With a large, fortress-like structure rented and furbished by the man of the name Bill dominating the business district's skyline, The Mule's Back was open and ready for calls, meetings, and illicit dealings. The large transportation depot specialized specifically in getting you or your possessions where they needed to go, either discreetly, or not so discreetly. Connected to the main office was a quaint waiting room, with televisions replaying a video of Bill in a fine black three-piece suit describing the services provided by the business. Chairs lined the inside, with a number of bulletproof windows showing the street outside, as the hordes of vehicles passed by frequently without a hassle. The main office itself was a simple place, with a stoic, no-nonsense attendant guarded by two unnervingly large men on the walls of the room. The attendant took names and called them when a worker was available. Family members of Bill were often recognized and given special treatment, driven by a selected set of drivers who often packed heat in the vehicles for protecting the passenger. Upstairs was a horde of telephone clerks, answering calls from folks who need a ride and dispatching transportation to their location for a price.

Behind the waiting room and main office rested a tall and large parking complex, going up several stories and holding many vehicles ranging from your common, fragile everyday taxi, elegant, expensive limousines, and sturdy armored trucks. Around the perimeter and inside this zone patrolled highly competent guards who made short work of thieves, and were even trained by stealth specialists in the Detroit Dynasty on how to combat a sneaky saboteur. Next to the main parking complex and facing out towards the streets was the administrative office, where one could find Bill and his legion of unsuspecting lackeys who helped keep The Mule's Back running smoothly. In spite of this building, Bill had a respect for his mindless sheep workers, and often was seen walking about the main office and waiting room to talk to people in casual wear.

Bill's advertisements were commonly found throughout Detroit these days, saying the simple catchphrase of the business:

"Stranded? Take a ride on The Mule's Back! Dial 313-492-RIDE"

The look of frustration was evident, as he walked in.  The anger had been passed out on the shipping captain, the freight company and the dock workers for misreading the information and he knew the compensation and future favors were not enough due to the disturbance of business.  He needed an alternative, and it was served up quick as he talked to some friends from Detroit.

Walking towards the office, he kicked the dirt a little as his head hung low still cursing, opening the door he let of a false smile.

"I have a problem, i have two freight containers and of weaponry and parts for my Military Memorabilia shop in New York.  I was wondering if it was possible and hope long would take to get their."

He pauses

"all the paper works in order, and is all classified as antiques and museum decoration pieces and some can be a bit fragile although well packed.  Can you help me out?"

Far from the type to sit behind his desk in the administrative offices, Bill oftentimes left that to his corporate underlings, who he had a nasty habit of calling his minions when he was certain that nobody could hear him. Standing behind the attendant's desk was much more Bill's speed as he preferred to deal with his business directly with a hands-on approach. Which is exactly why he perked up upon BackToShootPeeps walking through the front door of the main office with his request. In spite of the lack of a simple greeting.

"Hello to you too sir. Concerning your request, The Mule's Back does provide transportation for airline deliveries. However, your materials may take up to several weeks to move up on the quota to be delivered to New York. As The Mule's Back does not currently own any cargo planes, we are forced to do business with an airliner, who has numerous waiting lists that even with paperwork being filled out would stall your antiques and such for quite some time."

Bill briefly paused here, realizing that beneath the forced smile, his customer was running painfully short on patience and had no lack of anger.

"There may be an alternative, however. You see, if the airliner was to suffer a certain accident, perhaps a certain shipment going missing, then I'm sure that your containers would be delivered immediately to their desired destination. And I would win a few things for myself as well."

The owner of the company they both stood in was far from oblivious. From the minute he got a good look at the frustrated customer, he could tell he was one of his kind, a mobster.

"However, I would need your cooperation in this endeavor. It would land you with all your possessions in New York, as long as you can provide for your own means of transportation when you're there. After all, The Mule's Back does not operate in that city yet."

He extends his hand over the desk to BackToShootPeeps.

"My name is Bill. I can fly an airplane."

Faceman- had been having problems for a few days now in trying to solve how he was going to move a whole container of cocaine with the profit of at least 500k from his downtown Detroit into Corktown Detroit where his buyer insisted on purchasing the Heroin.

Faceman was starting to get stressed and took a cigarette from his inside jacket pocket and lit it up to help calm him down, he was pacing up and down his HQ seeing if anyone in the family could help him out where he noticed on a dejected noticeboard in the corner of the family bar an advert for " The Mule's Back" a transportation company, Faceman thought to himself that this business was probably not concerning themselves with well over a tonne of cocaine in his garage but Faceman was desperate and he knew Joe Melizzano was gonna come down him with sweet fury if he couldn't get the money together for a bribe to keep him away.

Faceman raced down to the office block where this company was housed where he walked into a fairly reserved room with a few people working quietly and one man with a glint in his eye who looked like the sort of guy who would own a business such as this. Faceman quickly tried to make eye contact with this man who he now recognised from the noticeboard advert as bill, he spoke at a normal volume in a vague attempt to not look too suspicious to anybody listening in, trying to use over words to cover what he meant and hoped bil lwas a smart enough man to catch on to what he was trying to imply

" Hello sir i need help moving a large container from Downtown Detroit to Corktown Detroit"
A single drip of sweat rolled down from his brow as he tried to keep his cool, Faceman really was on the brink now. He also said those words wide eyed and emphasised the word container in a poor attempt to be subtle about what he needs done.

" I just need to know that you have a large vehicle to be able to help me do this quickly and efficiently..." 
Faceman immediately at that point had a million thoughts of the consequences if this man behind the desk uttered the word no

In a rather good mood following the airplane heist and the dusting off of a recently purchased, formerly abandoned airstrip, Bill had calmly listened to the easily decipherable attempts made by Faceman- to hide the true nature of his deliveries. As Bill hears his concerns about moving his container to the nearby district, Bill nods and takes a pen, handing it to Faceman- and sliding a clipboard with a paper on it towards him as well.

"Just sign on the dotted line, write down the address where the deliverymen should be waiting, and pay forward the necessary due of 175 USD for the renting of one of our vehicles to move your delivery. Judging from your statements, this is not a delivery that can be made discreet."

At this point, Bill lowers his voice and leans in, quietly whispering to Faceman- to avoid gathering attention by the nearby legal working everyday man who may have simply been dealing with paperwork or just clocking in for their shift as a driver.

"And this may be a problem, since drugs are quite the risky contraband in such large quantities. Which is why you will have to choose to either be riding in the truck with your delivery and likely getting into a firefight with the officers of the law... Or do a little job for me to distract the pigs while my boys get your shipment where it needs to go."

Bill slides an envelope over the desk to Faceman-.

"Inside this envelope lies the name of a man, his face, where you can find him, and a special knife. Find out from this man about where I can find an 'Elliot Caldwell,' and then kill your victim with that knife. Set the building you found him in on fire, and then call the police. Come up with something that gets the attention of the cops, firemen, anything and everyone. We'll make sure that your needs are met while the eyes of the police are elsewhere."

Faceman- thinks over his options and remembering he has no other alternatives he silently nods to bill and takes the envelope and says to him as he turns

"Have your men ready at 7am tomorrow morning, causing this much panic at an early time will make them overreact and they will not think straight"

And with that Faceman remembers to pay Bill after which he quickly leaves to plan the perfect murder to cover up the transporting of his drugs.

Walking in, Quinten notices a few rather nice things he could use to be shipped from one dock to another, looking around he finds, Chill_Bill; at the ready to give his civil duty for the job. 

Hello, I have noticed your face around and name mentioned as far as being able to make things suddenly get from one end of the states to another. I have become quite intrigued, can you possibly explain a little about your endeavors on how you will be able to keep my stock safe from thievery or harm my good man?

Lighting a cigar, he offers one to CB, as he waits for his response...

Quickly shooing away the delivery men with the directions to where Faceman-'s drugs were located for the shipment to Corktown as QuintenTarantino walks into his main office. Preparing to go on another long spiel, Bill coughs slightly and politely accepts the cigar from his CL's hand before beginning his speech.

The Mule's Back is, quite simply, a transportation company, as you likely know. Whether it be people, items, and everything in between, for the sufficient amount of money judged by distance and, ahem, legality of the goods and requirement for services. Up until only recently, The Mule's Back has been strictly a Detroit-only company, but with the acquisition of a delivery plane, we are now breaking state lines in moving what needs to be moved. In time, our runway in the outskirts of The Motor City will be filled with numerous planes ready to cater to your many needs.

At this point, Bill pauses for a moment to light the cigar given to him by Quinten, taking a minute to appreciate the aromas of the fine indulgence.

As for protection of your personal materials, be they living or non-living, we have a constantly ready staff of trained guards patrolling the perimeter who have all been taught on how to be be quite savvy in finding where anybody who might have a bit of a cat burglar kick. The highest concentration of these guards can be found in and around the storage room. If you'll follow me, I will show you where this is.

Bill rises from the desk, waving over to the camera. Almost immediately, a desk clerk takes Bill's former position as the meet and greet slave. The younger mafioso of the two moves over to a door, leading into a somewhat relaxed office. A comfortable couch rests in front of his desk, a few pictures of a young woman, a middle aged woman, and a slightly younger, happier Bill can be seen resting on it. However, what dominated the room was the impressive fireplace that controlled a majority of the wall.

What couldn't be seen beyond the short top of the hearth was the deep hole that extended into the earth, where at the end of it was a large cavern, carved open by numerous masons and the mind of a criminal named Chill_Bill, who took advantage of the existence of a dried up and forgotten aquifer, made supports, and built his company on top . Bill knocks on the side of the fireplace in a very specific and erratic manner, as the fireplace proceeds to slide to the side without a noise, revealing that behind the mantle lied a guard and a stairwell down into the darkness of the storage room.

After you, boss man.

Faceman arrives at the location of the apartments he was to set on fire from across the road, he looked the apartments up and down and made his way over the road into the apartments, Faceman- the night before decided it would be unnecessary to kill a person in particular as if this was discovered it would definitely look like a murder and he wanted it all to look like as random and accidental as he possibly could within the time zone given.

So he made his way to the top of the building and started pouring gasoline down all the hallways and down the stairs of this four story building as quickly as possible before anyone tried to leave or enter the building, about 5 minutes later when he had finished he set a match flicked it down the hallway and casually walked out and down the street 'til he got at least two blocks away and had two of his henchman go and tell the fire department and one to tell the police station that it was a man by the name of Elliott Caldwell who started the fire and they saw him with cans of gasoline.

Of course he won't make it out alive as he lives on the top floor of the apartment, and even if he did there were no witnesses. So faceman- had done his bit he just had to hope his drugs got moved...

Miles away from the tour Bill was giving Quinten, the apartment complexes burned brightly. As the police and fire department rushed to the scene of the crime, hoping to evacuate anyone they could, the target Bill had given Faceman- found himself waking up to the smell and agony of his own flesh being cooked. However, in light of Faceman-'s differing maneuvers, the cops soon were on the hunt for an Elliot Caldwell, and so was Chill_Bill himself. As the building burned to the ground and numerous people completely unrelated to Bill's scheme of finding Caldwell found themselves either homeless or dead (which quite brutally fed The Mule's Back with more money as the victims had to pay for transportation of what they had saved of their possessions), Faceman-'s enormous shipment of drugs found itself completely free to move to Corktown. Even as things seem to be going swimmingly however, as soon as Bill is informed of the apartment being destroyed, he leaves to go find Faceman- as to the information he desired of the man he had instructed his fellow member of the Detroit Dynasty to be extracted and then promptly given.

I greatly apologize, Mr. Tarantino. Something very urgent has come up. Please, wait here for some time to allow an attendant to continue showing you around our establishment's secure storage zones.

Bill quickly walks away. He had instructed his men beforehand to remain at the drop off point with the delivery of cocaine until both he and Faceman- could be there to exchange the contraband for the information about Elliot Caldwell.

Stalking away up another entrance point to the storage sector, Bill hops into one of the discreet vehicles of The Mule's Back and begins to make his way to Corktown from Downtown in Detroit.

Unbeknownst to the Wise Guy however, a man who looked unnervingly like Bill slipped into the administrative building, completely bypassing security simply because of the fact that he looked so much like the owner, and went straight to Bill's office in that same building. Quickly rooting through the papers Bill had organized to document his business practices, the lookalike pauses briefly at the simple picture frame holding the image of the young and middle-aged women, and Bill himself. Taking the picture out of the frame, crumpling it into a ball, and throwing it away, the man comes to the ledgers and finds the name of Faceman-, where Bill jotted down vague notes as to what that deal was entailing.

This lookalike was far from stupid, and easily understood that Faceman- had been sent to go get what he could about Caldwell, and wound up burning down the apartment complexes and framed Elliot in his place. Now the police were searching high and low for the man who had committed no crime. At least, not the crime they were looking for him over. Leaving the office, but not before kicking over the desk and showing a good bit of disrespect by stabbing a knife into it, the man who looked so much like Bill muttered,

"So that's how it is, brother?"

The man walks down to the storage zone, looking for the place where Bill might had left one or two guns from BackToShootPeeps's store in New York from the airplane heist not too long ago that had been taken into his own hands for both the mobster's benefits after BTSP went silent, he bumps into QuintenTarantino. Having been keeping tabs on Bill, he knew exactly who the Don before him was to Bill. The mirror image quickly came up with something on the spot.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to leave soon. Maintenance is going to do a check of lights, and walking around in the dark doesn't seem like something you'd want to do. Here's an address for where you might want to go soon if you want to discuss business with me."

The doppelganger hands a card to Quinten, which gives the address of a location where a series of hit men were waiting. What seemed off though, was how the man didn't refer to Bill's CL as "boss man." The man quickly whisks himself away, going back to searching for wherever a heavier sort of gun may be located in the storage room.

Meanwhile, as Bill approaches Corktown and the delivery point, he can't help but reflect on what started his hunt for Elliot Caldwell.

"And here I thought evil twins only existed in the movies." He says to himself with a chuckle.

with a slight grin on his face, i am sure we could divert due to mechanical failure at worse.  I have a few airstrips i have friends at which are tucked far enough away for anyone to pay much attention to.  I have a few trucks which normally carry products for my fathers cotton business but i am sure they can be adapted.

Looks around as he thinks

it would have to be a night run though is the problem, i have a few decoys who the g-men can follow in the night, that they would quickly realise are not me in the day.  Damn paranoid people watching me all the time

Quickly as he speaks the parts of his hand go white as he forms a fist by his side with anger at the disruption of business, before releasing

I am sure we can find an amicable place to land, Governors island maybe no one would look at, maybe barren island as is always quiet or a friend at floyd bennet field can pick them up.  Its a military base, so give me a day or two to get the paperwork if needed, we will mark it as spam, no one will be interested in it then.

"Shrilllll shrilll " Vienne's alarm wake her up with a start , she takes a look at it and throws it to the floor and buries herself under the thick covers of her blanket .

After a few more hours , she suddenly wakes up with a start , looks for the broken alarm clock , when she saw how ruin it is she reach up at her watch and look at it with disbelief .

"Shit! it's already so late " she hurriedly call for room service and took a quick shower . She drink two cups of coffee and nibbles two sandwiches . After preparing her things she pick up her keys and goes downstairs .

"Just my luck , just when I am in a hurry . " she murmured to herself . She then remembers a card that says they can help you with a ride anytime of the day.  She looks for a pay phone and dial 313-492-RIDE

A number of hours have gone by since the bit of business involving Elliot Caldwell and Faceman-, The Mule's Back eventually returned to some semblance of normality. While Elliot Caldwell proved to slip through Bill's fingers, he was put on the run and being chased by the police for arson, vandalism, and thirteen counts of second-degree murder (which was pushed along with a nice little bribe in the coffers of the police chief from Bill himself). As Bill returns to the office, he finds his desk slave attempting to help BackToShootPeeps after Bill had to speak with his boss, QuintenTarantino and deal with the delivery of Faceman-. Quickly pushing the mindless office drone away from his fellow mafioso, he turns to the Don and begins to speak.

"I apologize for the wait. Your offers are perfect for both your and my needs. When you have your shipment ready, simply have it sent to the nearby airstrip. After some recent developments, I have an... unscrupulous government agent waiting at my beck and call for the time being. He will take control, and have it land on one of your airstrips, and he'll make it perfectly legal. So long as you may be generous enough to refuel the plane and send it back my way, your antiques will arrive there without a single issue. If you are unhappy with the feds on your back, my contact can have you in New York with your possessions without a single worry on the way."

At this point, the receptionist's phone goes off. Quite peeved at having his deal interrupted, Bill snatches the phone from it's resting place and speaks into it.

"Hello, this is The Mule's Back, transportation company. How can I help you?"