12307/Gathering Gloam

Gathering Gloam
Date of Scene:	05 August 2022
Location:	Upper East Side
Synopsis:	In the wake of a strike against the Franchetti Family, Jackie Estacado runs into Gabby Kinney, who proves to have far more sympathy for that particular gangster than the sacrificial mobsters.
Cast of Characters:	Jackie Estacado, Gabby Kinney

---

Jackie Estacado has posed:
Not so long ago, a tremor was sent through the New York mafia families as the head of the Franchetti Family, Frankie, was consumed in a warehouse fire started by untraceable, apparently homemade explosives with peculiar, mystic-adjacent properties. Since then, rumours of Frankie's demise have spread despite the Family's best efforts-- especially with his cousin Paulie returning from Florida to take up the reins.

At first, their problem was predicted to take the form of opportunistic action by other organizations' crews-- and to some extent, this was a fair estimation. What no one anticipated was that the rogue hitman who seemingly perpetrated the explosive attack had also survived being at ground zero; and Jackie continued to come after them. A week or so after Frankie's death, the Franchettis received an ultimatum. Estacado was in charge now; the old guard was over. Their way of doing things was dead; and so too would be anyone who stood with Paulie. Since then it's been a scramble of loyalty tests, restructuring, and seeking aid from mercenaries-- and elite agents-- to slow the suspiciously supernatural progress Jackie's made towards gutting a syndicate already missing one of its heads.

Case in point: An august, old-school high rise in one of New York's classiest neighborhoods. From the terraced penthouse above, one can look out over Central Park, or farther for a dramatic vista of the East River. A dinner was held in these luxurious surrounds this eve by several capos and AMPLE armed guards making plans to stall the bodycount their rogue member has been racking up. Then the sun went down. About twenty minutes ago, the building's power was severed from the grid.

Five minutes after that, and the backup generators were physically torn asunder. Gremlins are a common refrain in such nigh-inexplicable cascades of apparent sabotage or technological entropy, and in this case-- it's quite apt. Darklings creep from the shadows at key points, and moments later, it's only flashlights and firearms that the mob had to defend themselves. They set up at every choke point. Guarded every entrance. But the attack came up through the pipes, the screaming and gunshots began in an interior bathroom; and continued from there.

The growing crescendo drew a swarm of New York's finest, blue and red lights illuminating the facade of the looming, dark structure. They'll make entry methodically, carefully; and find a charnel house with no apparent perpetrator still present. Indeed, in a flowing, dark gray longcoat and black shirt and denim beneath it, poised on a pair of heavy combat boots, Jackie Estacado less watches and more lingers near the chaos on the borders of the wooded park, smoking and eyeing the city with a degree of wrathful intensity, to say the least. Around him, the shadows shift, glowing green and orange eyes peer out from the trees, and the Darkness stubbornly takes its sweet time actually recalling itself to his orders.

Chitterings belonging to no natural creature are prevalent in this section of forested paths, for about the last half-hour-- and in Estacado's mind the conflict is far more pronounced. ~~ WeeE are SssStilLLL hUUUngRYYYY JackIIIIIIIEEEE!! ~~ He draws deeply from his cigarette, and by force of will, darklings are banished one by one back into the shroud; if rather gradually, and with much objection.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
There's a figure in Central Park itself that has been here most of the day. Running. Just running along the paths that were familiar to her as she seeks to find some measure of comfort from the familiarity, from the burn in her legs that ebbs and flows as her healing factor takes over to fix whatever she had overworked. Stamina was not an issue here. Losing track of time was.

When the sun sets, and the shadows grow long in the park, Gabby's eyes shift to adjust making it easier to pick out points of light in the growing darkness. Light, and sounds, as the all-too-familiar siren wail draws her attention when she heads closer to the edge of the park having intended to finally finish her run. Even from here she could smell the gunsmoke. The sweat of fear. Blood. It was dim but easily recognized as she'd been training to recognize those very scents.

Besides, no one ever forgot the smell of death once they had a good whiff of it.

Curiosity starts to draw her closer... Until a light emerges from the necklace around her. A simplistic stone wire-wrapped and engraved with Egyptian markings, it's sole purpose was to point out when magic was nearby. The glow was only visible to her eyes. Her own little miniature Sting to warn her of things in the dark.

Things like chittering, hungry Darklings, imps, and the like.

Her path changes course just slightly veering toward where the light grows brighter from that necklace, and one unfortunate darkling is rewarded with an enchanted claw thrust through it's face. If Jackie could feel such things it might be a give away that he was being approached by the small, dark haired girl with scars on her face, and bright green eyes that saw fairly well in the darkness all things considered.

Jackie Estacado has posed:
If Jackie takes offense at the execution of an errant Darkling-- one seeking to wander deeper into the park of its own accord no less-- there's little sign. As he turns to face the approaching mutant, his own eyes visibly glow an eerie, gold-tinted orange for several moments. The woods go quiet-- too quiet. The silence of nature coerced to stillness from the recent passage of predatory threat, and in this case, a very magical one indeed.

Jackie himself likely remains a beacon of such, even as the subtly shimmering, scaled tendrils of the Darkness retreat within his flowing coat, as one final Darkling screech pierces through the trees during their egress back to Lands Beyond. "Ain't a good idea, girl." Estacado hypthesizes, based on the presumption that it's himself Gabby currently stalks.

"Everyone up there had it comin' so hard they might as well have begged for it, dragging brave and impulsive vigilantes into the whole thing won't be great for either of us." Is that flattery? Or derision? There's a matter-of-factness to it, an almost resigned sort of deprecating grief directed inward as much as anything.

"... Unless their Mob hired you on for the stalkin', in which case..." Jackie hits his cigarette, the burn of its cherry illuminating his granite-hewn features for one lingering, firelit moment. "Disregard all that and let's get it fuckin' done."

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney pauses at the sight of those glowing eyes while inhaling deeply. The smells were too close here. Everything she'd been trying to get away from was being brought to mind again. The nightmares caused by the Old Ones that had dragged her through a literal hell of a battlefield to try and entice her into joining them. All the sounds reminded her of that. It's due to this that, for a moment, she just stares silently back at the glowing-eyed Jackie.

Only for his remark of the mob hiring her to earn a quick, impulsive laugh. "Oh fuck that they couldn't afford me if they wanted to." Lifting a hand to press at the bridge of her nose a moment she none the less keeps her eyes open to watch. It's only then she shakes her head, not making any threatening gestures but neither was she running for her life. "Not my city, not my issue right now. Police are already there so they can do their job. I was just after the imps," she explains with a gesture at the darkness that seemed to surround him.

"Nasty buggers. Not really good to have them running around the park where anyone could wander in on them. But--" Here she flashes a faint grin. "No, I'm not planning to fight you. I don't know who you are and I'm tired of dealing with Old Ones for a bit. Not that you seem like an Old One. I think."

Jackie Estacado has posed:
~~ TheEeeE OLDESSSSST ooNe! ~~

It's likely easy to conclude that Jackie rolls his eyes at Gabby, out of the gate. "Can they, though?" Do their jobs. Jackie doesn't bother to hide the overt derision, there.

"And aw, the Darklings ain't so bad. Well..." the Host polishes off his cigarette and, in what almost has to be an insult, feeds the butt directly to the Darkness, vanishing into shadows from his grasp. "... some of them are. Rabid little buggers. Others have character, though. One of 'em thinks its Batman." It's certainly spoken sardonically-- but a full-on joke? Who would make up that shit?

"I'm Jackie." It's freely offered, a measure of politesse; even if the name -is- attached to the Franchetti mob's premier hitman, the last couple years. He doesn't dive into the terrible things he was told to do, on top of wetwork against opposing soldiers or associates-- or the break he tried to make between his life and The Life. Clearly, that didn't stick.

"An' some would tell you I'm something worse than that scum." Even himself, after enough whiskey, just now. "But /I/ say this city, this world could use a better class of vice, eh?" And clearly, he has some measure of power to make that /happen/. In theory.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney shifts her gaze toward the voice hissing out from the shadows with her lips pursing tight. Okay then. That solved THAT question. "Yeah, already burned and fought for what felt like a century. Hard pass," she utters. No, she wasn't going to take this individual on. Not tonight. Though she does tuck his name away to look into later, perhaps. When she wasn't mentally and emotionally exhausted over the whole situation.

"Gabby," she offers back with a sideway stretch of her neck to work out a little tension there. Really, she was trying not to be so tense, but she had been workout out all day. Somehow managing not to look as if she had though. "And yeah the police are kinda crap but now and then they need to step up. Can't be responsible for them all of the time." That was a fools errand.

The mention of being worse earns a shrug in response to that. "Maybe. Most of my family are killers. I don't have a lot of room to talk when it comes to judging people." A wry grin comes as she recalls a few folks she knows that are 'less than good' who were perfectly good in her book. Reaching up she rakes her fingers back through her hair. "I'm guessing by the talk then that you're cleaning house of *that* mob to get your own or take over the remnants, huh. What exactly do you consider a 'better class of vice'? If it's human trafficking I'm gonna be pissed," she warns with just an edge of annoyance to her voice. The rest? Well. That was questionable.

Jackie Estacado has posed:
"Not a ton of fun, is it?"

At that surface glance, it sounds not unlike his own recent regeneration; an otherworldly jaunt where Jackie learned, much to his dismay, that the Darkness is not particularly interested in letting its Host die. At least, not on any terms except its own. Lost in the purgatory of an Asylum where everything is Wrong, and across an extradimensional battleground defined by endless, perpetual warfare and suffering... Estacado wouldn't mind being free of Old One struggles, himself. If only it were so simple. Much easier to gripe about external problems, instead.

"Step up-- hah. If they started actually gettin' rid of what everyone is scared of they'd stop getting more and more money every damn year. Outside the big dramatic setpieces--" he's one to talk... "-- violence and danger have been down for decades now, yet we keep gettin' more of 'em. Almost like the whole thing's designed to fund shit with fines and keep all the new prisons full of slave labor." In fairness, Jackie's barely even being hyperbolic there-- the Constitution has a very specific clause for such 'employees'.

"Never catch me making money as a slaver." A hitman looking down his nose at the Fuzz might seem paradoxical; but it's also probably not unusual. "Drugs, sex, violence-- none of that's going away, though. Right kind of killer in your corner, it all runs a lot smoother with a lot less needless bloodshed than the status quo, yea?" It's not exactly lost on him how deceptively lethal, stealthy, //calm// in the face of preternatural danger that the teenager herself is, family of 'other' killers or not.

"Rather be in charge than put up with fuckers who order hits on kids, an' blow up orphanages just to rattle their enemies." Yea, that makes him angry; the sneer is pronounced.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
It wasn't the first time she'd heard such talk about the police, about the whole system. There were many good points she had to agree with. This was perhaps part of why she wasn't always the best at being one hundred percent 'legal.' There were enough things she'd done in her life after all, even if murdering wasn't on that list. At least not outright.

All she can do is cross her arms over her chest slightly with her weight shifting from one foot to the other as she listens to the rest of that. Honestly she's dwelling on his first words of it 'not being nice.' It certainly wasn't.

A little hint of a smile pulls her lips when he so vehemently talks about not being a slaver, or doing what the others had done. It causes her to glance back over to the building which she could just barely see through the trees at this point. The red-blue-red flash of light was the most obvious thing splashing against the walls of it's exterior.

"Good, then. Sounds like the kind of people I'd want to get rid of myself. Surprised my brother hasn't taken them out already." A little shake of her head comes, and she looks back, still distracted.

"Got another of those cigs? The smell over there's getting to me some." A little tilt of her head is given as if she had heard something. "Police are talking about canvasing the area so we may want to beat it, too."

Jackie Estacado has posed:
Has Jackie ever been 100% legal? It's a distant day before the errant youth started recording lasting memories, at any rate. Murder was a line crossed quite some time ago; and for the most part, he's slept like a baby every night since. War takes a lot of forms; and a man has to have a code. Which brings him to this particular, decidedly brutal juncture.

"Always another shitheel. Killin' em off just invites the next willing to step all over whoever and whatever to get not just what they want-- but more and more on top of it. Not that different from any other business, in that."

A smooth, slow gesture reaches inside his coat's lapel to extract a pack of cheap, actual tobacco filters sourced from the Reservation upstate. The pack is gracefully flipped open, its contents folding outwards for easy reach as he takes a single step forward and extends it. Such precise, clear movements are necessary after more than one standoff at gunpoint. Or when you're talking to someone with a seriously deadly case of bone spurs. A well-worn old Zippo is also on offer, obvious from the scent of its fuel long before it's flicked to life.

"Guess we better take a walk, then." It's nice of her to look out, and draws a measure of surprise as he picks a path back along the woodland floor towards the more proper pathways. "Though of course-- I was never there." It's technically true. Nothing would ever stick. The penthouse of Franchetti loyalists was hit by demons, devoured by gremlins, all but literally.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney gives a silent nod of thanks when he pulls out the cigarettes. The slow, methodical approach was appreciated as well even if she wasn't intending to fight. They were both in a situation where it was a bit of an awkward temporary truce if only because neither really wanted to put more effort out right now than necessary. The offered cigarette is drawn out to place between her lips, and the zippo taken to flick to life. Only a few quick breaths are drawn ensuring it lights properly before she clicks the zippo shut to offer back toward him.

"Thanks. Still getting used to being able to smell damn near everything. Smoke blurs it out a little." Though it wasn't something she usually did. It was her sister and father that smoked. For the moment though it would suffice to take away the edge of it as she picks up her step to walk alongside the man of questionable repute down the path he'd picked up.

"Didn't see you anywhere near there," she states simply in reply. "I'm not overly fond of the police myself, and I look like my sister who may have some warrants out on her. Rather not get involved in that." At least she's up-front about it.

After a moment she speaks again. "I don't really care about little stuff. People do what they have to so they and their families can survive sometimes. People like in that building though?" A little shrug as she takes another pull off the cigarette coming out with a gentle coughing from being unfamiliar with it. "Eh, fuck. Fuck 'em."

Jackie Estacado has posed:
It would be easy to assume Jackie has no aversion to violence, especially if one gets a glimpse of the gruesome crime scene photos and the visceral paintjob given to the mob penthouse tonight; and strictly speaking, that's true.

It's a deceptively precise brand of violence, however-- if executed with a tool far less surgical than built-in blades. Gabby isn't a desirable opponent because she doesn't deserve to be; because there's no quarrel there. Killing miserable bastards and the soldiers willing to kill for them is another, if somewhat ironic, matter entirely.

"Enhanced senses? Nice; gotta be a pain in the ass in the cities a lot of the time, though." A lot worse to SMELL everything in New York than to see in the dark really well, to his mind. His own scent is subtler, though still touched by gunpowder-- Jackie's carrying two pistols and a backup in his boot, after all-- and otherwise dominated by a subtle, conservative application of cologne. "Right. Last thing I need tonight is more bullshit." On that, they can agree. "You mercenaries? Heroics?" The family of fearless killers is, admittedly, a fascinating thread. His own legacy is a little less cooperative.

Estacado can't suppress a half a smirk at the coughing, though it's masked partially by the lighting of another smoke for himself before the pack and lighter are tucked away anew. "Yea. Most crimes come from greed, malice... or desperation. Important distinction to 'get'." On all sides of that struggle. "Past a certain point though, well-- I guess you pays your money, you takes your chances."

Gabby Kinney has posed:
"Yeah. I'm a late bloomer with them, too," Gabby remarks about her enhanced senses with a little bit of a grin. They hadn't emerged with the rest of her abilities so she was still getting used to them. It was a pain. "It can be annoying. I'm learning a few tricks to deal with it though." There's a pause as she admits, "It's honestly easier to deal with the noise. I always liked to listen to music or leave the TV on in the background so it's easy to tune out. The smells though are the worst, yeah," she has to agree with a solemn nod. Speaking of, she asks innocently enough, "What cologne you wearing? It's nice."

The topic of smells aside she actually has to consider how to answer the question of her family. "Bit of column A, bit of column B. The Government tried to use several of us as weapons only for it to backfire on them. I'd say we're the good guys. Just not always 'legal' about it," she reasons thoughtfully. "But a few of my family are mercenaries though they pick and choose their jobs. They're good enough they get to."

The cigarette is drawn in for another pull but she stops sudden enough that the little bit of gravel on the worn path crunches beneath her shoes. Turning toward Jackie she lets out a huff of breath. "Don't get the wrong idea but I'm gonna push you against that tree and kiss you," she blurts out matter-of-fact. True to word her hand reaches up to try planting dead center of his chest to push him off the track into the tree before she rises up onto her toes and leans in to... Kiss his cheek. Her head is tilted just right it surely wouldn't look like she was going for his cheek to anyone else observing.

The reason becomes obvious a split-second later as flashlights cut through scanning over the area. Two police on bicycles sweeping the area, the little whizzz-click of the chain and gears having alerted Gabby to their arrival. The beam of light settles on them a moment. "Hey! No loitering! Get out of here before we ticket you!" The other officer calls back, "Come on, keep looking. Don't have time for this."

Jackie Estacado has posed:
"Suddenly: Piss and shit everywhere." Jackie classily posits, albeit still from a place of sympathy, "And a touch of Armani, I guess." Should see his collection of suits; some parts of The Life certainly suit Estacado well enough. He nods along with the rest easily, his own life being surprisingly decent perspective on such borderline dealings, even if he was hardly the government's pet weapon.

"Like I was sayin'-- someone's damn sure gonna do it, might as well take some control and do it right." At least, right along a skewed set of lines? "Take out the right fuckers, grab the right lines, life suddenly looks a lot better-- and not just for your own."

When Gabby stops suddenly, Jackie pulls up short in the next half-beat, already turning partway to face her when she makes the unexpected assertion, "Uh--" ... intelligent queries are forestalled for after the shove, as it becomes readily apparent what is 'going on'. The gangster smoothly folds into the close embrace with a practiced ease and cants his own head to aid in the resulting illusion, "Decent play." He admits in a murmur. It's a commentary that continues when they're called out, accompanied by a substantial eye-rolling.

"It's a fuckin' //public park//." It's easy to imagine he'd rather be angrily shouting this back at the cops, but abstains; for the moment. "Public lewdness, maybe. Corrupting a minor?" He's not entirely sure on that one. "//Loitering//? Fuckers are so bad at their job. This shit's open til -1am-!" Ridiculous! Granted, it's not like anyone is stepping in to make their lives hell over it, just now. "-- I'm not selling this moment real well, huh?"

Gabby Kinney has posed:
It's a good enough of a job that the busy, distracted bike officers sprint off on their cycles after giving the 'warning' to the apparent couple. It's the ongoing tirade from Jackie that causes the most obvious reaction from Gabby as she's held in his arms for the duration of the act. She starts to shake a bit... wait. No. She's laughing and trying very hard not to let out with it while the cops were still in ear shot.

As soon as she's sure they aren't though she ducks her head down just laughing as if he'd told the funniest joke ever. Maybe in some small way it was. It takes her only a moment to gather herself together though, and she looks up still grinning and a bit red-faced over it.

"No, but you're totally right! And I'm only a minor technically for a week or two more so not a lot to corrupt right there," she points out unnecessarily. Then again everyone that's about to turn eighteen was like that.

"I figured this would be more believable than my old moves, though. I can't really pretend to be a lost little girl or with my dad anymore at this age."

Jackie Estacado has posed:
The chuckles are infectious, though Jackie's laughter is somewhat more subdued, relinquishing Gabby as they pass and shaking his head after the sweeping flashlight disappearing deeper into the park.

"See I've thought that a bunch of times; but there's a lot of corruption in the world." Beat. "... that sounded creepier than I meant it to." Common enough assertion among teens or no, it's never the /smoothest/ observation to actually find a good //response// to. "I dunno-- even old fucks manage to be lost and confused more than anyone has a right to." It's a fair assessment, at the end of the day.

"This way definitely draws a lot less attention and a simpler set of questions to answer. So good call." A wolfish grin is cast sidelong to Gabby as he takes a few measured strides back along their original course-- fearlessly following -after- the sweep instead of rushing towards a likely second set of officers.

"You grow up roamin' and fighting?" He guesses, as much as asks. Once more it seems more familiar, sympathetic than the normal shock or apprehension cultural norms might demand. "Seems like old hat already." Yep, he can definitely relate, there.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney moves back to the path herself once they break away from the ruse that had been set up in that split second or two. She's at least a bit more relaxed now knowing that she could still pull tactics like that out in a pinch if needed.

Lacing her fingers together behind her head she gives a little stretch to tip her head back up toward the sky while walking. "Mm. Yeah, kind of. I had the option of living in a boarding school where it was nice and mostly safe." One she hadn't really taken. "Met some good friends when I roamed around. Kept an eye on my sisters. Just got to *explore*. I was kept locked up most of my life, I didn't want to be locked away again. I wanted to live and see things and try things and..."

Pausing at the end of her breath she lets her arms drop back down to her side with another little laugh. "Sorry, I tend to ramble sometimes. I really do believe everyone ought to just experience and do as much as they can, when they can. Being free being able to enjoy life. It's great, even if there are parts that aren't so great."

Tipping her head toward him once again she questions, "Same with you, then? Seems like we both had a rough life."

Jackie Estacado has posed:
"Funny how sometimes what looks freeing is just another leash, though." Jackie muses. Government hole, boarding school rules, it's not a super overlapped Venn, but in his case... "I went from a strict, stupid as shit orphanage run by brutal twats who thought they were Holy, straight to..." There's a pause there, a subtle wince. It's not the nicest thing to remember what used to be his reality; one up-ended again and again of late.

"Well, got adopted by an overboss, right? Saw somethin' in me, sure-- but that something was always just what I could do for him as a soldier with the loyalty of a son. Every mobster talks a big game about loyalty, honor, family-- but it's the same as anywhere. Most fuckers are just talk; when the chips are down they look out for number one first, and everyone else never. Assuming they ain't throwing their loved ones under the bus for convenience or expedience." Which is another concept that rather transcends criminal culture, permeating the norms of society.

"Some things you can't just walk away from, but I'm done bein' some fuckwad's puppet, done with cages that pretend to be free will. Ain't no strings on me." In the back of Jackie's mind, the Darkness enjoys a hearty, reverberating laugh.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney lifts a hand to hold out toward Jackie with her fist curled inward in a clear, classic case of 'hit it' at the end of his statements. Of course she couldn't hear the laughter or question him on that. The sentiment was there though. "I lost a lot of sisters to the labs. I figure I've got a lot of living to do on their behalf. So far, so good." The thought of looking out for number one though.. That she knows of, but can't quite grasp herself. "I think I lucked out in that department at least. My sisters helped me get free and protected me because they wanted at least ONE of us to get the chance to be free. And my newer family are also pretty good."

A thought springs to mind about one incident where that wasn't the case, but it also wasn't life or death or anything. She just grows quiet considering. Finally she shakes away the thoughts, and glances to the side. "Exits coming up. Gonna be okay on your own from here?" It's a serious question asked genuinely as she looks back to him.

Jackie Estacado has posed:
Jackie readily connects those RESPEK KNUCKLES with his own. The Darkness itself be damned, the sentiment stands; stands stronger with its insidious aims, at that. "That's //fucked//." Jackie insists, adamantly. "The ones still caught, I mean-- not breakin' free. You get a line on those bastards, you just let me know, yea?"

This time his movements are a bit more casual as he retrieves and extends a dog-eared card of plain stock bearing only a phone number. "I've got... a few tricks up my sleeve." To an extent that it gives Estacado a momentary chuckle at the idea he might -not- be alright on his own, from here. Good of her to care, though.

"And let's say I owe you one, eh?" Which might again be understating the gangster's capacity for looking out for his own back-- but it's the principle of the thing, as is often the case. "Not everyone running around this city at night tryin' to help out has a level head to even start finding a nuanced take." That much, certainly, is a fair trade.

Jackie pauses his step to turn towards Gabby, brushes his midnight mane back from his face as he leans in closer, and offers her a reciprocal peck on her cheek. "I was gonna ask you the same thing; but I don't think I gotta worry too hard on that end, either."