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Feb. 22nd, 2005 02:26 am[OOM: New York]
*It's been five days, and counting, since he's had a decent night of sleep, and three since he's been back in New York. It's amazing how much of the city and surrounding neighborhoods one can wander through in that amount of time. He's witnessed three shift rotations in Times Square alone. The respectable and reputable swapping stomping grounds as day shifts to night. Through it all he's managed to stay out of everyone's way. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement the rest of the city wasn't aware it had agreed to. Stay out of his way, and he'll stay out of yours. Business types, local color, even the street side theft all stayed clear.
It wasn't all drunken amblings, well the first 24 hours were, but an empty wallet and a conscience laden with post shoplifting guilt put a quick end to that. Somehow his feet lead him back to Chet's Pawn Shop. He's been doing odd jobs for Chet for years, all on the sly and right under the collective noses of his family. Mostly it was stock rotation and inventory work, but occasionally Raph would be called in to help keep the peace. You see, Chet had a way of keeing his fingers in as many pies as possible, and when he felt that one might be severed, back up was required.
Chet can tell right off that something is wrong with his sometimes employee. It's his business to pay attention to these things, and even though he's only seen Raph once in his life, he just knows. Some would refer to it as Underworld Intuition. Most would just call it a sense of smell. Raph reeks like the underside of a bar mat after St. Patrick's Day. Chet lets him in without question.
When he's not walking to stay awake, Raph lends a hand with Chet's Booking Operation, as a accountant specializing in Collection Affairs. It wasn't honest work, but it was easy, and it kept him busy enough to keep from thinking too much. Retractable batons will do that to people. An opinion the people being hit by them will certainly agree to. He drew the line at actual hits, which Chet didn't understand, but agreed with. The Pawn broker merely nodded in a confused manner when the already overtired ninja explained that he wouldn't give her more work if he could help it.
It was a decision he would come close to changing his mind about when several clients were not pleased with their customer service, and didn't stay down when told to do so. The bruises were adding up. His reflexes just weren't what they should be. Lack of sleep was really beginning to be a problem. One patron actually managed to get a good slash in with a box cutter. The home made stitches weren't great, by they would hold, and it's not like anyone would notice another scar.
Then there was the matter of the pimp who wouldn't pay, and whose prostitute attempted to pick up his tab. When Raph turned down her advances, she viciously questioned his sexual preferences. Not smart at the best of times, and totally stupid in light of recent events. She found herself being held by her throat for her troubles.
That's where he is when the note finds him. He doesn't open it, but rather pockets it and continues about his business.
Another day, another dollar.
*It's been five days, and counting, since he's had a decent night of sleep, and three since he's been back in New York. It's amazing how much of the city and surrounding neighborhoods one can wander through in that amount of time. He's witnessed three shift rotations in Times Square alone. The respectable and reputable swapping stomping grounds as day shifts to night. Through it all he's managed to stay out of everyone's way. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement the rest of the city wasn't aware it had agreed to. Stay out of his way, and he'll stay out of yours. Business types, local color, even the street side theft all stayed clear.
It wasn't all drunken amblings, well the first 24 hours were, but an empty wallet and a conscience laden with post shoplifting guilt put a quick end to that. Somehow his feet lead him back to Chet's Pawn Shop. He's been doing odd jobs for Chet for years, all on the sly and right under the collective noses of his family. Mostly it was stock rotation and inventory work, but occasionally Raph would be called in to help keep the peace. You see, Chet had a way of keeing his fingers in as many pies as possible, and when he felt that one might be severed, back up was required.
Chet can tell right off that something is wrong with his sometimes employee. It's his business to pay attention to these things, and even though he's only seen Raph once in his life, he just knows. Some would refer to it as Underworld Intuition. Most would just call it a sense of smell. Raph reeks like the underside of a bar mat after St. Patrick's Day. Chet lets him in without question.
When he's not walking to stay awake, Raph lends a hand with Chet's Booking Operation, as a accountant specializing in Collection Affairs. It wasn't honest work, but it was easy, and it kept him busy enough to keep from thinking too much. Retractable batons will do that to people. An opinion the people being hit by them will certainly agree to. He drew the line at actual hits, which Chet didn't understand, but agreed with. The Pawn broker merely nodded in a confused manner when the already overtired ninja explained that he wouldn't give her more work if he could help it.
It was a decision he would come close to changing his mind about when several clients were not pleased with their customer service, and didn't stay down when told to do so. The bruises were adding up. His reflexes just weren't what they should be. Lack of sleep was really beginning to be a problem. One patron actually managed to get a good slash in with a box cutter. The home made stitches weren't great, by they would hold, and it's not like anyone would notice another scar.
Then there was the matter of the pimp who wouldn't pay, and whose prostitute attempted to pick up his tab. When Raph turned down her advances, she viciously questioned his sexual preferences. Not smart at the best of times, and totally stupid in light of recent events. She found herself being held by her throat for her troubles.
That's where he is when the note finds him. He doesn't open it, but rather pockets it and continues about his business.
Another day, another dollar.
