Who: Moriarty and Kansas City Street Gangs. What: Jim makes himself known in the right circles Where: The most dangerous known Kansas City Gang hangout When: Night of the 17th January. Rating: It's Jim. He's not hugs and puppies Status: Complete, Narrative.
Notes:As a result of this, the only thing that can be determined in the next week or so is that gang warfare has actually lessened in Kansas City, two of the more known ones seem to have ceased hostilities. How nice for Kansas City!)
It wasn’t exactly what Jim Moriarty had intended, being back in a place like this with nothing to his name but a laptop and a gift card to fecking Walmart of all places, he didn’t care about it, about any of it and he’d drifted through the week in a mind numbingly dull daze of ordinary. Of Mundane. And he was tired of that. He’d met people that intrigued him though, his fairy tale princesses, the ones stupid enough to have ignored every hint he was giving them, looking for a challenge, and then of course the loveliest little failure of all Miss Irene Adler. Oh he had plans for her, he thought with a slight smile as he gazed at the streets of Kansas City in which he’d decided to set up shop. It was the same as it was everywhere, gangs, drugs, murderers, fraudsters and they were all doing it wrong. So wrong. They were stupid and ordinary and they needed him. They just didn’t know it yet. They’d be so useful to him in the end, when it came to it, when it came to his Final Problem. Because that was what it was for, what it was all for.
Sherlock had arrived with Watson in tow of course, they really were hilariously co-dependent. And Jim’s day had brightened up immeasurably. Gone was any pretense of a different identity or hiding what he was, there was no point hiding anymore because Sherlock knew already. He knew him so very very well and yet not at all. It was a good starting point, a good challenge for the great detective. His opposite and yet his equal. In so many ways.
But Jim needed resources now. And that was why he’d walked into the dodgiest area of Kansas City armed with a single small knife. One no bigger than you’d peel an apple with. He really hoped he didn’t have to use it but he expected he would. Usually did the first time. And he’d already gotten two very promising men onside, including one who’d gotten drummed out of the army for ‘excessive violence’ The record went deeper, said he took pleasure in the kill, and that, that was perfect. Jim had beaten him in a fair fight and promised to pay handsomely for the help. He’d left the guy with a scar across his eye but he’d gained a follower. He liked when things worked out.
He’d sent the guy up to snipe for him. Just in case he needed to prove a point
“It’s funny, y’know. Bez’s daughter is actually Falcon’s and dear Crissie never told you didn’t she.” he began, turning to the ridiculously named Bez. Who as expected looked furious, oh he’d seen the truth in the other man’s eyes and guns were already pulled from his ‘crew’ Oh some trained on Jim but most were on the opposing gang. Didn’t they know you didn’t bring weapons to a meeting like this, God, hadn’t they seen West Side Story.
I like to be in America
Jim stepped forward ignoring the bullets and glancing amused at the red dot already appearing on Falcon’s chest. Poor bastard, Jim had judged him as the stronger of the two, less malleable, so he had to die. Meh, there were few that’d miss him. “Now, Bez, isn’t it. Look, you’re a mess, you’re organization has promise, lots of promise actually but your just..well you’re floundering. You didn’t know about Chrissie did you? Or what about this chap here, and his gambling, oh you know its a problem, but do you know how much. Do you know he owes at least 10k to the bozo over there with the ridiculous tattoo over his eye. You should be killing him, you should have cut out his damn eye and had it on toast with a good cuppa by now, but nah, nah, not you. Because you don’t think you can take Falcon and his lot.”
No one from either side had spoken, and ironically none of them had noticed the dot on Falcon yet. Not even the man himself, bloody hell. “Mate, you’ve got something on your..” Wait for it, wait for iiiiittt... Annnnd there it was Falcon finally noticed and as expected jumped back, as if the dot wouldn't follow him. He glared at Bez as if it were his fault somehow, if he’d had an ounce of sense he’d know the other guy looked as confused as he did. Only Jim supposed it was hidden under all the ‘MAH WOMAN’ angry. And it was Bez of course, that finally spoke.
“Say I believ..”
Everything Free in America, For a small fee in America
“Say you believe me, even for a second, give you one good reason why you shouldn’t bust a cap in my ass’ he said, affecting the perfect ridiculously white-boy gang accent somehow without loosing the mocking drawl that he’d started with. “Tell you what I can do for you and who even am I? Some Irish guy who walks into the most dangerous gang hangout in the city on the very night you’re having a council with your rivals? However did he know!!. Well, first of all I did. I knew, so props to me for that, second of all, I don’t want anything from you but a consultant fee. I don’t want to take over, I don’t want anything like that. Just what I said, a consultant fee and the promise you’ll put my name out there as a guy to know. It's Moriarty by the way.You'll need to know that.”
It was of course Falcon and he was turning his gun from Bez back to Jim. But the warning, oh you poor stupid boy, the warning. Jim’s knife moved with lightning precision embedding itself rather ironically in Falcon’s eye. Cue, screaming, worry, anger. Oh it was like music. Jim let himself hear it, just for a moment, just for a solitary moment, before speaking again, cracking his neck almost without thinking about it.
“Now boys, here’s my advice, and you can have this one free of charge Bez. Merge with them. Cause you know what they say the king is dead, or...at least wounded a fair bit, definitely blind in one eye, but I’ll sort that” he said, pressing a button on his phone. One shot rang out and Falcon fell dead to the floor. Jim shrugged and turned back to Bez. “Anyway... long live the King.”
There was a slight pause as instructed where no one spoke before ‘Closet Gay, Doing the sister of Bez’s second and Undercover crooked as all hell cop’ moved across the room to Bez, weapons lowered before they moved at all. And like sheep, pathetic little sheep others followed. It was always the same no matter what country or what reason. It was always just so obvious. He usually hated when people were obvious, but right now he couldn't deny it was useful. Bez had his gang and the few stragglers, those with that stupid ridiculous thing called loyalty were probably going to be killed, Jim of course didn’t care. It was done. His work was done. Bez was onboard. Of course he was. Jim had just doubled his gang’s numbers for him.
And he had a cop in his pocket already. He hadn't expected that going in but it was a nice addition. Not a bad evening. Not a bad few days work at all as it happened.
“Oh and I’ll tell you how to get Chrissie out of the way in such a way it’ll never trace back to you, the kid’s custody’ll never be an issue. Just tell me, do you have any clue of what’s going on over in Lawrence lately?” he asked.
And one by one people started to talk.
People were so easy. Ordinary Ordinary Ordinary. But easy.