[text] help wanted ad??

[gentrify]

yo any of u kno stuff like accountin n shit?
not like bookies lil black note books n how much 4 a teenth or a 8ball
actual legit bean counting accounting
4 business

speaking of
any1 got experence getting set up w a place 4 a shop??
nvr rly needed a place 2 sell shit b4
usually just had dudes pick out shit frm a car trunk u kno



ps, still got the car trunk thing goin if any1 wants 2 buy a piece
aka guns im selling guns
knives still 2
its legal ok i got papers just need a shop so
ghetto car trunk discount, 15% off

[ also drugs. the less legal part. that he will not say anything about on the network. shh. ]

Comments

[heisenbitch]

[ .........oh. Okay. Some other asshole who also knows him. Honestly, Jesse should stop being surprised every time someone recognises him at this rate. (It's unnerving as fuck, though!!) Of all the people who know Jesse in this place, though, this guy comes across as someone Jesse is least surprised he would have wound up involved with. Colour him instantly curious and on guard all at once. ]

Calling it how most ppl are gonna see it yo

[gentrify]

yea well hence the need 4 a fuckin building
a sign + a little bell on the door makes the same shit look a lot more legit
marketing

[heisenbitch]

Guess using a black collar look to announce youre going all white collar is one way to market yourself

[gentrify]

who u thinkin is the customer base that buys more firearms huh?
ur black collar neighbor w the pitbull named skullcrusher
or ur white collar accountant pal w 3 kids + a minivan?
marketing, bitch
kno ur audience
+ ur fuckin hood

[heisenbitch]

Unclench
Just saying if you wanna look legit, dress your pitch up a little
Never assume anything about your customer base or limit yourself to just one demographic either if you're aiming to maximize your profits

cw: classism, weight talk? drugs? everything? also >private

[gentrify]

[ mickey just talks like he's constantly angry, it's just his upbringing, okay, everyone he knows talks like this. except ian. sometimes ian. were this a face to face conversation, he'd sound a lot more like he's just shooting the shit. ]

hence the looking for a building, bill fuckin gates
+ a decent accountant that can stomach this shit
i didnt ask 4 a backseat HR block manager when i decided 2 move this shit

[ and swapping this to private now, because this is stuff people dont need to be reading, and he doesnt need anyone picking up that the shit he's moving, aside from the guns (those are all his), is jesse's himself. ]

u wanna kno who the best customers 4 weed are?
hipster college pricks w beards hangin out at hookah shops
4 coke? trust fund babies + their skin n bones wanna pornstar model gfs
& desperate midclass housewives
meth, that fuckin hobo named lenny thatll literally fight a rabid dog to get sum smack
guns are like 20% rich ppl who want trophies/look badass & dont know wtf their buying
30% red necks + ex military
& 50% gang bangers + single moms in the ghetto lookin to keep their gd kids safe
is that all the ppl who lay down cash 4 drugs/weapons?
no, ofc not
r they still good places 2 start when u need fast cash to get a lease?
yes
that + media here alrdy knows me as that southside punkass
any1 w half a brain cell is gonna kno me puttin on a tie & doin a pitch is gonna reek of bullshit

im getting ur shit done & u got plenty in profits from the dope
calm ur tits & stop bustin my balls, ur majesty

permaprivate??

[heisenbitch]

[ ...whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. That whole info dump tells Jesse everything he needs to know about this guy, but that's not what he's mentally whoa, whoa'ing about. That last part. There's no point fucking around when the guy has thrown that last part right out there like that. He shoots back a quick, short message that probably seems wildly bipolar to the whole conversation. ]

Need to meet with u

yuuuhhh

[gentrify]

[ oh..... k. ]

heropa 003

just fyi
u send any muscle 2 fuck me up for saying shit?
gonna be a bad fuckin time when i get back from the dead

[ he will also be answering the door with a shotgun in hand, cocked and loaded. ]

[heisenbitch]

[ ...'Back from the dead'. What does that even mean. (Jesse doesn't yet know about the whole """reincarnation""" deal that goes on in this place. So much he still doesn't know.) But rather than reply, he's off. Twenty minutes later, a yellow Stingray screeches to a stop outside Heropa #003. Leaving his Beretta in the glove compartment, Jesse swings out of the car, locks it and heads up the walk to the front door. What the hell is he about to walk into? He has no idea. He's about to find out.

Knock, knock, knock. And seeing the guy had threatened about sending any muscle around, Jesse says loud through the door for the guy to hear, while trying to keep the announcement on the downlow from anybody else who might be nearby: ]

No muscle, yo. Just me.

[gentrify]

[ mickey'd watched him making it to the door from an upstairs window, so he realizes there's no muscle in sight, but nevertheless, the shotgun is still leaned against a shoulder, clad in what remains of a motorhead shirt that had the sleeves cut off. ]

You gotta start bein' less nice to people if you're running this cartel business, man. Come on.

[ he steps back, pulling the door open to let jesse in. ignore the part where 'being less nice' would've meant mickey getting his ass kicked, but he's more used to being in charge than one of the runners. maybe another part of it is just part of being from chicago slums - rude is just how everyone talks. no one wants a spineless coworker/employee. ]

You want something? Beer? Vodka? Pop?

[ the living room is clear and clean (aside from liquor bottles and cigarette ash trays), probably because it hasn't been that long since Ian left, and maybe Mickey's still holding onto the hope he'll show back up. ]

[heisenbitch]

[ Shit, this guy is a kid, Jesse realises, the moment the door is opened. And whoa, shotgun. Okay, whoa. Jesse manages to maintain a poker face, but inwardly, his gut clenches a little with alarm. He steps inside, however, and follows the kid into the living room, and his hands push into his jeans pockets as he surveys the room, perhaps trying to get a further quick idea of who this kid is. ]

I'm good, thanks.

[ His attention returns to the kid, and Jesse fixes his eyes on him with assessing scrutiny. With cool command: ]

Sit down. We need to talk.

[gentrify]

[ a kid who's been through juvie several times, sold a lot of drugs, ran a small prostitution business, fathered a kid and married a russian hooker, so been through some shit, but still only 19, no matter how much he swings his shotgun around or talks crime. something mickey tends to forget on his own often - very often. ]

Hey, there you go. [ mickey smirks turning back to look at the guy, praising the command there. pacing back (without a lot of urgency, because he has to be a little prick), mickey flops onto one of the couches or chairs, shotgun settled over his lap. ]

Okay. Let's talk.

[ reaching forward, he grabs at a pack of cigarettes on a coffee table, tapping one out and digging around for a lighter while he waits. ]

[heisenbitch]

[ Jesse watches all of this. He's still standing in the same place by the time the kid has slumped down onto the couch. ]

Put the shotgun away first.

[ That's an order, not a request. ]

[gentrify]

[ there's the kind of petulant sigh that you would expect from someone his age, but mickey stops himself from rolling his eyes, making a show of popping the loaded shell out of the barrel, and laying the gun on the coffee table between them. ]

Anything else, sir?

[ he still has a couple knives on his person and a handgun in the chair cushion so this is okay. ]

[heisenbitch]

[ The ease and compliance with which the kid does this makes it obvious to Jesse this kid likely has more weapons, either on him or near him. Jesse knows criminals; this kid wouldn't answer the door with a loaded shotgun like a paranoid lunatic and be perfectly fine disarming it upon command a minute later. ]

Chill. I'm here to talk, that's it.

[ But with that, Jesse pulls his hands out of his pockets and moves around to a seat adjacent to Mickey. He sits down, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely together, and he peers closely at the kid. ]

There's a slight problem that I need to straighten out, and I need you to listen and not be an asshole. Think you can manage that for the next ten minutes?

[gentrify]

[ wow 'and not be an asshole', how dare you, sir??? do not ask the impossible. mickey's brows raise, but for his credit, he keeps his mouth shut and whatever dickish commentary he might've been ready to babble out stays behind his lips. enough that he can look jesse over a second or so, and consider this. ]

I'm all ears.

[ he says, wheels in his little thug head turning. he may be slum trash but he isn't stupid. no one in charge or anything goes to one of their dealers to straighten out 'problems' that don't either A, have to do with them fucking up or B, have to do with taking care of someone else fucking up. Well, and there's also C, a request that you do something that will likely get you fucked up.

so. this should be interesting. the cigarette he'd tugged out goes between his lips, the better to shut himself up with. sort of. ] I can handle at least five, we'll see how it goes.

[heisenbitch]

Fine. Five.

[ He'll negotiate with five, if it means the kid will listen and not try to fuck him around. Jesse heaves a quiet sigh, studying his hands for a moment, then sets his gaze back on the kid. ]

Okay, look. First off, this isn't a matter that concerns you. It's a matter that concerns me. So, relax. [ He pauses, trying to think how to word this so as to not appear weak, scared or like he can be easily underhanded. ] I was Ported out. My guess, roughly four weeks ago. I was Ported back in roughly three weeks ago. Apparently, it's not uncommon for people to be Ported back in with no memory of their life here. You following me?

[gentrify]

[ jesse mentions being ported out and ported back in, people saying it fairly common, and mickey's eyes unconsciously roam to a jacket tossed over the back of another chair, one that belonged to ian when he was here, remembers the store they picked it up at when they went spending their stipend checks like they were rich. it's only a blink of a moment, there and back again, focusing on jesse's issue. ]

I follow. I've heard it before.

[ can't attest to how common it is. but he's heard it. so it means bossman has nothing for memories of what he'd done here before, thus, the business he made, and the people he's employed. explains some parts of their conversations. ]

Taking it the part about having a business isn't news to you at this point. [ else he'd imagine having someone talking about selling dope for him would be a lot more alarming. ]

[heisenbitch]

[ Jesse figures this kid isn't dumb; he figures this kid would figure it out on his own if Jesse were to answer untruthfully. He doesn't want to elaborate or be specific, especially when he doesn't know much about this kid, but he also sees no point in lying. Lying, after all, is a quick smart way to lose trust and, much more importantly, loyalty. ]

It's a business I know a lot about. So, no.

[ Unspoken: "It's a business I'm balls-deep in back home." The only difference being, he doesn't run or own the business back at home. That part is a whole new ball game to Jesse here. ]

[gentrify]

[ once mickey gets the cigarette lighted, he takes a long drag of it, thinking this issue over. no memory, and while it seems like he'd already been told that he runs this drug ring thing here, he apparently hadn't known mickey works for him at all. that's probably an issue - knowing you have a business but not knowing who your employees are. unfortunately, it's not that conventional of a business, so it's hard to really say. ]

If you're looking for a list of all the runners you got, I don't know 'em. Not like we hang around a water cooler or nothing.

[ not that it's something you want to leave evidence of anywhere out in the open, but - ] Did other-you leave any notes or anything?

[heisenbitch]

No. [ Notes about other things, yes, but not employees. Not a detail that concerns the kid. ] And I didn't expect you to.

[ Although, maybe there was some part of him that was hoping Mickey might know something. That's okay, though; he's just a kid. It's not fair to put that kind of responsibility on a kid, anyway. ]

Just tell me about you. How we met.

[gentrify]

[ he wants to say something smartassy. he wants to say Grindr. or 'on a cold, rainy night'. he doesn't, because this is still his employer, and jackass or not, he needs that extra income right now.

what jesse gets instead is a shrug. ]

Not much to it. Job I got from being Ported in was 'door-to-door knife salesman. [ mickey snorts, still not sure how he managed to pull that off without wanting to strangle somebody. like thanks to ian. who is no longer here. ] You saw me in the middle of it, offered less shitty employment, so I took it.

[heisenbitch]

[ This kid, he seems like a kid who knows how to take care of himself. At least, on a survival level. But he's still a kid, and while Mickey might be - Jesse guesses - seventeen, eighteen, he's still a kid, and being pulled into this world with nobody to look out for him...

Well, he can see why the Jesse he used to be would have sought to pull this kid under his wing a little. Put him to work but also keep an eye on him. Still makes him a little nauseous in the stomach to think he's got a kid working for him. ]

Moving product through our turf, I'm assuming.

[ A nicer way of saying: bottom-rung street peddler. ]

[gentrify]

[ survival, he does know. given their mother died early in their lives, terry was constantly in and out of the home on arrests and probation violations, it largely fell to the kids to take care of themselves if they wanted to avoid the foster system. mandy was too young and felt too much. their brothers were all morons. there's a reason he's head of the family when terry's MIA. and terry's enemies had to know you don't fuck with the milkovich house when papa bear's in lock up.

as for bottom-rung, yeah, well he's not happy about it, but he knows how to work the system. coming into new turf and a new gang like your shit don't stick and you ought to be up higher than the other street runners is how to get yourself offed fast. you need allies in this sort of thing, you need back up when someone gets a grudge against you. ]

I've only been on payroll for like a month, alright, gotta start somewhere.

[ he doesn't plan on being this low on the totem pole forever. ]

[heisenbitch]

[ A month. So, Jesse had recruited him just before Porting out? That... is a weirdly reassuring thing. Means Mickey is about as clued up on things as Jesse is, when it comes to the operation in this place, at least.

Jesse pulls his lips into a frank line of understanding. He knows what it's like to be bottom rung. ]

Hey. Business is nothing without foot soldiers. [ He fidgets his hands together between his knees while tilting his head slightly, examining Mickey. ] How much you being fronted a week to sell? An ounce? Coupla ounces?