3743/Hiring Staff

Hiring Staff
Date of Scene:	26 January 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	In which Mr. Weston is recruited.
Cast of Characters:	Talia al Ghul, Film Freak

---

Talia al Ghul has posed:
    The invitation came through a corollary, of course. Word of mouth; nothing in writing. An opportunity for steady, and very lucrative work. A date and a time is proposed for the meeting, along with an exclusve Midtown address.

    The building is a modern apartment, and the address is for the top floor. There's only one elevator of the three in the lobby that goes all the way up, and standing inside is a man in a dark suit that looks like a professional wrestler.

Film Freak has posed:
Burt Weston received word of the meet from a fixer that knew of Burt's stomping grounds at a local jazz club in Gotham. After sobering up and driving out to New York City in the midst of a green day, he parked his sensible two-door sedan, a black Japanese make with cop parts, in the parking garage.

As Burt went up in the elevator, he slipped on a pair of Ray-Bans, to disguise his eyes. V-neck leather jacket open, hands in his pockets, he stepped out of the garage and into the apartment.

There was a roll and a flick to his neck, as Burt Weston left the reverie of being a geeky acting student and became Edison, criminal mastermind. A plastic smile flashed across his face as his hands removed themselves from his pockets, looking as if they took on an intellect of their own.

"Edison, at your service," he introduced himself, using his Mafia alias, instead of his real name, or the one that the other freaks of Gotham called him.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
    The burly man in the elevator surely isn't there just to push the buttons, and yet that's what he does. Of course it's likely an artifact of his dilligence at his post that keeps the third elevator largely unused, as well. Without a word, he pushes a single button and then the 'close doors' button as well.

    The top floor of the building is completely occupied by the penthouse suite. The large, main room is arranged for the meeting. Talia al Ghul has been living in Manhattan for months, now, and using it as her base of operations. It's close enough to Gotham without all of the gothic drama, after all. And it's also far enough to stay off of the Bat's radar. She won't be actually attending the meeting, however. Not this time. But everything that happens in the sitting room is relayed via closed circuit monitors.

    The 'guest' is treated to silence until the elevator reaches the top floor, where to more large men stand outside the single door. Brief gestures are exchanged, and then one opens the apartment door for Edison.

Film Freak has posed:
Edison walks into the apartment, his posture confident and a James Dean amble to his hips and shoulders. He pushes his wild black hair back over his head with his right hand, running his fingers through his locks as he looks about. The cocky smile on his face continues, Edison looking to be completely in his element. It's no show of confidence; the strange, awkward Burt Weston is gone, replaced completely by a Hollywood sophisticate.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
    The apartment is sumptuously furnished and decorated. A couple more bruisers are scattered around the room like potted plants, but the center of the sitting area is currently vacant. One of the bruisers at the door gestures towards the sitting area. A crystal decanter with a couple of glasses sits on a silver tray, invitingly. Apparently the host is going to make Edison wait.

Film Freak has posed:
Edison ambles into the center of the room, lips parting into a brief grin as he looks at the bruisers, before he takes a seat on a chair in the sitting area. He pours himself a glass of whatever's in the decanter, then reclines in his chair and crosses his right leg over the left, tasting the liquid curiously. His left arm props on the chair, left hand hanging lazily over the side.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
    It's scotch, and very expensive scotch at that. From the back room, Talia watches her guest get comfortable and take a taste of the liquor. She won't be attending the meeting, at least not as Talia. One of the bruisers opens the door to an inner room, and out steps a woman with Eurasian features. She's wearing a neat and professional business suit, black hair pulled back into a tight bun. The suit is silk and emerald green, the pumps low-heeled. The woman enters with short steps in the pencil skirt, regarding her guest through designer glasses. "Mister Edison. Welcome, on behalf of my employer." the woman greets in strongly-accented English.

Film Freak has posed:
Edison slowly imbibes a long sip of the scotch, allowing it to remain on his tongue to get the taste, before swallowing with a single movement of his Adam's apple. He lowers the modestly filled glass, and turns his head to look at Talia's representative, chin tilted upwards. The Ray-Bans hide the movement of his eyes, a brief pause before he snaps his gaze upwards to look at the woman's face.

"Thank you, Miss. I'm always happy to consider an offer from people with taste. Gotham City, for all its advantages, can be notoriously garish. Don't you think?"

Talia al Ghul has posed:
    He's an experienced actor, so he can certainly appreciate the woman's potential beneath the demure exterior. In another guise, and perhaps under other circumstances, she'd be quite the looker. She offers him a tight-lipped smile before settling on a chair opposite him. The skirt is smoothed, and she perches not unlike a hummingbird prepared for a quick escape.

    "I am afraid I have not personally been to Gotham City." she replies, keeping her eyes upon him. The woman produces a small tablet. "If you will excuse me, I may need to interface with my employer from time to time. He is something of a recluse. First of all, thank you for accepting his invitation. And welcome to New York."

Film Freak has posed:
The fact that he's not dealing directly with his potential employer is an immediate signal to Edison that this is a high level contract. He's got heat on him from that job with the Kryptonian, but he's out of jurisdiction for an arrest. He wouldn't put it past the cape that opposed him to break the rules, after last time, and he's completely naked in terms of plan or hardware, besides his car in the parking garage.

But that's the price of doing business as a cleaner.

"New York is always a lovely change from New Jersey," Edison admits, taking another shallow ship of scotch. His tongue briefly emerges from his mouth, appreciating the top shelf liquor despite disliking its taste. He leans forward, putting the glass back on the table. With all the grass he was smoking before he was contacted, he can't handle much.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
The woman smiles tersely at the New Jersey joke, almost politely enough to suggest she didn't get it. Waiting a moment for him to set down the glass, she clears her throat softly and begins. "My employer wishes to establish himself as a person of influence in Gotham City." She isn't reading from the tablet, but she holds it close all the same.

    "More specifically, he wishes to establish himself amongst those of Gotham City's citizens who conduct their business outside of the law. In order to do so, he requires an agent with knowledge of these particular citizens. An agent who can talk to them and move freenly amongst them. An agent like you, Mister Edison."

Film Freak has posed:
"So you need a representative?"

Edison tilts his head to the side and tucks his lower lip in, contemplating this. "Normally, I'm a hitter, but I'll consider this. I know just about every mobster in Gotham as an employee, so I'd be in a position to be your street intelligence. Are we looking for a commission here," he pauses, spreading his hands to explain, "An alliance with an outside racket, or," he continues, "A new order?" He knows he may have been called to New York for a reason.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
    The nameless woman inclines her head formally at his question. "It is as you say." she replies. Unpainted lips draw into another small smile, then she elaborates. "My employer wishes to establish a new order in Gotham City. The current establishment will either join him on his terms, or they will perish in fire and blood."

    The woman's datapad buzzes just then and she glances down. The smile fades a touch and she adds. "Please forgive the metaphor. Actual fire and blood are not my employer's intention. But yes, he wishes to employ your knowledge and your influence. And at some point your skills at, how do you say, 'running an operation'. The compensation will be proportionate to the risk, and will be significant."

Film Freak has posed:
Edison steeples his fingers in typical poser fashion, pretending he's a business man but doing a damn good job of looking as if he's the real thing.

"My demands are simple."

"I want forty thousand dollars, American, in my Cayman's bank account. It's registered to a local acting company out of Gotham that performs at high end Rabbinical oriented functions." Krusty the Clown reference, check. "That's for the risk of taking this contract, as a forward fee for the costs of operating and anything I might need."

Edison then gestures to the side, a pitch perfect wave of a director talking to his agent. "Then, I'll need a discretionary balance of fifteen hundred dollars, all cash, marked bills from your association. I'll be dropping the cash into the hands of various small time rackets in Gotham. That's so you can find the cops on the take, once they put the bills in the bank. I'm assuming, with an operation like this, you have overseas banking access. You'll have the account names, so you can see who to approach for your police cover."

Edison extends a finger upwards, thumb tucked in. "Finally, each contract mission will cost you twenty-five thousand dollars, to compensate me for the risk of going up against Gotham's vigilante set. Normally, I charge ten, but since you are obviously a high profile operation, the Bat is going to figure this out eventually. Don't tell me who you work for. I don't need to know. That money goes in my bank account in Gotham bank, under the name James Sausage."

Edison levels a finger at the woman, thumb up, grinning. "If I get captured, springing me will result in three free operations. Any contacts I recruit are yours as resources, free of charge."

He clicks his thumb, pantomiming a smooth, slow recoil from his finger as he points it up. "Are my terms agreeable?"

Talia al Ghul has posed:
    Talia smiles as Edison states his terms. She -could- inform him that he's in no position to make demands, that his terms are both short-term and short-sighted. But truth be told, this is quite in line with what she was expecting. And with what she is willing to pay.

    The woman makes a show of tapping on the pad, and a soft buzz announces a reply a few moments later. "My employer finds your terms to be acceptable." she replies simply. "When the time comes, you will be contacted through the same means we employed to hire you. Until then, my employer expects information. Detailed information on personnel, contacts, businesses. And especially weaknesses."

Film Freak has posed:
Edison uncrosses his legs, sliding into a gaunt, sidelong posture in his chair. "Of course."

"First, you have the Falcone family. They're the local favorites, their borders don't extend beyond the city. Vice rackets like drugs and prostitution. They've been entrenched in Gotham for generations. You have Rupert Thorne, he's a high powered business type, controls the unions. You have the Maronis, they're the local element of the national La Cosa Nostra, they're your link to the rest of the country. Smuggling. Then, there's Penguin, he's got the Iceberg Lounge, he's a fixer, pawn broker, fence. You've got the Triads, that's Lawrence Loman, sometimes he goes by the name Clemente Carp. He deals in sweat shops."

Edison adjusts his shades. "Finally, you've got what we call the 'freaks'. Super criminals. The notorious outlaws. Joker is the most notorious, he's fixated on theater jokes that nobody else gets. If you get the joke, he gets pissed off. Luckily, he's criminally insane. Two-Face, formally Harvey Dent, is fixated on pairs. He takes prosecution or defense roles, he switches between keeping the peace and disrupting it. Coin decides everything. You've either got a mob peace or a mob war with his gang. You've got Scarecrow, he's a chemical weapons expert, thinks he's doing experiments. He's really a psycho. Needs to cause terror in order for people to notice him. So pay attention to him if you want him to do something for you, or for him to keep quiet. Poison Ivy, she's an eco-terrorist. Everything she does is to get back at men for ignoring her. She doesn't get that men are usually attracted to one woman at a time. Beauty queen that hates meeting you halfway. Mad Hatter, he's probably the result of a cop raid when he was a kid. Elian Gonzalez type. Thinks anyone that looks at him as an authority is accusing him of something. Something bad. Finally, it was true. Whatever people think recently. Electronics expert. The last one is Killer Croc. Very smart, no empathic communication with other people, super strong. Eats people because it makes him feel better about being a social outcast. Just as human as you and I, but gets a bad break from constantly getting the stink eye. Looks like a lizard monster from outer space."

"That's the criminal scene."

Talia al Ghul has posed:
    The woman listens impassively, tapping on the pad to either take notes or convey information to the person at the other end of the connection. "My employer has no interest in the super criminals." she declares succinctly. We need to focus our efforts on the more traditional criminals. Choose one. We want to know the best way to bring them down."

Film Freak has posed:
"If you take down Rupert Thorne, the cops sweep up the unions, you've taken your control away from the rackets. If you take down Falcone going in, you cause a massive war. If you take down the Penguin, you draw in the super criminals. Lawrence Loman is a tempting target, but that's the overseas Triads, they are one of the most influential crime syndicates on the planet. Sal Maroni is a representative of national interests, but taking over his smuggling routes are the logical way to get your men and materials into the city. You just need the approval of the other bosses in the country's La Cosa Nostra to replace him. Ought to be able to find a young buck from Italy that wants to be a player, just need to kick back to his local organization in Italy to get the guy's support. That would be your pawn."

Talia al Ghul has posed:
The woman shakes her head slowly, glancing down at the pad before she replies. "My employer does not wish to 'take down' anyone. We wish to supplant their authority; to remove the trunk of the tree without damaging the roots. It does sound like replacing this Sal Maroni will be the most effective path to success." She pauses to type again. "Can you arrange a meeting with La Cosa Nostra?"

Film Freak has posed:
"The La Cosa Nostra - that's just the euphemism, they never give themselves a real name - usually meets in Las Vegas. It's beyond my abilities to arrange a meeting with anything but a low level Don. I have a contact in Florida that used to be involved in cocaine running out of South America, now they mostly work as a mercenary for South American contra outfits, they occasionally talk to political types affiliated with conservative interests in the states nearby. Especially inside the Cuban and Latino community. The cartels aren't friends to the Mafia, there's a racial rivalry that goes blood deep, but they're both hardcore Catholic across the veneer. I could get you a meeting in Vegas with a consigliere, if you make them an offer you like."

Film Freak, reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small box of wintergreen Tic-Tacs, to wash the taste of Scotch out. Edison is gone as he chews the bit of sugar and spice, his face now looking wooden and dark, as if he was George Jung as portrayed by Johnny Depp in Blow. The Crow heritage helps, Johnny Depp himself part Cree, another Native tribe.

"Don't look at this as a simple matter of meeting business representatives, Miss. This is the deep state, it's real. You're messing with American government interests here, and it's all hidden, in the dark python twists of forests and the mountains of Europe and outside the desert cities of Nevada's diamond Israel. There's a type of Zion we're talking about here that all criminals seek, where they can practice their skills alongside their unique, individual belief systems passed down from parents and shaped by hard lessons from those that don't understand them. That's what crime is really about, not mergers and acquisitions."

He chews the Tic-Tac, before swallowing it.

"If you understand that, then they'll all follow you down the darkest alley of Gotham City."

Talia al Ghul has posed:
The woman considers, listening impassively. "So crime in this country has seeped into the political structure. Yes, it explains so much." She taps on the pad a few times, then continues. "My employer needs to supplant Sal Maroni and replace him with someone who is more he can control. However it is done, that is the task." She watches curiously as he pops a Tic-Tac. "If Gotham City is such a holy place, as you say it, then our strategy will need to change. This conversation has been very enlightening."

Film Freak has posed:
"Crime has always been the game of politics," Film Freak declares arrogantly, as if he's a wizened aristocrat of a gin joint after the apocalypse. "Just like a priest has always been a benevolent liar." He rises from his chair, slipping his Tic-Tacs away. "If you can read between the lines, you'd understand all human culture." He looks around the windows behind the woman, his hands sliding into the pockets of his comfort-fit designer jeans, thumbs out. "The key is, not relating the world to what's out there, but what's inside your head. The entire parchment is for God to decide. The individual pieces you need are always for you." His wooden face changes from its sadness to a wistful grin. "People are more understanding than you think, at the bottom, Miss. Especially an old criminal and his iron horse."

He begins to turn, before looking at the woman sidelong. "Sal Maroni will be moved out, for a player out of Italy, as soon as you can give the old men in Vegas the word they need to hear. All they've ever wanted, those old men of the empty places in the heart, is pride for their sons, blood as is water. Just promise them country, not power."

"Contact me when you need me."

Talia al Ghul has posed:
Politicians and Idealists, Talia muses. Idealists like her father. But she's not doing this for *him* right now. Not this time. Dispite this 'lesson', Talia knows all about duty and family. It ended up getting her killed.

    "Thank you for your time, Mister Edison. I will speak with my employer about your suggestions. And once we are prepared to negotiate with the Italians, we will contact you. Perhaps before."

Film Freak has posed:
"See you on the other side, Miss," is all Film Freak says, before he turns about with a long, slow melancholy, tipping his head forward as he moves out of the apartment, the gait of an old drug runner to him despite his young man's body. After he reaches the elevator, he breathes in slowly, looking upwards as he steps inside, and exhales as the ghost of George Jung leaves his crowded mind. And then, a shy smile at the suit manning the elevator, before he looks down at the floor, back to being Burt Weston.

Dreams of his loft return, having a joint of expensive marijuana and curling up on a plush couch with a Hungry Man dinner in his mind, flashing through like clips of a lucid daydream movie, the colors vibrant and cartoon, as if his mind is hyper-realistic CGI with the grit of the Scotch he sipped.