^{ICON Chronicle}

^8c

A Knight's Tale

I met with a man in the days just passed who’s known to many across this fair nation. A chivalrous figure that sought his fortune in the windy city of Chicago. There was a chill in the air outside the motel I proposed to meet with him and even though a man of stature, he wasn’t in the least bit reluctant to sit with me in the shitty, simple room as he dismissed his two traveling companions to wait outside while we chatted a while. Soon enough the outside chill was replaced with a warmth as our conversation ticked on.

I asked for an audience and Lancelot didn’t hesitate to make my acquaintance. He entered the room just as gentlemanly as I had heard him speak whilst out in the streets, and he left it in the same style. Not once did I fear for my safety, given the reputation some hold in these very chaotic times. We drank a little, we laughed a little, and above it all I came to meet a battler for the underdog.

You wouldn’t gather it if you just saw him out with his business partners, as he called them. The newspapers poked at something shady, illegitimate and unwholesome when speaking of such figures. I met only a man of honour with a code and ethics, a true modern day knight. He left his armour at home and let me get a glimpse of a world of oppression by the mayor of the city of Chicago, and one man’s duty to help the people, the very individuals caught at the bottom rung of the ladder.

And although he made reference to the unfortunate average citizen’s plight, he spoke much more of hope and freedom. He spoke of providing opportunities for the down trodden, for the everyday people caught in the seedy undertakings of the corrupt individuals governing the city; opportunities to prosper and step outside the restraints to find some slither of success and comfort. He spoke of the castle he helped build and the high walls he had toiled over, brick by brick, to help keep his city and its people safe.

I met a man who reminded me to not look solely at the surface, of what words may or may not whistle through the streets regarding the Knight of Chicago. And he showed me a side that made me want to believe there is hope amongst the current economic despair, the current disrepute that’s fallen on many a government body and lead many to look for work outside the supposed cosy comforts of the current rules and regulations.

What transpired in our meeting was a taste of the tale of a modern day, 1930’s, man of honour and prestige who’s all about fighting for his people and helping them get a leg up. It was a Knight’s tale, with Sir Lancelot of Chicago.

- George Brelis, GJDA

George arrived in town upon Lancelot's response to a request for an interview. He figured it best to duck over to Chicago to make the man's acquaintance. While staying at a shitty motel he sent word with the same errand boy from before, giving the address details to the motel for a one on one interview. He also advised the boy to inform Lancelot that he was also fine bringing along whomever he wished, as he understood the dangerous life some lead around the nation.

George greeted Lancelot with a handshake as he opened the door.

"Finally good to meet you in person. Thank you for the opportunity."

The motel room was simple. A studio room style setup with a single bed, a chest of draws for clothing and a makeshift area for the interview that has two fold away chairs in the open space, between the bed and a door to the toilet. Simple, and cheap.

George then made his way over to the two chairs facing one another. He withdrew a pad and pen from his inside his jacket and took a seat on one of them.

"I guess we should get straight to it, care to take a seat?"

Upon receiving word Axel had arrived in Chicago Lancelot cleared his diary and headed towards the motel with a handful of guards.

Arriving at the motel Lancelot knocked on the door of the room he had been given details to. After a few minutes the door opened and a gentlemen extended his hand, "Finally good to meet you in person. Thank you for the opportunity." George said with a smile.

Lancelot smiled back and shook the mans hand.

"Nice to meet you too George, thanks for taking the time to fly out to Chicago on such short notice."

Taking a seat Lancelot instructed his guards to leave the room and guard the door, once they had done so he made himself comfortable, lighting a cigarette and waiting for George to begin.

"Anything to get some more information out to the public on the leaders and influencers around here. Treat me as the middle man and we'll let the nation know a bit about you."

George shuffled in his seat, getting comfortable.

"So to start off, let’s put some detail to the name and face. Who are you exactly to those that may not know much about you?"

"Well George I'd like to think I am an honest businessman running a respectable establishment here at Castello di Camelot a rather swanky import and export business, I was born here in Chicago like my father Isorin before me although my father moved to New York in his later years and saw out the remainder of his days there, my family line has graced these shores for generations now living all over the country over the years, for the most part though most have either lived in Chicago or New York with a few exceptions."

Lancelot watched George write away on his notepad as he awaited the next question.

George nodded along as he listened, showing his attention to Lancelot's words.

"Can you expand on your lineage a little more, just the most recent New York criminal connections. And then what Castello di Camelot does for the community exactly?"

Lancelot listened to the question and began to think about some of the stories his father used to tell him growing up as a teenager, he looked over at George and smiled..

"Well there was my great great great grandfather Templar rumour has it, he took up an opportunity back in the day to move out to the wild west, many thought he was crazy but he proved them wrong made a success of his business and a few years down the line bought a swanky mansion in Paradise Las Vegas."

Lancelot started to laugh.

"Apparently he died of a heart attack whilst partying with a couple of hookers, not a bad way to go."

George smirked whilst scribbling away on his notepad.

"And the current organization you have a hand in, what's that all about?"

"As you have no doubt noticed here at Camelot business is booming our exports are growing year by year, we are also very prominent in employing Italian immigrants, now the rumours of me paying them below minimum wage is totally is ridiculous as you can see by the way they are all smartly dressed, won't buy those on 2 cents an hour I can assure you."

Lancelot looked over to George scribbling away in his little notepad.

"I don't envy your job I hate writing."

George paused and looked up at Lancelot.

"It's all about the story my friend. I'll get one of my workers to do the full article."

He gave a little smile then continued on, keeping his eyes on Lancelot and pen at the ready.

"A bit more about you personally... What makes you tick? What drives you to be a strong figure in the community, both on the streets and as a head community figure with your organization?"

"I would like to think I live by a good moral code of ethics, I'm one of these people that like to see business conducted in the correct manner, communities need strong business it's the life blood of any community, so if you're running a shabby business it will have negative effects both financially and socially."

With an overinflated sense of pride Lancelot smiled.

"Here at Castello di Camelot we run a tight and well maintained ship, I am amazed by how some of my family err hmm I'm mean employees pick up the business so fast and so well."

George nodded along and of course scribbled bits and pieces. He paused to scratch an itch with the back of the pen then moved on to his next question.

"So continuing with that line of thought, why do people trust you as a person of influence in the community? And why should civilians and other men and women looking for more work do the same? I mean the economy is shit, so people like you offer others a way to make a living. Why are you trusted with this role and why should others look to you also, beyond your code of ethics?"

"With me is it's a case of what you see is what you get, no bullshit no drama, I find if you are straight with people you get a lot further in life, I also never pretend to be something I am not and I guess that's something people can relate to."

Lancelot looked at George square in the eyes..

"Let me ask you something if you were looking for a new job would you go to a company that man manages it's employees well and strives to make you better or somewhere you are just a bit of meat another Ant on the production line of life?"

Lancelot began to speak once more before George had a chance to answer.

"I sincerely hope I have a reputation as someone that will put time and effort into his employees, most know I will do what needs to be done in a fairly reliable fashion."

George kept his mouth shut, quickly realizing the rhetoric question, instead nodded and wrote along with the answer then continued with his next line of questioning.

"So would you say you're a man of the people, or of your own ambitions and desires? It sounds like the people, yet we of course have ambitions and goals in life. How do you balance the two, and do you emphasize one more than the other? Or do they go hand in hand?"

"Yes I think it is fair to say I am a man of the people to an extent, to be a good businessman you have to be in touch with the human side of things as well as the business side, I pride myself on being a people person, a good strength to have in any business."

Lancelot paused and waited for George to finish his scribbling. He lit another smoke and sat deep in thought for a moment..

"My own ambitions George would be to continue to prosper, I may be rich but hey I am no fool, if there's money to be made I want the lions share, real estate George that's where the real money is."

George stopped writing, pondered on the thought of real estate as he rubbed his chin. He then pointed the pen casually in Lancelot's direction.

"Real estate, I must remember this."

The page of the notepad was then flicked over. George moved a little in his chair, trying to ease the body after sitting a while. He scratched an itch on his head with the back of the pen as he thought about his next question.

"So I've got a bit about you, your organization and your ambitions as well as a bit of your character. How about the city of Chicago? What can you tell me about the city, what drew you here, what is it that keeps you here and what's it like working in Chicago?"

"Chicago has always had a fond place in my heart, my father Isorin was born here as I was I, in fact a lot of my ancestors have ran business' here in the windy city over the years so we have strong business ties here."

Standing up and moving towards the window Lancelot pointed out towards the streets.

"See all the hustle and bustle? it's like this 24hrs a day who wouldn't love to live in Chicago, it's a thriving city and that can only mean one thing money!"

Lancelot smiled.

"And that George is what keeps me in this wonderful place, I also have strong relations with the other business owners here and we tend to look out for one another, so conditions are good, well all apart from the greedy mayor fleecing us of extortionate taxes."

"Yeah, fuck the mayor.."

George coughed, looking over at Lancelot near the window. He'd done well to keep himself impartial to this point, yet he was always a censorship waiting to happen in his office. Out and about he reigned himself in, mostly.

"I mean, the economy is crazy bad. So anyways.."

George tried to quickly move on, flipping over another page in his notepad.

"Chicago is where your rooted, and have your connections. What are your thoughts on the other cities across this nation? I hear the big six are more or less also hubs for organizations that help the communities in this shitty economic downturn. Do you know much about them, anything you'd say positively or negatively?" 

"I have many friends across the country running equally successful businesses of their own, you see the smart ones they open up good channels of communication and trade with their fellow business friends up and down the country, come to some sort of arrangement ya know what I mean? These organisations you speak of are generally just a group of businessman trying to do what they can for their communities in these hard times, I applaud them to be honest."

Lancelot couldn't help wondering how much information George really had on some of his friends organisations especially back in the dusty paradise that is Las Vegas, George's hometown and home to a few well known associates of Lancelot's.

George nodded and scribbled some more. He eventually placed the pen and pad down and got up. He walked over to a side table and returned with a bottle of whisky and two glasses. He continued talking as he did.

"Now we've all seen and heard about individuals not toeing the line with the law. We've had the likes of many unlawful men in recent years, with the prohibition crack down and all that. We've even seen and heard of certain law enforcement groups created just to battle this way of life."

After pouring one glass a quarter way full he offered it toward Lancelot, all the while rattling off another question.

"Now, let's be honest here, Chicago has been a centre for it for some time. Why do you think the community turns a blind eye to such things? Do they really have a choice? And what's your take on it and stance toward it all?"

Accepting the glass Lancelot had a drink then smiled.

"A man of taste I see, don't mind if I do."

"I think you have to look at the hard times we live in George, many are just struggling to put food on the table, so of course you are always going to have various how can I put it?"

Lancelot paused for a few seconds then continued.

"Not entirely legitimate dealings going on, people trying to make an easy buck, but hell that happens everywhere George, Chicago be no different."

Lancelot took a sip of whisky then proceeded to light up another smoke.

"It's them damn politicians and police offers they're the real criminals, always shaking us down for taxes that seem to go up by the day, greedy bastards they are and they have the cheek to try and go after us for extortion! Err when I say us I mean those organised fellas you keep reading about."

George poured himself a glass and took his seat. He placed the bottle on the ground next to the two. After a good sip, he asked his follow up question.

"And the recent happenings in Philadelphia and Detroit? What's your take on what happened? A lot of people were caught up in it, both those now dead and buried and from what the word on the streets was, Chicago had some kind of hand in the events. Now I know you run a legitimate operation, yet being the connected businessman that you are, surely you'd have an opinion on things?"

George tool another sip. He kept his eyes on Lancelot and left his pen and notepad alone.

"Ah yes I heard about that, whilst the events in Philly remain somewhat shrouded in mystery given the recent pattern we have seen from there it came as no surprise really, as for the city of Detroit I did hear several rumours about what actually happened there from a few of my business associates both here in Chicago and from Las Vegas, it appears there was some underhand business dealings going on."

Taking another sip of whisky Lancelot smiled at George.

"Now you know I can't divulge too much information there but lets just say what was done was done for the ongoing safety and prosperity of other businesses up and down the country."

George nodded and smiled in response. Subconsciously he took a sip of his own drink as Lancelot did, naturally feeling the comfort level after this period in their interaction and the good terms they have been on thus far.

George grabbed his pad and pen again and flicked it open. He placed his drink to the side and prepared himself.

"Now these may sound corny, but it will hopefully help to give others a more abstract understanding of you. Firstly, if you could trade places with someone for a day, who would it be and why?"

Lighting up another smoke, Lancelot pondered the question deep in thought before answering.

"Hmmm an interesting question, but an easy one to answer"

Lancelot puffed hard on his cigarette and gave George a mischievous look.

"I'd be bloody Mayor for the day, it intrigues me to see just how much that greedy fucker actually takes in."

Leaning forward Lancelot lowered his voice.

"I would also make sure something was put in place to save these poor businessmen from his clutches."

George opened up with a burst of laughter, his protruded pot belly bouncing about as his hands, pen and notepad, rested on it. He was a little caught off guard at the answer given. After a moment of calm, he took a drink, gulping down the remainder in his glass, before continuing.

"I like it! Now, if you could change one thing about the state of the nation with a click of the fingers, what would it be and why?"

"I don't feel there is too much that needs changing to be honest, however word has filtered down to me the hoodlums are now controlling all the various businesses over in Detroit."

Lancelot shook his head.

"These scumbags have run all the honest business folk out of town."

Lancelot pulled hard on his cigarette once more then finished his glass of whisky leaning ever closer to George.

"You see George we can't have these toerags thinking they can run around doing as they please, there has to be order, we have a lot of associates up and down the country who could bring back a bit of stability there."

George responded, forgetting his place as the interviewer for a moment, the whisky taking its effect.

"I can see that, the need for stability with properly run organizations."

The bottle was lifted from its resting place and tipped as George poured himself another quarter glass. He then moved it toward Lancelot's glass, offering before going ahead and pouring anyways.

"One for the road eh? And one last formal question to go down with it."

George placed the bottle back down and took a sip of his glass. He let the old forresters top shelf whisky linger in his mouth, enjoying the taste a moment before speaking further. He usually had it mixed in with his coffee yet happily enjoyed it neat too.

"And lastly something that was discussed on the streets regarding rank and if it still holds weight, and more so if lower ranked members of society can question the likes of those sitting a little higher in regards to respect and reputation."

George took another sip.

"So, what's your opinion now on this? Do you feel there is a line that shouldn't be crossed and if that line isn't, then anyone can debate with anyone? Or should those with less reputation and respect hold their tongues till they gain it a little, so their words match their work ethic? Or, just tell me what you think anyways."

"I have always been of the belief that you should respect your superiors and those who have earned certain positions, however if a superior is being an arsehole then yes people should have the right to question that without doubt."

Lancelot paused for thought and a smile appeared on his face.

"My dear old mother bless her always used to say, treat others how you would like to be treated yourself."

Nodding his head Lancelot continued.

"Wise words that have served me well."

"Respect has always been a two way street George regardless of your position, everyone started at the bottom some would do well to remember that."

"Wise words indeed Sir. Any last comments or anything you'd like to say to the general public that may get their hands on this publication, when it's printed and sent to the press?"

"I would just like to reiterate George we run a respectable establishment here Castello di Camelot, despite what some other reporters have said we are in no way affiliated to any organised criminal activities."

Lancelot finished off his glass and stood and extended his hand towards George.

"Thanks for the drink my friend, been a pleasure."

George switched the glass into his non dominant hand, accepted the handshake and gave a solid few pumps, smiling.

"Pleasure is all mine sir. Thank you for this opportunity. I'll send you a copy of whatever my minions get sorted."

As the night lingered on, the journalist lead Lancelot back into the Chicago chill. George then ducked inside his motel room and went to task. He would leave the writing of the article itself for another day, instead the bottle of old forresters needed to be attended to. George kicked back on the single bed and thought over the meeting that just took place, as he poured and tucked into another glass of whisky.

She had coffee, she had smokes - she could not help but think she had forgotten something....as she tottered back to the HQ chain smoking and cursing her memory she heard a someone begin to speak and she faltered....she considered her sore feet and that she may remember what the other fucking thing was that she came out to purchase and decided to rest a while...

As the speech begun she found a spot to settle and quietly kick off her god dam heels and light her.....first seventh cigarette for the day....and decided not to loudly shout boooooo as she heard that Lancelot had not come dressed in armour - she loved men dressing in any kind of uniform....

She settled down to hear the story....wiggling her sore toes free from heels and enjoying her special coffee to go...

Reading the article Axel had published, Lancelot was extremely satisfied with the finished piece not that it was ever in any doubt as George had already proven during the interview he was a man who knew exactly what he was doing and was very accomplished as a journalist.

"I have to say George you put it together well, very well indeed my friend" Lancelot smiles and hands George an expensive bottle of Whisky "For the flight back to Vegas".

He then noticed Tellurium looking a bit disappointed at the fact he was without his Armour during the main interview and goes to sit beside her "You know my dear I cannot possibly wear the armour at all times, I have to get it polished now and then but I'll tell you what once it has been buffed up I will come pay you a visit over in Philly" with that Lancelot smiles at Tellurium and disappears into the night.

This is of the highest quality, and I sincerely hope to read more of these interviews in the coming days.

Reading the interview, WoonDa was telling himself, or more precisely his lucid mind at the moment, off from those annual festivities, he remembered he had come across the names of Lancelot and Templars, or Templar and Lancelots somewhere...

It wasn't exactly clear, to be honest, coz' he prepared himself for another marathon of festivities in snow time, and after a few lines, it took him a few milliseconds to remember where it was he came across those at some point in time: it was in ... erm, I don't know how you say 11 generations before, but grand-grand-grand on the cube +somethin' ancestor had written journals before... (WoonDa took the time to read all the manuscripts of his ancestors in his spare time, indeed...). 

Instead of wishing to interpret those, WoonDa just read some of the last passages of the manuscripts he found to the public:

... .... About Lancelot: It was some unfortunate kind of a Leader, unfortunate a la Jono. While conducting sum biz in Chicago, he felt in love with some kinda of a dangerous whore, Marla. Unless it was the attraction for Bob's haired breasts that was the reason. Our ever-working staff did an excellent job in hiding the true reasons, obits just stayed: it was some heart attack during sex. It ended bad for him whatever the truth was. So his son, Lancelot (too) decided to move their family biz into the wild west.

His son's family was an appeal for me, my line having bad luck with some other kind of really real whores, to join an unlucky man, as I was. It ended bad both for him and me: He did let me go as a RH for another guy under him, we both didn't know the perversions and connections of. My demotion under that demon, after so much work, did eat his soul so much, he accepted me back in his family as a pure demoted thug back, and planed a revenge just for me. After that, he spared my low life me bein' on a vacation leave for a week. He died from a bad pro shot at the dawn of a war coming, and I am dying now from a shot from my crew leader's bitch bullet after the war. Anyways, who reads this now, know he was a good man, and by the genes, I believe whoever his future lines are, they will be fair to fair men and women. Other topics I won't write coz' I gave an oath and will die with.