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| Sweat and Steel | Started by: Giovanni_Domingo on Dec 17, '07 16:05 |
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Giovanni Domingo looked skyward as he strolled through downtown New York, marvelling at the buildings that grew out of the concrete. He did not know much about construction - in fact, to say he knew nothing would be closer to the truth - but he knew that those massive, gargantuan skyscrapers would not exist without imported labor; hard-working, able-bodied men with little more than a name, a few words of English, and a boxed lunch. Hell, some of them didn't even have that. They were just salt of the earth men who earned their meager pay by the sweat of their brow. As he continued onward, Domingo saw some of these men scrambling about on steel girders well above the surface of the street. The high-rise they were erecting would likely become a block of offices, and Domingo found it disappointing that, in all likelihood, the men who would come to occupy the building would never willingly associate with a steel worker. What does a suit need with a working man, anyway? Hammer in some rivets, build a tower, then hike over to the next construction site. Domingo joined a group of bystanders who had paused to watch one of the workers, joining him in spirit as he journeyed out on the steel skeleton as a beam was maneuvered overhead by a crane. It was a long fall down, but whether it was five stories or fifty stories, you were just as dead. Domingo spoke to the man beside him, all eyes on the laborer above as the wind gusted. Though he was not tethered onto the structure - none of them were - he clutched only his felt hat, trusting his balance. I tell you, he is a braver soul than I... |
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Watching intently, almost enviously, Gabe just grinned and nudged Giovanni with his elbow Oh, come on, you're telling me you wouldn't love that? He chuckles and squints against the glare of the sun I'd love it up there- the view, the clear air...the quiet. As he usually did when deep in thought, Gabe shoved his hands into the pockets of his tailored suit pants and continued to stare at the blue-collar balancing act |
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| Reply by: Gabriello_Viacelli at Dec 17, '07 16:15 | |
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Domingo replied, pointing upwards, though Viacelli likely did not see his gesture as the gaze of both men was held by the single soul in the sky. Yes, but tough to appreciate all of that while performing a balancing act. On the one hand, it seemed to Domingo a bit adventurous, a career on the steel, working above the skyline, working a job more dangerous than anything found below. Yet, on the other hand, it appeared depressing that an individual would have to resort to such work to feed and clothe himself. The host of industrial dangers, let alone plummeting to one's end, were hardly worth a tin of beans or a pair of work trousers. Faithfully, though, these men returned each day, to do what must be done. |
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| Reply by: Giovanni_Domingo at Dec 17, '07 16:31 | |
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The irony did not go amiss with Octavius. He savoured the paradox he was presented with. Here, dozens of feet above him was a man who was yet below him. Octavius was a great admirer of poetry and the arts, and he enjoyed the metaphorical situation before him, though he was no doubt reading too much into things; he believed that they were both walking the tightrope He gestured vaguely into the crisp New York sky with a leather clad, shovel sized palm So whaddya say guys? We aren't so different after all, eh? |
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| Reply by: Octavius at Dec 17, '07 16:43 | |
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From the sheltered building that housed the construction offices, Nikki stared at the blueprints before here, studying the lines, angles, and miscellaneous equations that with enough manpower, steel and concrete would become the latest hotel of the Iguana Corporation property management empire. As Alfieri preferred gladhanding investors and donors, Nikki rather enjoyed the outside air of the construction site. She brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear and readjusted the white hardhat before stepping out into the sun. As far as hats went, it didn't quite complement her sleek black skirt and matching jacket, but it shined with the lacquer of newness rivaled only by her liquiditous black pumps. The shoes weren't exactly prime for navigating a construction war zone, but as the financial overseer of the project, she always maintained a professional image. She found that appearance, along with a healthy dose of both a winning smile and determination dissuaded the normal cat calls and whistles. Most of the gentlemen on the job site had been gentlemen indeed, with the exception of a slightly rocky first day. She spotted the site engineer and signaled to him with a wave of her arm. Calling his name was pointless, as even close conversations required an elevated voice. |
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| Reply by: NikkiPhoenix at Dec 17, '07 16:44 | |
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Domingo internally agreed with Octavius, though he was careful not to vocalize this, as he was uncertain how many civilians were in there midst. Octavius had not mentioned their occupation specifically, but he would rather not leave his words open to interpretation. Unlike the daily rag, he preferred not to advertise the existence of a criminal organization that ran against the grain of all that was American society. It is the reward that separates all occupations... He will never see the luxuries of those who will own or occupy the building. He surely is not building that office for himself. He is not the entrepreneur. Whether it was reaching out to steady a metal beam, as the man above them was attempting, or negotiating the political channels of the underworld, moving a sliver to the left or a hair to the right still held significant consequences. Despite initially agreeing with Octavius, the steel worker had it better, Domingo reasoned. Six inches to either side, his fate was certain. Immersed in a seedier occupation, however, there was more opportunity for variation. Punishment ranged from verbal reprimand through to various forms of bodily harm, to many, many forms of capital punishment. The worker knew he would land upon the unforgiving concrete - the mobster knew not the method, nor how many days he would remain a dead man walking. |
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| Reply by: Giovanni_Domingo at Dec 17, '07 17:22 | |
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From the corner of his eye, Gabriello caught a glimpse of Nikki leaving the construction office. He hadn't seen her since he'd returned from New Jersey- partly because he didn't know how to approach her, and partly because he'd been in his home recuperating from a a few minor injuries sustained during the trip. He was now, for the most part, fully healed; though his finely tailored suit covered a rather large knife wound in his side- which made his movements gingerly and just slightly painful. Gabe was, however, good at hiding it all under his trademark grin. He watched her move across the construction site, but then turned his attention away from her- perhaps hoping she wouldn't see him. Reaching into his coat, he took a silver cigarette case and a lighter. |
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| Reply by: Gabriello_Viacelli at Dec 18, '07 10:51 | |
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As the foreman approached her, Nikki spread the blueprints out over a large cubic block of concrete. It was a lopsided and makeshift table, but level enough to get her point across. He sidled up next to her and smiled, seeming genuinely pleased to talk with her. Nikki had been very impressed with the way the construction crew had treated her and she did everything she could to continue their mutual cooperation. Hey Bill! I'm looking over the plans here for the third floor and I think I've spotted a problem! Why was it always windy and hard to hear on construction sites, even in the absence of any working heavy machinery? It grated her nerves and irritated her throat. As they huddled over the plans, Nikki explained where she felt the blueprints had been misleading. She traced her fingers over the schematic as Bill looked on taking every word in and nodding with comprehension. He agreed to talk it over with the architect and make the necessary changes. They shook hands, and Bill went back to his station, but in his absence, Nikki felt the presence of something else and had the strangest feeling she was being watched. |
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| Reply by: NikkiPhoenix at Dec 18, '07 10:59 | |
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| Signore Domingo and Octavius seemed to be rather satisfied with their philosophical chat- but Gabriello's mind was elsewhere. Ever since returning from New Jersey, he hadn't felt quite right. He felt unsettled, and he didn't know why. For now, he'd just remain lost in his thoughts while he waited for Giovanni. They had been on their way to a lunch meeting when Signore Domingo had stopped to muse. Taking a long draw from the cigarette, his eyes involuntarily drifted back over to Nikki. Should he go over and talk to her? Would she even want to talk? Probably not- she was a respectable woman, and now she had an even more respectable position. He'd been thinking a lot about what she'd said- about the difference between his business and legitimate business; and no matter how much he thought of those two little figurines, he was having a hard time believing it. What made it worse was the blood on his hands- two bodies buried under a boardwalk in Jersey with bullets from his twin desert eagles. There was a heavy, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that had lingered with him ever sicne the shots were fired- and it was made even more noticeable when he saw her. He thought he heard his name behind him, which caught him off guard, and he inhaled too quickly on the cigarette, causing him to cough a bit. Dropping the cigarette to the ground, he turned | |
| Reply by: Gabriello_Viacelli at Dec 18, '07 11:18 | |
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