During the night and early morning, queenie had been traversing the streets of the various cities on foot. Partly because the roads were all blocked up with piles of rubble and bullet riddled vehicles but also so she could take the opportunity to listen in on the very public conversations taking place. Although the gutters were looking like the first plague of Egypt, people weren't nearly as concerned with that as they were with gossiping and yelling as loudly as they could about their opinions and thoughts on the recent activity around our country.

Being one who always likes to pretend she fits in with the common man queenie decided she'd give the opinion sharing thing a go, also. However it was so against her nature to actually be common she couldn't simply rant and rave incoherently in short angry burts. Giving away the spoiled and well to do nature of her blue-blooded upbringing.

queenie decided, rather than wear her voice out she'd simply write a poster, have a few thousand of them printed up and get her entourage to scatter across the major cities to stick them up to church notice boards, shop windows, the side of stray dogs and on the back of people's jackets when they wern't looking, so others on the packed trains and buses could read it at their leisure.

So this is what the talk is about

(my comments on your comments)

 

 During an open conversation, by a group of *mostly* thugs which had the distinct theme of "Duplicity needs to die!"

 

"The best part of any war is coming to the streets afterwards to see people complain." ~ Arabella_

One humbly disagrees with this. I believe the sight of those bloody kids who I've told a meellionty times to get the f*ck off my damned lawn, running away screaming is probably the most satisfying thing when the gunshots start popping off.

 

During the very same conversation. This time by a young thug by the name of areyoutiredofdying ... (I'm not entirely sure what his parents were thinking naming him that, that's a terrible name and he would've been mercilessly bullied at school, no doubt.)

 

"Hilarious stuff. You give Duplicity way too much credit. Are you blind? This is a situation that involves more then Duplicity."

Absolutely agree with this comment. In this case it was three out of four cities, or a little over three quarters of the country's mobster population. Well done for recognizing this fact, in spite of the rage you must be feeling regarding the death of your parents and their family and friends. All too many people point a single finger a single way without actually thinking for a moment about the ignorant implications of that action.

 

This conversation about how Duplicity must die! has been quite loud and varied with its responses so I shall refrain from commenting any more on this particular discussion after this final quote from Ronin

 

"I've never shot a soul in my entire life, sir."

Seeing as souls are bullet proof that idea would be folly, Ronin. Have you tried beating them over the head with stale French loaves, instead?

 

The next portion regards a topic which was started by Duplicity herself, musing whether or not people should quit hitting them self.. quit hitting them self. Unfortunately, due to the extreme mess left in the streets after the events, the street sweepers insisted the large gathering mob move the fuck out of the streets so they could do their job of cleaning the place up. As such this conversation was taken to OOC avenue where the bloodshed hadn't managed to clog up the place.

 

starting with another quote from the very vocal areyoutiredofdying

 

"Without reading it all I have to say this much: You are a disgrace Duplicity to even come out to these streets with that subject line."

 I cannot speak for everyone else alive, however, personally... I considered that subject header quite amusing. Considering how super cereal everything is these days, and the fact that Duplicity has constantly had to put up with the abuse thrown her way and harshly worded critiquing... (some justified and other times when its down right unjustifiable rudeness or blame that is not solely hers to endure) It's a healthy sign she's kept a sense of humour about the life she leads here. (if saying this makes you want to shoot me, please plan an amusing whisper ahead of time for me to enjoy in my final moment)

 

The MOST genuinely thought provoking comment heard so far. Alexandra

"This world needs a villain to keep it interesting, but that requires a hero of sorts to balance the world out. We have no heroes left honestly. They all retired their holsters and six shooters, then they faded into the dust. Maybe one day a hero will arise from the ashes and remove the villains to make this world a little more bearable for a period of time, but I doubt that."

This is the nature of the games we play, being mobsters. It has been this way for decades. There are the villainous, or those considered villainous. (who aren't the villains from their own point of view - SOMETIMES, there are those who know they are and embrace it) Then there are the rebels, the freedom fighters, the people who love to have something to struggle and rebel against. If our life was a perfect utopia, we'd get bored. We'd all be singing happy joy joy songs and we'd hate it and be stressing for someone to be daring enough to become the villain to provide us all with some entertainment and action.

Although after it happens, a lot of people feel rage or exhaustion or discouraged, those of us who come from bloodlines dating far back enough will have seen the evolution of the mobster life. The highs and lows & lots and lots of mid ground, and will probably appreciate the fact that nothing lasts forever, and when the changes come they're all the more satisfying knowing it wasn't a guaranteed thing and battles had to be fought long and hard... some times, the same can be said for resisting those changes. It can be just as personally rewarding to thwart other's attempts to over throw you and change everything to their way of seeing and being.

 

I have no doubt there will be more back forth, as always, between the survivors and the angry children of fallen mobsters, who themselves usually live VERY short lives because they've said things they know they'd never get away with, after committing to our life of organised crime. I look forward to seeing how others think and feel about our lives.

 

p.s. Tea > coffee

While strolling through the ravaged streets of Ricky noticed a poster stapled to a piece of plywood that was covering a storefront window that had been shattered by gunfire the night before. Hands in pockets he strolled up to it and read quietly to himself.

The poster really got the wheels turning in his head as he read through it twice and compared it to the other things he had heard on the streets throughout the day. Ricky had seen these situations play out from both points of view. Yesterday he stood by and watched as Vegas fell, but it also caused him to remember how his father and family friends were killed while they slept in Vegas a little over a month ago.

The difference between Ricky and some others was that he understood that its part of this life, and spending days wallowing in anger is the same as spending days sitting around staring at a wall not working towards a new future. Everyone has been there, and Ricky knew eventually everyone was going to be looking down the barrel of a gun at some point or another.

Ricky shrugged his shoulders and walked away deciding he needed to find a place to get a burger because he was hungry and life needed to go on. Hands still in his pockets, he strolled down the street listening to everyone arguing while he looked for a burger joint that was open and hadn't been shot full of holes.

Captain Darling scurried around trying to pick up as many flyers as humanly possible. The task was monumental, queenie had a local printing company make thousands of these damned things.

He leapt, looking like a fool, onto a torn and discarded poster that was being carried down the sidewalk by the wind.

Darling personally enjoyed the frenzied street and OOC Avenue goings on that always followed a war, or take-down. It wasn't just the troll in him that did either, he loved seeing the burst of activity. Everyone, it seemed, had something to say on the subjects discussed. People would be shouting over each other, from the lowliest of civilians to the Godfathers, there was commotion and opinions flying about all over. He would often stop by and listen to one discussion for a while before strolling through the streets to the next. 

It was amusing to the captain, that without having to go to any one crowd of people you could, with a good degree of accuracy, gauge the content of the discussion before you actually walked over to them to listen. He was always most amused when he found the one conversation that had somehow drifted from the original topic onto the speech impediments of one of the speakers. This was virtually guaranteed to be going on. One of the conversations would be focusing, at some point, solely on the slip of the tongue of one of the speakers, they didn't pronounce this word properly, so naturally, that was the more important focus for a while...

Bending down, he retrieved the flyer he had jumped on and put it into a trash bag, with the others.

queenie had gotten a notice about a possible fine for littering the streets with trash and drivel and Darling knew, ultimately, it would be his head, his fault, somehow, if queenie got the fine she was promised if she failed to clean her crap up.

Letting out a sigh, Darling walked over to an abandoned building and began the labourious task of scraping flyers from its walls.

queenie ruffles John_Davidson's head and grins. She had been wondering whether to write up a second flier as the comments around the town had still been fairly interesting, even if they had slowed down and decreased in intensity over the last 24 hours. She decided this particular comment deserved an entire leaflet of it's own. Once she finished writing it up in crayon, coloured in the lil sketches she had made at the bottom she put glue on the back and gave it to one of her butlers to stick to the forehead of John_Davidson

This particular comment was so profound, so awe inspiring... such... out thereness that it just could NOT be ignored.

 

"Queenie, you let a fucking VL shoot one of your members dead and rolled over - made to look like a total bitch and grinned whilst he fucked you. Who gives two fucks about your opinion of people willing to fight?" - John_Davidson

 

First of all, mr Davidson... Vegetarian llama, mkay. You don't need to abreviate "VL" we're all adults here, we can handle the big people language, I think.

Secondly. I actually didn't roll over.. I was bent over, however I WAS grinning all the while. Yes. You saw that talking flick too? I told them not to share it with anyone. That's not a mistake I'll likely make more than three or four more times.

 

As for your final comment, about who gives two fucks... exhibit A) a written correspondence taken from IRC Avenue

(I had to glue this over the top of this leaflet - sorry)

<Cato> I give roughly three fucks about your opinion

 

Walking through the streets, Ricky was amazed that people were still up in arms about what had happened. It was beyond him that folks hadn't began building their new lives yet. Thinking hard Ricky_Bobby was determined to help everyone that he could, as he had felt this pain before, but it only lasted four or five minutes for him.

Straws! That was the answer! Ricky could go through town and find all of Queenie's posters and affix a small bag of straws to them. That way anyone who didn't like the poster could grab a straw and suck it up and move on like an adult instead of trying to pick fights. That would surely help them move on!

Ricky swung by the store and put all of the straws he could find into a shopping cart. With a giant grin on his face he paid for the straws and set out to find all of the posters so he could help the people of the streets as much as he could. Ricky would surely sleep soundly tonight knowing he had done a good deed.