Thayr

Geonet 2.0 - Battle for the Megacity

Don Remo Lattanzi, Julia Kray, Xiang Min Purnama
Co-Written between Thayr, Silver Carrot, Kumbaris

---

He smiled as she made her way over, not stopping for any sort of invitation before seating herself down in a free seat at the table. The Don hadn’t brought quite so many as to take a whole table, and some hadn’t seated themselves, though made men's eyes drilled into the woman as she did so. They knew who the lady was, generally speaking. Associates of Black Maria, and more specifically Regia Maria, were told to carry themselves a certain way, talk a certain way, and she didn’t fit the profile at all. Of course, meeting with an associate would never have been done by the Don himself, so that pointed the way from such a possibility easily enough. He stared, too, smiling thinly as she spoke.

A pause passed, Remo motioning with a casual enough gesture, and those men seated stood, took a few steps away. He didn’t need them for the conversation, that was true enough. Only his Capo remained seated, hands hidden under the table.

“It has, it has. I’d always hoped we would find ourselves in a situation like this. Talking like this. It would mean someone has finally won, or at least won enough. And…thank you. The promotion has been most interesting.”

He studied her again, taking a sip of his wine. It wasn’t great, but also wasn’t odious. The smile remained on Remo’s lips as he considered her. “How’s the real world, ragazza? Good?”

Julia’s smile was strained. She wasn’t just pissed off because he’d stated that them talking like this was a sign he’d won their blood feud. She was even more pissed off because he was absolutely right. He was the winner. He is even more powerful now than he was then. Julia may be much better off after reaping the rewards of her deal than she ever had been, but she no longer had power within E-street hierarchy, and was short two limbs. Even so, she was a strong believer in respect, even among once-enemies, so she answered cordially.

"Considering the Spire as the real world is still novel to me. Compared to prison, it’s….very quiet at night," was her hesitant, bizarre answer. Trying to make small talk with Remo was seemingly a challenge to her.

Meanwhile, Xiang Min was silently observing the situation as it unfolded. The Don and Julia meet each other, seemingly sizing themselves up, before sitting down and talking, the CEO silently commands her gauntlets to be on standby mode, in case anything were ever to happen that demands her intervention, but she doesn’t think Julia nor the Black Maria Mafioso are stupid enough to start a conflict in the Spire out of all places.

Still, while she has dealt with her fair share of gangsters, she hasn’t dealt with one with this much prestige and position. She’s dealt with some mercenaries and E-Street thugs that rivals hired to kill her, and she tended to be on the winning end of that situation. She was a little bit surprised though when some Black Maria gangsters left the tables in Vivian’s, she never even thought that there were more Black Maria gangsters here, the muscle near the man in the White Coat is still sitting there however, unmoving and a rock, most likely insurance in case things go south.

The blonde-haired woman could only give Julia Kray a nod as she stood by. So, a bunch of gangsters, and a muscle right next to the head. Would need a distraction to keep the other gangsters occupied while I gun for the Muscle, a uppercut with my gun firing should knock him out for good, and at that point, the rest of the gangsters should be easy pickings. Hopefully the old man wouldn’t choose to fight himself, but if it’s necessary, a sharp knock on the head could KO him for the moment while we do a fiery escape. Xiang Min thought as her mind wracked over potential exit strategies for the current situation.

Normally she would have Mingfan and some SDS personnel assisting in this situation, but she doesn’t have time to call for assistance should things go south, and she doesn’t want to take her attention off just to call for help.

”I imagine so. Bars aren't good for souls. It breaks them down too much…and what is left is bleeding.” He paused, considering, contemplating, taking a sip of his wine. There sat a former foe who could fight no longer, knew it, and though he understood and knew that the feeling one should feel was elation, the Don struggled to grasp at that emotion. No, instead he just saw a broken, broken woman who lacked strength. In a way, there was pity to be found in that image. In a way, there was pride. He had done this and no other, no other could claim it as their war to be won. No, Remo couldn't crow over the victory like a child, but he could at least quietly appreciate it.

His gaze wandered a shade to the distance, to the woman standing some ways away in fine Spire clothing. The way she was studying his bodyguards and the Don clicked in the man's mind, a careful enough study for issues and threats. A thought sent and received over his link and he knew one of his men had already tensed, ready, waiting to put a bullet in the woman's skull. An issue or another would be stupid, but so would not taking precautions. He made a point to look long enough before looking again at Julia. ”The Spire isn't quite real either, that is true, but I am glad you are making not quite real friends in it.”

Julia’s jaw clenched and the muscles in her neck visibly tightened. She was staring at the table in front of her. She could not listen to what he was saying. Especially not him being the one saying it. She had made friends. A lot of them. Some of them died by his command. Other deaths were her own fault. She couldn’t think of any retort that wouldn’t get guns drawn on her, and not make her look pathetic. She had to resist both the urge to jump over this table and snap his neck, and had to hold back tears.

”You’re better than making remarks like that. Or, you used to be.” was her eventual, quiet, serious response. Her mouth was dry. The look in her eyes when she raised her head to meet his gaze again would be a familiar one. Hate. A flame betraying her explosive, violent nature. So, the fire hadn’t entirely gone out after all.

He watched the immediate reactions, the hate, the movement. Clearly enough, there was something to be had there as she bore holes down into the table, and as the woman spoke Remo let out a long, long breath. There was flint there in that voice, flint and the taut wire about the neck. The Don's eyes didn't leave from her as he watched the performance, calculating over it.

”I'm sorry - you misunderstand me. New friends is what I mean. New friends like the one you have over there. Your old friends…” He paused, letting the words hang as he considered the next well. There wasn’t any more pity to be found there, that was for certain. She still had a fight in her, a fire in her, not quite fully beaten down and away. ”They were good people. They really were. Honest enough, skilled enough. Worthy opponents to the end.”

Xiang Min continued studying her opponents, from their clothes, their weapons, everything. The situation was so tense that one could pull out a knife and cut the tension wide open, one wrong move from either of them could spell disaster, and Xiang Min was pretty sure everyone knew it.

And so the woman, already assessing her threats, decided to do something unexpected, her weapons were still kept on standby, but she relaxed her body, outstretched her arms forwards and then upwards, and just continued watching the conversation unfold with her hands, her arms grabbing her tea and then drinking it. A silent nod towards the Mafiosi that she meant no harm, but a message that, if they did anything. Xiang Min would protect her erstwhile Gym Partner from whatever aggression they would inflict upon her.

I could only hope the Black Maria received my message. Xiang Min thought, silently drinking her tea as she still watched Julia and Remo talk in the distance.

Julia sighed, her anger dissipating as she realises that he’s trying to cheer her up. This was a weird situation. She didn’t want to fight. She wasn’t prepared for the consequences. But every second in front of this man was a test of her self-restraint. And she definitely didn’t want to bury the hatchet and become friends. Hearing him overcorrect and start praising her friends brought out a single snort of laughter from her, though she still wasn’t smiling.

”They were punks. Gangsters. Kids who shot other kids. I appreciate you calling them skilled and worthy, though.”

There was a thoughtful look in her eyes. All the bloodshed on the streets of Metro City and now look at them both; Old, alive ,rich and talking peacefully over drinks in the Spire. She didn’t know whether to give credit to the blood she spilled to get her this far, or wonder what it was all for.

”If they weren't skilled, my men wouldn't have died to them. If they weren't honest, I would have bought them. It is just the truth. You were the same. There's a reason you have chrome instead of a suit.” He frowned, then, tapping briefly against the table. A number of thoughts came and went, though none of them were solid enough to wholly grasp. Some part of him still wanted to relish in the victory, other parts of him wanted to talk more candidly in one way or another. A question still tickled at the man's curiosity since she'd mentioned such people. ”Do you visit them?”

Julia looked down at her arm. She could have gotten something shiny and fashionable, but she wasn’t an heir. It would in some way have felt like a betrayal of herself. Maybe that’s what he meant by honest. E street would lie, cheat and steal, but they knew who they were. They knew that they were street scum given value by pledging loyalty to Heir benefactors. That’s why they had a strong sense of respect, and lived by the mantra of ‘E street for life’.

She looked back up when she was asked if she visited her old friends. She shook her head with a deflated face. ”From time to time. The new blood don’t want me to work for them, but they still respect me. It’s a strange position. E street members never stop being E street.”

Remo snorted, that thin smile finally reaching up to twinkle in his eyes. The ragazza still didn't understand, didn't always reach his full meaning about the facts, about life, about all of it. He spoke of the living, new friends, and she thought he spoke of the dead. He spoke of the dead, friends made and lost during that feud, and she thought he spoke of the living. The girl was right, though, right about all of it. E Street never did stop being what they were, enforcers given meaning by what they offered up to those in the high towers who wouldn't know loyalty or sacrifice or decision if it was choking them awake. They were enforcers who didn't grasp that whole picture, built from the decisions of those before, their blood and skill, who saw only the next day. That new blood, if they were smart, wouldn't waste someone with experience…but they weren't smart because, E Street never changing, never learning, didn't know. They saw her failures against the whirlwind Remo had once unleashed that so many had been torn by, not the successes she had born which forced his hand to create such monsters. They were, in short…E Street. It amused him, that grand joke.

”Maybe so, maybe so. Maybe one day you'll find something that better fits you, here, now. Maybe one day a seat will welcome you with open arms. I hope you'll find it.” A glance at a watch, then, casual as may be in the motion. That brief frown visited the Don's face as he looked back up. He spoke as he rose, fixing his coat as Iacopo strode off to pay the bill. ”I hope every visit might be as pleasant as this one, but I must cut it short. Other business to attend to. If you are ever in the neighbourhood…please, I'm sure the Star can find a table for you. Good night, Julia.”

Geonet 2.0 - Battle for the Megacity

Don Remo Lattanzi

---

Location: Vivian’s, E Street Territory, Spire District
Mentions: @Silver Carrot @Kumbaris

The bouncer hadn't been much trouble; like many of the Spire denizens, his loyalty and actions were tied to others who were far, far more indecisive than any member of the Black Maria. As such, the man hadn't asked many questions when Remo had entered into his view. He hadn't asked much of anything, just shifting out of the way for the Don and his entourage to atride past the line as a whole. It wasn't hard to tell the man's concern about a good lot of things. Remo thought little of it.

Enter into the bar, pause and take a good breath in while eyes scan the residents. He spotted her, unsurprising really considering the description Remo had received and the lack of obvious prosthetics in Vivian's. Those others who had such things were the sort to embellish their metal, blacks and golds mainly in muted wealth, while hers was suspiciously clean, basic. Otherwise…he tried to connect the face with his memories. The lady looked about as old as might be expected, though far more well worn compared to Remo. Time hadn't been gentle to her, not at all. She sat with another occupant of the Spire, though the Don didn't quite recognize her. The other was young enough she couldn't be an old one, one from back in the day. A new friend, really Julia? Remo chuckled freely at the thought.

The group was seated some ways across the floor, Remo ordering a bottle of white wine for himself and his, a bottle of red for the woman across the way. It was cheap to be generous, and the Don somewhat smiled at that thought.

Revue of Annihilation

⛼ A7 - The Ever-Burning Mausoleum ⛼

_{Co-Written with ERode}

"The Black Ledger."

The man nodded, but only in understanding.

"Those who bring such bodies, their family or their companions, remember such deeds. As for us, Flame grants purification so that an unshackled soul may rejoin the cycle without regret."

The gravekeep stared for but a moment, nodding when he was finished with such brief internal deliberations. It was clear, to some degree or another, how such an order - the believers of the Flame-Face - treated with death. They saw it as another part of their cycle, a cycle of souls from one life to another to another. They saw souls as malleable, that they would come back into life after a moment in the black sea beyond. He had not considered this, for souls had always seemed evidently abounding in that sea beyond. It did not seem that the soul of a screaming hellion might find themselves transformed from one state to another, to that of a peaceful being, yet then again they had passed through the veil of the most severe transformation of all, that of death.

And yet, it did not seen to change his holy writ. The recording of those who had passed was a holy mission by its association with those who were living, those who would read the names and the deeds and be able to know again the dead. Thus would the soul be kept and saved, not forced to be left abandoned in the sea beyond.

"Who writes in the Black Ledger? What do they record?"

“Of its record, one takes the name and the dates, the cause and perhaps their occupation.” He peered closer towards Lethe. “Are you not of that flock? Few concern themselves otherwise, except those personally involved.”

"I am a recorder of the dead. My ledger is my own. In recording those who have passed, their souls are preserved and protected from oblivion, and the living profit by knowing those who have come before. This is what I have held for truth. Should you be correct, or should I, it does not alter the impact of the record. Do those who so record in your Black Ledger want for aid in their holy task?"

"Curious."

The older man folded his arms.

"The Black Ledger is a denomination separate from this Mausoleum, though their work finds greater purchase with those who have lineages storied or wealthy." He gestured at Lethe's appearance. "If you wish to join them, they can be found in the Royal Road...though I suppose their practice is not one that aligns well with your faith."

A slow cock of the head followed, questioning, contemplating, marionette-like almost. That the older man did not comment on the clashes of his own reasoning with the gravekeep, yet felt the need to do so when comparing the man with the Black Ledger, was something of an insinuation which he did not enjoy. "Why so?"

"Their's is a belief that there are lesser and greater lives. Through records, legends past dwell within the present, while the chaff are scattered and left behind."

A quirking of the lips. The flames consign all to equal oblivion, whilst the ledger separates those with pasts forgotten and pasts treasured.

"You don't strike me as the type to extoll the virtues of an unbroken lineage, though your work resembles theirs."

A snort came as the response, a mouth wry with the sour thoughts that came from such blasphemous statements. The Black Ledger truly did not sound like an institution which would agree with the gravekeep. "All souls have worth. Those who could accomplish greatness have been snuffed away in childhood while those who do not stretch their lives away. I make no judgements to the dead, only service so that they may be spared oblivion."

He paused, considering. "Would the Flame-Face give men toil? Would it patron a ledger in exchange for men at the fire?"

"We worship but differing Faces of the same Deity, who dwells amongst us even past their demise. So long as your labour is honest, I've no reason to refuse you and yours. Mind that the pages don't burn though."

Geonet 2.0 - Battle for the Megacity

Don Remo Lattanzi

---

Location: Lattanzi Estate, Regia Maria Territory, Red Light District
Mentions: N/A

A kettle whistle in that far distance, green tea for a sister at bed. The click...click...click of a clock, hand at play lightly scolding. The muffled footsteps down the hall, socks on carpet smothered by walls.

Eyes slowly open. He could smell the coffee in that far distance; his father lacked any inclination at all to sleep to the reasonable time of five, it seemed, as artificial as that time might ever seem. His mother was nearly worse, though she had diverted her interests to retirement, it seemed, as much as a Don might. Remo could find her painting as often as he could find her getting information from a Capo, sending another out, and so forth. He rubbed his eyes briefly before sitting up in bed, sweeping legs out with some difficulty. Thick, honest blankets had smothered Remo away.

That look to the side, another shape huddled away under the red checkered blankets, black tresses crowning out from the edge. He couldn’t help but smile, leaning just a shade back to hook the edge of the blanket with his finger. Pulling it down slowly, cautiously, carefully, the man nodded with some semblance of satisfaction. Cora still looked just as beautiful as when he first met her, olive skin and all, snoozing away. A snore seemed to rock the room. Remo froze as it passed, moving the blanket back to where it once lay. She snored just as when he first met her, too. It’d been one of the great conflicts of life when they had been young, though now he couldn’t help but make jokes over it. Moving off the bed and into plushed slippers, the old man began his day in earnest.

In the shower, steam rising above the curtains, he thought through his day. Hot water cloaked him, waterfalling from a hung head as hour to hour was thought, shifted, considered. Remo had a schedule, true, and a man to manage a schedule, to manage meetings for business, but he still enjoyed the practice. It’d been something he’d come to get used to, a little practice of thinking the day at the day, not a week before the day. Things changed in a week, but this week…not so much. A thought, and he’d connected to the estate’s systems. News shifted here, there, news not from the Spire but from Regia Maria’s own information-movers, own reporters, own informants. Nothing shifted under red lights without his knowing, or at the very least without someone friendly enough to his knowing and speaking. It all moved behind his eyes as soap turned to lather, semi-abrasive particles scrubbing away any hint of blemish.

A man had died in the Spire, one of the Sk8te couriers who had taken a job but had been found with no job to show. It was interesting enough, true, and spoke something of the interior conflicts among the puffed pricks who sat there, but did not say much. Sparse details spoke who he was, save for those a surface search might find. A name, a relative age that was roughly correct, a contemplation to be sure. It did not say much, because he was inexperienced…he may have died before the job had even begun, the package - whatever it may be - not at all being in the hands of the murderer. Yet…if he had been murdered for it, and murdered at the Spire, that meant that one Heir moved against another, had a good enough tool for the job, and good enough in this instance meant that the crew would not be foolish to kill a messenger who had no message to steal. They would have waited, and if compromised there, killed him on the rooftops. Couriers were good, true, but Remo had not met many who outran bullets, drones, and worse…and that assumed the courier was good. This one had not been. The package would have been stolen. So, then…interesting. A smile touched the corner of his face.

Remo looked closer. He had been Afterburn, people the Don had worked with before on one occasion or another for specific items…he knew that leader, too. Digging had been digging had been digging, yet he’d found enough information about that kid to know what there exactly was under the exterior. He was a scared little boy, would be the first impression Remo ever had, one who was in over his head. There had been some uses for him, though. Some.

More news…more news…there had been so, so much going on while he had slumbered. He would have a busy day ahead of him. He would have a very busy day indeed. A free hand grasped at a high speed razor as the man considered it all.

---

Location: Vivian’s, E Street Territory, Spire District
Mentions: N/A

“Sir, I still don’t recommend this.”

“Why?”

The steps down the street weren’t taken in hiding, or behind the tinted, bulletproof windows of an armored vehicle, nor was Remo’s entourage exactly inconspicuous among the other crowds of the Spire roads. No, black suits strode the earth, and a path was carved before them as ancient sages once carved a path through an ocean for his own. Remo felt light on his feet, heavy coat shifting in the slight winds as he felt the gaze of those on the street. They were a great many types. The buzz of drones shifted overhead. The Don knew those cameras saw him, too.

Some knew him for what he was by image alone, by his face. He could see the flash of recollection in the eyes, that such was a Don of the Black Maria. Others took a moment, a click of a thought to access a database for a face, a motion, something or another, and they had that look of knowing too. They moved a shade quicker along the street, though Remo could see which ones considered their loyalties and which ones did not. The latter did not make to move to the other side of the street, the former simply moved about their day at that faster speed. They didn’t want to seem to concerned about the Black Maria. People would be watching.

Across that street, Remo could see shapes gathering, too. Some of them were agents from E Street, gold-gilded thugs who wanted to see if the man would offer any sorts of insults for them to act on who weren’t old enough to remember blood spilled before could always spill again. Others were men with cameras, vultures who haunted Heirs, who wanted their own little scoop about things. He was glad that reputation made them keep their distance. Such vermin would not be fit to waste bullets on.

“Because it’s not safe. Because you still haven’t told me exactly the reason, sir.”

“Of course it’s safe. If I get killed, blood paints these streets, washes them red. They know that. If some thugs, off-shoots acting on their own who want reputation, begin after us you can kill them and we’ll simply send condolences to the other side…along with a payment, true, but…rendere pan per focaccia. But they have every interest in keeping such off-shoots far, far away from me. I die and they pay more than they can ever afford.”

A moment passed as they walked. The Don knew Iacopo wouldn’t ask the second question again. It would seem too needy. The wind seemed to whistle between them as the group continued down that street. Finally, he broke the silence, smiling as he spoke.

“And I have heard things. People moving. Even the flies around here talk…and I want to meet someone here I have not seen in a long, long time. Memories, Capo, memories. And some new ones to make.”

Color briefly drained from Iacopo’s face before he composed himself. The man had been old enough to recall when things had finally come to a close. Such early scars were rooted deep in a person’s soul, deep enough to still let fear grip you.

“Ah, fuck. Sir.”

And there was the door.

Geonet 2.0 - Battle for the Megacity

Don Remo Lattanzi

Don Remo Lattanzi

"Business is business. Do you want more blood or are you finally full enough to talk?"

Age: 70
Appearance:

Standing at 6’1”, a fairly slender build, Remo's a rather stark example of the image he's built across over five decades of honest work and management. Clean, concise, kept, his graying hair and beard mark him apart from both the Spire rabble who luxuriate in immature looks and the common soul who would never reach his age. Simple black suits and heavy coats accompany this image, the model of business unencumbered by the frantic tendencies of modern fashion or the vanities of indulgence.

Faction: Black Maria - Regia Maria
Background:

Born into Black Maria, among that first generation who could solely lay claim to such heritage, Remo would grow up learning the tenets those before had lived and thrived by. He learned his moderation, his respect, his patience, and that cold justice which marked the organization well in those early days. Remo was educated in the business and more in the classics, as his parents never wanted their son to be embarrassed by his own ignorance. The young boy took to these things well, eagerly almost, seeing the wealth of others and how they came to it as a glorious thing. Soon after, he would gain a sister as well, Elaide, with whom Remo had great fun in tutoring.

As a young man, he would be placed as an accounting manager at one of the organization's earliest ventures, The Star. While there, Remo did well enough to find more than his fair share of siphoning schemes back to E Street and their ilk, enough to even bring suspicion down on his own head that the evidence was being fabricated. Of course, each siphoner confessed after their share of persuasion and disappeared quite naturally as would be the state of traitors. The Star would lose enough staff that other investigations would begin on the security, which was found lacking, and as part of the restructuring Remo found himself as manager for the establishment. Security would immediately be restructured, hand-picked by the young man for reliability and discretion, though with some advice given by his parents who found the endeavor to be good.

He continued in the natural order of things, as good a manager as any while developing the funds and permissions needed to open other locations. Some ventures would prove exceedingly profitable, others not so much, though none were enough to cast aspersions about Remo's capabilities. Eventually, the young Lattanzi would begin to merit special benefits afforded to the managers of Black Maria, half-measure restorative treatments and higher quality cybernetics both for his job and for his protection. The man would even get married, a sensible enough arrangement kept tight behind closed doors.

As Remo's power and influence grew, so too did his ambitions. He saw himself in better places, more of more, and worked hard enough towards that to make the bosses notice for better or worse. Expeditions into the foot of the Spire by Remo, small as they were, as well as defensive motions against E Street incursions into the red light, would spark off the longstanding conflict which continued even to the present. Soon finding himself with fewer allies than otherwise among the bosses, the young Lattanzi began to apply more drastic measures. Recruiting E Street victims, he began a string of comprehensive programs to turn individuals into weapons, stripping out muscle for metal, skin for optical plastics, personality for loyalty. Remo strove to and succeeded in producing the perfect killers, individuals who largely stemmed a slew of E Street successes at a grave cost to their numbers.

Such was that success, as well as the opening of a few more establishments by Remo's direct subordinates, which propelled the man to the heights of the bosses as a fellow Don to his parents. His activities since have largely served to keep the relative peace, keep all activities under the Black Maria roof, and keep all Black Maria operations hidden from prying eyes. Such has been his influence over portions of the organization that they are referred to in interior circles as “Regia Maria”, known for discretion in all public circles, a strict code of respects given and received, and deference to Remo in many of their further-reaching endeavors.

Cybernetics:

Able Industries Optical Implants
Replacements to the eyes and colored to appear as natural as flesh, Remo's implants allow him to see a multitude of different light spectrums, enhanced clarity at all ranges, automatic light dim functions to prevent washing out the system, and a 8x zoom function.
Able Industries Subdermal Inserts
Inserted under the skin for all vital areas, these inserts generally protect against the most common handgun calibers at usual ranges, failing to protect against sustained fire at close ranges. The inserts provide some amount of shrapnel protection as well.
Keystone Link/GeoCut
Allowing for quick remote access of Black Maria operated drones through a client machine and firewall, as well as a cutoff system to the GEO-ID system as a simple failsafe.
Keystone Biochemical Fallback
A series of pumps, chemical producing systems, and injection points, the fallback system works to dull pain, speed up clotting, and potentially replace the heart in pumping blood throughout the body in a clear-cut goal of keeping the operator as alive as alive can be.

Weapons/Tools:

Regime Arms Model 101
A semiautomatic pistol in heavy-hitting 12.7mm, the 101 fits five rounds in a magazine forward of the trigger. A number of muzzle vents keep the weapon as controllable as one could ever hope it to be. Remo has made few modifications or embellishments to his particular model, keeping the gunmetal gray look.

Likes:

Espresso
Vintage wine
Proper employees

Dislikes:

Crude liquor
Improper formalities
Managers lacking answers
Cruelty without cause

Quirks:

Every morning must begin with a cup of espresso
No modern music - ever
Italia measures the worth of a fellow Regia Maria - speak it first to judge them

Places of Interest:

Lattanzi Estate
A sectioned off area close in the red light district with 24/7 security and the crème de la crème of protection, the estate is home to three Dons of the Black Maria empire and several who are likewise expected to rise to that station. Remo visits, sometimes for family gatherings, often to speak to his ailing sister.
The Star
The original casino which Remo had control over, he yet maintains a room there as well as good relations with the owner - his son. While the casino staff are not his handpicked men anymore, a small contingent of his own stay to guard the place.
Meadows
A high-level Black Maria meeting place for Dons and those who are soon to rise to that level, it is among those which Remo ventures to fairly regularly. He of course is loath to stay there for any duration.

Geonet 2.0 - Battle for the Megacity

Don Remo Lattanzi

Don Remo Lattanzi

"Business is business. Do you want more blood or are you finally full enough to talk?"

Age: 70
Appearance:

Standing at 6’1”, a fairly slender build, Remo's a rather stark example of the image he's built across over five decades of honest work and management. Clean, concise, kept, his graying hair and beard mark him apart from both the Spire rabble who luxuriate in immature looks and the common soul who would never reach his age. Simple black suits and heavy coats accompany this image, the model of business unencumbered by the frantic tendencies of modern fashion or the vanities of indulgence.

Faction: Black Maria - Regia Maria
Background:

Born into Black Maria, among that first generation who could solely lay claim to such heritage, Remo would grow up learning the tenets those before had lived and thrived by. He learned his moderation, his respect, his patience, and that cold justice which marked the organization well in those early days. Remo was educated in the business and more in the classics, as his parents never wanted their son to be embarrassed by his own ignorance. The young boy took to these things well, eagerly almost, seeing the wealth of others and how they came to it as a glorious thing. Soon after, he would gain a sister as well, Elaide, with whom Remo had great fun in tutoring.

As a young man, he would be placed as an accounting manager at one of the organization's earliest ventures, The Star. While there, Remo did well enough to find more than his fair share of siphoning schemes back to E Street and their ilk, enough to even bring suspicion down on his own head that the evidence was being fabricated. Of course, each siphoner confessed after their share of persuasion and disappeared quite naturally as would be the state of traitors. The Star would lose enough staff that other investigations would begin on the security, which was found lacking, and as part of the restructuring Remo found himself as manager for the establishment. Security would immediately be restructured, hand-picked by the young man for reliability and discretion, though with some advice given by his parents who found the endeavor to be good.

He continued in the natural order of things, as good a manager as any while developing the funds and permissions needed to open other locations. Some ventures would prove exceedingly profitable, others not so much, though none were enough to cast aspersions about Remo's capabilities. Eventually, the young Lattanzi would begin to merit special benefits afforded to the managers of Black Maria, half-measure restorative treatments and higher quality cybernetics both for his job and for his protection. The man would even get married, a sensible enough arrangement kept tight behind closed doors.

As Remo's power and influence grew, so too did his ambitions. He saw himself in better places, more of more, and worked hard enough towards that to make the bosses notice for better or worse. Expeditions into the foot of the Spire by Remo, small as they were, as well as defensive motions against E Street incursions into the red light, would spark off the longstanding conflict which continued even to the present. Soon finding himself with fewer allies than otherwise among the bosses, the young Lattanzi began to apply more drastic measures. Recruiting E Street victims, he began a string of comprehensive programs to turn individuals into weapons, stripping out muscle for metal, skin for optical plastics, personality for loyalty. Remo strove to and succeeded in producing the perfect killers, individuals who largely stemmed a slew of E Street successes at a grave cost to their numbers.

Such was that success, as well as the opening of a few more establishments by Remo's direct subordinates, which propelled the man to the heights of the bosses as a fellow Don to his parents. His activities since have largely served to keep the relative peace, keep all activities under the Black Maria roof, and keep all Black Maria operations hidden from prying eyes. Such has been his influence over portions of the organization that they are referred to in interior circles as “Regia Maria”, known for discretion in all public circles, a strict code of respects given and received, and deference to Remo in many of their further-reaching endeavors.

Cybernetics:

Able Industries Optical Implants
Replacements to the eyes and colored to appear as natural as flesh, Remo's implants allow him to see a multitude of different light spectrums, enhanced clarity at all ranges, automatic light dim functions to prevent washing out the system, and a 8x zoom function.
Able Industries Subdermal Inserts
Inserted under the skin for all vital areas, these inserts generally protect against the most common handgun calibers at usual ranges, failing to protect against sustained fire at close ranges. The inserts provide some amount of shrapnel protection as well.
Keystone Link/GeoCut
Allowing for quick remote access of Black Maria operated drones through a client machine and firewall, as well as a cutoff system to the GEO-ID system as a simple failsafe.
Keystone Biochemical Fallback
A series of pumps, chemical producing systems, and injection points, the fallback system works to dull pain, speed up clotting, and potentially replace the heart in pumping blood throughout the body in a clear-cut goal of keeping the operator as alive as alive can be.

Weapons/Tools:

Regime Arms Model 101
A semiautomatic pistol in heavy-hitting 12.7mm, the 101 fits five rounds in a magazine forward of the trigger. A number of muzzle vents keep the weapon as controllable as one could ever hope it to be. Remo has made few modifications or embellishments to his particular model, keeping the gunmetal gray look.

Likes:

Espresso
Vintage wine
Proper employees

Dislikes:

Crude liquor
Improper formalities
Managers lacking answers
Cruelty without cause

Quirks:

Every morning must begin with a cup of espresso
No modern music - ever
Italia measures the worth of a fellow Regia Maria - speak it first to judge them

Places of Interest:

Lattanzi Estate
A sectioned off area close in the red light district with 24/7 security and the crème de la crème of protection, the estate is home to three Dons of the Black Maria empire and several who are likewise expected to rise to that station. Remo visits, sometimes for family gatherings, often to speak to his ailing sister.
The Star
The original casino which Remo had control over, he yet maintains a room there as well as good relations with the owner - his son. While the casino staff are not his handpicked men anymore, a small contingent of his own stay to guard the place.
Meadows
A high-level Black Maria meeting place for Dons and those who are soon to rise to that level, it is among those which Remo ventures to fairly regularly. He of course is loath to stay there for any duration.

Revue of Annihilation

⛼ A7 - The Ever-Burning Mausoleum ⛼

The heat, waves lapping at the gravekeep's exposed skin while burning all the rest, a constant motion like waves, like a breeze, like a natural order which was not to be interrupted. Stark shadows were cast by the flames, the crematoriums, turning the half-clothed shapes into mere black shapes in motion, an imitation of a shadow play of such gravity. The canticles and chants seemed to roll and clash against one-another, overlap, overlay. The church was a vast machine, one of immediate motion and structure and method, one of prescribed system and universal application, a devouring thing, a needy thing.

For a moment, he felt small. Heat dashed against his eyes and the gravekeep could near feel his shovel turn red amid the forge-heat, imagined as may be. Such feels were quickly shaken away when he was addressed.

"You appear to not require our services."

"Are you followers of the Flame-Face? Or have you come only to watch our ceremonies?”

Lethe gave to the man a half-bow, studying him for but a moment before speaking. “I am merely a recorder of the dead. We journeyed to this city on a holy mission, to bury the dead and record their deeds that their souls thereafter may be saved in memory. I find the first of my writ to be…difficult to apply, yet seek to at least provide for the second. Tell me, do you record the dead you burn?”

Pokemon: Dream

Isla Gill

---

Location: Route 1 - Ancient Grove
Mentions: @Pyromania99

Isla watched her plan come to fruition, breathing out just a tad as she watched the attack just evaporate, the bug type becoming more enraged at the dirty tricks. Well, what works, works. It didn’t seem likely the wild Pokémon was going to be deterred, though, engaging with another furious attack that seemed halfway to strike at Dancing, halfway to release its clear frustrations. Her Eevee moved left, right, shifting among the attacks as it kicked up more than enough dirt to obscure her view. Amid it, though, Dancing’s frantic motions threw pieces of the underbrush at the Heracross’s face, about as afterthought as one might get.

Swiper, meanwhile, began his own advance from the side, urging the others on to join him as the little fox began to charge in.

Dancing uses Sand Attack!
Swiper uses Beat Up!

---

Pokémon | Inventory

Pokémon:

• Dancing | Eevee | Level 5 | Anticipation | Pokéball
  Tackle, Tail Whip, Covet, Growl, Helping Hand, Sand Attack, Wish
• Swiper | Nickit | Level 7 | Runaway | Pokéball
  Quick Attack, Tail Whip, Beat Up

Inventory: 4000p

3 x Pokéball
3 x Potion

Pokemon: Dream

Isla Gill

---

Location: Route 1 - Ancient Grove
Mentions: @Pyromania99

“I’m…fine, thanks for…asking…”

Looking back at the fight, her two Pokémon having jumped in with the Heracross’s long, long horn now growing blue as it eyed Eevee with some amount of intent or another, Isla’s eyes went wide. They’d just jumped in on their own and, suddenly, she felt like she had to run in there and get them out. Yet…Yasu gripped at her as tightly as she could, wrapped there. Looking back, she could see Camila helping up the little psychic, though…where was her Pokémon?

A wave of annoyance passed over the young girl at the…just sheer inaction about things. What was she doing, just waiting things through. A few other things went through Isla’s mind, on just what was going on and how to best stop the whole thing, as she snorted out. Roughly shaking off Yasu and running up a few steps, a number of options came and went…not all of them good. The Heracross was clearly not even with her own but she could, maybe, even the odds a little bit. She searched through her pant leg pockets for a moment before drawing out a Pokéball.

“Dancing! Swiper! Get ready to get rid of it!”

She threw the ball.

Isla uses a Pokéball on Heracross!
Dancing readies an action: Burying the Pokéball!
Swiper uses Helping Hand!

---

Pokémon | Inventory

Pokémon:

• Dancing | Eevee | Level 5 | Anticipation | Pokéball
  Tackle, Tail Whip, Covet, Growl, Helping Hand, Sand Attack, Wish
• Swiper | Nickit | Level 7 | Runaway | Pokéball
  Quick Attack, Tail Whip, Beat Up

Inventory: 4000p

4 x Pokéball
3 x Potion

Revue of Annihilation

⛼ A7 - Where They Handle Death ⛼

The journey through the Underpass was uncomfortable as can be for the small group, tugged every which way by the sense of encroaching death until every string to the dying was tangled to the others. He couldn’t tell who was close to death, there was so many, and even then it ignored those who would die far before their time. Worse than the outer layers of the sprawl, the effects of such chaotic death, such unstable life, played a even more pronounced effect on the gravekeep's followers. They paused at a few points for one or another to vomit on the side of the path, so tumultuous was the road in the Underpass. Little wonder why the collectors did not venture to pick up the dead when there was so, so many.

Such people couldn't even afford to move out into the slums of the sprawl, the gravekeep soon recognized, couldn’t even afford to move out past the sprawl for their own sliver of land to build a shack on. What drove them to stay in such poor conditions, what shackled them that they could not walk to the sprawl? Reasons, however bad, were able to be seen here, there. Eyes glazed over from a concoction of some poisoned well, their life growing thinner by the hour, or the stumbles of one too overtaken by drink to crawl from a bottle, poor men dead enough by debt that you could see where fingers had been taken…each the gravekeep saw the markings of shackles. A shiver ran up his spine, though the man could make no comment of the poor souls. His followers were likewise mute, though the gravekeep could hear one mumbling a prayer.

Eventually the trappings of death fell away to the sights of churches and crematoriums, business of all kinds associated with mourning and consolations. The sense of death was still present, he knew he could feel it here and there in old priests, but there was so many other things compared to the suffocating miasma in the Underpass.

“I see no graves,” said one to the others in the group, “They don't bury at all here.”

“The men before said they didn't. Burning them and giving such to their companions…it's better than the others. At least there is still something.”

The gravekeep's gaze passed over each and every one of the buildings as his faithful conversed. Some were predatory, the man with a glass of strong ale for those who wanted to drown away, and some were benign, the priest who offered prayers, with many walking the line between. His eyes settled on a church, one of many, and he stared briefly at the tall doors. A sigh finally passed, that long exhale and deflation.

Lethe cautioned his faithful, turning slightly to address them before setting off to the church, intent to open those doors and speak to whichever priest ventured there. “Be respectful. Our mission is a holy one, but theirs may yet be as well.”