Previous Post Adventures in Parodyverse - The Negotiators Part 1     Curiosity.  That was the reason Antony Vendredi went to the trouble of having his driver take him outside of his own protected headquarters.  Across town, to a night club he’d never heard of before.     Emilio Cacciatore stepped out of the back of the old 1930’s limousine first, his long dark coat hiding the armaments he carried beneath with hardly any evidence visible.  He held the door open for his boss, who was puffing away at a cigar as he looked up into the falling rain.     The night club was closed during the day, its steel, black painted doors locked.  The marquee which hung above the sidewalk was dark - not surprisingly, the club’s name was Frankie’s.  As soon as Emilio approached, the two center doors popped open and two men in white Zoot Suits and Fedoras stepped out.  They were unarmed - in this area of town, nobody would have the audacity to fight them anyhow.     Vendredi puffed smoke at both of the suited men.  They didn’t flinch as they escorted him and Emilio inside.  The Zoots didn’t check Vendredi or Emilio for weapons - that would have been disrespectful.     The newcomers were led through an entryway, and another set of doors, revealing a large empty purple and black room with loud, thumping music and swimming, flashing lights, and a large bar in the center.  Tables were around the edges, and a large dance floor with lights beneath surrounded the bar.  Then through another set of doors, where the noise was left behind for much softer jazz music.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s more like it,”  Vendredi commented on the music as he spotted Frankie sitting at a green felt table dealing cards.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Antony.”  Frankie greeted him.  He put down the cards and stood, puffing a small hand-rolled cigar of his own.  He stood and gave Vendredi a greeting like a brother, hugging him over one shoulder and patting him on the back.  “It’s about time you came here.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I should have come before,”  Vendredi joked, “This is one classy joint.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I got four of these classy joints,”  Frankie bragged.  He sat down again and leaned back in his chair.  His smile disappeared.  “Let me be straight, Antony.  I got the numbers, I got the coverage.  What have you got?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I go straight to the top,”  Vendredi bragged.  “I got the power.”  He puffed on his cigar some more.  “Don’t worry, Frankie, I aint gonna put you out of business.  I just want a small taste of what you earn.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“What do I get for it?”  Frankie bravely asked, puffing at his own cigar.  Neither Emilio nor any of Frankie’s henchmen present dared cough as the smoke in the room thickened.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“You got the Lair Legion watching your every move,”  Vendredi said.  “The GMY and Paradopolis fuzz harassing you and your boys.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah?”  Frankie urged him to continue with a gesture of his hand.     Vendredi took the cigar out of his mouth and leaned forward, eyeing Frankie with those dark eyes of his.  “Well, no more.  That’s what ya get for just a small taste.  You play all ya want in my back yard, no restrictions.  And with the deal I got with Masamune, you can play in hers too.”     That seemed to pique Frankie’s interest.  “I’m still listening.  What kinda taste are we talkin’ about.”     Vendredi shrugged and looked at the ceiling, as if he were picking a number out of the air.  “Five percent?”  he suggested.  He knew Frankie’s business - the percentage was small, but amounted to quite a large sum.     There was a long pause while Frankie puffed his cigar some more.  He looked at the two men of his who were standing by, and then toward the one man who wasn’t wearing a hat, in charge of his accounts.  The bookkeeper nodded almost imperceptibly.  Frankie then stood suddenly.  “You got a deal.”     Vendredi stood too, and smiled.     Frankie removed his cigar and pointed it at Vendredi.  “You don’t mind if we skip the handshake?”  He laughed, and then Vendredi laughed too.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“You’re too smart for me, Frankie.”  Vendredi joked.  He tipped his hat instead, and waited for Frankie’s two men to escort him and Emilio outside the club.     Once Vendredi and Emilio were safely in the limousine, the two men shut and locked the front doors.  They returned to the back room and waited for Frankie to acknowledge their presence before speaking.  “He’s gone, boss.”  one of them said.     Frankie nodded and took one more puff of his cigar before putting it out.  The two men left as he did.  It was a non-verbal sign of Frankie’s, a way to warn anyone he didn’t want to see or hear what came next to leave.  Even the bookkeeper stood and left, slipping through another door into the club’s offices.     The bookkeeper was man who made his living avoiding violence and trouble, while still making a decent living - whether he approved of the circumstances or not.  He tried so hard to keep his distance that, as he entered the offices and noticed someone walking toward him, he looked down, so he only caught a glimpse of red fabric and black hair, and a very intoxicating scent.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“You’re gonna tell me that Akiko doesn’t approve,”  Frankie accused the dark-haired Asian woman without looking at her.     The Psychic Samurai sat down comfortably across from Frankie, placing her sword across her lap.  “Akiko might be amused.  But I can’t say she wouldn’t approve.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Amused?”  Frankie raised an eyebrow.     She smiled.  “He is selling you something that is not his to give.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, keep laughing.”  Frankie growled.  “Your master’s small time even compared to me now.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I have no master.”  Chiaki corrected.  She stood and added, “Once again you underestimate me.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hey, you invited yourself to this meeting.”  Frankie pointed out.  “If you didn’t like the outcome why did you show up at all?  Because Akiko told you to?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“No.”  Chiaki replied.  “She does not even know I’m here.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Then why?”  Frankie asked again.  He picked up another cigar, threatening to light it.  He knew she hated smoking, and was hoping it would hurry her departure.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“When Vendredi runs afoul of the Lair Legion...and he will,”  Chiaki told him, “My presence at this meeting may just keep you in the clear.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Don’t hold your breath, hun.”  Frankie replied as he lit his cigar.  By the time he took the initial puffs of smoke and looked up, she was gone.  His bookkeeper came peering around the corner once he heard no more voices.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Bobby V...the dame doesn’t know, does she?”  Frankie asked loudly to one of his associates in the office next door.  A large man in a black pinstriped Zoot Suit moved into the doorway to respond.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“What’s that Frankie?”  he asked.  He was holding a thick roast beef sandwich.     Frankie smiled and leaned back.  “That her old boss is playin’ second string now.”  He began to flip a playing card between his fingers.  “Soon that samurai dame won’t have any protection.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“‘Cept for that sword,”  Bobby contributed as he took a bite of the sandwich.  And then with his mouth full, “And the Lair Legion.”     Frankie laughed.  “No, I think Vendredi’s got the Lair Legion handled.”  he said.  “And we got just the cure for a sword.  Lots a’ bullets.”     Bobby laughed, and nearly choked on his food.  The cigar smoke didn’t help him resume normal breathing, either.  Once he finally stopped coughing, he asked, “So why didn’t we...?”     His boss looked upward and took a few puffs of his cigar.  “Cause I kinda like the dame, she’s got spark.  And she’s easy on the eyes, if ya get my drift.”     The associate nodded, but tried not to laugh again.  He was still trying not to cough from last time.  He suddenly paused, and his smile vanished.  “You’re not thinkin’ of bringin’ her in are ya?  Remember what happened with Gamona.”     Frankie nodded slowly, and began tapping the playing card he was holding on the table.  It was a habit that showed he was making a difficult decision.  Finally, he nodded and said, “The dame knows Akiko’s goin’ down eventually.  That’s why she spied on the meeting.”  He looked directly at Bobby V and said, “Make her an offer.  If she don’t take it, she’s on her own...her and the Lair Legion.” TO BE CONTINUED? -- Story written and copyrighted (C) 2008 by Jason Froikin, and may not be  --    reprinted without permission.   -- Yuki Shiro designed by Jason Froikin, based on designs by Masamune Shirow --  Liu Xi Xian and the Psychic Samurai are original design by Jason Froikin --  Lara Night is an original creation by Jason Froikin

He's apparently not the brightest bulb in the marquee.  Taking on Chiaki and the Legion is something of a bonehead move... but then, he never really struck me as the rocket scientist type.  At least he'll look snazzy getting smacked around by the blunt side of a sword...