Description: Mysterious dealings with a shady guy in a fedora and trenchcoat. Foreshadowing!
The scent of stale urine permeates the air in this seedy back alley, shadowy and well off the normally beaten paths of downtown Southtown. At the moment, it has only one occupant, that being a man in a plain brown trenchcoat and a fedora pulled low over his eyes. It's a blatent way to conceal one's identity, but it's nonetheless effective.
Watching the entrance of the alley, the man leans against one of the walls and crosses his arms, waiting.
As dusk steadily thickens into darkness the once bustling denizens of Southtown begin to wind down into tranquility, finally submitting to the laze of the impending night. All, that is, except for those inhabiting the area known as downtown Southtown, where bustle often simply gives way to hustle.
The sounds of cars traversing the darkened downtown streets and the occasional horn or siren flood the gloomy alley even as passing headlights play eerie tricks with the passageway's shadows. As the stranger waits a soft rhythmic sound begins to break through the randomness of the Southtown night; the light click of a metal-tipped staff striking the cold pavement. A ghostly metronome awaking imagined spirits of the night.
"You showed," Mr. Big states simply as he smoothly turns the corner of the alley and catches sight of the shadowy figure. "Good. I almost thought you wouldn't," he adds as he fingers the hem of the fur-lined coat draped over his shoulders.
"Hmph." The mystery man's grunt is fairly neutral, low, and gruff. His voice continues, surprisingly deep and gravelly. "Of course I came. I need this, do you think I like hanging around places that stink as bad as this?" Pushing off the wall, the man walks directly up to Mr. Big and stares at his chest, appearing unwilling to raise his head.
"Alright, so what's your offer? The sooner we get this done with, the better."
"Heh." Mr. Big chuckles softly as his grim lips break into a slight smirk; his pearly whites peeking out of the corner of his mouth. "You know about the Saturday Night Fights restarting," he says plainly. "It's going to be a big production. Bigger than you think." Rolling his head softly as he speaks, Mr. Big places both hands on the end of his staff and glances around the alley casually. "Big productions tend to get... out of hand. I've seen your work, and I think you might be useful in keeping the production under my... under Howard Enterprises' control."
Pulling a plain white and slightly bulging envelope from his coat, Mr. Big taps it against the end of his staff a few times as he purses his lips in thought. "I want you to interfere in an upcoming SNF match. Make your presence known. Make your presence /felt/," he says, his teeth gritting with sudden intensity as he spits out the last word.
Clearing his throat slightly, Mr. Big quickly regains his composure before continuing. "You can go ahead and keep this disguise you seem so fond of," he says with another smirk. "Just make sure you do what I expect of you." Tossing the envelope on the ground at the man's feet, Mr. Big begins to turn on his heels to leave the alley. "Further instructions are in the envelope. Consider the rest of it an advance," he adds as he begins to walk, sure that the shadowy man will take him up on his offer.
Standing silently, the stranger watches Big as he walks away. Another grunt, and then he hikes up his trenchcoat a bit and squats down to pick up the envelope. He slowly comes back up into a standing position, cocks his head at what's in his hand, and then slits it open, revealing the layers of green within. Raising his other hand to his fedora, the man pushes it down a bit and then follows Mr. Big's path, striding purposefully. The envelope slips down into a pocket, out of sight, and soon the man is gone as well.
Log created by Tran, and last modified on 08:35:15 07/30/2006.