Mean Streets - The Tough Times of Darrin McCoy

[Grognardsw]

The time is the roaring Twenties. The Great War is a faded memory, America is in ascendancy, Wall Street is pumping greenbacks, hepcats and flappers are dancing to that new Jazz, and Prohibition is vainly trying to halt the hooch. But beneath this gilded surface are grim undercurrents of crime, disturbing discoveries and dark secrets.



August 10, 1925, 9:30 pm
Providence, Rhode Island
The Other Side of the Tracks
Darrin McCoy, Irish street gangster



Darrin McCoy kicks aside the trash littering the back alley of his apartment building. He sees a wino settling in besides a trash can. This place stinks. He needs to move up in life, get a new place. While Providence is better than the hard-scrabble life back in the homeland, Darrin knows he can do better.

And Danny Walsh* will help him get there. Cousin Danny’s made a name for himself, running rum up and down the coast and other profitable enterprises in Providence. Darrin is part of Danny’s operation now, collecting and delivering payments to the big boss. He’s on his way to the meet him now at Club Zothique, a juice-and-jazz joint down on Clinton Street.

Down the side streets that tentacle out from the club swarm the usual flotsam: boozehounds, college-boys from Brown with their flappers, well-to-dos out to see what all this jazz is about, arrogant Italians, negroes and bohunks. All looking to get a belt on and have a swell time. The Club occupies an old meeting hall space next to a fenced graveyard.

Inside is smoke and noise and heat and people, a heady mix Darrin still hasn’t gotten use to. The Hepcats of Ulthar belt out dizzying jazz with strange tonalities, clashing and scratching. People like this phonus balonus? The juicy tomato up there starts crowing but Darrin can’t seem to understand the words.

Danny Walsh is sitting in a back booth with four pals yucking it up. A couple of big guys with bulges in the wrong places stand guard. Darrin sees the table bump up. A choice chippy sticks her head out from under the table in Danny’s lap. One of his molls. He shoves her back down.

“Darrin my boy, how’s things this week?” he says with a big grin on his face.

- * Daniel L. "Danny" Walsh (c. 1893 – February 2, 1933?) was an organized crime figure in Providence, Rhode Island involved in bootlegging during Prohibition. He was the top underworld figure in southern New England, and last major Irish-American gangster in the region. Born in the Cumberland mill village of Valley Falls, Walsh was a clerk in a Pawtucket hardware store before he entered bootlegging in 1920. First driving alcohol shipments for other local bootleggers, by the mid-1920s, he had established a formidable bootlegging operation which included planes, automobiles and a fleet of boats, one of them the legendary rum-runner called the "Black Duck", earning him a reputation as one of the most successful, if not colorful, bootleggers on the east coast. Considering himself a “gentleman farmer”, Walsh had spent much of his money on thoroughbreds which he raised for his farm in Charlestown, Rhode Island, although he owned two high-class apartments in the east side of Providence and a waterfront mansion in Charlestown.
- Inspiration here, and a few sentences, from Alan Moore.

[MonkeyWrench]

Darrin steps up to the table, a playful grin on his face but still a wary glance at his new bosses guards. He nods his head to the others sitting at the table before answering Danny, his Irish accent still fresh, "Nother day, Nother doller boss. Anything important today?"

He tries to tone out the weird music and smoke filled air as best he can, give him a bar brawl any day or this "club" atmosphere.

[Grognardsw]

Danny Walsh


looks up at Darrin. He collects the envelope of money from him. Hefts it in his palm, checking weight. “A good week,” he says, nodding. “Here sit down Darrin.”

A waitress brings him a drink and a wink.

“Listen Darrin, I think someone – maybe them Italians – is shoe horning our business with some new drug. I don’t know if its opium or marijuana or some shit I ain’t never heard of, but I want you to poke around and find out who’s behind it.”

Darrin feels a hand under the table making its way up his leg. Danny keeps talking.

“And while you’re at it find out where little Ian went. He’s our cousin you know. Hasn’t shown up for days.”

[MonkeyWrench]

Darrin slowly drinks his drink, letting the alcohol warm his insides, He may not understand the music but the alcohol isn't half bad. He lets the wandering hand continue to wander, a smirk slowly creeping across his face as it does so but he gives Danny his full attention.

Once Danny's orders are clear he nods his head with a cocky smile, "I'll find Ian 'fore ya know it boss. An' I'll get rid of whatever cacamas is gettin sold on your streets." He finishes about half his drink before continuing, "Where was Lil' Ian spotted last? Anyone know? I can search his place but if he been hanging wit some new crowd..." He leaves the question open for anyone at the table to answer.

cacamas is Gaelic for crap. Since he's Irish I'll probably be throwing in some Gaelic here and there depending on the mood.

[Grognardsw]

“A friend of his saw Ian with his gal three days ago,” answers Danny. “She’s over on Benefit St. at the corner of Sheldon - Charlene Ward is her name. And try Ian’s roommate.“

The discordant jazz of the Hepcats of Ulthar die down as their set ends.

Darrin considers next moves on how to find out about drug activity and tracking down Ian.

[MonkeyWrench]

Darrin nods his head at Danny, "Will do boss, I'll keep ya informed once I find anything." He stands up and begins to walk away, using the now quiet atmosphere to call out, "Till an chéad uair eile" as he leaves.

Once Darrin gets back onto the streets he heads over to Ian's place, stopping by the local newspaper stand and checking out the missing persons on the newest edition. Once scanning the names he folds the paper up and carries it with him, tossing the change to buy it on the paper stand. Once he gets to the building that Ian lives in he will stand on the street, leaning against the wall and surveying the area, checking for any familiar faces or people doing exactly what he is doing, acting inconspicuous.

Once he determines the coast is clear he will head up, checking the lobby and if the elevator is running, if not then he'll use the stairs to head up to Ian's floor if it isn't on the first, or a house for that matter, Once he reaches Ian's door he will listen to the other side, checking if he can hear any movement, talking, or music before knocking. Once he knocks he will stand a bit to the side of the side so that he is not directly in front of it, the hand not holding the paper is in his pocket, curled around his knife.

His .32 revolver rests behind him under his shirt and his lucky pair of brass knuckles rests in his other pocket.

[Grognardsw]

Darrin leaves his fellow gangsters jawing away about dames and business. He picks up a copy of the Providence Journal and scans the headlines for news of missing persons. He finds none.

The young Irishman approaches Ian's apartment building. He walks through in his mind how to handle things. As he approaches the front door he sees a girl in the adjacent alley getting roughed up by two thugs.

“No!” she pleads.

[MonkeyWrench]

Darrin looks down the alley, take a quick glance at the two to see if he can recognize them, if their facing his way. He then puts his hand in his pocket, curling his fingers into his brass knuckles, and heads down the alley at a fast walk. He yells out, "'ey! Ya wanna pick on ladies? Let's see ya two bimbo's try it through me!"

[Grognardsw]

"Scram, this ain't none of your bees-wax," barks one of the thugs. He turns to face Darrin, a glint of steel in his right hand.

[MonkeyWrench]

As Darrin's eyes catch the glint of steel a grin breaks out on his face. He slips his fingers back through the brass knuckles and instead grabs hold of his knife, pulling it out for the thugs to see, "Heh, looks like I'm making it mine. Let's dance, Ethel" After commenting Darrin will slowly stalk forward, watching the two thugs with his knife at the ready.

Initiative, Dex(16): [1d20] = 13
Knife(60%): [1d100] = 26 Wasn't sure what to use for my attack with a knife so I just rolled my punch skill.
Damage, Knife(Switchblade): [1d3] = 3

[Grognardsw]

I put some combat rules up in OOC. Pretty straightforward. The thug with the knife is attacking. Initiative by Dex. After you've reviewed, post action and rolls in spoilers as part of your last post. Thanks!

[MonkeyWrench]

Done!

[Grognardsw]

The thug steps forward, beginning a lunge at Darrin. But with the quick reflexes he’s had since a child, Darrin slashes out with his knife at the approaching thug. The short blade gashes the thug's right arm!



“Argghh!” he barks, recoiling. The girl screams. The second thug looks alarmed, like her yelp may draw more attention.

The cut thug doesn’t think so as he snarls and thrusts his own knife at Darrin. The Irishman dodges to the side and the blade misses!

- Initiative is by straight Dex., no rolls, so in this case your Dex. 16 beat the thugs. You hit with the knife, given it’s 60%. The damage was 3.
- Thug knife on Darrin 30% [1d100] = 64, damage [1d4] = 4 Miss
- If you have a switchblade or equivalent, it’s 1d4 damage. A pocket knife is 1d3.

[MonkeyWrench]

Ah, makes initiative more simple.
Alright, Based off of the rules I found I figured it was 1d3 because it is not a large concealed switchblade, just a regular one.

Darrin gives the now defenseless thug a cocky grin, his knife still brandished, "Still feeling tough? Last chance to get outta 'ere!" Darrin beings to step forward threateningly.

If the thugs don't feel like cutting their losses and running then he will slash again.

Knife(60%): [1d100] = 28
Damage, Knife(Switchblade): [1d3] = 1 Or Damage, Knife(Switchblade): [1d4] = 2

[Grognardsw]

"So ya think you're a wise guy," the thug says to Darrin.

He steps in for another knife slash, but Darrin is quicker. The Irishman's blade cuts the thug again.

The other thug struggles to hold the squirming girl. "We better scram," he says.

Thug knife on Darrin 30% [1d100] = 94, damage [1d4] = 3 Miss.

[MonkeyWrench]

Darrin still has his cocky grin as he stands slowly moves to flank the thug, "Ya heard your friend there, best be leavin while ya still got the life ta do it." If the thug does not retreat then Darrin will move in, thrust hard towards the thugs kidney.

Knife(60%): [1d100] = 76 damn, well... I guess I couldn't roll awesome all the time...
Damage, Knife(pocket Knife): [1d3] = 1

[Grognardsw]

The girl squirms as the thug slaps her and says, “You still owe us bitch.”

The bleeding thug backs away from Darrin, looks over at his friend. The two then bolt down the alley.

The girl cries and slides down the wall to the ground, her head in her hands.

[MonkeyWrench]

Darrin takes the inside of his sleeve, a bit up from the end, and cleans his blade before sliding it back and putting it in his pocket. He carefully walks over to the crying girl and kneels down next to her, putting one of his arms around her shoulder and hugging her, "Shh, shh, it's alright now yeah? They's runnin and you're safe." He continues to reassure her until her sobs quiet down, He helps her stand up but continues to give her any support she needs to remain standing, "Now then, wanna tell me what those bimbos were after and why they were after a little bunny like you?" he gives her a smile and makes sure his tone is light to help her focus more on him and not on what just happened.

[Grognardsw]

The girl's crying fades to sniffles as she holds Darrin's arm. "Thank you," she gets out and looks up at into his face. She's young but looks worn. Blood-shot eyes, stringy hair, thin.

"I ain't got their dough, my jelly bean is gone, my life is going down the shitter," she commiserates. "Those goons work for that bastard Carcosa."

She uses Darrin's arm for support and struggles up. "I'm Charlene," she says.

[MonkeyWrench]

Darrin gives her a genuine smile, "Hi Charlene, the names Darrin. Let's get you back home before they decide to get smart yeah?" as Darrin escorts her home he asks her, "What's got you mixed up with Carcosa's Gang? They the reason Ian is missing? I was just lookin' for him."