4003/The Falcon and the Moon

The Falcon and the Moon
Date of Scene:	02 November 2020
Location:	Delmonico's Steakhouse
Synopsis:	Steven Grant has a conversation with Carmine Falcone
Cast of Characters:	Marc Spector, Carmine Falcone

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Marc Spector has posed:
Steven Grant is driving the body of Marc Spector tonight, since the location he is going is one that the upscale millionaire philanthropist is more accustomed to than any of the other personalities that occupy Marc's mind and body. The invitation only party at Delmonico's Steakhouse down on the south side of Manhattan is something he just can't pass up even if he might want to. To many bigwigs to hobnob with, and the charitable donations let him do something 'good' with his money.

Steven sits at the bar, gin martini in hand, surveying the crowd with those dark brown eyes of his as he sips at his drink.

Carmine Falcone has posed:
    It's the middle of the day and things at Delmonicos are going quite smoothely all things considered. The lights are warm and inviting the drinks all covered by a generous donation letting every single penny of the profits go right back to the cause of the night.

     The faces that wander about the crowd are some of the bigest movers and shakers in the city mixed with a lot of the up and comers. Invite only made it a fairly intimate environment for folks to just relax and chat and throw some money at a good cause.

     The cause for tonight is childhood Cellular degredation from unstable mutation. Not the most common illness in the world but one that's cropped up mostly in small patches through the children of mutants and children born with mutations.

     Most the faces here are already sympathetic to the cause or at the very least sympathetic to the man running this little charity.

     Walking up to the bar is a man dressed in simple black suit and bowtie. Though from this close it's clear that little rose patterns have been embossed barely visible into every inch of the suit giving it that little bit of customization it would otherwise be lacking. A bright red rose tucked into the lapel leaves little to the imagination who it may be.

     "Wonderful night for a good cause isn't it?" His voice calls out as the man orders a simple glass of wine. His smile causes the slashmarks across his face to move and shift as he looks to one side of the bar cool grey eyes locking on Spector.

     His voice holds a strong italian accent and a friendly jaunt to it as he leans on the bar a slight bit.

     Off to one side a man sets dressed plain with slicked back grey hair just looking out towards the crowd arriving at the bar just a few seconds after Carmine.

Marc Spector has posed:
Marc Spector says, "It's always a wonderful night for a good cause," retorts Steven Grant, a smile playing across his lips briefly before his lips find the rim of his martini glass once again.

The dark brown eyes of Grant slip over towards Marcone, a moment before the head turns to follow. Somewhere deep in the recesses of Marc Spector's broken mind the Fist of Khonshu recognizes the man in front of him as well as targeting the assumed bodyguard, sending a warning to the current driver of the body.

"Do you happen to know anyone afflicted with childhood cellular degradation? I can't say I know of anyone personally, but when I get an invitation to a private function such as this, I can't help but toss a few bucks in the pot. I've got more than I will ever need, so I might as well share the wealth as they say."

Steven swaps his martini glass to his left hand, offering the right over towards Marcone, "Steven Grant.""

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     "Sometimes I wonder if I've got enough cash to donate to em all, but I still make the effort." He lets out a little chuckle, The Roman tipping his wine glass to the edge of his mouth and enjoying a small sip after swirling the contents.

     The Bodyguard leans back a bit looking over towards the far side of the steakhouse as he leans a small glimpse of silver tucked right beneath his armpit, the side of a pistol.

     "My Cousin Gabriella, bless her heart, lost her son to unstable mutation last august." The 70 year old man shakes his head setting the glass back down onto the table. "To watch a flame so young snuffed out so slowly, it tugs at the heart strings."

     Chatter filters through the background as the wealthy of the city chitter about and clatter glasses together eating and drinking and spending far too much money on their plates.

     "I admit when you have a family half so big as my own loss becomes a regular occurrence, but whenever possible I do my part to intercede." There's a lot of gesticulation with his speech hands moving and dancing through the air in a highly choreographed manner even if it is subconscious.

     "It's why I decided to host this little get together." He flips up his empty palm and motions towards the room. As his hand passes by it goes right by multiple individuals dressed down simply at the corners of the room attempting to blend in but not discussing much of anything. "And why I choose to protect it so thoroughly."

     "Carmine Falcone." His hand comes back grasping onto Steven's. From a single touch the rough nature of that hand would become obvious. Old burns from working with metal, cuts like that of a surgeon, old coal worked thoroughly into the hand from years prior, the telltale marks of a man who had long used a gun. A lot can be told from a simple handshake.

Marc Spector has posed:
Steven's hands aren't exactly typical for a millionaire playboy either. Years of fighting in the military, as a mercenary, and as a vigilante have all taken there toll on the man's hands. "Oh, you're Mr. Falcone? I didn't realize! I must thank you for the invite, but I am saddened to hear about the loss of your cousin's son. That must have been rough. It is never easy to see someone so young fall. I don't have a large family, so I am unable to draw a comparison."

Steven takes another sip of his martini, plucking one of the olives from the stick and popping it into his mouth. "Out of curiosity, are you expecting some kind of trouble? Or is it just a precaution to have so much security about? I don't think anyone would be asinine enough to try and rob the place, would they?"

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     "I did what I could for the boy, ensured his time on this earth was a pleasant one to the best of my ability, but at the end of the day that's all I could do." His hand lets go of Steven's and grasps back onto the wine glass just enough to swirl its contents lightly giving off the aroma. "Unfortunately not everyone has been as successful as I have in my 70 years on this earth."

     Carmine turns completely on the stool to face the room around him. "You're a farmer." He pauses for a second. "You have the most prized chickens in the land, that lay the most exquisite eggs." He waves his hand slightly. "Now you get together a group of other farmers and you all decide to gather your chickens together to try and make something good out of the batch."

     The bartender fills back up Carmine's glass with that bottle of wine. "Now you tell me the foxes won't smell all those chickens in one place, and go crazy for it."

     He turns back to Steven. "Folks may well forget with all the capes flying around, how dangerous the world's become since they started showing." He waggles his finger slightly. "I could point to any number of fund raisers attacked in the last year alone, and the problem is:" He looks firm over towards Spectre. "The cops can't help you, the military can't help you, Superman for everything he might be, Captain America for everything he might be they's still just one man each, and you think while they're out fighting some sentient plant monster they'll take five seconds to protect someone like you or me, let alone the common man?" He leans in a bit.

     "People are weaker then they have ever been because they look at the news and presume someone is going to save them, some new cape, problem is you and me? We're not super, we're not some masked vigilante who can save the world."

     Carmine sets down the glass hard. "What we are is men with finances. Men who have an obligation to help people like Joe Smith down on mainstreet who's locked himself in his house while six goons with guns smash up his store, but folks like Captain Marvel or hell even someone like Moonknight are too busy dealing with the big fish. We don't help em by just throwing a party like this, we help em by showing an example of what men can do, we hire them to work security train them to defend themselves their houses their lives so they aint relying on someone like Iron Man to swoop in and save their hides."

     He takes a sip. "Each of these men I took off the street and had trained myself, took em from cowering crying babies and turned em into men." He motions with the hand still holding the glass. "Not just to guard my chicken coop, but to guard their wives and husbands and children. Is it overkill on a security front? Sure." He takes a longer sip. "But it teaches them that they can DO something about it."

Marc Spector has posed:
Steven Grant listens to Faclone, sipping at his martini as he does. "You think? I mean, doesn't people like Batman and his group protect the citizens over there in Gotham? I'm pretty sure people like Spider-Man, Daredevil and that PI chick do as well? Sure, they have gone off and fought some alien before, but unlike Superman don't they stick closer to the street side of things?" Steven shrugs his shoulder, "I mean, I don't really know for sure. I don't tend to keep up on that sort of thing. You being in Gotham probably have a much better understanding of all that than I do. At best I think I have seen Spider-Man swing by my penthouse once or twice."

Steven looks around again, clocking the various bodyguards, "I can see your point though. There is a lot of money in this room, and someone might get that kind of idea in their head. Good call on the security."

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     "Problem is for every one of those ground level capes there's two caped freaks looking to carve out their own slice of crime." Carmine grabs a nearby apple and takes a big bite after shining it on his handkerchief. "Tell me when the bat has time to settle a domestic if he's off solving some bank robbery downtown."

     He tosses the apple up into the air and catches it a few times. "Sure there's folks dedicated more to the street level biz but they're still so caught up with the big fish that most folks fall through the cracks."

     Falcone points towards the far corner of the room to one of his security guards. "Jacob Estacado, daughter killed in a botched kidnapping" He points to another. "Susan Grasso, husband killed in a mugging on fourth street, lost her daughter during that business in 2012 when a bit of building fell."

     He looks back over taking out another bite of apple. "Point is, as many heroes as we might have, as many cops as we might have, they ain't gonna be everywhere all the time, and an ounce of prevention is worth a hundred metric tonnes of cure."

     "That's why I'm dumping so much of my cash into these little funds, it's not about curing what's been done, it's about trying to prevent more from going south."

Marc Spector has posed:
Steven makes a little 'huh' sound as he takes another sip of his martini. "You have a good point. No matter how many people are out there, there is always going to be something or someone looking to capitalize on the weaker folk. I applaud your efforts, Mr. Falcone. Hell, I might add another digit or two to my contribution."

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     Falcone cracks a bit of a soft smile. He nods his head setting the apple back down after another bite. "I'm one man, you're one man, but right here we got about three dozen of some of the most influential men and women in the city." He takes a sip of his wine.

     "We might not be able to cure a thing, but we each throw a bit of cash at the problem?" He shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe the folks out there who can do something will have the cash to be able to." He pauses for a brief moment. "Besides, at least we know for a fact this money? It's going to help the kids not some politician, or the like."

     "Good on you friend." He gives a firm nod of his head. "Knew I could count on you to help out, otherwise? Well I mean I probably still would have invited you." He smiles. "You seem like good company." A light chuckle. "Remind me a bit of my father."

Marc Spector has posed:
Nodding, Steven finishes off his martini and sets the empty glass down onto the bar. "Ain't that the truth. You can never trust the politicians. They are always in someone's back pocket. Always. You just have to find whose wallet is puling the strings."

The millionaire grins, "But, that is the American way, isn't it? Those with the cash end up pulling the strings."

Steven chuckles, "I do? What, is it the rugged good looks?" the philanthropist jokes. "I don't typically get comparisons to people's fathers. I'll admit that is a new one for me. Regardless, I am glad I came. Sounds like a very worthy cause, and I am happy to be able to do my part to help out."

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     "That's the god honest truth." He takes another bite of the apple. "Aint a single politician in this country who aint in someones back pocket. Just gotta try and make sure it's in a back pocket that does some good."

     Carmine pauses for a moment pointing with a light finger. "Don't let it go to your head kiddo." He smirks before winding the finger back. "Probably the good looks, could cut a damn diamond on that chin." He laughs for a moment to himself

     "I'll be honest with you, I think this is one of the few that can bridge a few gaps" He connects his hands together. An interlocking motion seals them.

     Outside an engine revs loud enough to overcome the music and the chatter. Several of the plain clothes security make their way for the man door taking positions on the entrances and exits.

     Outside the window a pickup truck with the logo of the Friends of Humanity Embossed on the side. It swerves into position armed thugs hopping out of the back. Before they can do anything the security out front opens fire.


Carmine takes a sip of wine as he looks away from the window turning from the action as the armored thugs are gunned down in broad daylight. "Hate Foxes."

Marc Spector has posed:
The sound of gunfire causes Steven to freeze for a moment. Maybe PTSD from his time in the military, or his time as a Merc, or maybe just the nagging feeling that if there is gunfire he should be involved in it in one way or another as Moon Knight...but this is Steven's show, so after a moments hesitation, Steven glances from Falcone to the front and back, "Well," Steven says with a mixture of emotions tinting his voice, "I guess you weren't wrong. Better them than us I suppose.."

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     Carmine knows that look. He knows it well. "Shellshock's a hell of a thing." He taps his fingers on the bar top and gets brought something a little stronger. He pauses for a moment before taking a sip. "Be better if it didn't need to be anyone."

     Runs his finger around the rim of the glass. His eyes locking on the liquid. "Unfortunately you spend enough time in Gotham you get used to it."

     Out front the guards toss the bodies right back into the truck they came in. The thugs didn't seem to stand a chance as security shot first and didn't bother asking questions. It's a dangerous precedent but these things happen.

     The men that had hopped out of the vehicle are well armed and armored especially when compared to Falcone's men who had only been wearing suits.

     "In a perfect world there wouldn't be a need, unfortunately every day reminds us the world is far from perfect." He pauses for a long pregnant moment. The silence slowly fading from the room as people about the restaurant seem to be pretending they simply didn't see a thing. It's a sort of willful ignorance of the whole situation.

     "Vietnam." Carmine says plainly as he sets down the glass of the hard stuff.

Marc Spector has posed:
Marc Spector nods to Falcone, "Marine. Force Recon," he answers. "Can't tell you where I was, classified." Steven motions to the bartender for another martini, shifting around to look out the window as the bodies are piled back into the truck. "NYYPD is going to have a fun time with this. I mean, clear cut case of self-defense. Those guys were armed for bear so I have no doubts they were going to pull something here. I just don't know if the NYPD are going to be as understanding."

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     "Yeah I'm a bit more boring, just did grunt work for the army." He gives a bit of a smile. "Nothing so fancy." He takes another sip as the question is raised about the understanding of the cops.

     "You see something happen out there?" Carmine looks back for a moment. He shrugs his shoulders. "I didn't see a thing." He tilts his head to the side shrugging his shoulders.

     One of the donors who had taken to filming with his smart phone finds a pair of individuals walking up to him just calmly whispering something into the mans ear who nods in understanding hitting a few buttons on his phone.

     Carmine turns towards the rest of the room. "I must have missed something did anyone see or hear anything funny out there?" He looks to the rest of the room speaking loudly. The area goes a bit quiet. Of course there was bound to still be footage of some kind out there in a city as packed as NYC. It would have to exist.

     Still most the folks here seem nervous about the question a few just shaking their heads or shrugging shoulders as they go back to their meals. It could be considered an odd reaction to be sure.

     "Huh, guess I wasn't the only one who missed it." Falcone shrugging his shoulders as he turns back to his drink.

Marc Spector has posed:
Steven ahs to himself quietly. "Got it." Even as the former mercenary says this though, his eyes are taking in the details of the shooters. They might get a visit later from some vigilante who dresses all in white. The ordered martini arrives and Steven takes a healthy sip from it, tossing back half the glass in one go.

"Guess it must have just been my imagination. Or the TV was to loud.

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     "Don't be so hard on yourself kid, plenty of folks get an active imagination." He gives a bit of a smile. "Salute" knocking back the contents of his shot glass before swapping back to the wine. "Active imagination is a sign of a healthy mind."

     Out front the goon squad do their thing loading the bodies up into the truck before a 'random kid' happens to hop into the truck which has had the door left open the engine on. The young man 'steals' the truck causing the guards to give a half hearted chase before returning back to the front. A little bit of theater to go with the dinner.

     Security have their face masks on, for proper social distancing of course, but it's still have fairly recognizable faces, nothing really covering their greased back hair, or eyes.

     "Now, that said, it's hard to believe but there's still some folks out there against helping out kids just because they might be a bit different" He pauses for a moment moving his hands face up and face down a few times. "Personally, I've never seen much a difference, sick kids a sick kid, and an American is an American." He pauses for a long moment. "And a caped freak's a caped freak." He says more under his breath thinking back to vigilantes and the like.

Marc Spector has posed:
Lifting his glass and replicating the toast, Steven tosses back the remainder of the martini before setting the glass back down onto the table. "Yeah. I never got it, the whole hate for someone just because they look different, but then of course my people know a little about genocide. I can't say there is much difference between the FoH and the Arian Brotherhood, or the Nazis, or insert your other hate group of choice here. People are people. Judge them on their merits, not their skin color...or DNA I suppose."

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     "At least with skin color you can usually tell at a glance." He chuckles to himself. "With DNA we didn't even know it existed until recently" A light smirk crosses Carmine's face.

     "Either way, if you can tell a mans character by his color, or his DNA then you're a wiser man then I." Carmine takes another sip of the much lighter wine.

     Outside at the street level the NYPD are slowly arriving on the scene to ask a few questions. Surprisingly it's only a single cop car, but perhaps a little less surprising simply because the shooting was over fast.

     The officer starts asking questions but it's clear by body language and the lack of body language from the guards that there's not a single word being spoken to the officer. Instead the guards just remain completely stock silent.

Marc Spector has posed:
Keeping an eye on the goings on out front, Steven shifts a bit more in his chair. "Regardless of skin or DNA, it's just not right. People are people, plan and simple. Some are good, some are bad, but you will never know which until you know them."

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     "Unfortunately I think that's where you and I might disagree." Carmine swirrls the contents of that glass once more. "I've seen human nature enough to come to the conclusion that there are no good people." He smirks a little. "Just bad people who choose to do good things." He holds the glass up to the light.

     "Once you realize how evil people are to their core, you stop judging them by anything but their choices." He shrugs his shoulders coming back to a stand. "It's not a popular opinion, but it's one that's gotten me where I am today."

     The officer out front attempts to move his way into the restaurant only to have the first words spoken to him. From lip reading it's clear that it's along the lines of asking for a warrant.

     At this time Carmine begins to make his way towards that back door.

Marc Spector has posed:
"Fair enough," Steven says with a shrug of his shoulder as he glances from the front back to the now departing Falcone. "Leaving, Mr. Falcone? Well, it was a pleasure speaking with you. Perhaps we will run into each other again sometime." Maybe in a different guise.