort service picking them up…”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

Smitty fires up the hack and begins the drive back towards The Amabassador.

Maeve snorts derisively, “Escort service. You got that right. That hussy Bernie ruined a good thing Felicia and I had going, and Felicia wasn’t even a part of it, just part of my cover!”

She shakes her head and eyes Mugsy, “She got the two of us and Mr. Peck here alone just so they could do a low profile grab on me in the midst of a standard sting. See, I work for Big Boots O’Hanlon, coordinating deliveries and handling accounts receivable. Turns out they’d been watchin’ me for some time. Good thing Mr. Peck here sprung me, or my kids’d be in dutch!”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Jamison shakes his head. “Lady, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if the G-men showed to do a snatch and grab, and you got away, your kids aren’t in the clear. Moves like the Treasury made aren’t done in secret. The names in the underworld always know about these moves before they are made.”

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GM:

Maeve laughs bitterly, “You don’ understand. Boots has my kids……as collateral.”

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“Bull.”

Jamison looks Maeve over.

“Really? Why? How much juice you have on that guy?” He looked at Mugsy, whose face had soured considerably. “What? I mean it, now, what kind of guy has his go-to plan written down as ‘step one, kidnap kids. Step two, get their mom to take up accounts.’?”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

Jamison holds up his finger. “Maybe the problem is, we didn’t get the beginning of the story. Everyone in this car knows Boots O’Hanlon is bad news. So, how did you guys meet?”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“When the Feds were grilling her and I was a bystander, she told them the same thing. I think we should get the whole story, though.” Mugsy looks expectantly at Maeve. “Smitty, you ain’t hearing none of this, got it?”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

Smitty grunts and leaves it at that.

Maeve scowls viciously at Jamison, “How much juice do I have on Boots? I think you got it the wrong way, scissorface, it’s what he has on me and what he makes me do. But you don’t know anything about bein’ on the good side and gettin’ in dutch with the wrong people, an’ suddenly they got their hooks into you an’ it’s either do as they say or somebody gets hurt, do ya? Except for me it weren’t my pretty nose, it’s my two kids. He’s had me collecting bills and arranging delivery of goods at speakeasies throughout the Loop for longer than you’ve been dissappeared, prettyboy. You think you’re the only one’s got troubles? Have another think!” Jamison gets the clear impression that if Mugsy weren’t present, she might have just spit in his face.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Okay,” Jamison started in. “Let’s pretend that before we met up with you and your friends, one of which was a Federal Agent of the Treasury in good standing, we weren’t just out for a night on the town. Now, let’s pretend that one of our merry trio wan’t poked full of holes escaping you from a US-government-sanctioned brain raping, with another of our band shot in the chest by the single-most-feared badge in the state. Now, let’s try to pretend, although this will take a bit more imagination, now, so try to stick with me here! Let’s pretend that you have a grateful bone in that body of yours, and that we might need a few details, if we’re gonna get involved!”

Jamison took a deep breath. “Spill, doll-face. You might not like me, but I just might be part of the crew that winds up saving your kids, you play it right. I’m no nice guy. But I’m with nice guys. And you should call it a lucky night that I’m with nice guys, because if I weren’t, I’d be at the diner where your friend got left, sipping a chocolate shake, and conversing about what so-and-sos the G-men are. You don’t owe me a damn thing, lady, but we’ve already taken lead for you, and you want our help. Because if you’re on the street, without friends, Boots’ll ghost you and your kids without even feeling bad.”

With that, Jamison looked forward, slate-faced as usual. “Another thing. You’ll wanna watch what you say about my face. I got this by being a good little boy scout, so I don’t do that much anymore. Now, tell your story, or tell it walking. I don’t care which.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Please, Miss Maeve,” says Azog, leaning into the conversation from the front seat. “We ain’t cops, and we ain’t no friends of Boots, neither. Tell us how you got into this pickle and we can maybe put it to right.”

Bronzeville Chicago
 

“Listen, I…”

Jamison cleared his throat and looked at Maeve. “I’ve been underground for a long time, and I was never the most polite guy. But I wouldn’t put kids in a lurch. That’s not what I do. We might have gotten off on the wrong foot, and that’s fine. But the guy you want gone, these blokes want gone, too. And I’m with them, see? Help us put this guy in the cooler. We’re askin’ you. Hell, doll, I’m beggin’ ya. And that’s so much more than you’d have got from the damned Treasury, you know?”

Jamison’s brow is furrowed, and, if one didn’t know better, one might think he was actually concerned.

Bronzeville Chicago
 

GM:

You can see that there is moisture at the corners of Maeve’s eyes, but she controls herself, glares further at Jamison, and then launches into her tale.

For simplicity’s sake, I’m going to just recap it. She’ll take most of the ride back to the Ambassador to complete the story.

One of the things that each of you will quickly realize about Maeve as she talks is that she is far from normal. Highly intelligent, strong-willed, and you suspect highly capable of taking care of herself. Much of this is communicated in the way she carries herself, and much of it comes from the story.

Maeve grew up in the Gold Coast, daughter to a wealthy family that has since fallen on hard times. She was not the eldest, and a daughter, so in many ways she was overlooked in favor of her older brothers, but nonetheless she managed to persuade her father to pay for her to go to college. Not a fancy school like the one attended by Jamison, but the fact remains that she is a woman with a degree, which makes her something of a novelty. She has a degree in business and finance and had hoped to be an asset to her family upon her return.

While she completed her schooling, her oldest brother was drafted by the AEF and eventually killed in Europe. Her second brother, Rory, was not her father’s favorite, and her father dwindled in depression, allowing the family business and fortune to fall into disrepair. Rory did his best to manage, but did not have the head for business, and things continued to fall apart. In an effort to save the business, Rory made some deals with some of the less savory types gaining power in Chicago, and quickly their business became an asset beholden to Bugs Moran.

Maeve returned to school to find her family business in tatters, her family honor beholden to a mobster, and her father ailing. She threw herself into the business with fervor, but it appeared too late. This was underscored by Rory’s untimely disappearance, something she attributes to Bugs, but cannot be sure. Around that time, she met a man named Reginald who openly admired her for her fire and spirit. He listened to her, and as their relationship grew, began volunteering more and more time working with her to try to find a way to save her family. Eventually, their relationship intensified and she became pregnant with twin boys. Late in the pregnancy, Reggie shared with her that he had some ties to a powerful man named Boots O’Hanlon who could free Maeve’s family fortune from Moran’s hooks, likely in exchange for some favor. Desperation led her to agree to seek Boots out.

Unbeknownst to Maeve, Reginald had always been Boots’ man, and while he cared for Maeve, he was somewhat less than discerning with regards to Boots’ true intent. Over the course of his relationship with Maeve, he had regularly shared with Boots his admiration and respect for her business accumen, her strong will and determination. Boots had made the offer to buy Maeve’s debt from Bugs Moran largely because he desired the leverage by which to make her work for him. With the debt bought, Boots insisted that Maeve move into property which he owned, “for her own protection”.

Shortly after Maeve gave birth to twin boys, Reggie stopped coming by. Maeve is uncertain, but thinks that Boots was keeping the two of them apart for fear that Reggie’s fatherly instinct might subvert his loyalty to the Mob Boss. In any event, Reggie was killed months later in a gunfight. He had never met his sons.

With the death of Reggie, Boots began to move forward with her plan. He relocated her once more to an even more secure location with ample room for the two boys. Then he began asking her to run errands for him. The relationship grew as Boots handed first one, then two, then several accounts over to her to manage, eventually entrusting her with the majority of his liquor distributions and collections. Throughout this transition, he insisted that the children be kept at his secure location – for their own saftety – and gradually began to regulate her access to them. At this point, years later, Maeve is clearly aware that Boots owns her – for she must ask permission to see her own children, and receives said permission only once Boots has reviewed her most recent ledgers. With a twisted sense of pride, she reveals that her management has been largely the cause for Boots recent expansion and profit within the liquor business.

She further explains how she met Felicia and recognized her for both a friendly face and also someone who could keep the various self-important thugs from pawing her while she was on business. Felicia has been a sort of “wingman” (though she won’t use that term) to her for several months now. It was only a month or so ago that Bernie joined their trio, and seemed like just another girl out for a fun time, and a welcome companion, until she turned traitor tonight at the Southmoor.

As she finishes her tale, Smitty pulls up at The Ambassador East, which appears tranquil enough.

Scene Exeunt

Bronzeville Chicago
MadDogMaddux

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