[attr="class","mittag"]

Alphonse Gambino

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The black limousine was not, like most of its kind, meant to catch the eye. It was a long, dark, subtle affair with tinted windows and a quiet engine. Even the wheels seemed to glide noiselessly along the street - making eerily little sound. There was no escort to signify that the occupant of the vehicle was a VIP. There were no emblems or iconography of any kind on the vehicle - the company which had produced the car would be unknown from even a thorough inspection of the limo. Silent as a shadow and just as dark, the vehicle finally reached the curb of the café and braked to a smooth halt. The only real indication that the occupant of the car might be someone of import was the fact that a man in chauffer's uniform and cap emerged from the front passenger seat and opened the rear door for the man inside.[break][break]

The car moved when the man in the back shifted his weight onto his feet and emerged from the car. The vehicle seemed to rise on its suspension mechanism in some apparent, mechanical relief - and a dark-haired man larger than eight feet tall rose to his full, impressive height that was the opposite of his limousine; plenty about the man captured the eye and the imagination alike. His fashion sense was still subtle and somewhat restrained - maybe even fashionably outdated and at home in a magazine about gentlemen from a bygone era. But the sense of negation his attire contributed simply couldn't take away from the man's presence.[break][break]

He was big. Really big.[break][break]

And he looked bigger still next to the normal-sized man who had gotten the door for him - and the limo itself, made for a normal-sized person. Both car and chauffer might have been toys next to him. And yet he moved softly - a predatory grace mixed with an utter lack of concern as he made his way onto the curb and up the steps towards Bay Leaf Brews terrace. The man was swallowed partially by his coat - it hung over his shoulders, but his arms were not through the sleeves properly. And yet it clung to him and moved naturally - as much like a cape as a coat. It accented his appearance richly, fur trim and all.[break][break]

The man neither faltered nor hesitated despite being new to the area. He moved as though he was certain of his destination even as the exact details escaped him. But he climbed the stairs and entered a small gate onto the outdoor terrace. And his cognac-colored eyes looked down, half-lidded in apparently relaxation or boredom at the man whose very shadow seemed alive. There was a pause, then - and those amber hues locked onto Cillian's eyes without regard for meekness or shyness. The man spoke only after a breath had passed them by. His deep voice suited his large, giant's build.[break][break]

"Hrm. Impressive. Even outdoors this place manages to offend my nostrils. Good morning. My name is Alphonse Gambino. You are Cillian, I presume?"[break][break]

The man did not sit down - though he did loom over the table and extend a huge hand as his other hand appeared ready to grip the chair and pull it out for himself - and his outstretched palm looked large enough to swallow and crush a normal person's entire hand within it.[break][break]

"It's a pleasure."

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Cillian was no small man. Six foot three and all corded muscle, he is nevertheless dwarfed by the giant who steps onto the terrace. Without fear, his amber gaze settles on the man that could only be Alphonse Gambino, lingering there as he draws close.[break][break]

He takes the offered hand without hesitation, shakes firm and brief.[break][break]

"Aye," he affirms, the depth of his own voice carrying a smoker's gravel. An ashtray sat beside him, the cigarette within slowly turning to ash — forgotten in favour of whatever had been on the screen of his phone. He'd pocketed that phone when Alphonse arrived, affording the stranger his full attention.[break][break]

Leaning back in his chair, more for comfort than any desire to extricate himself from Al's presence, the underboss pinches the cigarette between scarred fingers and takes a drag. A slow exhale sees grey smoke mix with the dark miasma that curls around him, serpentine. Alive. It shifts with him as he rests an elbow against the table.[break][break]

Though unsmiling, there is no hostility in Cillian's countenance.[break][break]

"I understand an agreement has been reached."[break][break]

He remembers, distant, what had been taught to him. You will learn to bend, or we will break you. And what they'd broken, they had rebuilt.

[break][break]

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Alphonse Gambino

[attr="class","mitmain"]



The hand that might have engulfed Cillian's was nonetheless gentler than it might seem - hands rough and calloused, not like the hands of a lackadaisical man who simply commanded from behind a desk.[break][break]

The handshake was firm but not aggressive. There was no demonstration of bravado or brawniness some men felt the inclination to show by crushing another guy's hand. But even the way a man shakes hands can speak to his nature: Al's handshake was firm but quick, mechanical and no doubt just a bit perfunctory. A polite gesture and little more upon their first meeting, as if it were a formality he felt must be observed even in the unusual situation that had led up to their rendezvous. And whatever Alphonse gleaned from Cillian's own grip he did not betray - but the man moved his hand back to his side casually and used it to grip the chair. He pulled his own chair out and sat - though even sitting down he was still awkwardly big for the table. Even so the man only nodded at Cillian at first - the quiet sort in his own right.[break][break]

Minuit had always left the whole "charming charisma" business to other men and women in his employ - he was a quiet, big man who sat in comfortable silence for a minute - and then two. Though he did murmur a quiet order to the owner who had only dared approach them because they were quiet - and because the large man had looked over his shoulder square at the owner. Those in the service industry had a certain talent for knowing when they were wanted and when they were not. By the time that second minute elapsed there was a cup of black, steaming coffee in front of Al. And it might have been a teacup for how easily his fingers closed on the handle as he took one long, relaxed drag. But when he sat the coffee down he was looking at Cillian again - eye contact, it seemed, was Alphonse's way when he talked to someone. Notably, Al had almost naturally waited until the owner had moved away again well out of earshot.[break][break]

"Yes, your boss and I have come to an arrangement. Mutual clemency for past disagreements. I am allowed independent control over my own organization. So long as I, personally, work with Team Rocket from this day forward."[break][break]

The serious, stoic man did not smile; he did not have a face for smiling, but there was a slight twitch at corner of his mouth.[break][break]

"Can't make an omelet without breaking a few Exeggcute."[break][break]

More silence - another slow sip of coffee from Alphonse, who cast his half-lidded eyes disapprovingly towards the Bayleef. 

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Though a man with a capacity for great patience, Cillian does not like being made to wait. Yet he does not press the issue. You could learn a lot from someone by letting them lead a conversation.[break][break]

So he waits, shaking his head when the owner looks to him, and finishes his cooling cup of tea.[break][break]

Past disagreements. Cillian's gaze flicks to the hooked hand, understanding. He makes no remark, only listens, until Alphonse settles once more into silence.[break][break]

"You understand what that work entails, I trust."[break][break]

Rocket's methods were no secret. Their recent activities in Hoenn have been bloody, most notably their victory over the League in the BATTLE OF DEWFORD.[break][break]

"You can lead well enough, but can you follow?"[break][break]

His demeanour remains unthreatening, but there is an ever-present PRESSURE in the air. It seems not to affect him, or else he's good at concealing how it does.

[break][break]

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Alphonse Gambino

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"I can."[break][break]

There was no hesitation - no forethought put into the reply. It was automatic equivalent of a "yes, sir" that any new Grunt would give. Though perhaps it maintained a bit more quiet dignity and conveyed less respect to a man who could not read people. But if Cillian was so skilled at understanding others - he might discern the clear, crisp truth behind those words. It was simply the respectful, immediate, and even submissive answer of a new hire - even if it remained dressed-up and polished.[break][break]

And again.[break][break]

"I can, Cillian. I crawled before I walked - both in life, and as a lieutenant to the Falcone family of Kalos. Let us not waste one another's time. If you're half the man I've heard you are, then I know you have studied me as I've studied Team Rocket's current leadership. Only a Mudbray's ass walks into a meeting with an unknown element. And only a suicidal fool does so while also going into another's territory."[break][break]

If Alphonse could feel the pressure then he did not show it - but he did raise one thin eyebrow at Cillian.[break][break]

"As for if I'm familiar with what this work involves... You're never too good or too old to enjoy the fundamentals. I've no problems with your methods. Only got one rule: 'No children get hurt on my watch'. Past that, well..."[break][break]

The man's huge shoulders shrugged.[break][break]

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Though not particularly expressive, a keen eye might discern Cillian's satisfaction with the answer given. At the very least, he doesn't seem displeased; he merely takes a sip of his tea, and a puff of his cigarette.[break][break]

After a deliberate pause, he says, "There is no wasting of anyone's time. It is my job to ensure this organization runs smoothly. Of course I've studied you," and he's unsurprised that Alphonse has done the same, "but only a fool relies solely upon the words of others who might be susceptible to outside influence."[break][break]

Mingled now with the aroma of coffee beans is the thick scent of ozone, a suggestion of rain. A broad blue-and-white umbrella above shields them from the first fledgling droplets.[break][break]

"Most of us do our best to exclude children from collateral." Cillian's gaze had drifted briefly to the bay, but snaps back to Alphonse with intensity. "What might you do with the exception?"

[break][break]

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Alphonse Gambino

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Alphonse appreciated the man's forward and direct nature if nothing else. One huge hand reached down to take hold of his own coffee cup - and Al drained the thing in a final draft as Cillian partook of his own hot beverage of choice. He was a polite and practical man. Even his 'timing' for taking his own drink that time had been to better synchronize the conversation with Cillian. Alphonse did not light himself up a cigar, however - he was focused on this interview for better or worse. And when Cillian responds with something Alphonse considered to be a simple, universal truth the stoic giant could only nod his head and made a small, wordless grunt of affirmation.[break][break]

Cillian was right, of course.[break][break]

One should always try to assess another person for themselves. To gather information through informants and contacts was a staple of surviving - and thriving - in the criminal underworld. But it was also just good sense to meet a new hire oneself. And besides, 'contacts' no matter how typically trustworthy or regularly relied upon could be bought or - just as dangerous - misjudge someone they were observing. Alphonse gained just a bit of respect for the man in front of him in that moment. He could now judge Cillian as a predator rather than prey - a hunter might understand a bit more about the world than most did.[break][break]

Alphonse listened on as the first droplets of a coming rain impact against the cheery and colorful umbrella above them. And although the Ursaring of a man did not allow a flicker of expression to color his features he too felt a sense of approval in Cillian's answer - the one regarding children as collateral. He could appreciate and respect the fact that another criminal organization eschewed the involvement of children in their activities. But as Cillian asked him about exceptions to the rule - for the first time there was a change in Alphonse's expression; it darkened just a bit. His bored expression ever-so-briefly changed to one that would make lesser men quail. Perhaps not Cillian though - and Al's face soon melted back into its more natural, almost bored expression.[break][break]

"I do recognize the irony in the head of a criminal syndicate explaining this to a senior member of Team Rocket. But even criminals like us should have standards. There are certain immutable laws even people like us must recognize, Cillian. We breathe oxygen. The sky is blue. Voltorb explode. And children are innocent."[break][break]

A brief, pregnant pause rose between them - as Al looked directly at Cillian - but there was no malice or threat in the lidded eyes of Alphonse Gambino.[break][break]

"I joined Team Rocket and accepted this merger on three conditions. The first is that In am allowed to maintain unilateral control over my syndicate, Revocs. The second was that I and my associates may choose not to wear Team Rocket uniforms so that we may act without interference from League officials. And the third was that I - and my men - would not be required to harm children. It is true that there is an exception to every rule. So with all that out of the way..."[break][break]

Alphonse leaned forward - suddenly talkative, it seemed, now that something he held as a personal truth had been challenged. And as the man set his elbows down on the tabletop and looked down at Cillian, the man's own gravely voice rumbled from his in a natural basso.[break][break]

"I do not hurt children, and I do not tolerate the members of my organization doing so. I am not an unreasonable man. I do recognize that accidents happen - quick getaways and shootouts with law enforcement, other such things. It is an unfortunate reality that such clashes between criminals and cops can see bystanders hurt. Depending on the circumstances, a small amount of mercy and leniency may be in order."[break][break]

Even that much it seems the boss of Revocs concedes grudgingly.[break][break]

"But for those under my employ who deliberately hurt children - they are terminated. And those that choose to victimize kids in front of me - even if they are not under my command? Well, Cillian - as I said - there are certain immutable laws. One of them is that accidents happen. Just a fact of life."[break][break]

And yet - for all Alphonse had said, there was even more left unsaid; only the implied threat against anyone - Rocket or Civilian - who might choose to purposefully harm or exploit children in front of him.[break][break]

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Indeed, the giant's darkening expression seems not to bother Rocket's underboss, who merely taps his cigarette against the side of the glass try, scattering ash and embers.[break][break]

"I don't disagree with you," Cillian insists, upon the innocence of children. He tries not to think of his own child, or the memory of a child that hadn't truly been real. Yet still his chest aches with the suppression of thought. "I've no interest in telling you how to discipline your men."[break][break]

The implication is allowed to settle between them as Cillian takes another measured sip from his teacup. Thunder rumbles gently through greying skies. The sound of the rain upon the umbrella's canopy is soothing, to him.[break][break]

"But you know well the importance of respect and hierarchy in an organization such as this." Cillian remembers the sharp words of his own mentor. We own you. And even so close to the top, he had to answer to a master. "No one's going to miss a grunt stupid enough to fuck with a kid. But if it's someone higher up the chain? You bring them to me." The other underbosses would suffice equally, but Cillian does not speak on their behalf. Alphonse couldn't attest to their character. "I assure you I will be no less thorough in my punishment."[break][break]

And very few could question the decision of an underboss.

[break][break]

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Alphonse Gambino

[attr="class","mitmain"]


Among the things these two men have in common - their sentiment towards the sounds of the brewing storm is among them.[break][break]

Even as a child Alphonse had always taken solace in watching and listening to the storms of Kalos. The were nature's most common expression of the thing Alphonse cared about most in this world: power. People often mistook Al's infatuation for power as a love of physical, brute force. Rather - he recognized the myriad forms "power" could exist in the world. Among Pokémon that might be largely limited to physical force, speed, toughness, and special powers. Among most people however there were different metrics as well: money, for one. Influence was another, and Alphonse was one who always sought power for himself. So he too listened to the quiet, thoughtful rumble of thunder and watched Cillian - Al appraised the man in front of him and decided he would not be the worst superior to report to.[break][break]

"Yeah." The big man finally said, after a moment of taking Cillian's measure.[break][break]

"Someone higher up than a grunt - than me - and I'll bring it to you first. I can do that."[break][break]

And while Al was ambitious and power-hungry, he was also loyal and a man of his word.[break][break]

"Right. What else we got to cover? I've a few thoughts of my own - but these are early days after all. There's a hierarchy - a chain-of-command. And like I said, I won't waste your time. Got some ideas going forward - you need to hear 'em?"[break][break]

The question - much like the man who asked it - was something with multiple layers beneath the surface. Even so the essence of that question could be deciphered easily enough by one as perceptive as Cillian.[break][break]

'Are you my direct supervisor'?[break][break]

Though in his own quiet, refined way Alphonse was also showing deference to Cillian - allowing him to determine the agenda of their "meeting".

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Much like Alphonse, Cillian has always loved storms. Though they frightened him as much as they fascinated him in his youth, avatarship to the mother of storms that was Lugia had only increased his appreciation for weather many would consider foul. The change in the air's PRESSURE comforts him, and he glimpses bone-white spines beneath the rain-speckled surface of the bay.[break][break]

Though ever-unsmiling, subtle shifts in the minutiae of his expression divulge his approval of the answers given.[break][break]

"I've as suitable ears as anyone else of my station." In short: as an underboss, he was above most, and thus more than willing to hear out the concerns of a subordinate. Or their ideas, thoughts, and interests. "I'm sure you'll acquaint yourself with Fiorelli and Beckett before long. I would imagine Admin Bee might also be of interest to you."[break][break]

The Kalosian admin had been of Rocket in the distant region.[break][break]

He shakes his head. "For now, though, you can bring any concerns you have to me, and I will sort them. Orders will typically be relayed through middle-men, but you're welcome to confirm with me. I'll give you my contacts before we leave."

[break][break]

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Alphonse Gambino

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"Right." Alphonse said, by way of acknowledgement.[break][break]

The big man didn't bother writing anything down - not in front of Cillian - he didn't need too. The more things that were written down the more evidence there was of a certain action or event. He was a man who was more than happy to take his orders one-on-one from some middle-man. Alphonse was particular when it came to discussing things with people; Minuit hated conferences. He didn't want anyone hearing what he had to say and he didn't want anybody listening to what he was being told. If there was a problem with the union or a beef in the numbers, then Al only allowed one person at a time to discuss things with him discreetly and one-on-one. He wasn't presumptuous enough to hand Cillian Six's card, but he would likely make it harder for his fellow Grunts to contact him directly.[break][break]


"No concerns. I'll take my orders - and be a good little cog in Team Rocket's machine. But you should know, Mister Cillian."[break][break]


Mister. Cillian had earned at least that much respect from Al even in their short conversation.[break][break]


"I'll be gunning for a seat at your table. Keep one warm for me, if you would."[break][break]


And for the first time there was a visible, actual change in Al's expression; he showed just a little bit of teeth in a small, restrained, and not unkind grin that could have been mischievous if it didn't make the big man look like a Sharpedo. It soon faded though - a flicker of amusement on the expression of the mob boss-turned-ensign. He did not stand yet - Cillian had mentioned he could speak freely. And so while Al's body made the relaxed gesture of a man just about done with his meeting - Al spoke on one more point at least. A Grunt - after all - was obliged to share their game plan with a boss when it came to certain activities.[break][break]


"I don't go to meetings empty-handed. I've got some intel that may be useful to you and your associates. Underlings pay tribute where I'm from - in the old country. Here's mine: There's a princess in the region. Now me - I'm typically above an abduction just for a ransom - but if you decide there's an angle here, boss, I'm all in."[break][break]


The large man moved a huge hand out of his jacket - and set down a manilla folder on the table.[break][break]


"It's all there. Seen her myself. Got men on her 'around the clock'." Al said, not sure the quiet underboss before him would either get or appreciate the joke.[break][break]


But the man didn't even grin at his own joke - he merely watched Cillian to see how the man reacted to the information before him. How he reacted to the picture of Elise Calcifet on the inside of the folder.[break][break]

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Cillian arches a brow at the naked ambition that leaks from the other's lips. In his time, such a lust for power was a thing kept secret. If the likes of Blackwell had understood his cravings for power and position, the former boss might've slit his throat.[break][break]

After a pause, Cillian only huffs a brief laugh.[break][break]

"So long as it's not my seat you're eyeing, I wish you luck. I don't intend to vacate but for upward momentum."[break][break]

Entrusted was a hint of his own ambitions, in turn: should the Rocket boss fall, though he had no intentions of allowing it to happen should he be able to help it, he would be the first to step forward.[break][break]

But Cillian was as loyal to declan walsh as any Rocket could be. In the act of saving his life, Walsh had ensured it... even when the threats had come later. Don't disappoint me. A mantra that echoes constant in his mind. The last Quinn loyal to the cause.[break][break]

Knowing Alphonse had more to say, the underboss quiets to listen.[break][break]

His air of indifference immediately shifts to hunger as he registers the name.[break][break]

"Calcifet."[break][break]

It was not a common name. It was one borne by royalty - and by a traitor to Rocket. Remiel Calcifet.[break][break]

"She's here?" Opportunity yawns like a chasm before them. Simple ransom was child's play for Rocket, but Elise Calcifet might be a far more valuable bargaining chip on account of her relation to the traitor. "Keep your men on her. I'll pass this along."[break][break]

To Elisabeth Fiorelli, THEO BECKETT, and of course, to declan walsh.

[break][break]

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Alphonse Gambino

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Oh... So he can be caught off-guard. How interesting.[break][break]

Alphonse made a mental note of Cillian's sudden shift from expressionless to... well, Alphonse knew that look. Hunger - predatory desire for something. He felt it all the time himself after all even if he never dared show it. Alphonse understood Cillian just a little better in that moment. He didn't yet know why the underboss had such an interest in the target - but Alphonse nodded once. He didn't need to know, not yet. Besides - information like that was both plentiful and easily purchased. Rocket Grunts may have had his own Minutemen outnumbered by a laughable amount. But Alphonse Gambino prided himself on quality over quantity. There were no spare Minutemen - even Al's Grunts were hand-picked and effective.[break][break]


"Of course." Was all he said.[break][break]


It was only natural he would keep Elise under his careful eye. She had some royal guards here and there - and had made friends during her time in Hoenn. But when Cillian gave the word to strike... Well, Elise Calcifet traveled a lot. There were so many opportunities for things to go wrong - and Alphonse would be there to make sure his employers knew every possible opportunity to bring the woman under their power. Minuit would only learn later about Remiel. But he had his orders for now - and Cillian, though he might not appreciate it, had a bit of Al's respect. More than his station as underboss would have afforded him by itself. Alphonse was the first to rise - Cillian had his respect, but Al had his dignity. He would not wait for dismissal.[break][break]


"And, Mister Quinn. If you require a special touch... You know where to find me."[break][break]

And then he turned - his coat-cape tossed ever so slightly in the breeze as he walked back towards the limousine. And if Cillian had a keen eye, he would see @katrina in the driver's seen - her facial features mostly hidden by a chauffer's cap. And just like that - Al was gone. Into the rainy, dismal evening - and off to begin planting his own seeds in the fruitful, vast garden of Hoenn.

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