#➤ 𝐯 𝐞 𝐫 𝐬 𝐞 : PROTEGE ┊ ❛ Jacknife Kelly ❜

[echoestm]

@impostorvitae || starter call

The movement and sale of street-level drugs is too volatile a business with not nearly enough of an equivalent return for all the trouble it brings. Sure, addicts can always be counted on to return for more product, but as their desperation mounts for another hit so too does their sloppiness increase. It's the kind of trouble Roman doesn't need nor wants to be bothered with, keeping good men on payroll to swap broken-clasp necklaces and freshly mugged phones for grams of this and rocks of that. Besides, all those petty little crimes are like beacons to the Bat, who keeps his Big Brother eye on them all and roots them out for endless merry-go-round stays at Arkham or Blackgate.

No, Roman doesn't bother with those things at all, except if the shipment is big enough and needs escorting through docks that he controls. Then the cut is worth the gamble with the lawyers' fees. So he always keeps ears to the ground about who is moving what, for whom, and how business is in general— in case it should ever turn into an opportunity for him; he strives to be well-informed for the negotiating.

And so he comes to hear of THEM. Young tykes. Not the first nor the last that Gothamite drug lords will employ to take their risks and falls. Quick and efficient, as so often only youth can be. They run circles around the fine rotund boys of the GCPD and are rumored to have disappearing tricks worthy of the Bat himself. The most impressive part? The sheer number of them. Enough to cover the whole of the Narrows, if word is to be believed, and then some. Wrappings with their signature N brand have been found well Uptown, in the litter bins of classy places where usually only the purest of snows is for skiing. What they move isn't particularly designer, but it's good enough to crowd-please and they've got enough boots on the ground to deliver far and wide without leaving home unattended. No mean feat at all. How could it not pique the curiosity of the man who aims to rule it all someday?

Roman's had his own hired boots on the ground, making note of their moves, tracking their comings and goings— tailing them to try and figure out what centralized location they might all have in common. A drop point. A pick-up spot. Something. Anything. Excursions that had yielded precious little when his men get shaken off in endless Crime Alley dead-ends and abandoned Narrows buildings. It should infuriate him, but it delights instead and has him sporting a grin beneath carved onyx when the reports come in daily and nightly.

"You're not an easy businessman to find, Mr. Kelly." Roman compliments, when finally the chasing and waiting is at an end. He's a tyke himself. Still has a heart. The type that threatens to bleed when one of his little rats is picked up and held on to— when the word goes out that it's none other than the Black Mask who is holding him and likely torturing him for information.

He would have too, if his reputation— the far-spread tale of his deeds and supposed preferences hadn't been enough to loosen that pretty little canary's tongue without need of picking up a single instrument. He was just some middle link of the chain, desperate to survive... unscathed, if possible. And it IS unscathed that Roman returns him to Jack. Gloved hands command goons in silence, who are as respectful as he himself has been since strolling in, in walking the youngster back towards to his leader.

"It's impressive. Consider me impressed. Now... don't be too hard on that one. He only gave me your name. My men were the ones who sent word with whoever else they could find about this meeting. Though I'd rather like to move it, if that's alright with you? Someplace proper... seats, tablecloth... servers? My treat, of course."

#➤ 𝐯 𝐞 𝐫 𝐬 𝐞 : PROTEGE ┊ ❛ Jacknife Kelly ❜ #𝟎𝟎𝟏 ⠀ . ⠀ ⠀the street rat network ⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ ❪ impostorvitae ❫. #impostorvitae