Ostrich Radio: Goood afternoon, San Francisco, to my dazed-out junkies, my loud and proud mischief-makers, and all my beautiful little heartthrobs!
Ostrich Radio: It's your oldest and dearest friend, with the straight shooting of your father and tender-loving just like your mama. It's your boy, Vincent, aka "The Old Ostrich"!
Ostrich Radio: Bringing you a balanced dish of good news and bad news! Let's soften the blow with the good stuff first: The New Age Market has finally gotten a little reinvigoration after the Harmonic Convergence.
Ostrich Radio: Was it a sign from another world, or the harbinger of a Mayan doomsday prophecy? Who knows? But why worry, my lovelies? Keep those heads in the sand and your ears to the ground.
Ostrich Radio: Because more visitors means more money! Huuuuge potential for young and old to make some dough!
Ostrich Radio: Now, to hit you with the bad newsâ
Ostrich Radio: Yesterday's gangland battles stretched from the sticks all the way to the steps of the People's Palace. And it came with a particularly heavy drizzle of bullet casings to rattle you all night long!
Ostrich Radio: Last night, Legers the Dead and his arcanist minions booted the Tung Ch'ing Cham so hard in the ass, that they've been driven right out of our city!
Ostrich Radio: If you're brave enough to head out into the streets, might still find a few gold teeth left on the ground!
Ostrich Radio: Now, the sweet naive souls among you might think that means our fair city will finally have a moment of peace. But you listen to Papa Ostrich here, kiddies, this is only the beginning!
Ostrich Radio: What Legers wants is nothing less than the whole damned city, and I have it on good authority where he's headed next.
Ostrich Radio: I'm told his aim is to make a deal with Haight Street's very own Joe, aka "J Brown," for a stake in that juicy New Age Market pie.
Ostrich Radio: Here's hoping that it goes smoothly, but if that fails, at least we'll have some quality entertainment.
Ostrich Radio: Now it's time for The Old Ostrich to duck his head again, leaving you with some solid music to grooove your body and shaaake your booty with our next track: The Golden City.
Bartender: "Papa Ostrich," sneer give me a breakâanyways, what can I get you, guy?
Gio: Tequila.
Gio waves his hand, and the rest of his gang break off into the crowd.
Gio: And ...
He pulls a bundle of notes from inside his jacket and puts it on the table.
Bartender: Straight-forward. I like that.
Bartender: So what are you after? The waitress's phone number, ticket to an underground boxing match, or you after someone specific?
The bartender's idle chatter digs under Gio's skin.
Gio: You know what I'm after? I'm after you shutting your damned mouth!
He yanks the bartender by the collar, pulling him in close as he growls out his next words.
Gio: Cut the smart st with me and listen, 'cause I'm only going to ask once:
Gio: WHERE IS J? Point him out, then get your ass out of my sight!
Bartender: Whoa, hey, hey! Easy, man! I'd be happy to; you don't even gotta tip me.
Bartender: That bastard owes me money. So, you can go ahead and beat his ass, throw in a kick for me.
He drops the bartender's collar.
Gio: You'd better not be playing with me, because that's a good way to get cut.
Bartender: But, hey man, little heads up: J was born and raised in Haight Street, and he knows the place better than anyone. Ran circles around the cops. He won't be easy to corner.
Bartender: Plus, he's got a lot of friends around, so picking a fight here could go south fast. Never know who's liable to stand beside him.
Gio's eyes narrow and dart around the room, but the bartender attempts to change the subject to calm things.
Bartender: But you know what I say? The good times are over, so J and all his crew can bite the big one for all I care.
Bartender: Hey, and uh, just so you know, you're the first one with enough guts to mess with him, so whether you're here to break his nose or ...
Bartender: Well, this shot's on me, bro. To you, and your boss!
The clinking shot glasses at last break the ice, as a wry, wolfish grin escapes Gio's face.
Gio: Ha, you're a smart ass. We need more people like you.
Gio: Young guys these days are jammed by arcades and slots, you know. These adult children living in their mothers' basements. They ought to be out here begging for a job.
A heavy hand lands on the bartender's shoulder.
Gio: What's your name, pal?
Bartender: It's Vern, sir.
Gio: Put 'er there, Vern. Call me Gio.
Their hands clasp together in a hearty shake.
Gio: Alright, now you point me to this J bastard. And afterward, if you're looking to do some hustling, meet me at Rouge Street. I'll take you to the boss.
Gio: But, uh, mind yourself around him, will ya? The old man's been unpredictable lately. Quick to fly off the handle, you know?
Bartender: Thank you, sir, umm ...
The bartender moves to speak, tilting his head to one side.
Bartender: I probably shouldn't pry, but, what do you want from J?
Bartender: If you wanna take him down over Haight Street, you'll be disappointed. This place's got nothing but struggling folks. You couldn't mug someone for enough to catch the bus.
Gio: What else could it be? That damn New Age Market. Don't know what Pops is planning to do with it, but he's got to have it.
Gio: Not like I'd give a damn otherwise. What kinda schmuck does business in a gutter like this?
Gio: But Pops' stubborn about it. Used to be I'd have a say in private, but he don't listen to anyone now except those freaks from the "Order of Enlightenment."
Gio: Not that I'm crying about it, but robbing folks who ain't got no money, kicking 'em while they're down ... It don't sit right. But orders are orders.
Gio: So, maybe I'll turn a blind eye, when I can.
The grin on his face goes sour, and he scans the bartender's face again.
Gio: You ask too many questions.
Bartender: No worries, man. But you were looking for J, right? That guy in the suit, near the dance floor. See him?
Gio is already up and walking away before the bartender could finish.
His followers join him as he moves, advancing like hungry wolves toward their target.
Bartender: ...
The bartender drops his act, and with it, his smile turns fierce.
At the same moment, the silent woman stands up from another table and makes a graceful exit.
Mercuria: See you later, J.
The bartender responds with an imperceptible nod.
...
The technicolor lights cast everything in a dreamy glow.
Caught in the ecstasy of the pumping music, the dancers on the floor are unaware of the scene unfolding nearby.
The lead wolf fixes his gaze on his target and signals to his pack.
Gio: Three, two, one!
On his signal, they rush to the well-dressed gentleman.
Gio: Hold him down!
In a flurry of action, the gentleman is thrown from his seat down to the ground.
As the violence erupts, the crowded dance floor freezes, and the music stops on a skip.
???: Gentlemen, what is happening here?
Gio steps hard on the gentleman's shoulder, leaning down on him.
His face is twisted into a predator's smile.
Gio: Tie up his hands, but careful you don't break them, for now ...
"Dentist" I: Sure thing, Mr. Gio.
His grip tightens, veins bulging, and thenâ
*cracks*
"Dentist" I: ...?
The gentleman's hand pulls loose from his body, popping up through their grip and rolling across the floor.
Gio: What the hell? What's going on with ... Huh?
An unseen hand taps Gio's shoulder. He turns his head.
"Pow!"âA heavy punch strikes him across the jaw.
Gio: Urrh!
J: That hurts. You got rocks in your jaw?
J shakes his bruising hand before extending it down to the mannequin gentleman on the floor.
J: Trust me, you're the perfect bait. You draw the fishes in like a magnet.
Pioneer: I'm bait?
Pioneer: This is terribly unbecoming of you, J! Do you realize how many times this is? My body may be artificial, but my soul can feel pain, too!
Gio: ...
Gio: Heh heh. spit
Gio spits a gob of red from his bloody mouth.
Gio: You lying sack of st.
He wipes his hand across his face, as he is helped up by his followers.
The lackeys all square up beside their leader.
J: Not so friendly after all, huh?
Pioneer: We'll continue our conversation later, J.
COMBAT
"Popâ"
Gio's dagger falls to the ground in a ringing clatter.
J: Now, who's lying, Mr. Gio? You took my shot, but you didn't even break that J guy's nose.
J: Still, thanks for the offer. Give my best to Mr. Legers for me.
Gio is beat, and he knows it.
Gio: Heh. The old man is gonna like you, smart ass.
Gio: See you next time. We'll have another "parley," you and me.
He falls back toward the door flanked by his lackeys, before making a hasty exit.
Becket: Yeah, yeah, run on home with your tail between your legs. spit Legers's losers!
J: Looks like he might need a "Dentist," 'cause he just got kicked in the teeth!
J: They'll be home crying into their cereal soon enough! Haha!
J: The way they're hoofing it, they coulda outran my 4-cylinder Hummingbird G-R8100. They must have missed their calling. They ain't dentists. They're track stars.
The dance hall breaks into jeering laughter.
Bottles are raised and cheers made in recognition of their triumph.
Becket: Hahaha. Cheers! To unbreakable bonds!
All: To unbreakable bonds!
After a cascade of clinking glasses, the music is spun up once more, and the club returns to their dancing.
The excitement continues for some time after, only being broken by the arrival of a disheveled looking young man.
Hollick: Look, J, I gotta go. The shelter's gonna be closing up soon.
Hollick: My partner at the shop, you know ...
He rubs his stained-black fingers across his face, shaking off some flakes of drying blood.
Hollick: He doesn't like it when I come in covered with blood, scares the richie-rich types away.
It is getting late.
The celebratory atmosphere wears thin and tired as more people leave.
J: It's all good, bro. Thanks for coming today. If there's anything I can help ...
J pats his friend on the shoulder before pulling him into a hug.
J: You know where to go.
Hollick sniffs, returning the hug with a tight squeeze.
Hollick: Heh-heh. Thanks, bro. But, if you're really such a good friend ...
Hollick: How about you spot me, a quarter mil- or so, so I can buy that sweet new convertible Lamberrari LM50. Since we're such good buddies, right?
J: Yeah, sure thing, buddy, right after I give you a knuckle sandwich, hahahaha.
Hollick: Hahahaha, see you around, J!
Waving off the mostly gentle giant, the rest of the group gathers around J.
Spirits are still high as they bask in today's victory.
But tomorrow, they must get back to work.
The moment shifts as a stumbling dummy drives a playful kick into J's leg.
Pioneer: Would you kindly give me back my damn hand already?
J: Hey, stop kicking me! Just a sec!
Pioneer: panting
Pioneer: M-my apologies. Where were my manners?
Pioneer: Please don't take it personally, but I need to warn you that ...
J: Whoa, wait, wait! Someone's missing.
The disco ball continues its spin over the empty dance floor.
J: Where's Mercuria? Hey, Ms. Sputnik, have you seen her?
His eyes fix on the shining ball, which stops then descends from the ceiling to speak.
Sputnik: Oh, Ms. Mercuria? She left in a hurry, carrying that dagger those rough-type gentlemen dropped.
Pioneer: Do we follow her?
J: No, of course not.
J: She's just doing her thing.
He shrugs, looking out past the door.
Gio stumbles. He catches his breath before glancing back through the long alleyway.
Gio: panting St! The old man didn't tell us what kind of mess we were in for here!
Gio: I'm not paid enough for this.
Gio: panting
Gio: ?!
Mercuria: Hey. Gio, right?
He stands unmoving, unblinking.
Gio: You're just giving it back?
Gio: What's this meant to be, some kinda insult?
Gio: Hey, y-your boss runs me off, now you're giving me back my own knife, like I'm some pity case? Think I won't hurt you 'cause you're a woman? Think again, b*h.
Anger overtakes his wariness of the woman, and he swings out his arm.
"Clinkâ"
The dagger drops to the ground as he reaches into his pocket, producing a wand.
Gio: Vita Void!
Mercuria: Umm ...
Mercuria: What is this?
The black arcane symbols dissolve in the air as soon as they touch her.
Mercuria: The color of your energy is as dark as the coal in J's forge, no, worse, darker than I've ever seen before.
She jumps down from the fence and picks up the dagger.
Mercuria: You're afraid. But something else besides that, I see a burning energyâthe embers of a home reduced to ashes.
Mercuria: A harrowing darkness that's followed you throughout your life, when your wife and child left you, when your debtors begged on their knees at your feet.
Gio: W-what're you talking about?
Mercuria: Huh, I understand you now, Mr. Gio. Forced to live with this darkness inside you.
Mercuria: Hmm.
She seems lost in her own thoughts.
Mercuria: I'm sorry if I scared you, but I'm only here to return this.
She delicately places the dagger into his coat pocket. He shivers as if hit by a chill wind.
Mercuria: You're a boy trembling inside this brawny shell of a man.
Mercuria: You're too far down a path that you never wanted to set foot on, Mr. Gio.
Gio: ...
Mercuria: If you need help, find me in the New Age Market.
Mercuria: humming
She hums softly, her steps light as she walks back from the dingy alley.
The man stands in place, lost in her words, until an alley cat leaps over his shoulder.
In his daze, he recalls the first time he fired a gun, the blood and brain matter, and the trembling midnight he spent hiding in the bathroom after.
Gio: pukes