mind your own business [open]

[page]

Pubs on Glasgow could be quite nasty. Dark, for one thing. Bloody hell, but there more vagrants and tramps in here than probably on the street. Every world had it’s dregs, it’s loons. People on the outskirts. Even Core had it’s rotten spots, big black bruises that one couldn’t ignore. Glasgow, the encircling asteroid was one. Most people who went there weren’t looking for the clean living planet side. They were looking for the exposed, cold, raw feelings that touched every square inch of the asteroid called ‘moon’. It came down from the tears of whores and the dreams of junkies, the crack of screams that were never answered because no one opened their shutters long enough.

But Londinium, it was the shining apple of the sky. Clean and neat unlike the dark, dirty black, shadow of it’s small satellite. Glasgow was for the whores and thieves, London-side for the pure and sane. And those on Glasgow could take it to the devil for all anyone bloody cared.

That wasn’t to say Glasgow wasn’t ‘watched’. She was just smart enough to know people had prices. Maybe not conventional, like things of monetary value. But if Page turned in another gangster, a wannabe, or an up and comer, she eliminated her own rivals and the Alliance would get all the credit.

And in truth, the Doxy Dolls owned Glasgow. They ‘cleaned it up’ for the officials, but all they really did was build an underground. The whores, the booze, the drugs were all hidden in the catacombs. And as long as it wasn’t seen or heard, it was perfectly acceptable.

And now she wanted to get her claws into the perfect fruit of London-Side. Dig in like the worms, and feast like a parasite. Making the outside pretty and lovely, but to those who bit into the forbidden fruit…It was temptation. And all people needed were temptation. The opportunity. Men who had lovely wives had mistresses and whores on the dark side, the secret side they didn’t share. Ladies who gave tea and lemonade parties would always crave something more exhilarating. Few would know their tea was laced in star dust and delirium

Page’s own tea was laced with just that as she sat in London-Side’s most ‘dreg’ of taverns. And the too shiny and polished wood spoke exactly how ‘dreg’ it was. It was clean, the lavatory was clean for xiongmao niao!

Page looked at the girls she brought with her for her outing. Monique stood next to the booth in unusual garb for Londiners, she wore a cotton yukata over her slip dress, the flaming red color of the robe making her pale skin even more wan. The motif on the yukata was of black bellflowers and bamboo, something that stood in contrast of the washed out colors everyone else wore. Scarlett and Jezebel wore their corsets, one the same shade of Scarlett’s name showing off her ample chest, which had most men’s attention. While Jezebel wore a stripped one of robin egg’s blue, purple, and black showed off the tine waste. Made even more tine by the ruffled miniskirt made of several tiers of lace and tulle and cotton.

It was Espy, Page’s Baobei (precious), that should of stole everyone’s heart. Espy leaned against Page, who was playing with her bleach blonde hair, which was all a mess as usually. Her white dress was already dirty, and Espy was much too thin. Even more so than the Doxy Doll’s leader.

Page left her alone as she sat back up as if in a daze. Espy always seemed to be. Page then grabbed a cigarette out of her silver box and took out the matching silver lighter, snapping it all back into place as she took her first drag. She grabbed her dainty teacup and took a sip, relishing the high from the nicotine and the drugs soaring through her system.

She just wished she could go back to Glasgow and get a real hit. Something to leave her dazed and wonderful in her satin sheets.

She took another drag and looked at the time on her watch. Ten minutes, her contact was rutting ten minutes late. She snapped it shut and then looked over at Sally. Sally who could easily take on three men her size. Sally was huge, 6 feet, 5 inches. A nod from the big woman made the instruction tangible: snap the contact’s humerus or at least take off an ear when they saw him next. Nobody stood her up, not without word!

And heaven help him if he found somewhere else to fence the goods!

All the girls were fighting breed and stock. Giselle had her fans, her iron fans. Made of silk and steel, they were an effective weapon for urban fighting. She could easily strike it against a man’s ribs, and then thrust the blades into his chest just as soon as she fluttered it. Page was armed with her usual guns and an explosive, while Scarlett had her knives and knuckledusters, Jez carrying a switch blade and her own ‘pimp‘ gun, Sally her fists and Monique here pool cue which she was using to lean on. Espy was the only one urnarmed, but she sat between the girls, all of them protecting her.

Giselle tipped her top hat and fluttered her fan. “Think ‘e’ll show up?”

Page didn’t say anything, just gave her a glare. He’d better. If he didn’t want to be shot. In the head. And not the one on the neck, either.

[robertborden]

Borden walked in to the tavern and sat at a table near the wall. He ordered a drink but it was just for show. He knew better than to drink anything provided by this type of place. He began surveying the rest of the place until he saw Page Turner. She was, essentially, the woman who ran Glasgow. Glasgow...he had saying that it needed cleaning up for a while and once he was promoted to Admiral (which he knew would happen one day), he would send in some soldiers to force the place to clean up.

However, right now he needed the help of the person responsible for "hiding" Glasgow's crimes in a literal underworld. He surveyed for traps and seeing none he proceeded cautiously toward the crime boss.

"Ms. Turner I presume," he asked when he got close enough. "I'm Marvin Kirk," he said with his fake id in his pocket. Marvin Kirk was a fictional alliance official he had created for this meeting.

[page]

Tardiness was more than just rudeness in Page’s eyes. She was a business woman, her time valuable. She had six other appointments today, so when one was late, she had five others that fell out of sync like cheap watches, with gears grinding against each other like teeth. Which was what she was doing. She had two money laundering clients, as Page did her own money laundering. She didn’t trust bookies. She had a dealer to ‘chat with’, and two other contacts. Never mind the newly acquired bathhouse and massage parlor she had gained from the Dogs. Page was always expanding her territory in Glasgow, and that was why at nineteen she owned more than most. Territory and knowledge meant power, and they were useful, made you useful…and that’s why she was careful. Paranoid. Page didn’t even use the paperscreens for most of her business. All of her clients, contacts, account numbers were in her head. The only other way someone could get it, well, Page did keep a book in her own brand of shorthand - and she always made sure it was at hand. Not on her. But at hand.

She looked at her pocket watch again and sight, running her black nails against the wood grain. That diao had better be a lucky, lucky man!

Page took another nip of her cigarette, eyes slithering around the room. One nice thing about the drugs - they would sweep up her suspicion, twisting it into darker paranoia. It made her always ready for the next attack. And the man who didn’t drink, all the while discreetly overlooking the pub was probably her next apointment. She gave Sally a look and Sal nodded. Next time they saw Rodney, she was to take an eye or something more precious. Wanker had probably either gambled the merch or worse. Lost it.

The man got finally got up and Page put on her pretty smile, almost looking like a school girl. She managed it through the obvious alias. Hmmph. She had Johns with better ones.

“Lamb, really. If you going to lie about your name, do it. But don’t start introductions like I don’t know it. But thank you at least, for being on time. I like punctuality.” She gently tapped Espy. “Baobei, would you scoot over so we can offer the gentleman a seat?”

Scarlett and Giselle instantly moved to the other side and Espy sat up, getting closer to Page. Frail as she was, Espy still managed her dreary and dreamy movements. Page smiled as her head fell upon Page’s shoulder and she gently stroked Espy’s hair. “I would attempt to be proper and offer you some tea, but I doubt you’d accept. You’re here for business, and that’s fair enough,”

Alliance always were. And this, the attitude was Alliance. The brownies walked in like they were looking to own it, like authority meant nothing to their nomadic lifestyles. But Alliance. They came in like they already owned the place. And spit on you. So Page would play the game. A little. Act like a docile animal he could put a leash and collar on. As long as what he was proposing suit her.

[robertborden]

Borden accepted the seat and sat down. "You're right, it is an alias. Not a very good one either," He liked that she was able to tell, though it meant he'd have to be that much more careful when dealing with her. This is the problem that could arise. If your contact was an idiot, they're information was almost sure to be useless. If they're too smart, then you can't trust them for too long.

"I am here for business, but not just my own. I have a deal for you...The Alliance brass wants to crack down on crime," this was in fact true. "I could insure that your operation is not one of the ones they look in to," he explained a little more.

He pulled out a Blue Sun Premium Cola and began to drink it slowly. I know you're important and influential and could become even more so with a little help. Are you interested in hearing my offer?"

[page]

Page listened, as did Espy, though few could tell with the bygone expression she carried. Espy was craftier than a few gave her credit for. She often seemed caught up in fervor, like a butterfly in the wind. But she was always aware, even if she seemed locked in her own mind. It was part of why Page loved Espy so; her baobei was always quite and gentle, underneath that though was current of thoughts and things that were always of use.

Jez was obviously taking mental notes, too, as she sipped at her tea like a lady and poured Monique some more. In many was Jezebel was Page’s secretary, the only one Page trusted to take down notes and things. Meet with clients. Jez had the breeding of a lady, rarely allowing her street life to contaminate the class she had. Or the natural charm.

Page looked up listlessly, and decided to play along with his proposal. Obviously the Alliance were aiming to take down all of Glasgow’s criminal enterprises…eventually. And Page was only as useful as her info, which never ran out. She was far too clever to do away with all of her enemies and competition. Far to smart to give up everything. If the Alliance wanted to think they could control her, she’d let them. At least until she could pit them against worse enemies. The Dogs were always a good choice, why Page left them running a close second to her operations. Though they didn’t quiet wield the same sway, they were well known for bloodshed and violence.

Unlike her. Oh, violence…‘happened’. But she made sure it was ‘quiet’, discreet. If someone needed to be rubbed off, they were done in a way that people wouldn’t know about. And usually she set up someone else. That said, enough people on Glasgow heard enough whispers to know that Doxies weren’t someone you messed with.

To know things ‘happened’ when you crossed them.

No doubt this one probably knew that, too. Alliance were through enough. But she’d fret over what to do when she needed to. If all they wanted were a few big drug busts in the beginning or cribs that had young girls sold into slavery, then she could handle that.

She smiled. “We try to make sure that our vices are kept under control and discreet enough. Try to make it as respectable as you we can, though there’s none to really be had. After all, polite society shouldn’t have to ‘see it’.” She tapped a black nail against the tip of her cup. “I think we can do business. After all, I wouldn’t mind seeing some of the competition…who don’t see their place in the world…go out.”

She snapped her fingers, Jez taking out a sheet of screen paper, and Page took it, tapping her nails against it. She then held up a map of Glasgow. “Most people, they look at this here, and they see what they want to see. Maybe you see the gaslights of Glasgow and the few bright lights and see light in the darkness, a flicker of hope. Others might look at the tall building in the financial district and the more ‘reputable’ city, and just feel small and out of place. And if your in one of those high enough buildings, looking down on the world, well, it’s not that you can’t see the forest for the trees…its that you can’t see the trees for the forest.”

She took out a pen. “The best way to see it, take out a knife and start gutting the map here.” She tracked over it, creating lines. “Snip, snip. And you’ll begin to see how things really work. We own Whitechaple, the docks up to Dover. We managed to take back the University and the library from the Tanglewoods, though it took some maneuvering. Mostly we forced them out financially. Night Circuit is ours. And you’ll notice, because of our ‘efforts’, crime has gone down almost 87%. Murder doesn’t happen, the last rape was seven years ago. And pick pocketing and theft are rare instances. In fact, few people know about our donations to the university – we recently funded their new astronomy wing.” She smiled at Giselle who giggled quietly. “Giselle here did a lot of overtime to see it built. The point is. We keep the rift out.”

She then divided the map, cutting along it with her nails, this time in a new color. “The park belongs to the Tanglewood. They mostly use it as cover for drug deals and prostitution, though. It’s small time. But they’re getting a little more daring, as evident by the recent murders there. Two deals went to hell. We don’t know who owns the projects – haven’t been able to get near ‘em. The docks from Queens Crescent to Dover belong to the Dogs, but they’re fighting the Holly Street Boys for them. Finacial district is always changing hands, usually between the Dogs and the HSB. Train routes are mainly the HSB. Industrial district goes to the Hellions and the Dogs. You take your pick which one you want to cripple first, but either way…it’s going to be a battle. You’ll notice the murder rate there has gone steadily up there.”

She handed him the sheet. “And that’s why you were ace to sign on with me. Cause I know the whole score.”

[robertborden]

That Is why he signed with her. She knew the score and how things got done and where and who was doing things. However, the goings on in Glasgow weren't that important at the moment. The main reason I came here was because I need information when you find it. In particular, in the next couple days there will be a wedding on Londinium. I need toknow if there are any plans to kidnap the bride. Also, if you ever come across a particular black firefly the reward is more than generous," he told her.

He then handed her a phone. It looked much like an old cell phone from Earth that was, but it could reach its sibling phone (the one Borden carried) anywhere in the verse. "Give me a call if you find out anything," he concluded. The phone was untraceable as was his own but could only reach the one number.

He took a sip of his soda as he waited to hear if she knew anything about what he was asking.