Getting prepared to face the future

After wrapping up some conversations with those present at the Helicon club, Sy decided to look over the list of businesses Colleen Moore had provided as he exited Elysium.

“Let’s see-hmm, I actually recognize a few of these places. Honest Joe’s Pawn Shop down in South side...rough area of town, but they might be more open for business of the no questions asked type. But-...still a bit of a trip. This other spot-Royal Pawn. Nice location downtown-bit closer than Honest Joe’s...I think I’ll head there first. Check them out...”

Sy takes a look behind him and says with a smile, “Y’all are certainly welcome to join me. A bit of shopping to take care of before nights end lest I get caught off guard by another of the beloved Prince’s quests. Any takers?”

Seemingly hearing the tail -end of Sy's question, Eito hurried out the door of the club, "I'll take you up on you offer. I don't remember the last time I set foot in a pawn shop. I figure I can try and get whatever "tools" they have available, and they figure out which one is my preference latter."

In a somewhat quieter voice he added, "We plan to stock up in case we run across another . . . werewolf, wizard, or whatever else really exists, right?"

The grease monkey nodded, but failed to match the lowered voice as he said rather adamantly and quite sure of himself, “You betcha Ace. We are gonna do our level best to make sure we have whatever we need to stop the growing Werewolf menace, the dastardly wizards, the ghosts, the goblins, and anything or anyone else that goes bump in the night.”

“After all-what’s the scouts motto?”

"Always eat a hot meal before bed?"

Big Al shrugged.

"If last-a night is any indication... I need-a more firepower."

He paused for a second.

"Maybe the gun is-a good, but need different-a bullets."

Sy turned to look at Al and with a smile said, “Close enough.”

He then looked around to see if the group may have one or two others inclined to join them but no one made immediate steps to follow and he shrugged. “Well-they can join us later if they want. For now-us three comrades is a fine start.”

He then turned and kept walking as he said again to the Italian, “I’m half convinced you could have shot a cannon and the thing would have just ate it and spat it back...and the new guy with the weird mouth on him would just say it tickled. But Al-you may be onto something with fancy bullets...”

The cane toting man just shook his head, “My friends, I believe we are either in a war or about to be if I’m reading the ley of the land right, and half measures simply will not do. We are going to likely have to do something I avoid if at all possible-we are gonna have to think smart.”

He turned to look at the oriental man and said, “That was a pretty neat trick fading into the shadows like you did too there-Mr. Eeeto....-er sorry, Mr. Caine. Must have come in handy when you were getting a story together. Maybe there’s something you can find that would capitalize on those skills...”

He then reached the end of the alleyway and looked down both sides of the street before looking to the others, “It just occurred to me to ask. Did y’all want to take a stroll downtown or maybe catch a ride?”

Eito just gave a shrug to begin the reply, "You can call me whatever you can pronounce easier."
With he smirk he added,  "As handy as drawing back into the shadows is, the problem is that I just have to just observe what's going on. when using it The second I as much as break the silence so is my cover. Though I guess any sort of easily concealed gun would work- as long as I make a single shot count. I don't think I've as much as held a gun."

He gave a frustrated expression as he said, "Though let's keep tonight's goals realistic I can worry about aiming the damn weapon later. Though to answer your question, I for one do not mind a walk."

"It-a is a nice night. Walking will allow the others to catch-a up to us too, if-a they wish that is."

He looked at his two current comrades and lowered his voice.

"It's-a no secret that the Prince is my Prozia, my famiglia. She requested help-a from back home, but war is-a there too so she got-a stuck with me."

He sighed.

"I was thrust into-a this unlife to be of use to her. It is-a what my sire created me for. He-a taught me many things about making-a friends, and seeing what is being left unsaid. I don't-a think he ever imagined I would-a be on the front line though...It is-a wrinkle I will-a have to flatten on my own."

Sy nods as the three agreed to amble on through the night.

“If I learned anything in the war-...” Sy pauses for a moment as if lost in thought before continuing, “Good intelligence can be worth more than a fully loaded platoon.”

He gestured a thumb behind the trio as he said, “I think the lovely Ms. Moore just proved that. Now we have a name and a real starting point to investigate.”

He looked over to the oriental man and said, “A good gun can be a life saver in most situations, but I think we have seen enough to know some things out and around don’t seem fazed by bullets. Having a back up plan might not hurt-my dear Mr. Aetoe. I certainly intend to look at all my options.”

He turned to look at both of them as he says, “Now I’m not denying what you believe your reason for being made was, but since we aren’t under anyone’s control anymore and our sires have encouraged us to make our own way...I would hope you have grander plans than to simply do what you were made for?
Is there no cause worthy of your time and energy?”

Sy looked away up at the night sky with a wistful look as he says, “I for one have plans—Big plans! Plans that will benefit all of us...”

Eito gave a thoughtful expression at the older man's questions before he rolled his eyes with a sigh, "I know what I'm doing here tonight, but attempting to weave a tapestry of my future? Not right now. I don't plan that far ahead. Thinking about your next Friday out is one thing, but mapping out your whole life- or unlife, I guess- is a waste of time. The only thing certain is that something is going to swoop in and screw your plans all up." He paused, then added, "Though I admit I do want to be prepared for that inevitability."

He seemed to be addressing either of them then focused back on Sy, "But I suppose it's nice to hear someone is looking out for me. What scheme involving us did you have in mind?"

The mechanic cast a glance at Eito. Maybe it was the streetlights reflecting from a nearby light post, or possibly a trick of the moonlight but whatever it was-in the mans gaze Eito could almost see it as he spoke. “What would I have you do you ask? I’d have you seek a better world for yourself—A world where a man can rise from bed without having to worry about how he’s going to make it another day.” Sy’s voice brims with passion as he continues.

“We’d seek a world of equality-where no one is forced to struggle beneath the thumbs of the wealthy, powerful, elites. My ‘scheme’ as you call it, is something basic and primal. It is for each of us to one day have our own place to find a decent meal Every night.” He looks to Al and then back to Eito.

“I long for each of us to have a full belly without having to scrape the bottom of the barrel or beg for scraps or fight one another.” His words are emphasized with firm taps of his cane, “I would have you stand for what is right and true for your fellow man-For your own pride if nothing else.”

He regains his composure slightly as he says, “No man should be forced to become a monster on account of an empty stomach.”

It was only a few well lit blocks walk to Royal Pawn and the company made their way there in short time. Nestled between a corner cafe and a hardware store a bright neon sign proudly declared the store for all to see. Blue painted brickwork with gold trim on the windows and door made the place stand out even more. A chime jingled at when the door swung open as the Kindred made their way in. The place was empty but for a single visible employee sitting behind the register. He was an older man just past his prime with a face like gnarled oak roots and a harsh permanent squint in one eye, he wore suspenders and a simple shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal tattooed and well muscled forearms. He made no move to acknowledge the customers as they came in, choosing instead to puff idly on his corn cob pipe and keep reading the newspaper.

There were a few racks of merchandise, mostly old hand tools or cast iron pans or clothing, but most of the merchandise was either behind the counter or in locked glass cases usually with thin iron bars on the customer's side. Gold and silver watches, rings, used furs and silk coats hung on racks. Behind the counter were several rifles and shotguns of varying calibers and vintages as well as boxes of ammunition next to a reloading bench and a pile of spent brass waiting to be reused.

After a long moment the clerk seemed to acknowledge he could no longer ignore the customers and folded up his paper with a sigh. He turned to look at them with what was probably intended as a warm smile but came across more like a warm snarl. He spoke with a thick Irish accent in a voice gnarled to match his face.

"A good evenin' to ya, gentlemen."

He takes a moment to look the newcommers over.

"And what can I help such... various gentlemen with this foin evenin'?"

“A fair evening to you as well my good sir. My compatriots and I are in the market for whatever wares you may have on hand to aid in self defense and protection.” Sy returned the mans smile with a smirk of his own.

“Speaking on behalf of myself, I’m open to any options you have or may have both shown or kept for... special occasions.” He gives the man a knowing look.

The squint eyed clerk nods, then waves a hand to the racks of guns behind him.

"As you can see, I've got a fine selection of ladies ready ta walk out the door on the arm of any dandy who fancies her."

He takes one off the  rack and holds it up for Sys inspection. It's a long, sturdy thing with a wood stock and stout profile.

"You have the look of a soldier. Here's a lady I fancy you've danced with before."

His eye drifts to the others, narrowing in suspicion.

"Your companions I'm less sure of. Can't say as I've had many Chinamen through here, and the Wops usually go through... Other channels."

Eito seemed as if he was going to reply to the Sy's glorious plan, until he looked up and realized they were at their destination. While he didn't want to go any longer without arming himself, he did wish he would have been able to come here a different night.  As they entered the pawn shop, realization struck he was completely overdressed for this type of establishment. If this owner was at all perceptive, he would easily notice and capitalize on Eito's naivety regarding anything involving firearms.
And as soon as the owner spoke, his suspicions were confirmed.
He resisted wrinkling his nose at the man's comment. He met the shop owners gaze and said, "I just want something that can easily be concealed. The less attention that's drawn before shots are fired, the better."
His tone was punctual, as if he was trying to end the transaction as soon as possible.

Sy grips the weapon and leans on the counter as he with practiced hands begins running through the motions of checking the slide and action of the bolt and firing pins. Lifting the weapon to peer down the barrel to check the alignment of the firearms aim before laying it back down gently and running a hand over it. “Oh-aye. We have danced a dance or two. She looks quite lovely. I might just have to escort her home...” He says with a smile that fades into a straight face all mirth drained from his voice, though his eyes still remained soft, “...Though I’m trying to show my pals here what a real lady looks like and how she likes to be treated. I don’t reckon she would settle for such talk in her presence.”

The clerk nodded as if he'd expected something like that answer. Handing the rifle off to Sy he scuttled down a couple sections of glasstop counter to retrieve a small pistol from a display of pocket sized pistols and hold it up for inspection. This one had pearl grips and a flowery design etched onto the barrel.

"I think I've got something to suit your delicate tastes right here. This here is a popular model for taking into card houses and clubs where such things may be frowned upon if seen. Don't try to plug anyone from down the street with it, but it'll do well enough fer fellas close enough to be a danger."

He made a show of putting it into his pocket to show off the low profile of the weapon then offered it for Eito's inspection.

"Very popular model with the more well to do whores, too, so careful how you treat your ladies, eh?"

He chuckles and turns back to Sy with a shrug.

"If these ladies have a problem with me manners they've kept quiet enough about it. And if your friends take offense, well, I won't apologize fer callin' it like I sees it. Yellow outside, yellow inside, as my Pa used to say, but if your friend here buys a proper firearm I'll think better of him for it. As for the Wops, they've made running shop in this town nearly impossible and the only thing they're better at than ruining everything is killin' each other which I'm glad to facilitate. I won't pay off Capone's goons and if he's buyin' from me that means he's not with Capone either. Way I sees it that means either he'll be gunnin' down some other Wops or takin' bullets that might have found me. Either way I'm happy to help."

He holds Sy's gaze for a moment.

"If'n that displeases ya, you know where the door is."

Al stayed quiet as the clerk dealt with Sy and Eito. He ignored the first Wop, but spoke up after the second.

"I can-a guarantee you that I am a quite different than the usual-a..."wop" that you may be used to dealing with."

He sighed as walked away from the rifles and over to the pistols.

"You- a seem to have a pretty gem of a lady hidden among some of your rifles. The real compact one. Over on the left. Can't say I have ever seen one quite-a like it. Wish I could-a take her home but it looks like I'll have to save up and-a try again in the future."

He looked at the clerk.

"May I see the Colt .45 revolver with the blued finish, and dark cherry wood grips?"

He grins widely and moves down the counter to the heavier revolvers.

"You've got a fine eye, Mario! Got this little piece off a cowboy who loved his whores and cards more than was good fer him! Ended up dying from the clap before he could come back for this lady."

He holds the revolver up for Al's inspection. It seems well cared for and the cherry scales are immaculate. The cylinder spins freely and the whole thing has a comforting heft to it. The clerk then goes back to the rifle rack and cradles a short wood stocked weapon with an odd short cylinder screwed onto the end of the barrel and a large double looped guard over the trigger.

"This here is somethin' special. Got her off some Kaiser's man a few years ago who found himself in a bad way. Said she was some prototype rifle for the Mongols or some such. I reckon he was jus' tryin' to get every penny he could fer her and I confess I paid more'n I normally would fer a Russkie plinker but I don't regret it. Alls I know is I've never seen somethin' like her. Shoots like your first kiss and kicks like your first... snuggle" He gives a lecherous wink.

"She's a damn fine dame, lookin' fer the right man to take her. But I won't let her go home to just anyone."

Sy regarded his friends reactions to the clerk, noting they seemed to disregard or ignore the slights before he returned the look the man gave and said, “I see you have made your stake on this land. That’s respectable. Just seems odd to me that you claim to be struggling to hold onto a business yet insult your clientele. Your problems might not be all to blame on your rivals...but I ain’t your daddy. Run your mouth and your business how you please-just know that not everyone coming in is as good natured as these folk. All I care about is what and who you got behind the curtain.”

Sy points behind the counter, “Got anything heavier than this? Any pineapples, sparklers, or puff daddies? Or maybe you call ‘em irish car surprises?”

As an afterthought he looked at his cane, “Or maybe something to make this useful in more ways than one?”

Eito let out a soft snort as the pawn shop owner put forth his wares. "Yes, yes. You're hilarious. Maybe if you had one of those in . . ." Though as he got a closer look, he did have to admit the etching on the barrel was quite unique.
Unless this man had a side he wasn't letting on, he couldn't help but wonder who the prior owner of this pistole was. Did someone request this as a commission, or was it a gift meant to impress?  And whether it was either of those things, how did it manage to leave their grip?  

Also, he couldn't be too particular. Did he not ask for a small profile?

Getting more confused the other two's gun jargon by the minute he looked back at the pawn shop owner, "In second thought, the craftmanship's grown on me. I could give you $15 for it."

Almost before the words were out of Eito's mouth the shopkeep reached across the counter to shake his hand.

"$15 it is then, good sir. I'll even throw in a box of ammunition. You have an eye for quality and such a thing deserves to be rewarded."

He packs away the tiny pistol in a leather lined box seemingly made for it and grabs a box of tiny bullets off a shelf, tying them together with some twine and presenting the package along with Eito's change. He barely conceals a grin as he turns back to Sy.

"It's no offense to call a spade a spade, friend. I find bein' honest with folk tends to be better for everyone than honeyin' words with lies and it seems your friend here agrees."

He scratches at his chin for a moment, then consults a thick ledger book.

"I can't help ya with the whoopee sticks. Not many a' those come into second hand stores, ya see."

He chuckles at his own joke hard enough that after a moment he chokes on his pipe. He cleans off the book and restuffs the pipe, holding up a finger while puffing on a match.

"Ah, that's better. Now I cannae' help ya with any pineapples and such, but I do have a couple sticks of dynamite. It's the old stuff, but seems stable. I've inspected them meself and they seem dry and in proper working order. I'd hazard the fuses will burn about thirty seconds before the big kablooey. They're back in the safe at the moment, but if you want them I can wrap them up in a jiffy. Don't know what I can do for your swagger stick, but if you look in that umbrella stand there by the door you'll find a few others and may find one to your liking."

Sy listens to the mans logic and pursed his lips. “Well, I can’t fault you for being true to yourself...” Sy laughs exactly once but no more at the pun as he says, “But clever word play is a fickle mistress.”

The grease monkey waited as the clerk repacked the pipe and then nodded in response to the mans offer, “The first ‘Lady’ I looked at is going to be sad if she doesn’t have any birthday candles. Go ahead and grab that dynamite. While your getting it together I’ll see if I find anything else that would be handy.”

Sy proceeds to begin looking through the umbrella and cane stand. He withdrew a few and measured them to his current walking cane before replacing them shaking his head. He struggles to return one of the umbrellas as it kept lodging itself against the side and getting pinned under something. Mildly flustered, he reached over and lifted the blockage out of the way as he forced the umbrella in.
He was just about to toss the item in hand back in the bin when he seemed to notice it for the first time.

An early 19th century scrimshaw carved whalebone shaft complete with spiraling and crosshatching, the upper section inlaid with tortoiseshell diamonds.

Sy places it down next to his walking cane and measured. The newer one was a little taller and heavier than his, but felt comfortable in his grip. He noted what looked like a darker spot near the handle base and lightly rubbed it thinking it to be caked on dirt or grime. To his surprise, the lower portion of the cane fell away to reveal a long slender hidden blade with a spring loaded cross guard that unfurled itself as he held it aloft. Spanish steel by the make of the metal.

Sy’s jaw dropped. The level of craftsmanship was a marvel in itself. He quickly folded and resheathed the hidden blade. This was not a find he was going to surrender. He did note an unusual inscription carved atop the hilt of the hidden blade were the words Lex super voluntate and a picture resembling some sort of crest with a unicorn, a lion, a dragon and balancing scale.

He made a mental note to ask Al if he could read Italian as he carried the new cane to the counter and set it next to his rifle and added a pair of knuckle dusters to round out the purchase.

Sy smiled at the clerk as he returned with the dynamite in hand and tapped the order and said, “This should do for now. Seventy dollars and change seem right?”
The man tapped his own temple and added, “Oh, and how about calling me if or when any of Capone’s mooks try giving you any trouble?”

After a minute of rummaging the squint eyed shopkeeper returned, puffing idly on his pipe and carrying a small bundle of clay sticks

"Give me half a moment and I'll have these wrapped and I'll write a ticket, sir. Found a cane to your liking did you?"

He leans over to take a look at the carven whale bone item. Upon seeing it his good eye pops open and his jaw drops, the pipe grazing past a fuse on its way down. It fails to light but he takes no notice, crossing himself and muttering a prayer under his breath.

"Mary mother of God, man but you do know how ta pick em. That thing... I don't truck with superstition and such but that thing is cursed I tells ya! Been here longer than I have, and ice sold it a dozen times, and every time it ends up back here and I hear the damnedest takes about what happened to the owner. Truth be told I swear I threw it out. I'm not sure how it ended up back there. But, if that's what you want, I'll sell and say a prayer for ya. The sooner that things outta my shop the better I'll feel."

Sy makes no visible facial reaction to the news, but he looks over the cane again carefully before he nods. “Yup. This one matches the rest of the set. A dinged up rifle who’s seen better days, a pair of fist irons with scars of their own, old boom sticks, and a cursed walking cane. All of which amounts to the outstanding total price of $40 and you being free of the hassle of having to hold onto such troubling trinkets as well as a phone call to me to help clear up any future disputes with Capone.”

Al waited for his other compatriots before digging out his cash.

"How about I give you-a $27 for the Colt herself, and $3 worth of ammo?"

He smiled as he set the cash on the table.

"With any luck you will-a see how well I take care of this-a lady, and just maybe you will let me take that rifle for a dance or two."