4178/Falcons and Ants

From Heroes Assemble MUSH
Revision as of 11:57, 19 November 2020 by Shelley (talk | contribs) (Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2020/11/19 |Location=An undisclosed warehouse. |Synopsis=Scott Lang is Hired by Carmine Falcone to bug a display he ordered made |Cast of Character...")
(diff) ← Older revision | Latest revision (diff) | Newer revision → (diff)
Jump to navigation Jump to search
Falcons and Ants
Date of Scene: 19 November 2020
Location: An undisclosed warehouse.
Synopsis: Scott Lang is Hired by Carmine Falcone to bug a display he ordered made
Cast of Characters: Carmine Falcone, Scott Lang

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     The air hangs heavy with the stench of mildew and mold. A low dripping from a pipe overhead echoes out as the nearby puddle forms and grows larger. The place is dark and uninviting filled with old boxes and shipping crates long since forgotten in this part of the city.

     Nearby mice squeak and nibble about in the dark corners of the room, the world faded and blurred through the stitchwork of a thick black bag draped over poor Scott's head.

     The pickup had been quick and brutal but here he was the cold chill of the night echoing out.. Footsteps grow closer, a conversation half over.

     "And this was the best method you could think of?" An old man's voice with a thick Gothamite accent, still tinged with a hint of italian backing it. "Beaten, battered and bruised."

     "Don Falcone, I thought" A terrified voice rings out sounding fairly familiar, belonging to a certain overzealous goon who'd had himself a tough baseball bat.

     "No," That first voice responds in a soft spoken and grandfatherly tone, as if speaking to a child. "No, I very much don't think that you did very much at all in the way of thinking Anthony,"

     "I'll make it up to you I swear Don, I swear on my mothers life it was a mistake." The once tough and brutal thug now sounding as a scared little child.

     The elderly voice lets out a low shhing sound through the mask, his white suit barely visible as an outline as the much smaller elderly man holds a single finger up to the mouth of the goon. "I forgive you."

     A low sigh of relief echoes from the hulking man, before a lone suppressed subsonic gunshot rings out dropping the giant down to the ground with a thud. "Just a shame the rest of the family never would."

     The bag is pulled off of Scott's head as Carmine Falcone comes to a stop right before him, hands behind his back, as the hulking giant of a man from before is drug off by the legs out from the main loby of the warehouse. "Untie him, and bring out the good vintage."

Scott Lang has posed:
     Scott had had better days. Truthfully he'd had worse too. His wife telling him she was leaving him. Being sentenced to prison. But being beaten, blindfolded, and stuffed in a trunk for hours certainly made for the top 10. Surprisingly the usually quip-laden Lang stays silent through the proceedings as the two gangsters talk, his only real reaction coming when the shot fires, an obvious flinch.
     As the bag comes off and his hands are undone he remains silent as well for a moment, pulling his arms around first to rub at his wrists, his bruised and battered face taking a quick scope of his surroundings. Other gangsters clearly lurked around him, armed. Were he Captain America or Black Widow maybe he'd try and fight his way out. Were he Stark he'd probably have some hidden gadget to let him summon a flying tank. If he were Thor...Thor would never be in this mess. The thought stings a bit that only he seemed to be this vulnerable despite being a part of the very same team.
     Finally he looks at the aged man standing in front of him in the decrepit warehouse, Scott's expression not showing fear so much as a grim resolve. "I'm sorry but while I'm flattered for the attention you're really not my type. But I'll get some breadsticks to go if that's alright," a smartass comment finally coming but delivered with a venomous deadpan. It was either joke or start shouting obscenities he thought as he sits up a little straighter in his chair, at least trying to look the part of the hero, only to wince as the effort makes something in his ribs ache.

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     Carmine Falcone the king of Gothams crime since the end of the Vietnam War. He takes pause standing on the spot as he takes a deep bite of a golden delicious apple. "I am glad to see that your lumps have not dulled your sense of Humor Mr.Lang" He speaks slowly and deliberately tossing the apple once into the air before snagging another bite.

     Out from the back room goons in black suit and tie bring forth a large table folding it out into place setting it so that Scott remains at the head. A white tablecloth is lain out onto the table as well as a wine glass at either end. Chardonnay is poured into either cup before argument can be made, and within moments Falcone sets himself down at the other end of the table.

     Once it's all put into place the ropes binding Scotts feet to the chair are cut loose. "I would ask your forgiveness towards the method of your acquisition this evening." The Patriarch of the Falcone family taking one more bite out from his apple. "When I make a request for the presence of an individual on occasion those beneath me unfortunately take the activity in a manner unbecoming our good family name."

     He takes a deep sip from his wine glass looking across the table as he settles into place. "If you so wish you may well simply walk out the door and my associates will see you are returned home in first class as opposed to luggage, however I believe my request may yet pique your interest towards easy money." He sets the glass back down onto the table.

Scott Lang has posed:
     Scott's eyes flick here and there as the over the top presentation is made, trying to count goons and guns. He of course projects no air of sophistication or authority, just a young father in a blood-stained old t-shirt and jeans with a black eye and other bruises to go with. He's still flexing his wrists and rolling his shoulders but beyond that remains still in the seat, the talk of being 'free to leave' not quite convincing enough for him to try it.
     "Seems maybe you need to learn to give better direction in that case. I'd say put it in writing but we wouldn't want to leave an evidence trail would we?" Scott grumbles from the other end of the table. He eyes the wineglass after, hours riding in the trunk and a tiny bit of blood loss along the way had left him feeling dehydrated. Figuring if they wanted to drug him also they already had all the opportunity in the world till now to do it without trickery he picks it up and downs half the glass in one go with a gasp to follow.
     "You also need to learn how to read someone's situation. I was only into the 'easy' money because I was desperate, not greedy. I have a job. Hell I have two jobs and a kid to think of on top of it. You think I'm going to throw away my spot on the Avengers because you can offer me a nice Porsche, Don?" he adds with a surliness still present.

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     "If I wanted someone to commit a crime I would not go for an avenger Mister Lang." Carmine gives a warm and friendly smile as he motions for water to be brought over and poured into the glass once he sees just how quickly the first had been downed. "I require an electrical engineer not a thief."

     Carmine takes a sip from his cup as food is brought out for the two Catering from one of the most expensive restaurants in the entirety of New York City. The food holds a smell that even manages to overpower the stench of mold and mildew as the display is made. The workers are clearly unsure of what to make of the state of the man but managing to hold it together fairly well.

     "Rest assured for once this money is both easy and legal." Carmine pauses as he sets down the apple core having it removed from his sight in a matter of moments. "A rare treat I assure you."

Scott Lang has posed:
     "Really? Easy and legal? So is this town suffering a shortage of electrical engineers then? Or do you not know how to Google for 'electrician' and check the results? Though I suppose you would be more Bing fellows wouldn't you? Right guys? Bada boom bada Bing? Huh?" Scott easing up which was only going to make him more annoying to deal with.
     He leans forward with elbows on the table and folds his hands only to press two fingers together to point them at Falcone as the food is set down, the aroma causing his stomach to grumble, his brave facade briefly breaking into a cringe again. Still he wasn't starving and for now ignores the meal as he carries on sarcastically, "So what bank are you looking to legally override the security system on? Hmm? Gold depository? Maybe a military depot, I mean those guns belong to the people right? Be perfectly legal to go in there and take them, your tax...well someone's taxes paid for them anyway right?"

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     The goons in the room laugh at all of Langs jokes just as they'd been told to. Even the serving staff laugh along out of more mob mentality than anything else. He's getting a rise out of the crowd like a comedian on stage and a few of them even give a bit of applause.

     There's a lot of them, a whole lot of them in every direction by the looks.

     On the catwalks above the warehouse armed goons walk back and forth keeping their eyes open for any signs of hostile activity. On the ground floor every door to the place is heavily guarded, at least 3 dozen people just to guard the elderly Falcone should things go south.

     Carmine digs into his meal allowing the jokes to fly fast and hard as he lowers his attention down towards the plate letting his eyes fall down low as he smirks softly.

     Finally he holds a single hand out to one side and the laughter stops. Like a regular Julius Caesar in his own Roman empire.

     "There is a fundraiser for the Wounded Warriors Project coming up and unfortunate as it may be the display was built without all of the proper wiring in place." He pauses for a moment. "I require someone that is able to make their way into the display without damaging it and also possesses an in-depth understanding of electrical wiring to ensure that this little SNAFU does not endanger the proceedings of the fundraiser."

     He sets down knife and fork. "You are the one man I know who both holds the ability to shrink to the appropriate size, and simultaneously possess electrical engineering expertise."

Scott Lang has posed:
     For a brief moment the feigned laughter almost makes Scott feel good, probably as Carmine intended to set him at ease. But the applause was a bit much, the laughter a bit too loud. Christ how far was this man willing to go? His forehead furrows up as he tries to actually read the room. It was more armed men than they'd need for just him and most weren't even looking his way. What other trouble WERE they expecting? If they thought the Avengers were tracking him they would still be woefully outgunned.
     As Scott continues to try and sus out the situation he leans back in his seat, one hand going for the wineglass while the other brushes over his pocket. When he'd been jumped they'd searched him for weapons and taken his phone. All he had was his wallet, a pack of 'magic' playing cards...and the suit. Shrunken down and placed inside a button, it was useless without being changed into it, his other hero gear like his discs and bolt launchers similarly micro-sized and no fast way to slip them on.
     With an annoyed mumble he picks up a fork and jams it into a stuffed shell, just setting it in his mouth and starting to chew when Falcone explains the job. Scott starts to cough and quickly downs a shot of the wine. "Holy crap you're looking to rip off wounded vets?! Jesus man I'd rather help you rob a bank, at least some of them deserve it!" Lang finally gets out, looking wide-eyed at Falcone like the man had just punched a baby. There was evil, and then there was ripping off a Wounded Vet fundraiser evil, Scott still entirely sure that was the endgame no matter what the man said.

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     The laughter stops, the guards still watching for something in the world beyond. One of the guards gives a firm nod towards the other, the two running off to the far door and slamming it open so that they can head outside towards the roof. The door closes behind them as something draws the attention of several more of the guards.

     Carmine is silent as the accusation is leveled. He just continues to eat his own meal as provided. It's good stuff Wagyu beef, exotic cheeses and butters used in the creation of one hell of a nice pasta alfredo.

     "Mister Lang, are you aware of how much money goes through my operations on a yearly basis?" He sets down the knife and fork. "Twenty six billion dollars per year in illicit operations that needs to be cleaned, and distributed." He sets back in his chair. "Fundraisers are a method of not only cleaning that money so it can be utilized to fund further operations but also returning to the community in ways that provide a positive public relations spin."

     Carmine comes to a stand as outside there seems to be a bit of fighting going on between the mobsters and someone outside. "The more extravagant I ensure the fundraiser is the more money can be slipped through and out the other side as spendable assets." He motions with the now half empty glass of wine. "I'd categorize it as a win for everyone involved."

Scott Lang has posed:
     Had Scott not almost choked a second ago the figure of 26 billion probably would have done it again. It wasn't just the money but the fact the man across from him was still organizing ventures like this at his age when he clearly could have retired ages ago. Scott rubs one hand over his face and lets out a groan. He wasn't desperate, he had a good life now, a decent life...but Cassie was growing up, college funds, there was alimony. The whole thing did sound, almost harmless. His hands stays over his eyes, not wanting to look at the Don or anyone else in the room. The fighting garnered some attention but it certainly wasn't the Avengers, something would have exploded by now. Instead he focuses on the cards now in his hand, shuffling them one-handed and flicking them around. "How much are we talking on my end? I'm not saying yes mind you..." he mutters, the cards flickering faster between his fingers like a nervous tic. Don't do this Scott a part of his brain was telling him, the heel of one shoe starting to tap up and down restlessly.

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     "Full tuition for your little girl." Carmine offers rather calmly folding his hands one over the other. "College of your choice." He smiles warmly across the table that elderly man pausing for a brief moment as one of his thugs is thrown against the window of the warehouse sliding down the glass instead of smashing through it.

     "I can ensure her schooling is not only paid for but she is welcomed in with open arms." He gesticulates with his hand moving it round in circles. "Of course on paper I'll be marking you down as being paid properly in cash, but we'll take care of all the taxes associated."

     More of the goons run their way out of that door at the top as the fighting goes on out of sight and out of mind. "As I said prior you can of course walk away and I will hold no qualms with you, however the offer is one time."

Scott Lang has posed:
     Scott tenses up to even hear the Don make mention of his little girl. It was clear he knew exactly what button to push and which not to. And a giant lump sum of cash dropped in Scott's lap would've been suspiscious as hell. But college tuitions? There was still years to go and loads of ways to move and explain away funds like that. The cards stop rifling through his fingers and his tapping shoe comes to a halt.
     "If I do this, we're setting a couple conditions. One, I never wanna see or even hear from you or your goons ever again once payment is made. You try and use this as leverage on me in the future and I'll be sure it's hell to pay old man. And two, I do the job alone. You give me the specs and the location and I do it, I don't want some armed babysitter along for the ride. I've already seen and felt how your men work and I don't need the help," growls out Scott. He was angry, but less so at Carmine despite trying to focus it on him. He was angry at himself. Was he going back to this after all? His fingers flicker again over the cards and he looks down at what lays on top. King of Hearts. The suicide king. Comforting.

Carmine Falcone has posed:
     The Don gives a warm smile seeing he's hit paydirt. He takes back to eating from his plate for a time allowing Scott to carry on. Finally once he's said his peace the old Don speaks once more.

     "I give you my word as head of the Falcone Crime family that I shall never use this gift as any sort of leverage against you."

     He finishes his plate pausing for a long moment. "If you would like for it to be that way I will not argue, however while I will not darken your doorstep with my presence, you are always welcome to arrive at mine as a guest of honor."

     "I simply hope that the earlier misunderstanding will not color your view of me in a negative light forever." Carmine snaps his fingers and a goon steps from the shadows holding a large blueprint of what appears to be perhaps the single most detailed and expansive recreation of the Battle of Waterloo in exacting detail and scale ever created. In the corner of this insurmountably detailed blueprint rests the name 'W. Schott'

     Rolled out alongside of it is a map of the convention centre. "Of course if you'd like to go alone I will not be one to stop you, just remember to do the job justice." He smiles. A third smaller blueprint is placed of an electrical device needing attached to the massive diorama. With Scotts advanced knowledge he would be able to tell that it is in fact some sort of tracking device, along with a number of wires made to allow power to be sent efficiently through the display.

Scott Lang has posed:
     "Oh good, criminal words of honor. I'll keep it in mind thanks," Scott grumbles before letting out a heavy sigh and pocketing his playing cards. The worst part was over, just the act of saying yes. Now as each blueprint is laid out he scans across them with a professional eye. He knew well enough how to read such diagrams from his studies, and from at least a few planning sessions with the Avengers. The scope of the diorama though at least warrants a closer look however as he leans in and lets out a whistle.
     "Someone spent some time making this monster. Still, security around it doesn't look like much, it's valuable but not like anyone is out to steal and sell something like that at the local pawn store and it's too big to effectively lock up and still have on display, not like you want to wheel that thing in and out every day," he surmises, his curiousity at least for the moment overriding his concerns of amorality and his situation. The one of the tracker gets an extra long once over as well. But there was no way a device like this could be used as a bomb or a weapon he saw. Just a very sophisticated, and once he installed it, VERY hard to find tracking device. And in the process, a free ride for Cassie to any school of her choosing? The way prices were headed that easily meant over half a million dollars.
     Something wasn't adding up but he just couldn't see what. Why would Carmine care about this? How did it even tie into the money laundering. Scott pushes a hand back through his hair as he looks at the diagram seeking a clue, then up at Carmine's face and back down to the blueprints. He thought about asking but he doubted he'd get an answer he'd trust. There wasn't much important to memorize at least and soon he's done studying. "You have the tracker here?" he asks, noting how it hadn't been brought with the diagrams. The sooner he got this over with the better.