Chicago Lightning

The Labrador Part III

Down to Brass Tacks

Our stalwart trio of would-be do-gooders storms down the stairway to the next floor below in hopes of finding the detained children of Mugsy’s new flame Maeve. Jamison covers their retreat, looking one last time over his shoulder at the angry face of Enzo Farugliani, still standing naked in the middle of his own living room most recently wrecked by Mugsy, Azog, and Jamison himself. They can only hope that somehow they are able to find Maeve’s children before Mr. Kluwe and the mysterious Rose are able to recuperate and once more launch an assault against them. And somewhere within the building, Mugsy hopes, Big Boots O’Hanlon himself is likely to be lurking. Time is running out…

Comments

“Well, that could have gone better.” Mugsy says. “Unfortunately, we left our escorts before we could get any real directions from them and to make matters even more fun, now everyone knows we aren’t supposed to be here. I’d say that about sums things up, right?”

The Labrador Part III
 

“Sure,” answers Azog, “but as I figure it, we’s lucky to be alive at all. And I got a good feeling about this here door.”

He knocks: shave-and-a-haircut…

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Jamison scowls, checking the hallways for anything that-

Suddenly, his eyes snap open.

“Quick, pallys. How old were these kids? Were they babies?”

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Azog furrows his brow. “Gee. I never asked. Come to think, she mentioned they could walk and talk. Mugsy, was both her boys from the same litter?”

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“I think so. Should be rug-rat age right about now. ‘Human’ rug-rat age.” He adds with a grin.

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“Well, with all the gunplay, shouldn’t they be crying?” Jamison listens at a door.

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GM:

There are two flats on this floor. None of you hear crying from either of them.

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“They could be moving just as we are. That witch could just pop right in and pop them out again.” Mugsy groans.

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“Let’s not borrow trouble,” says Azog, making for the stairs. “We’re playing with the house’s money anyhow. C’mon. Down one flight.”

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“Right. Time’s short.”

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GM:

As the three of you turn to head down to the next flight, you suddenly hear a clattering sound from somewhere more than one flight upstairs, followed immediately by a wailing cry that is abruptly cut short.

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“Poor Enzo,” mutters Azog. He pauses after one flight to listen for kid-like sounds.

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“Sounds like we just got a lead or bait.”

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Suddenly Azog jerks his head up and claps his friends by the shoulders. His face contorts as he struggles mightily to find the words to explain himself.

At last he says, “We gotta go back. Mugsy, you said it youself. We gotta put the squeeze on the witch. Make ‘er tell us where the kids is at. Otherwise she can jus’ go to where they is and get the drop on us.” He furrows his brow as he works the problem in his head.

“See, right now she don’t know where we’s at. But ten-to-one that’s her upstairs payin’ Enzo a call. You see? It’s our best chance!”

The Labrador Part III
 

Mugsy squeezes past and tries to quietly head back up the way they have just come.

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Azog drops prone and crawls up the stairs on hands and feet.

(He looks nothing like an infantryman and very much like the wolf in a Tex Avery cartoon.)

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GM:

You make it quickly and quietly back up to Enzo’s apartment and find it empty. The only sound is the blowing wind through the broken window.

From several floors above, you hear a loud clunk!

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“Okay,” Jameson says. "What’s the Vegas odds that the witch has us figured out, and is collecting all the reasons why we might have showed up in one room?

Seems a good way to force a meeting, right?"

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Azog nods guiltily. “I shunna tipped ’er off.”

clunk!

“What was that?”

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“One way to find out, gentlemen. Back up the stairs.”

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GM:

As you continue heading back up the stairs, you find the building to be eerily quiet. Even upon investigating Maeve’s former room, you find it empty sans workers. Making it all the way back up to the top floor, you still find no one. Pausing to listen for any sign, possibly the scrape of a boot or a stifled yelp, you can hear your own heavy breathing from the run up stairs, and the sound of the Michigan Star’s massive engines warming up.

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“Hey,” snaps Azog, genuinely indignant. “They’s getting away!”

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Mugsy redoubles his efforts.

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Azog bounds after him, his nostrils steaming like a bull’s.

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GM:

Just to be clear, you guys are on the top floor. The only further up you can go is if you go up the gantry to the boarding point for the Dirigible.

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So be it…

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Azog is panting with effort as he charges up to the gangway. His porcine teeth glisten with foam. His midnight blue suit is flecked with sweat. His collar and cuffs are slipping loose.

Yet he still looks dapper as all get-out!

The Labrador Part III
MadDogMaddux

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