Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Van Leugen: The Nillies

Andreas gave the man beside him a side glance, had they been anywhere else in the city his clothing would make him stand out even more than he did.

This was The Nillies, everyone who stood out eventually made it there.

"I am." Andreas told him, "You're big. You'll be especially useful if you got some brains behind that brawn."
 
"Not as much," the larger man said, catching his glass and holding it. He smiled - a private flash of teeth, an amusing memory - before finally glancing at Andreas.

"I'm more tough than brains. You looking for a man with that bio?"
 
"That works. I just need to make sure nothing goes wrong." Andreas informed the larger man, sipping at his beer.

"If you have friends, acquaintances, whatever, put the word out." He continued, "If you have any you can trust."
 
"Trust to do what?" the man said, slowly rotating the glass on the counter.

"I was told that you had a job, not what it was. I can't give you the name of a clown when you don't need someone funny."
 
"Rene." Andreas called out to the bartender, the man behind the counter offering him a nod in return. Rene was quick to grab a cellphone from behind the bar, a few quick button presses and it was back where it came from.

The music gradually got louder until you could barely hear anyone unless they were right beside you.

Yves, the owner of the nightclub, was a reputed crime boss. The authorities were always trying to plant bugs or hang close hoping to catch something.

Andreas worked for Yves, so he had to be careful.

"Bank job. I need the cash."
 
The man scratched at his neck, nodding solemnly, a little distracted by the loud noises.

"I can help you there, but I can't give you more than me." He leaned a little closer, lifted the glass to his lips, spoke through the rim of the cup between his teeth.

"Which one?"
 
Andreas shrugged, "Does it really matter?" He asked the larger man. "It does, sure, but really any of these places will do." He said.

"For you, this is just a job. I have someone to look after, you know?"
 
The man nodded. "Okay. Name's Joe."

Joe reached over to shake Andreas' hand, a piece of paper in his large palm. On it were ten numbers - a cell.
 
"Dre." Andreas said as he took Joe's hand, it was uncomfortably huge for a normal sized guy.

"I'll be in touch." He told him, slipping the paper into his pocket.
 
"You sure this is the place?" Marlene asked, turning briefly to face Kathryn, who offered a slight nod. "This is the scuttlebutt, that it's here, someone looking for help." Kathryn said, putting the black sedan in park. The deep bass of the nightclub echoing through the neighborhood outside, the two women nodding to the beat as Marlene smiled. "It's catchy." She said, moving to open the door. "Watch my back, Kat." She said, closing the door behind her, and pulling her dark trenchcoat close.

It was cold out, a crisp breeze blowing through the streets, whipping Marlene's blonde hair about.

She stepped into the nightclub, the music thumping all around her. She was on a mission, looking for something, her eyes moved over to the bar, and she moved up to the bar, sliding into a seat next to Andreas, the woman was odd, her demeanor, her constant glances over her shoulder, her posture screamed law enforcement of some kind, as did the white shirt and black slacks worn under the trench.

"Something sweet, yet strong." She told the bartender, her voice smooth, yet cold.

The Bulge of a firearm stuck out under the trenchcoat, faintly obvious from the way she was sitting.

"I'm looking for work." The woman said, keeping her gaze fixated on the drink. "Have I come to the right person?"
 
Andreas turned to look at the woman, examining her closely. Her clothes, her face, her posture. Something was off. Not normal off, but still.

"I don't know. You might have heard wrong." The young man said to her, "You might have the wrong person. A lot of young people in the Nillies drinking." Andreas continued.

He knew she had the right person. He was sure she was a cop. Then again, Van Leugen made people take risks. If you weren't on the right person's payroll, you couldn't make a thing as a cop.

"Why you looking for work?" Andreas asked, sipping his beer. "Bills to pay?"
 
"I might, but I guess if I had the wrong person, then it would be very unfortunate for both of us." She said, trailing off before downing a sip of her drink. "You can say that." She said, moving slightly to face Andreas a little better.

"You can say that I've grown accustomed to a very steady paycheck from my employers, but due to certain events beyond my control, I've got to earn my own money." Marlene said, stirring her drink. "So; here I am, looking for work... and I've heard from some fairly reliable individuals that you're the man I need to find some work." She explained.

She kept her left hand on the drink, stirring it with the small straw, while her right hand rested in her lap, keeping the black trench over her sidearm, there was no badge, but she still seemed to sit like a cop, or someone with extensive training.

Her eyes kept watching her surroundings, and Andreas' hands.
 
"If they sent you my way, and you're willing to sit down in here, I guess we're on the same page." Andreas said to the woman, "You look a little familiar." He told her.

"We'll come back to that though. I'm putting together a crew to, uh, reallocate funds from a few local banks into our pockets." The Van Leugen native said.

"That in your wheelhouse?"
 
"I have one of those faces." She replied cooly. "How many blondes are in this city?" She asked, before deciding to double down on business.

"I have a very specific set of skills, and I'm very good at what I do." She said. "That being said I'm going to have to come to trust you, I don't trust people easy; city like this will do that." She added.

"So let's talk about these funds, how much of these... funds are going into my pocket? Girl has expensive tastes after all."
 
"Once we figure out the expenses, shouldn't be much anyways, and get a complete crew, I'll be sure to let you know what the split is like." Andreas said, "Personally, I'm not looking to do more than make some quick cash." He admitted.

"One, maybe two, scores and I'm done. You all can do what you will from there if things go well."

He looked away from Marlene, eyeballing his nearly empty beer and then the watch on his wrist.

"Like you said, you got expensive tastes."
 
Marlene nodded, looking back to her drink, finishing the last bit that was in her glass and signalling the bartender for another. "I also have my own crew, we're a rag tag bunch, but we get shit done." She said, watching as another drink was poured. And then Marlene looked up, to the strawberry blonde Kathryn standing in the door. "Where I go, She goes." Marlene said. "She's good with computers, can shoot straight, and she follows orders." Marlene explained.

"I've got resources, and they'll make your life easier." She said. "But since we've dispensed with the formalities, i'll introduce myself; my name's Emma Angelos, and that's my partner, Maribeth." She explained, gesturing to the woman, whose body language and demeanor suggested she was acting as some sort of lookout.

"But I've got to trust you; can I trust you?" She asked, tilting her head slightly and leaning forward, so that she didn't have to speak very loudly and only Andreas could hear her. "I'll only tell you one time." She said, leaning forward to the point where the chair began to creak. "Don't fuck me." She said calmly. "Don't you ever try to fuck me." She warned, leaning back and picking up her drink, downing the rest of it.
 
Andreas laughed a little, sipping the last of his beer and then pushing it across the counter. "Like I said, I'm not going for the gold. I have someone to look after." He told Marlene.

"You don't have to worry about me, I promise." The young man said, getting up from his seat. "My number." He said, giving the bartender a nod.

The bartender slid a piece of paper across the counter to the woman, "Call me. Text. Whatever works for you. If you don't prefer to speak over the phone, there's always places to meet."

"I gotta get some sleep. Get up with me tomorrow night. I'll have something for us to go over."
 
"I'll be in touch." Marlene said, taking the number from the bartender, and paying for her drinks in local banknotes.

Slowly standing up from her barstool, she nodded, and then produced a small slip of paper. Hastily, she wrote down an address.

"Meet me here, but call before you do, I don't want you getting shot." She said, the address itself was a small row-house in a run down crime ridden part of the Normans, another one of Marlene's safehouses.

If he took the paper, she would nod, and turn to leave, gesturing for Kathryn to get the car, blending into the crowd, they were gone.
 
Andreas took the paper, looking over the address. "I know this area. You're trying to stay off the grid." He said, figuring that the woman was either some deep cover TIB agent who went rogue or a mercenary.

Maybe a bit of both. Who knew? He didn't really care.

"I'll be there when I'm ready." He told the woman, watching as she walked away and disappeared into the crowd.
 
The Yellowjacket, Nillies.

After a long drive through traffic, Cole finally made it to the Yellowjacket, it's bright yellow sign casting a dull glow in the inside of his car, a beat up Crown Victoria, or what amounted to one here, in Van Leugen. It's burgundy paint had shown years of abuse.

Coming to a stop, Cole put the parking brake, and moved out of the car, keys in hand. A moment later, he pocketed his keys and started to the bar.

He was the lowest detective on the totem pole, having been assigned CSI, to work among the nerds and misfits of the VLPD.

Inwardly he had hoped this would be his big break, to solve the string of strange murders that were ravaging the city, and of course drew little attention among the corrupt law and media, with many attributing it to some random psycho.

But Cole had seen the evidence, knew their methods from his time in the TAF, had fought them, studied them.

Stepping into the bar, he spotted Von Goethe quickly enough, and moved to his table, but not before flagging down a scantily clad waitress, and ordering them both a glass of scotch.

"You asked to see me, Chief?" Cole asked, sitting down. He knew that there were only two times the Chief of Police would be meeting with him, and it was to fire him, or commend him, there was no small talk in Cole's mind.
 
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