𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗔𝗦 𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥 ⚔︎

13

on august 6th, after days of reading lengthy reports, newspaper articles, and criminal records, agent william turner began phase one of his investigation into the life and work of edward lavigne.

his first instruction was to gather photographs and follow possible associates and/or business partners around the whole of new york city. this included home addresses, places of work, the schools or colleges their children went to — hell, even where they bought their morning coffee from. it was finally time to put all hands on deck.

under a hot summer sun, william walked across broadway, leaving headquarters with his hands full of labelled documents and thick files. he went into the parking lot and got into his car, a black ford sierra, shutting the door behind him as he did so. whilst searching through database the previous day, he had found the names of edward's businesses and also (quite strangely) some of the addresses of his soldiers and associates. this was to be his mission of the day: to drive around the city and gather as much evidence as he could.

he flicked through a few pages and glanced at his first targets, which were eddie's three main places of business:

THE ROYALE, hell's kitchen — 8th avenue, west 47th.

GOLDEN SANDS CASINO, murray hill — madison avenue, east 39th.

LE DIAMANT, midtown — 5th avenue, west 48th.

putting his keys into the ignition, william reversed out of his parking space and headed north, before turning onto 4th avenue. the radio played 'blue monday' by new order. the city was humming and buzzing on this thursday morning. the people moved and bustled around each other on the sidewalks, each having their own secret missions to carry out and destinations to arrive at. one particular businessman was too busy looking down at his watch as he crossed the road in front of his car — he beeped loudly at him, frightening the wall street goon. the sun beamed down through gaps in the clouds and illuminated the skyscrapers in pale flaxen light, like a sheer blanket of gold.

when he arrived at the royale, he spied a silver ferrari f40 parked outside, its chrome paint gracefully reflecting the morning rays. william retrieved his nikon camera from the glove compartment and snapped his first photograph of the car, looking onto it from a side view. then, he gazed up through the lens of the camera, getting a few crisp, clean shots of the royale building.

fifteen minutes later, william found himself on the sidewalk outside of the golden sands casino just outside of central manhattan, which eddie co-owned with a mr charles strickland, a very important new york businessman. it was a wide building fronted by many gold glittering entrances, with great, mountainous doors welcoming those who were stupid enough to step inside and gamble their money away. william inwardly chuckled as he looked up at the letters above the doorways. it was all so painfully over-the-top. it was a menagerie of prosperity: a facade, a fakery to the masses. going into the investigation, he didn't know what to expect — but now, he could see exactly the kind of person edward lavigne was.

his camera was safely concealed on the inside of his suit jacket as he made his way through the casino, surrounded by degenerate gamblers. young and handsome men served cocktails on gold and silver platters. babes in skimpy dresses grabbed the shoulders of their boyfriends and husbands at the roulette tables, risking their entire livelihoods for fortune and five-minute-fame. william slyly took photographs of a few of the workers, such as the security officers who guarded the doors and the cold-eyed receptionists at the help desks. spending just a mere hour in the casino was enough to make you lose track of time and your entire perception of reality. the darkness swallowed you up — and when it was done with you, it would spit you back out again, alone and penniless on the sidewalk.