#mariexevers

The Golightly gala, while a disorganized mess by the end of the night, had been remarkably good for driving up the demand for high quality mercenaries. It seemed as though it wasn’t just the snooty upper-class business mongers who wanted an extra bodyguard or two; the seven mafias that ran the city were practically jumping at the opportunity to purchase more manpower to protect their territories. For a mercenary like Marcelo, who straddled a very fine line of neutrality among the many criminal organizations in the city, it was a gold mine.

Given that his landlady had mysteriously disappeared, he needed to pick up a few extra jobs to pay the bills, and the Shadow Mob seemed to have something in mind.

The Queens Yacht Club was rather excessive, if anyone had bothered to ask for Marcelo’s opinion on it, but he could certainly see the appeal of the location. The space was considerably large, and given the number of guards in the area, well-protected. Still, if given the choice, the mercenary would have much preferred a subtle meeting place. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“I’m here for Marie Evers. You think you can call her out?”