"Word has begun to spread throughout the cities of MRtopia, of the Great Power in the East, where murder is rife in the streets and corruption is taking over. An actual bloody Valentine's Day. Rumours of high ranking mobsters turning dirty, playing tricks with money and hitmen. Nasty business. They even had a swarm of plastic policemen barge in talking some bollocks about votes... Fucking weird cunts, ain't they got anything better to do? The rags covered most of it. Fake news. Old news. Seven-times old.. Or is it eight now? It's all the same bullshit. Fucking civilians and their written word, don't they know that shit'll get 'em in the slammer? Or killed... Muppets. And now we've got them running round playing counterfeit cop?" He pauses. "Cute."

The face was unidentifiable without good effort due to the darkness of the speakeasy you are sitting in. It surely couldn't be Capo Warmonger about to spill the beans on his Godfather... Definitely not. Must be an imposter. The dark figures voice continues, speaking clearly.

"Transistor Trivia. That's where it's at. Bodyguard dicing. Now this shit's fresh. The shit that happens in the coffee shops. Keep up. The face of [Redacted] Nation you saw lauded through the streets was just that... A face. But do you know the man behind the face? Nation took over the coffee shops, it was like a cult... People round these parts are fucking savages. Get yaself to Hash(NotPound)Main and see for yaself..."

He straightened the flowers sitting on the table between you, sploshing the water in the meagrely reflective translucent vase made visible by a small beam of light protruding from the low ceiling above. Freshly watered - that's why he loves this place. They respect flowers.

"There's even rumours of a potential Poker Tourney on the horizon... Involving the man himself. He's always keen to expand on business, but often cautious - he likes to be sure it's worth his time. He's of the older generation, you know..? Wise. He was also the investing behemoth behind Philly Biz if I'm letting you in on a secret... You remember? That 'Welcome to the Biz' schtick Al had for a while...?"

"Crazy old bastard that Al fellow, spent more time sniffing lines and banging nines than he did with his own son... Bastard. He's better off dead. Transistor allegedly raised the boy from young..."

The figure smiles to himself behind the shrouded blackness.

"Yeah... Good ol' Transistor."

He takes a moment, silently reminiscing.

"So anyway, here's my thinking... Poker. People do love it. And Saturday is good - Saturday at the table gets a good turnout. But I was thinking some private games during the week. Higher stakes. Good conversation... Respect. None of this 'haha' bullshit we've been forced to endure between hands just lately. Who the fuck do they think they're laughing at? They're lucky old man Transistor has me on this fucking leash...."

The man growls before clearing his throat.

"But what about Weekday poker? We open it up to just the elite mobsters, with the deeper pockets... Higher stakes. Less people. No riff-raff. And we'll make sure of it..."

"You want a scoop? Truth is... The old man's not convinced it's worth his time. I'm here to get some opinions. I heard one Godfather grabbed himself $50m on a game of handfootball and I see the dice lounge regularly buzzing with activity. Some of 'em even started dicing with their bodyguards, the crazy old bastards - what will they think of next? We're all gentlemen here... Surely there's some appetite for bigger bets on good old-fashioned cards, whadyasay?"

The man stops abruptly, a silence engulfed the booth you were sitting in. Warmonger remains silent and sips his drink, hoping there were other souls frequenting this random dark hole he'd found himself in.

Godfather Sylence was sitting eating some breakfast watching the hustle and bustle out front while he took a bite of bacon and drink of coffee. It was 430 in the morning and the street was already busy with people on their way to work as he sat there relaxing and stetching his back a little bit while he took a deep breath of the air, thinking to himself how good the coffee smelled. As he went to take another bite he noticed one of his men crossing the street, walking into the restaurant and making his way over to his table to whisper something in his ear.. suddenly Sylence slammed his hands on the table in excitement 

Holy hell are you telling me there is bodyguard dice , big sports betting and now high stakes poker coming back to the streets?

Sylence motioned to his men to send a word to Transistor and Warmonger about his excitement for it all and to let them know he was ready while he finished his coffee and you could see the light glimmering off his eyes as he was excited