The View in New Orleans

Morally Bankrupt

The casino bustled with business as always, people going in and out of the doors through the night. Most were only there for a cheap drink, maybe to hit blackjack every now and again. Others were there to forget about their shitty lives, indulge a bit. And the last few scrambled into the shadows of the casino, to not be seen again until the morning.

The Hated's Haven always brought in all walks of life, from the best of the best, to the lowest of scum. They didn't discriminate- infact, they accepted it. Its how they thrived, especially for the big spenders.

The owner, Laurence Bennedict, or Mr Lalo, was a self-sustaining man. He bore a fancied moustache, and stood high over the casino and its wealth, often taking a puff of old Cuban Cigars. He inherited the grand building from his father, following in his footsteps and becoming what it needed. It was his pride and joy.

At this time of day, however, he paced back and forth, between his office and the elevator hallway, running a hand through his slicked hair. Many issues had been popping up lately, but a new one was weaseling its way through. For years, the casino had been the only place people could buy and trade at safely. Nobody ever dared to step foot on his territory, or else they would lie at his mercy. The men he employed would "take care" of anybody who even tried to sell miles near the casino, hunting them down for hours, days, even weeks. Most of them were murdered, although a select few were enslaved for his business.

Yet, he had heard rumor. Another seller, trader, a new wanderer had started selling near. He heard countless reports, tales, and even a slight description of the person in question. Day and night, he researched every trace of the man he could find, and to no avail. Up until these last weeks, however. It appeared that the man, was not a man. It was a woman, a small girl. And yet she was braver than most. Laurence sought for the past days to try to find a name, a trace of the girl. He had researched, stayed up many hours. Yet, he finally found his answer. It took countless hours, yet he finally recieved the name of the girl.

Amora.

It was written on a paper sat upon his desk, almost mocking him as he read it, over and over again. A small woman, named Amora. No lastname, no trace, nothing. It was almost like the person he wanted to find wasn't a real person, yet he knew it was real.

He glanced over across the desk to a small, wired telephone. He knew what he had to do, as he sat down, and reached for the small phone, and dialed in a number.

The line rung for a bit, before being picked up. It was completely silent for a few seconds, before a sultry voice came on the line.

"Well well well... if it isn't Mr Bennedict. I wondered when you would call, Lalo. Its been a strange few months without you making a visit... I get awful lonely,  you should really pay a woman with some attention, you know," 

"This isn't what I'm calling for Eden, I have work for you."

"Oh really? Is that so? Well, I'm afraid I'm booked for the week. You have to try harder than that." The woman purred out on the other end.

"Fine. I'll pay triple, just... I need your services. I need somebody gone. Permanently."

"Well, Mr Big Shot, whats the details on this guy thats ruffled your feathers enough to come crawling back to me?"

"Its a woman. Her name is Amora. No last name, yet she trades on my turf. I want you gone."

"I've heard of the dame, through some of my clients. You need her gone? Consider it done... although... you should see me sometime. Maybe I can give you a discount."

"Thank you, Miss." Laurence sat the phone down, before putting his head into his hands, the stress overwhelming him. But, he had a job to do. So, he stood up, straightened out his suit, and made his way to the elevator. He traveled down to the main floor, where he would meet with the man that helped him build the casino up.

As he walked through the main floor, there were drunkards everywhere lining the floor. Some gambling, some oggling at the women on the dancefloor. Others, just standing idly at the bar. Yet, he did not have the time to mingle, as he made his way to the stairwell, scurrying down as the basement light slowly revealed itself the more he descended.

Soon, Lalo was in the basement. The stockrooms. And, infront of him, was the raven haired man, smoking a cigar, and sitting in a folding chair.

"You're late, Bennedict."

"Nice to see you too, Hathoway."

"Under better circumstances, I would be flattered you invited me to stay in your dingy basement. But, I come bearing bad news, Laurence."

Lalo looked at the man, his eyes going wild with fear and wonder, and most importantly, stress. He rested his hand on a shelf, as the other man stared bullets into him with his maroon colored eyes.

"I wasn't able to locate the man with the money you owe... but, I got the next best thing, I hope you dont mind."

"And that is what?"

"I have his son. His livelihood. The boy is ours now." He tossed a child-sized bag torwards the man, with a thump as it slammed against the floor, cries emitting from it.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Laurence."

"You aswell... Orion."