NationStates Jolt Archive

(OOC: This is a mafia RP set in Miami, Florida. My facts and stuff will be probable way off but I thought it would be fun. Create a character and join anytime. Once again, please don't be offended by the language, you have been warned!)

IC:

"You tell that son of a bitch that I don't give a flying fuck about his reputation!" screamed Alex Cornelli, "I own this fuckin city! Me! Not those bastards down at city hall! Not those bastards in Washington! Me! You fucking hearing me right?!"

A frustrated man stood behind him, scratching his ass, "Well what the hell do you want me to do Al? It's not like I can just go over there are shoot the fucker! He's got more security guards than fucking Alcatraz; not to mention all the politicans and judges he has in his pockets!"

Alex turned his leather chair around to face the man, "I don't want your fucking excuses! Look at this! Look at this!" he barked while pointing at the various screens behind him depicting different places in his casino, "I own every single fucking casino in this fucking city with the exception of that fat bastards! I don't care how you do it, just get me the deed to that fucking gold mine!"

"What you want me to do it?! Pop 'em in the head and you got the whole fucking state investigating you!" replied the man.

Cornelli shook his head, "No no no! Don't even give me any of that bullshit. If your too pussy shit to do it, go find somebody else to do it! But I want that casino by next week or it's not Franky O'Malley who'll wind up with a hole through his head."

Alex Cornelli was a tall man, about 5'11, and in his mid 30's. He had black hair which he gelled back; green eyes; an aristocratic nose; and a medium build. He stood up from his chair and padded the wrinkles out of his black linen suit and straightened his black silk tie that sat infront of the white shirt.

The man Alex was talking too was now becoming visible nervous. "Okay, Al, I'll find somebody." he said as he turned and walked out of the office, eyeing the 3 other men in the room who all wore black suits and had colled looks to them.

OOC: I like this, it sounds good. Ill try to get in somewhere, but i got to think of a good character first.

OOC: First time doing a Mafia Rp so do not expect to much.

IC: Johnny was dressed in his good suite and was about to meet a contact about a "job" he was suppose to do. In Johnny's bussiness such a job could be messy work and at times made it difficult to stay alive. Johnny Andoleni just hoped this time he would not have to skip town. The cost of running from the law and his targets friends was usually hard on his profits.

Johnny was about 5'8 and weight about 170. He is almost always armed with a handgun at all times. His hair was usaually slicked back. He grew up in the Chicago area and had a scar on his right leg from a knife fight back east.

Anthony Christopher was a young skinny greek boy from New York. He had just got outta the pin and came to Miami to get away from the buisness. He had been a small time crook befor he got busted. In his free time he used to run some gambling rings in Queens, he had even been known to cut a few people up when they crossed him.

He was hoping to change his luck today when he walked into a local Miami casino. Befor he came down he had grabed a few green backs and a .38 that he stashed long befor he got cought and sent to Prison for murder, grand theft auto, and countless smaller chumped up charges. He was ready to make a new name for himself. It was funny really, He wanted to be taken seriously, but he wore a tropical pattern shirt, kaki paints, Itallian leather boots, and a light jacket. Any one who would see him either thought he was a tourist or a wannabe wiseguy. But here he was, ready to make an extra buck or two.

Nickey "The Bum" Rogers was once a great boxing promoter until he fell on hard times and was unable to recauperate, his problem was that he loved to gamble, and he did gamble, his entire livlyhood gambled away in one foul swoop, he now became one of the thousands of Hobos that littered the streets of Miami, his only weapon was his double barreled shotgun which he kept close at all times.

Now Nickey had recently come across some money, $10 to be precise, he knew were to spend it and went off down to the casino, he hoped they would let him in.

The message was spread around every single casino owned by Cornelli in the city. Every low-life, hoodlum, drug dealer, hit man or the like would be at the Jackpot Casino in two days. The bait? 50 000$

Johnny's contact had not come which meant one of two things he was dead or he was a double crossing rat. Johnny assumed dead because the cops had not come and arrested Johnny. Johnny sighed and decided to leave he only had about $500 dollars from his last job. Johnny decides to go into a local Casino and have a few drinks and hit the slot machines. It is there he gets a message that everyone is heading over to the Jackpot Casino. Johnny was intruged and decides to head that way for some gambling and to meet some connections.

Alan stuggled to his feet, using a dumpster for support. Blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth, but he was too damn drunk to notice. After bashing on the door of the Miami bar he had been forcefully ejected from, he stumbled off with a wonky smile on his face. He somehow opened his car and got driving, giving his alcohol-soaked brain to recount the night. A fight, he had been in a fight, or so he thought. It was all a little hazy, but someone had offered him something, for almost nothing. Still hazy, but he distinctly remembered punching someone in the face.

Giggling at the concept of turning a corner in his state, he got out of the car to avoid crashing it. However, getting out of a car is not what you want to do at 60 mph and he was soon eating pavement. Alan stood, fell over, stood once more and shuffled into a huge casino he had landed outside. He heard a crash sound in the background, followed by shouting, then more crashing and finally some sirens.

He proped himself up on the desk, and mumbled for the cheapest accomodation possible* before dragging himself up the stairs and collapsing onto an unmade bed.

What a night...


*ooc: i am assuming that like many big-business casinos this one has a hotel

(OOC: Hey ill join up :))

With a Scream of terror...Harry Roberts sat up out of bed... his brow heavy with sweat.... his dreams of conflicts past gone... but in each one he relived it differently.. that girl who he saved before now lay riddled with bullets.... he breathed heavily and reached over for a glass of water... but in his just awoken state knocked the glass to the floor.... it clattered against the Carpted floor of the Jackpot Casino... the water trickled over his black socks...

he looked out the window of his room... rain hammering against the window...

he let out a sigh and collapsed back into his bed... and fell into a restless sleep...

Nickey walked over to the change desk and handed over his $10 bill it got a pot full of quarters back and headed over to the slot machines and began to empty the pot into one of the machines, there was the distinct sound of clattering as Nickey fell into a trance.

Alan woke to the scream, and clutched his head in agony.
He surveyed his surroundings, and his expression of anger turned to fear as he looked around. Throbbing headache, spartan living area, shouting and screaming. Shit. He had got drunk and either been arrested again or joined the army, Alan decided. Or both, the system was pretty screwed up round here.

He looked at himself, noticing the scrawled name of the Jackpot Casino, and Room 303 written on his arm. Alan laughed and smiled in relief, and sat back to watch TV.

Then he realised. His gun was gone. His fucking gun! Gone! He searched for about an hour before realising it wasnt there. Shit, he'd have to get a new one. And a knife, too; if people were going round stealing his firearms he wanted to be able to defend himself.

His hangover was still torturing his brain and laying waste to his skull, he realised, as he groaned loudly and went back to sleep. He dreampt about his life before he was arrested, then about his gun and finally about punching some whiney shit in the face before falling into a deep sleep.

Anthony was now on the floor, playin some craps, and not doin to bad for himself either. "Well now, he thought to himself, Maybe my shit-ass luck has changed for the better." So he was to think, he rolled a few more times won a couple grand and lost another. "Well, fuck this, I need a drink." He said out loud, so he gathered his chips into his pockets and scuried off to the bar.

Throwing back a few he started to notice a few of those certain types of people he had known from back home comeing into the casino. "Shit, this ain't good at all... Well fuck it, might as well see whats up just lookin around can't hurt me." Anthony ordered another and decided to take a little walk. Following two of the men he had seen earlier, they led him to the mens room. This wasn't a problem, he had drank to much anyway and proceeded to take a good healthy piss.

The men looked at him befor starting to talk, Anthony just threw his head up in the costomary 'hey, how ya doin, now fuck off!' jesture. He couldn't seem to make most of it out but one thing he heard all to clear was 50 large and Jackpot Casino. Anthony was one of those people that could hear anything to do with money at 1000 paces in the middle of a war zone. "Fuckin Hell, I can't be doin this fuckin shit agian. I'm already on strike three.... But, I am already here, It could hurt to cheak it out wright?" He seemed to ask himself in his head. He walked out of the bathroom and decided he would keep a little eye out, after all, you never know what might work out.

It was now very late into the night, but the casino was still packed.

"Okay, fucknuts!" said a voice coming out of the earpieces on 15 men all wearing black suits, "Time to round 'em up. Look around and give the note to everyone who looks like someone who could do it. Then tell 'em to get their fucking asses up here."

At that, the men started walking through the casino, casually stoping and wispering to random people as they slipped them a piece of paper. If the peoples followed the instructions, it would lead them to the top floor of the building.

((OOC: I love these RPs. Mind if I join?))

The sun glinted off the bright white paint of the polished Dodge Charger as it rumbled down Ocean Drive. The driver wore a controlled smirk on his face as Carlos Santana wailed on the radio. The man was an ethnic mutt. He had the look of an Italian without the oversized nose, and long black hair that fell over his shoulders. A gold chain hung over his cheap white shirt, and his eyes were obscured by a pair of dark sunglasses. Those eyes were on the road, but his mind was on the case full of ice in his trunk, the reason for his smirking.

It was a new town, Miami. A clean slate. Nobody knew him, and he didn’t know nobody, and that’s how he liked it. Just him, the ice, and soon enough, a shot of Jack Daniels. A friend had set him up with some accommodations, a good place from the sound of it. Not too swanky, but not crappy either. He’d check in there, and lay low until night fell, which wouldn’t be too far off.

As the sweet sound of electric guitar drifted off, he pulled up in front of the hotel, and killed the engine. He got out and walked in, the cool blast of air conditioning a pleasant change from the hot air outside. Strolling over to the desk, he spoke coolly to the attractive young receptionist.

“How’s it goin’ miss. I believe you have a reservation for a certain Mr. Smith.

The young woman looked up, and back down to check the database.

“Of course sir. Room 504.”

The man took the key from her, and winked.

“Muchos gracias.”

She smiled. He made a mental note to take her out sometime in the next week.

He stepped into the cool dark room. He didn’t have any luggage to unpack, except for the case, and that was safe in the trunk of his car. He wouldn’t worry about that just yet. He sat down on the bed, and picked up the phone.

“Charlie, it’s Jack.”

“Jack! Jesus, you made it in one piece. Good to fucking hear you!”

“Good to be heard. Listen, who’s this guy I have to talk to?”

“O’Malley somebody or other. Frank. Frank O’Malley, but your appointment’s not ‘til noon tomorrow, so relax. You deserve it. I hear the Jackpot Casino’s got good poker. With all that new cash burnin’ a whole in your pocket, you should check it out.”

“Half of it’ll be yours starting tomorrow at noon, once we move the rest of the ice.”

“Hey! Quiet! Keep it down about that shit! You never know who’s listening to this shit. Government’s got all kinds of freaky mind control things these days. Just chill and lay low.”

“Your wish is my command. Take it easy Charlie.”

“Yeah, you too Jack.”

He placed the receiver back on the hook, and lay back on the bed. In a few hours, he’d head out, get a drink and maybe check out that casino, but for the moment, he was dog tired.

--------

He spotted the neon sign through the windshield, and pulled up in front of the casino. He tossed the keys to the valley, having locked the case in the safe in his room, and walked through the door. He nodded and grinned. Looked like his kind of place. He walked over to the bar and ordered a bottle of Jack Daniels.

”Welcome to paradise, Jackie boy.”, he thought. It was going to be a good few weeks.

Johnny was playing in the slot machines when some guy comes up him and hands him a note telling him to go up stairs. Johnny Andoleni does not like his game disturbed unless its about a job that can get him rich fast. He decides to head to the top and see what the big deal is anyway.

He set the now empty glass on the bar, but noticed that the coaster had been replaced by a piece of paper. He slid it out from under the glass. The ink was smeared from the water, and he couldn't quite make it out. Something about business on the top floor. He smirked. Business was the last thing on his mind. He tore the note in half, and dropped the crumpled pieces to the floor. He got to his feet, and headed off in search of a poker game.

He couldnt sleep properly, waking up every half-hour or so. Alan had just got over his insomnia, and the last thing he wanted was to get it back. He went into the small bathroom and washed his face infront of the mirror, as he recounted the night to himself. Johnny... Johnny something. He had offered Alan $600 to deliver a small package to a man downtown, and when he refused Johnny had demanded. Alan had never been someone to enjoy being demanded at, and last night was no different. He told Johnny quite bluntly to fuck off. Johnny wasn't the sort of person to like being told to fuck off, and threatened Alan. Johnny pushed Alan violently, Alan pushed back... Johnny swung at him but Alan ducked, his right hand finding Johnny's face and making a satisfying crack sound. Glass smashed, people screamed and someone elbowed Alan in the face before he was thrown out of the bar and Johnny was restrained.

He checked through his pockets, trying to find out more about the previous night. There was exactly $600, in a bundle of $20 bills in his left trouser pocket. Alan smiled, his pickpocket skills were as sharp as ever.

He went downstairs, intending to blow the money in hope of making some more. A game of roulette... he had been winning all night and now had over $20,000 on the line. The table attendant was obviously tipsy, and a small crowd had gathered to watch him win or lose.

The little white ball was dropped in, and then flew out and onto the floor. He went to fetch it, watching it roll towards the bar. Alan bent over to pick it up, and saw two small peices of paper by the ball. After reading the full note, he grinned. Later, he thought, but for now he had to get back to his game.

Harry awoke again... this time he got up.. out of bed and put his shirt on... it was white... clean and crisp... it had just been dry cleaned recently... harry looked around the room for something... he got on his hands and knees and looked under the bed...

"Ah... there you are.." he reached under the bed and pulled out a Gun holster that goes over his chest... he put it on and pulled the straps tight... he casually looked in the mirror and rubbed his face... he was unshaven and a slight gruff was begining to form on his face...

"Damn... I need a shave..."

he looked about the room again and grabbed his black tie from the back of a chair... harry sighed as he put the tie around his neck... lifted up the collar and began to put a knot in his tie.. and pull it tight to his neck... once more he looked around his room and grabbed his black suit jacket from the chair and put it on... he straightend the cuffs and smoothed out some creases...

Harry for the last time looked in the mirror... straightened his hair.. slicked it back... smiling he put on his black sun glasses... then left the room... heading downstairs...

he was a hit man... known quite simply as "The Agent".. available for anyone to hire... he was ruthless in his execution of his victims... he never said anything... or asked any questions.. The Kill... and the Payment is all he cares about....

Anthony was now following the two from the restrooms through the floor of the casino when a couple of well dressed thugs bumbed into him. "Look at that little fuckers shirt." on of the men said as they walked away. "What the Fuck Man.. Bull fucking shit." he said as the men walked away. 'And the night was going so well to, now he had lost his marks.' he thought to himself. Anthony was a slick one, he had felt one of the men put his hand in his jacket pocket when they bumbed together, but he didnt care cause that wasn't the pocket his money was in. Courious anyway, Anthony checked his pocket and found a note. Reading it he thought to himself, 'Maybe the nights not a loss after all.' Looking around, he found the elevator and decided to take it up. "Hey Hey, money baby!" he chuckled to himself seeing that there was no one in the elevator with him.

"If you can hear me i'll buy you a drink!" Alan yelled, raising a fist in triumph. He had bet on the first third of the numbers, a 9 setting him up with just under $62,000. Drinks were expensive here but what the hell, a couple of grand over the bar would get him a lot of favour with the Casino. He disengaged from the women that always suddenly appeared along with money. He got pushed the button for an elevator, but with none coming he took the stairs

Nickey deposited the last of his quaters into the one armed bandit, he pulled and got 2 pairs and a cherry, he sighed and began to scoop up the quaters from the tray, he found buried amongst the money a card, he read it, it talked about business on the top floor, now Nickey was always one to ablige to anything business related, it was afterall his forte, and so he took the leavator to the top floor.

As the guests started to gather at the top floor, they were coralled in the hall outside the room door, which was guarded by 2 men in black suits and sunglasses. After there was enough, the 2 men touched their earpieces to hear the message and then nodded. They opened the double maple doors and to expose the large penthouse suit.

There was a square agora when you first entered the room, with marble flooring and a medium sized fountain in the middle; with leather couches lining the walls. While the 3 openings in the walls of the agora led to the bedroom in the very back of the room, which made it possible for the people to see the large, circular bed with silk sheets and many pillows. The room on the right led to the large bathroom; and the left room was the office; the office in which Alex sat in his leather chair, behind his oak desk.

As the guests entered the agora, one of the guards said bluntly, "Take a seat on the couches. Piece of advice, don't piss him off." as a smile formed on his face.

Anthony walked into the massive lavishly adorned room and spun in a circle to look around. "Well this dudes got the cash to burn." he thought to himself. Meanwhile one of the guards was yellin something about not pissin' off the boss man. Anthony looked at him, Anthony not being a very big guy at around 5'5" and skinny as hell was drwarfed in comparison to the man. None the less he was a mouthy little asshole and was soon to prove it. "Wow, Dude, you really need a breath mint man. I mean damn! I mean hell, your big and all but you don't seem to need your musicals or a gun to kill me with that.. fuckin' hell." while holding his nose and raised eyebrows which crinkled his forehead.

((OOC: Hey Every group has at least one of these guys.))

Johnny took a seat he stayed quiet for fear of attarcting to much attention to himself. In Johnny's experience attention was a bad thing to aquire.

As everyone took a seat, the guards noticed a look of impatience in some, and fear in others. After about half an hour of waiting, the door to the office opened and out came a screaming Alex Correlli.

"You know what you fucking dike?! I don't give a damn about your high school math scores! Fuck him up!" he shouted into his office before turning to the crowd in front of him. "Joe, could you go teach that son of a bitch why it's bad to count cards?" he said to one of the men in black.

The man started towards the office passage, "Sure thing boss."

Some smacking was heard, along with some screaming, mufled screaming, curses and more smacking; this continued until a gunshot was heard.

Alex surveilled the group in front of him with disgust, "Is this the best you fucks can do? Are these Miami's best fucking hoods? Shit! I might as well hire Ronald McDonald to do it." he almost spat the words out at the crowd. "Now, down to business so I don't have to look at your ugly faces anymore; 50 grand to whoever kills Frank O'Malley down at Lucky's Lounge Casino. You got that you stupid bastards?"

3 men came in from the office carrying a body bag, "Hey boss, where should we put our lucky roller?" one of them chuckled.

Correlli sighed, "You fuckin idiots can't do anything for yourselves! Go throw 'em in the ocean; and don't get one fucking drop of blood on my yatch or you'll be dining with the fishes to!" he said as he pointed a finger at them. He then turned back to the hoods in his lounge, "What the fuck are you shitheads still doing here? Get the fuck out and kill O'Malley!" He then turned and walked back into his office as his many guards started ushering people out the door and back to the elevator.

Johnny litterly ran for his Car. He planed to kill this Frank O'Malley before these idiots had a chance to. Johnny loaded his double barrel shotgun and his 9 mm. He put on his black leather gloves and headed towards this Lucky's Lounge Casino.

Sitting back down at his desk, he put his hand on his forehead to feel his headache.

"Here, hon." said a beautiful young women in a red strapless dress as she handed him a glass of scotch on the rocks.

He took a sip and turned in his chair to face the giant window that overlooked a good portion of the city. He noticed a few cop cars with their lights on go flying through the streets. "Those fucks better kill O'Malley, or I'll hunt down everyone of them and gut them." he thought to himself. He then finished his drink, stood up, turned out the lights in the office and walked out to the bedroom with his girl. It had been a long night.

Among other things, he was a man who knew when to quit when he was ahead. He’d picked up $12,000, and decided to call it a night. With a wink and a smile, he nodded to the dealer, and got to his feet. He drained the rest of the liquor in his glass, and set it back down on the table.

“That’s it for me, boys and girls. I’m out.”

He strode out into the warm night a man in love with Lady Luck, but there was more to be done tonight before he retired. Getting back into the driver’s seat of his pristine white Charger, he gunned the engine and peeled out into the street. He flipped open the glove compartment and felt around until his hand came into contact with what he knew to be a book of matches. He flipped the book over as he guided his car over the street, and read the black scrawl. It was an address. Charlie had assured him the guy there could fix him up with anything he might need throughout his stay.

“Little Havana. Figures,” he said to himself.

It was a squat little one story shop. The windows were blacked out, and big red letter printed out the word “Erotic Video Open 24/7.” He chuckled as he killed the engine and stepped out, walking towards the door. The shop was nearly empty, save for a few nervous, shifty eyed customers, most in sunglasses and long coats. He strolled over to the counter where a nerdy looking individual was taking stock of the inventory. He looked up as the large figure approached.

“What can I do for you today sir?”

“A friend of mine gave me the address. Said to ask for a guy ‘Mojo’ or something like that.”

The nerd nodded knowingly.

“Then I take it you’re here on business?”

“You got it.”

“Alright, follow me, sir.”

The nerd walked quickly off to the back of the shop, down a hall to a sign reading “employees only.” The nerd unlocked the door, and the man followed him into another hallway. A heavy iron door blocked the way. The nerd tapped on the door, and the bolt audibly opened. He pushed the door inward.

“Right in there, sir.”

Jack stepped into the dark room, a stark contrast from the store outside. He looked around to find a large Cuban sitting at a cheap wooden desk.

“A customer!”

Jack looked him up and down.

“You Mojo?”

“Yeah, thas me. Charlie gave you the address?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“He told me you’d be stopping by.”

“Did he now. That kid’s a piece of work.”

“You need hardware?”

“Yeah. I’m meetin some guy O’Malley tomorrow. Figure’d I’d pick up a piece in case somebody starts some shit.”

“Always be prepared I say. You ever a boy scout, Mr…”

Jack eyed the man at the strange inquiry.

“Jack, and can’t say I was.”

“Aye, that’s a shame.”

The Cuban had gotten up and walked over to a set of curtains covering what looked like a bookshelf. Throwing it aside, he revealed a rather large rack full of guns of all shapes and sizes. Jack walked over and selected a black Colt Python.

“How much?”

“Take it. Charlie took care of everything already.”

Jack stuck the gun in his waist.

“Mind if I ask you something?”

“Ask away señor Jack.”

“Why the porn video store?”

“Ai, I know. I ask myself the same thing every day. Why couldn’t it have been the back room of a bar or a strip club. I guess I am just unlucky.”

Jack laughed.

“See ya round Mojo.”

“Enjoy the gun, Jack.”

He stepped out of the room, and walked back through the front of the store. He got back into his car and headed off for the hotel.

Anthony didnt seem to give two shits one way or the other. He would get there when he gets there. He strolled back downstairs to get another drink, it hadn't been the first time he had done somthing like this. "Let those mother fuckers get shot up by the guards or take a few out, then ill just walk in an pop the little fuck and get the reward then." he thought to himself as he lit his sigarete and took a sip of his drink.

(OOC: is it cool if i use some of my hobo buddies, only like 4 and they'll be NPC's so i don't care if they get shot to fuck, that cool, thought id better ask before i get blamed for Godmdding)

(ooc: I'd see no problem with it.)

IC:

Early the next morning, Alex woke up, got out of bed and pulled on his robe. He looked over at his girl who was still sleeping and then walked into the bathroom. He took a shower, then brushed his teeth and slicked back his hair. He pulled on a pair of white pants, a white linen button-up shirt, and a white jacket; on his wrist the strapped on his gold rolex. As he went back into the agora of his penthouse room, he made himself a brandy and left downstairs.

It was surprising to see the casino still reasonable full at that time in the morning, but Corelli didn't care, he just walked passed the crowds, placed his empty glass on a table and went out the double glass doors of the casino. Walking over to the parking lot, he saw his Aston Martin Vanquish basking in the sun. He got in, turned on the key, and drove out into the great city of Miami.

He pulled onto a little warf behind a building that was scarcly populated, except for the 5 men in black suits, and the 4 cubans in shabby white suits. Alex got out and walked over to his men. He eyed the cubans suspiciously, "You have the fucking stuff?" he said.

The cubans looked at each other and then nodded, "It's in here." one of them said, lifting up a suitcase. "You have the money?"

"Yeah I got it." he pulled out a large roll of bills, "Here, now give me the fucking diamonds!"

The cubans handed Alex the suitcase and counted the money.

"Right, clean up boys, I'll see ya back at the Jackpot." he said as he headed towards his car again.

The men in black nodded to their boss and they each drew a desert eagle from their coats.

"What the fuck is this?" said one of the cubans as he reached for his gun. But it was too late, a few shots were squeezed off from each man and all the cubans laid dead. The men then took the wad of money out from the cubans coat pocket and threw the bastards into the water.

Johnny entered the Lucky Lounge Casino, he was armed with a 9mm. He was looking for Frank O'Malley. Johnny scoped out the security camera's and guards to try and aviod them when he pulled the hit.

[bump]

(OOC: We could use someone to RP as Frank O'Malley, or some police officers.)

BUMP!

Harry walked down the stairs and into the casino... it was busy and many people were playing games of black jack and other generic casino games...

Harry sighed.. he hated casinos... the lights... the happiness of people winning.. he continued down the stairs and just as he was about to place his foot on the floor of the casino a burley looking man in a black suit stopped him... Harry edgy as ever... reached into his pocket... his fingers placed on the cool steel of his desert eagle, the guard looked at him and calmly shook his head.. then handed him a small peice of paper...

Harry looked at the peice of paper and smiled... more work...

ooc: i'll rp frank

(OOC: Ok, go ahead. I think somebody's in your casino right now trying to kill ya.)

Two burly guards stepped up to a young-looking man with a suspicous bulge in his jacket.

"Am sorry sir, but am gonna 'ave to ask ye to leave. The Casino is full."

Behind his back he made a hand signal, and another three guards stepped forward.

"Hey, Hey what do you guys think your doing!" came a shout from the back, it was Frank O'Malley himself, "Thats a customer you ignorant fucks, you dont chase 'em out 'till they got no money!" He laughed, and put a hand on Johnnys shoulder, "Sorry for the.. inconvenience my friend, have a game of roulette, on the house!"