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| The Vegas Files | | | Author: | | | IP: | gateway.XXXX | | Date: | 02/11/01 11:02 | | Game Type: | Other | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 6, Min: 6
Lifetime Rating for Monty Pylon: 6.0390 |  | Warning: The characters in this story do not in any way reflect the people in real life. Any name picked was used for its convenience and they in no way reflect the actual individual in reality. Except for Iggy, fuck him. That is all, Enjoy. Also this is set to a 1940 detective thing for those who will be going WTF?!?
The Vegas Files
The world is a tough place to live in, but then again I'm a tough guy. My kind of work can leave you with a broken heart, or a broken arm. Either way, it's all just part of the job. My names Johnny Vegas and I'm a private snoop. A "detective" in layman's terms. Most people want me to find out if their love is cheating on them and occasionally they want a little dirt on the people they hate most. That day was not very eventful and I turned to my two favorite pastimes, drinking and cleaning my gun. I always have two magnums in my desk, ones a .357, I keep it load and the other is a bottle, it keeps me loaded. As I indulged in a little recreation, a client stormed in with a job. His name was Dick "Tionary" Hawk. Dick and Hawk I understood, but I could never figure out where "Tionary" came from. I don't know, maybe it's Italian. He was the second in command of one of the local gangs. He was a part of the Four gang up on the north side. Since Mark had sent his second in command, I knew that this job was serious. He was a fidgety little fella, and he had a hard time sitting still, but I can't choose my clients.
"What can I do for ya, or more appropriately, your boss."
"Mr. Four needs you to keep tabs on a certain hired gun coming into town. He's working for Justin's gang and we need to know what we will be dealing with."
"I don't know if we can make that sort of deal. You know that I don't work for the gangs. Why can't you get some other guy for the job?"
"They don't want to go near this job. We've tried and everyone backed down. We can make it worth your wild, Mr. Vegas."
He pulled out an envelope full of my good friend, Ben Franklin. Ben made a good point for why I should take the job and the sound of greenbacks across my palm was a ten hour symphony. I took the job and found I would be tracking a man nicknamed, "Cynical Magician". Word is he had a habit of making problems "disappear". Real cute, huh? I packed my gun and headed for the south side, or as it was better know, War Country.
"War Leader" Justin had been the head of the south side gangs for as long as I could remember. He had taken a gun shot to the head a few years back and was never the same. The guy was a lunatic and a smart one at that. Up until about five years ago, he was the gang boss to talk to. Mark Four had moved in and began to slowly eat away at Justin's territory and profit. No doubt, the Magician was being called in to eliminate this new threat. I had little to go on and had only a picture to clarify who this "Magician" was. I decided to pay a visit to a fairly good informant that I had in the south side.
The south side is located below the theaters and if anyplace was so "other side of the tracks" it was here. The place has really gone down and the neighborhood, just isn't the same. My informant works at the local clinic and is the only man I would ever trust. Dr. Efsab, was a rich doctor who lived in a penthouse on the east side. Sadly, he was caught in a matter of circumstance and his practice fell into ruin. He opened a clinic on the south side and keeps his eyes and ears open for me. He's a reliable source and usually has a good story to tell. If your hurt and you don't want any "police intervention" the doc is your man. The clinic was quiet that day and I walked in to find the doc reading his morning paper and enjoying a cup of Irish coffee, minus the coffee and a little more heavy on the Irish.
"Gee doc, you think you should be drinking so early in the day?"
"A little spirit is not a bad thing Mr. Vegas. Hell, you drink more than this sitting in your office and you carry a gun."
"Point well taken, but with the pleasantries aside, I need information. What can you tell me about the new hired muscle for Justin?"
"No doubt you mean the "Magician". I have not seen him in person, but I do know he is staying at one of Justin's hotels."
"Do you know which one?"
"Sorry, but that part of the puzzle is still a mystery. I would suggest that you try the Excalibur or The Golden Goose. They are where Justin keeps his guests and I'm sure that Justin is sparing no expense."
"Thanks doc, remind me to buy you a drink if this all works out. As for now here's a little something for your trouble."
"My dear Vegas you are too kind. I'll be sure to give Mr. Franklin a fine home."
I left the doc's office with a few more leads, but not a clear choice. I headed for the Excalibur since it was the closest and my second best informant happened to live there. His name is Iggy and he's a janitor for the place. They let him sleep in the boiler room and the job pays enough to supply his drug habit. A lifetime of coke and acid had left him a mess and he was as unstable as a house of cards. Still he would sell his own mother for a few bucks and that was good for me. Cheap information and an expendable snitch, God bless America. Iggy had gotten off his shift and set to finding his dealer. I intercepted and dragged him into an alley.
"Hey man, what's the deal?"
"Shut up Iggy, it's me Vegas."
"Vegas? Oh yeah man, Vegas, how you been man, can I get a dollar?"
"I'll tell you what Iggy, if you can give me some good information on Justin's new hired gun, I'll give you a hundred dollars."
"Cool man, but how am I suppose to carry all the bills man?"
"Iggy, what can you tell me."
"The guy your talking about, I've seen him man. He's here at the hotel, I know what room he's in."
"What's the room number Iggy?"
"I don't know man, I forgot?"
"Look I'll add another hundred, okay?"
"That's great but I still can remember man, like seriously."
"Look if you give me your keys and tell me what room number it is, I'll give you another fifty and I'll buy you dinner."
"Can I get a tuna melt?"
"Yes Iggy you can get a tuna melt."
"Awesome man, here's the key to the Penthouse Suite. Just be sure to give it back man."
"No problem Iggy."
It took awhile, but I finally had the key's to the kingdom. I headed upstairs to see what mission our good "Magician" was undertaking. Then hall was empty and the room lights were not on. One turn of the key later and I was living in style. The penthouse was huge and no one seemed to be home. I began to rummage through some of the dresser draws and found nothing. I searched from top to bottom and in the end I returned without a single shred of information. I was getting impatient and running out of time. I began to search again when I heard the door open and the sound of footsteps filled the halls. I ducked behind the bar and peaked around the corner. There was my objective, standing next to a very large enforcer. The Magician had a briefcase in his had that he set right on top of the bar. The enforcer said he had to answer natures call and lumbered off to the facilities. The Magician opened the case and began to read through some of the papers. I saw my chance but couldn't take the case without the Magician knowing. But, if you can't take the case from the Magician, take the Magician away from the case. I looked around and saw a fine bottle of malt liqueur and knew in my heart what had to be done. I pulled it from the shelf and took a quick sip. Damn that was good, made me fell bad I had to use it for other purposes. In one quick motion, I smashed the Magician flat across the head and sent both he and my brown ambrosia careening to the ground. I grabbed the documents, the case and a large bottle of their best and headed for the door.
"What the Hell is going on out here!"
I turned to see a very large mountain heading towards me. I was speechless, but I knew a good friend who would speak up for me. A friend who is very close to my heart, a little down and to the left, but close nonetheless. My friend is a very prolific speaker, he made three profound arguments while I excused myself from the room. I always leave when the talk gets philosophical, and was out of there before the shells hit the floor.
I returned to home base and peruse through my acquired information. Apparently, the Magician had been called in to take Mark Four and his top guys down. I contacted Hawk, who was very happy for my contribution and I was given a substantial bonus. Another case solved and another fat paycheck, life does not get any better then this. A round of well deserved drinks went to me, myself and I. We were all very tired and needed an escape. Justin would be pissed that I had ruined his plans so laying low would not be a bad idea. But, I don't get paid for laying low. That's okay, this is a tough business, but then again, I'm a tough guy.
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