Some Notes Regarding Some Things Related to Events in This Chapter:
This is a fictional work and Kid's actions are not intended as a model of good or appropriate behavior. He smokes, does drugs, and occasionally kills people for money. In short, he is a Very Bad Man. This author also smokes, does drugs, and will refrain from commenting on that last part, so that's not to say the reader should be a total square, but please be aware of the risks and consequences involved with these kinds of behaviors. For example, do not post about your crimes on the internet without taking appropriate precautions to protect your identity, the cops can read it too.
In addition, this author does not believe that people with gambling addictions deserve to be taken advantage of by highly predatory loan practices, or punished with extortion and violence as a result. Please treat individuals with addictions with kindness and respect, as addiction is not a character defect or a moral failing (of course, having an addiction does not excuse harming others). If you are struggling with addiction, or have a friend or family member who is, I encourage you to learn more and seek whatever level of support you're comfortable with from loving and tolerant places.
Ahem, and just to be clear, this author also does not advocate pursuing romantic interests at their place of employment or after they have expressed a lack of interest, even if that person seems like the greatest thing since sliced bread. That is sexual harassment.
Stay cool & be well, readers.
Kid wakes up the next morning with the sun already shining on his face through the half open blinds of the bedroom windows. He groans and stretches before rolling over and burying into the pillows, but when a few minutes pass and he's still not asleep he gives up and flops onto his back again. It's no surprise that he's alone, though Kid frowns at the empty room anyway. The apartment is quiet, so many floors up that the noise from the street doesn't reach it, unlike his own place.
He'd only slept over at the doc's place once before, and that time he had woken up to the smell of fresh coffee and the faint tapping of the doc's laptop keys. Today it's so quiet that he assumes the doc has already left for work, or whatever he gets up to during the day.
He leans over the edge of the bed and snags his jacket from where it's been crumpled on the floor since he dropped it last night, grabbing his phone to check the time since apparently owning a clock would mess up the doc's fancy minimalist interior decorating scheme.
It's only half past nine, but Killer has already left him two messages reminding him that Crocodile has called for a meeting tonight. Kid scowls, of course he remembers, Killer had only mentioned it twenty fucking times already, and sends back a message telling his second-in-command to pick him up. With that done, he rolls out of bed and shuffles into the bathroom to wash up a bit so he's not smelling like a one night stand for the ride home. He borrows the doc's toothbrush, figuring it's only fair since he had the guy's cock in his mouth a few hours ago, and hops in the shower for a quick scrub, then towels off and wanders out in the direction of the kitchen without bothering to get dressed.
He's not actually expecting to find anything in there, the doctor seems to subsist solely on coffee and the souls of innocent young men like himself and has no need for ordinary food, and he's looking more for something to do until Killer shows up. What he finds instead is much more interesting.
The doctor has not, in fact, left the building. Instead he's in the living room, laying on the couch in pj pants and a long-sleeved tee, with a book open on his chest, fast asleep. There's a mug of stone cold coffee on the table nearby, the doc must have been out for at least an hour or two.
Kid sidles up, silent as possible, and crouches down next to his head. The doctor looks surprisingly young, and vulnerable, with none of the sharpness that has defined all the months Kid had known him.
Kid watches, fighting the urge to touch because no doubt it would wake him up, and Kid doesn't want to ruin such a nice moment. And no doubt the doctor would be pissed off that someone, let alone Kid, caught him unaware for once, and that would be a shitty way to leave after what had been such a great night otherwise. So Kid just admires the dark curl of his eyelashes and the gentle rise and fall of his chest for a few minutes, until he realizes what he's doing is incredibly sappy and kind of weird.
He gets up reluctantly, still trying to stay quiet to avoid waking the doctor up, and goes back to the bedroom to put on his clothes from last night. When he checks his phone again Killer has already messaged him to say he's waiting downstairs. He must have spent longer than he thought watching the doctor sleep. That really wasn't like him, he wasn't normally a guy prone to disgusting bouts of voyeurism, but the doc seems to bring out the worst in him.
Kid gets stuck looking at him again on the way to the door despite his best efforts to leave without a trace. The doc really was beautiful, even more so when he was all relaxed and unguarded like this, though Kid wouldn't deny enjoying when he was awake and lacing every word with an extra dose of 'fuck you.'
To be fair, he'd been stuck on the doctor since the beginning. That first night the knife hadn't even come close to him, but the doc's eyes were so vicious, in stark contrast to his freezing cold words, it felt like Kid was being burned alive from three feet away.
He had no idea someone could do that to him, or why he'd actually fucking like it. Okay, actually he did have some idea why he liked it, he'd just never come across anyone else who had the perfect combination of utterly fearless disdain for him and a body he'd crawl through broken glass for that flipped the switch hidden inside his brain labeled 'holy shit be mine.' He hadn't even been able to see much of the doc's body at the time, covered up as it was in the white coat and jeans, but he just knew it would be long and lean, and those deft hands and inked fingers, and that gorgeous face with those goddamn eyes.
Fuck. How could he not fall for him.
Since then he had bordered on obsessed with getting the man's attention. He wanted all of it for himself, every glance and touch and syllable the doctor would give him, even if he wound up being spit out as a pile of bloody bones in the end.
Of course, the doc was hard to crack, which only got Kid more wrapped up in figuring out how to do it. Kid was not used to pursuing someone who so clearly disliked him from the start. His style was straightforward, he had no hesitation about making it known when he wanted someone, and if the object of his interest returned it then great, but if they didn't he wasn't interested in working for it. Plenty of fish in the sea, and all.
But the doc. The damn doc. Kid didn't think there was anyone like him. He couldn't begin to guess what made the doc the way he was, he still didn't know his damn name let alone his background. He could find out if he tried, but he didn't because the doc would probably never forgive him.
Thank god his efforts were being repaid, slow as it was. Otherwise he might have gone crazy by now.
The doctor had gone from barely tolerating Kid's presence (more like straight up not tolerating really, but since Kid ambushed him at the clinic he didn't have much of a choice), to taking delight in messing with him, and finally the holy grail: standing still long enough to let Kid touch him.
Even though the doc seemed to be warming up to him, Kid still had no idea what would set the guy off, or how he'd react to any given move. Anything revealed was a prize hard won.
He's no longer surprised by the bizarre strength of the feelings that rush up whenever he looks at the man; possessiveness, desire... affection even. Those were nothing new, he had gotten used to them weeks ago. By now even Killer knew how far he gone he was over the damn doctor. He might as well be a slab of beef hanging off a meat hook, waiting to be inspected, sold, and grilled up for the doc to eat. Or dissect. Kid's pretty sure the doc is into that kind of thing too.
Shit, and he's still staring. Fuck. If he stuck around any longer the doc was going to catch him, and he did not want to fuck things up again after last night. Which had been fantastic. Mind blowing, really. Kid was still processing it. Slowly. And in great detail. ...Fuck.
Finally tearing himself away, Kid gets out the door before putting on his shoes and taking the elevator down to street level.
Killer is waiting for him with the car outside, looking bored while a metermaid berates him for parking in a red zone. When Kid hops into the passenger seat he simply turns from the lecture without a word, and the flustered metermaid jumps out of the way as Killer shifts the car into drive and pulls into the street.
Killer takes him to his apartment first for a change of clothes, and then after Kid complains enough they go out to breakfast, where Kid eats enough eggs and grilled sausage to kill a man and Killer makes do with a muffin. Killer doesn't ask any questions about what happened after he dropped Kid off at the clinic last night, which Kid appreciates, even if he is itching to brag about how well it turned out. The result was easy enough to imagine, since he ended up at the doc's place and all. He didn't exactly need to fill Killer in on the details, the guy didn't talk much but Kid didn't doubt he absorbed everything left unsaid.
Two days ago was proof enough that Killer was paying attention, when he nabbed Kid's phone while Kid wasn't looking and took the liberty of inviting the prick over to their job. Kid wouldn't put it past Killer to have hit Rawls a little too hard just for that reason. Leave it to him to know how to knock a man cold without causing an unworkable amount of brain damage. Comparatively, he'd done a lot worse in the past for Kid's sake.
He hadn't said a word all week about Kid staying away from the clinic either, even though it was obvious as fuck he was avoiding the place. And he hadn't commented on the fact that the doc was listed in Kid's contacts as 'Hotcheeks'. But he definitely knew, and wasn't above using it against Kid for his own good. The fucker.
As annoying as it was having other people meddle around with his (and he hesitates to use the word) relationships, he has to admit Killer knows how to work around his stubbornness in all matters—love included—which he is fully aware of, and grudgingly thankful for. It was necessary for the times when otherwise Kid was left banging his head against a wall.
So instead of talking about the doc, they talk about work. Killer reminds him for the fiftieth time about the meeting tonight, and that opens the door for Kid to complain about what a hassle family meetings were. They always took all night, and little of it was relevant to their specific line of work. Kid was prone to skipping them entirely, but with the way Killer kept pestering him about this one it looked like that wasn't going to happen. Supposedly the Croc was making some important announcements, and all hands were being called to attend.
Being a capo had it's perks obviously, but being part of the family leadership came with a lot of shit that Kid would prefer to avoid. Give him some heads to break and he was a happy man, meetings and power games were really not his thing. Yet it had been weeks since Crocodile became the boss and promoted Daz Bones to underboss, all without appointing a third capo, so he and Marco were left picking up the slack. And it sucked. Marco was still having a shit over all of his men that landed in jail, which meant Kid was dealing with half of his shit on top of Bones' and was still expected to get his own work done.
Actually, it wouldn't be such a bad idea to bring that up at the meeting. That's what those things were for, right?
After breakfast is done Kid resists the temptation to go to the clinic and see the doctor's face; he wasn't about to press his luck for a second time. Who knows what kind of mood the doc would be in once he woke up and realized Kid saw him passed out flat on the couch, Kid wasn't exactly eager to find out in case it was not good. He's pretty sure it'd be not good.
He and Killer go to work instead. It's late enough that the city's degenerate gamblers will be hitting up Shanks' clubs for their lunchtime fix, so they head to one of those and set up camp in a corner of the bar. This is one of those jobs that was originally handled by Bones, but Kid has been taking over since the guy was promoted and now when anybody hits rock bottom they recognize him as the guy who will sell you a shovel.
When people approach their table, Kid is supposed to check their names against the list of those who owe money to the family, and then based on the numbers that some monkey runs through a spreadsheet, he either cuts them a deal or sends them packing with an unkind reminder that they better bring a payment next time they show their face in front of him. If they're lucky, Killer will hand them a stack of cash and they can go on their little merry way.
The unlucky ones are treated to some more... personal attention.
A few men wander over and Kid dutifully goes through the list.
"Johnson? You're already 10k in the hole, and you want more?"
Johnson nods, looking a bit green around the gills, "Er, two thousand should be enough... I've got a bet up on the race tomorrow..."
Kid raises a brow skeptically, but a glance at Killer's disapproving look reminds him that he's not here to question the shitty decisions these fuckheads make, just to quietly rake in their debts now and shake them down with interest later. He marks Johnson down for another 2k, and the man accepts the cash from Killer with a hasty 'thank-you-sir' and heads out the door with his friends.
Business is pretty slow, until half an hour later when Killer spots one of the unlucky ones, and catches Kid's attention with a nod over to the far wall. Kid turns around and scans the dim room, finding a balding man in a wrinkled suit and tie lurking around the edges of a blackjack game. He recognizes the face from the photos of top priority clients, those with outstanding debts and a history of disappearing whenever time comes to collect.
This particular customer probably thought it was safe to take a chance on the tables today without Daz Bones in the room. Even if the family was a little short-handed for the time being, pending a dozen or so federal trials, the Croc isn't one to neglect his investments anymore than Whitebeard was, and he might even be more forceful about making sure they're returned.
Kid flicks through his phone until he finds the guy's face, who turns out to be one Albert Crohnberg, total debt: $50,000. Also included is Mr. Crohnberg's home address (a nice little neighborhood in the suburbs up north, the last place Kid would ever want to be), the location of the Shop-n-Save where he works as a store manager, and his social security number, along with info on all his favorite vices—Albert was a downright pervert in addition to being a hopeless gambler, plenty in there to be ashamed of—plus the names and ages of his closest living relatives, his mistress, wife, and cute little son.
Everything somebody might need to make poor old Albert's life a living hell.
Kid grins at Killer and passes him the phone so he can take a look too, then gets up from their table and makes his way over to Crohnberg. Their mark is meandering in between card tables, probably trying to decide which game to join, when Kid grabs him by the elbow.
He leans down to speak right into the man's ear, all the better to scare him into coming along without a struggle, "Hey there Al, good to see ya. Why don't you join me in back and we can catch up?"
Albert stiffens in his grip and turns with a frown, ready to deny everything until he sees Kid's curving smile. Then his eyes widen, Kid can feel him shudder as he makes the connection between Kid's presence and his overdue loan, and he opens his mouth to start babbling excuses.
His words fall on deaf ears. Kid brusquely leads him away from the card tables, down a hall past the bathrooms, and into a break room. He waves away a pair of dealers chatting on their break, and sits Albert down in one of the free chairs once the room is empty.
Kid takes a seat as well, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, "So, Al. We've been worried about you, haven't seen you around for a while. Thought you might be trying to avoid us, yeah?"
Poor old Albert attempts to shrink back into his chair, making himself a small a target as possible, "N-no of course not. I was just, you know, how things are... with the economy..."
"Right, right. I totally understand. You're in a tough spot, and you wanna come here to blow off some steam. I get it. But you know, we ain't running a charity. You need something to show us that you're here in good faith, understand?"
Albert looks ready to puke up a hairball, and nods weakly.
"Alright, good. So, whatcha got for me?"
Albert mutters and sweats for a minute before he clears his throat and says something audible, "I can't... really, right now, it's just... sorry..."
"Hmmm? What'd you say?"
"I... don't have anything to give you... I'm sorry! Please, I just need a month, no three weeks! Then I swear-!"
Kid smirks, and sits back in his chair, "That's really not gonna work, Al. I'm afraid we're gonna have to get something today."
Albert almost chokes in his haste to reply, "I can't! I don't have anything! I swear I'll get your money!" He reaches out to Kid desperately, and Kid snatches his wrist, twisting his arm at an awkward angle until Albert is wincing and struggling to stay in his seat.
"Calm the fuck down you dumb sack of shit, we're gonna figure it out, alright? I'm sure you've got something worth a decent chunk of change that you've been sitting on, yeah? Let's just go and get it, and then in a month you can show us what else you've come up with."
At this point Albert seems like he's ready to break down and start sobbing, and Kid isn't sure everything he said got through to the guy, but he's not going to bother repeating himself. Instead he stands, and hauls Albert back up by his arm on his way out the door. Killer joins them as Kid waves goodbye to the bartender, and they all head out to the car, with Albert held firmly in between them both.
Kid throws the man into the back seat before getting in on the passenger side, and Killer slides into the driver's seat.
"You got the address?" Kid says, and Killer grunts affirmatively, turning out of the lot and heading north. Crohnberg whines and begs some more behind them until Kid yells at him to shut the fuck up, then he settles into wet sniffling.
Soon enough they're pulling up to Crohnberg's little nest of suburban bliss, parking behind a nice looking white Mercedes, and Kid has to reach in the car to drag him out onto the driveway. Albert looks like a mess, his suit has wrinkled even more and there's snot on his face. Kid sneers at him before marching him up to the front door, Killer following close behind. He had no sympathy for shitheads that got their families involved in their bullshit.
"Go ahead," Kid says, shoving Albert up to the door when he tries to drag his feet. Albert drops his keys twice trying to fumble them into the lock, Kid rolls his eyes and reaches around him to bang on the door with one fist.
A moment later, Mrs. Crohnberg answers the door. She's caught speechless from the sight of her sniveling husband, flanked by a huge grinning redhead and a stone-faced blond, and Kid doesn't give her a chance to regain her composure, pushing Albert inside first with a cheerful, "Good afternoon, ma'am. Sorry to bother you at home."
The wife finds her voice quickly enough, and she's shrill and loud, "What- What are you doing! What's going on?! Albert!" She follows them through the house ineffectually until Kid pushes Albert down into the sofa in the living room. Then she shrieks, "Get out! I'm calling the police!"
Kid smirks at her, "Nah, we won't be much trouble, just take a seat and I'll explain everything. Right, Al?"
"Sit down Margaret, it's alright," Albert manages to croak.
Margaret hesitates at that, and Kid stares her down until she obeys and goes over to sit stiffly next to her husband. Then he grins wide, pulling out his pack of cigarettes to casually light up, and Killer slips away wordlessly to search the house for valuables.
"So, Margaret," Kid starts after a few drags off his smoke, "Al has this problem you probably don't know about, and we're here to help him out. What happens is, Al likes to play cards, and when he loses he likes to borrow money, and when he borrows money he doesn't like to pay it back. Except this doesn't really work for us, so we're gonna take some of your shit for collateral, and when your husband gets the cash together maybe you can have it back. Or maybe we'll just sell it and call it interest, I dunno. Depends on him."
Margaret is looking pretty pale as she watches Kid's every move with wide eyes. Her husband doesn't seem ready to chime in either.
Kid sucks on his cigarette and blows a smooth stream of smoke towards the ceiling, "That pretty much sums it up. Though you might wanna consider ditching this guy, he's not gonna do you any good. He knew that trying to avoid this shit would bring it right back to you, and he did it anyway. You could probably do better."
At that moment Killer returns from upstairs, a nice sized jewelry box under one arm and a little kid in the other. He sets the kid down, just as Margaret sobs, "No!" and the brat runs over to his mother, who gathers him up in her arms.
Kid snickers, "We don't want your damn kid, lady. We'll just take the keys to that Mercedes out front. Oh yeah, are those rocks real?" He holds up his left hand and waggles the ring finger, and Margaret looks down at her wedding rings, then nods slowly. Kid steps closer and she twists them off and hands them over without a fuss. Smart lady.
"Keys?"
"...In the bowl by the door."
"Alright, thanks a lot. Think about that divorce, if you need a lawyer look up Freddy Gomez, he'll clean this guy out. See you next month, Al."
He and Killer leave Albert and his wife and kid on the sofa, backtracking through the house to the front door and scooping up the car keys out of a ceramic dish as they go.
By then it's almost 6 'o'clock, not enough time to get any more work done before they'd have to head to the damn meeting.
Kid twirls the keys around one finger, "See you back at the thing?" and Killer nods as he gets into his car. Kid hops into his new Mercedes and looks it over from the inside. It's got a tan leather interior with real wood detailing, and enough gas to get him to the other side of the city without making any stops. Oh, and heated seats. Not too bad. It would probably spend the next month sitting in a garage, waiting to get sold if poor Albert couldn't come up with a decent amount of cash in the meantime.
Once the wives got involved, these things usually went one of two ways. Either Margaret would help Albert do everything possible to repay his loan, maybe by pressing Granny Crohnberg to cough up some savings and taking out a second mortgage on their nice little 4 bed 3 bath, on the condition that Albert would start attending gamblers anonymous meetings.
Or Margaret would kick dear old Albert to the curb and leave him to wallow in his own filth.
Kid was hoping for the latter. It was a shame that Margaret ended up losing all her jewelry and her car in the first round. He almost regretted not spelling out every nasty detail of that bastard's affair and fucked up kinks, just to drive the last few nails into Albert's coffin, but they had to save some dirt this time in case Albert decided to act like a shit next month too. Getting the money back was more important than sending the guy to an early grave, for now anyway.
He really couldn't begin to explain how much he despised trash like Albert, or how much he enjoyed fucking with him. He didn't feel guilty for showing up out of the blue and turning his family's world upside down within an hour, Albert was the one who brought this on them. Nobody forced him to start borrowing money from the mob, and they didn't make any secret about what would happen to the shitheads who didn't return the cash on schedule. Crocodile wasn't going to forgive a loan just because the guy had a wife and kid who had nothing to do with any of this, yet were still paying a price as a result. That wasn't how it worked.
Kid's own dear old dad got deep into debt years ago and then disappeared. It was ancient history, and Kid didn't blame the loan brokers then or now, even if he still didn't know whether his dad skipped out or just ended up getting dumped off the number five pier with his head cut off. It amounted to the same thing, from Kid's point of view. He had nothing but disdain for the man, and for rest of the scum that went down the same path, leaving behind families to scrape up the pieces in their wake. It was pathetic.
Goddamn, and he still got all worked up and vindictive about this kind of thing. It was simpler when Daz Bones was still a capo and he didn't have to actually fork the cash over to the idiots before tracking them down to collect. Working both ends just made the whole thing seem that much more fucked up.
He was definitely going to complain about this shit at the meeting.
Eventually Kid arrives at the main headquarters, parking next to Killer's car in the lot. Wire and Heat are already there as well, and they greet him as he walks in, along with a few others hanging near the entrance. People are milling around in the front room and the meeting room further inside, and from the look of it pretty much everyone has shown up by now.
Kid goes back to the main room, where he finds Marco sitting at the table near the front. He takes the chair next to him, trading a nod with his fellow capo.
He spends a few more minutes watching the room fill up. There aren't many seats so most are left standing, though Killer snags a chair close by. Kid takes out his pack of cigs and offers it to Marco, who shakes his head. He shakes out one for himself and lights it. After taking a long drag he gives Marco a sidelong look.
"Any idea what this is about?" he asks, keeping his voice low.
Marco sighs, he's looking even sleepier than usual, "No clue. You?"
"Nope."
It's a closed meeting, exclusively for made family members, and only the second time that Crocodile required the entire family to show up. The first time had been the day after Whitebeard was killed, when Crocodile took over as the Boss, if that gave a clue to the weight this sort of meeting held. But strangely, Marco doesn't know anything more than he does. Whitebeard had been more open with his information, especially with Marco as his most trusted capo, so the man was probably feeling uncomfortable being left in the dark.
He's halfway through his second smoke when Daz Bones shows up. The change in the atmosphere is instant, all the conversation dies down and everyone falls in along the walls as the underboss makes his way silently to the front. Bones glances at Kid and Marco, but he doesn't take a seat with them, choosing to stand ominously at the end of the table instead.
As soon as he's in position, Crocodile appears. Kid straightens in his chair when the boss walks in. Crocodile's presence never fails to set a serious mood, every eye is on him as he crosses the room in smooth strides to take his place at the center of the table. Once seated, he plucks a cigar from his jacket pocket and sticks it between his teeth. Daz Bones immediately leans down and offers him a light, which Crocodile lazily accepts.
The crowd seems to be holding its breath as Crocodile gets settled. He takes his time, to the point where Kid is starting to get ticked off. He's been waiting for this shitty meeting all day, that damn Croc could hurry up and get on with it already so he could go home. Or maybe stop by the clinic and see what sort of mood the doc was in tonight.
Finally, Crocodile takes one last drag off his cigar and spills a thick cloud of smoke into the room before speaking.
"I've decided to promote a third capo. Robin, come up."
A woman breaks away from the group of people standing by the wall and moves to the front, stopping in front of Crocodile. He tilts his head towards the empty seat next to him, the one Kid would have assumed was for Daz Bones, but Daz remains still and Robin walks around the table to sit down. She looks familiar, pretty, in a severe way. Kid must have seen her around before, but he couldn't say what she did for the family.
Still, she sat at Crocodile's right hand like she was born to be there, and that took some spine.
Once she's seated, cool as ice under the eyes of everyone she just left on the other side of the table, Crocodile continues, "Robin will be taking over Daz Bones' previous position. If you have a problem with a client, go to her. I expect this will make things run more smoothly." He says this last part with a short look over to Marco and Kid, in a way that makes Kid bite back a scowl. Kid's pretty sure Crocodile couldn't have read his mind to know that he had wanted to complain about having to fill Daz Bones' shoes for the past few weeks, but now he got the feeling the old reptile was looking down on him. Prick.
He settles for glaring at Killer instead, who just gives him a tiny shrug. Kid smashes the butt of his cigarette into the glass ashtray waiting on the table.
Crocodile goes on, "In regards to those who remain incarcerated, they are being held without bail. The federal prosecutors are not making things easy for us, they believe they can disrupt our operations by detaining and intimidating a few of our men, which will not happen. There's no need for any of you to be involved, the lawyers will handle everything."
Marco shifts uneasily next to him, obviously not happy with Crocodile's dismissive manner of speaking about his men. Crocodile takes no notice.
"There is one final item of business tonight. I've made arrangements for our family to take part in a very lucrative deal with the Kaido group."
As soon as Crocodile mentions Kaido, the room fills with mutters of mixed uncertainty and displeasure. Marco goes absolutely still, and Kid doesn't know what to think. Everyone knew that Kaido was involved with some real nasty shit, even for their line of business, and for the most part it was better not to get involved. Kid doesn't really give a crap though, the 'very lucrative' part definitely caught his attention.
Crocodile gives the entire room a long cold stare until the chatter fades to silence before he continues.
"In essence, we will be coordinating a financial scheme several magnitudes greater than our typical operations. Daz Bones will be managing the details, I expect everyone to cooperate with whatever he requires."
More muttering starts, but it quiets down again quickly and no one seems willing to stand up and say anything in the face of Crocodile frowning severely around his cigar.
The Croc had been vague on purpose, giving nothing concrete at this point for someone to challenge. He was always slick like that. The whole plan would likely stay a mystery to everyone except himself and his underboss, anyone else involved would be told what they needed to know to do their part. Tonight's announcement was only greasing the gears, publicly giving the Boss' blessing to whatever Daz Bones did afterwards. That way people wouldn't ask so many questions when they were given orders, and if the deal with Kaido's group was a little sketchy (with Kaido's track record, it would be more than a little sketchy) no one would know enough to start shit over it.
Kid knows it's slippery dealing. He just doesn't care.
He didn't need to know the details of Crocodile's plans; if it works they'd make more money, and if it doesn't then Kid could take care of his own when things went to shit. Some people might think—to themselves of course, they wouldn't have the balls to say it out loud, let alone to his face—that he didn't understand what Crocodile was doing, or that he blindly followed the Boss, but he wasn't an idiot either.
As long as the work was good and the money came in, Kid did the job he was given without bothering to ask questions. If anybody underestimated him because he didn't make an effort to pry into business that didn't directly concern him and he wasn't interested in getting involved with any family drama, that was their problem.
Anyone who disagreed could get fucked.
Crocodile allows the silence to thicken until it's straight up uncomfortable. Almost everyone in the room is avoiding his gaze, except for the most hardened members, and Kid counts himself lucky to be on the other of the table where he didn't have to submit to a stare down with the old reptile. He's already holding back from fidgeting with impatience; it was one thing not to give a shit about these meetings, and a whole other thing to actually act like it right in front of the Boss, his crew, and the entire rest of the family. Still, if the Croc could get on with things any fucking day now, that'd be just peachy.
Finally, when Crocodile is fully satisfied that no one is about to speak up against him tonight, he pushes away from the table and stands, examining the collected family members one last time.
"If there's nothing else, then we're finished," he says, and without waiting for any replies he's already on his way across the room and out the door.
Daz Bones follows after one last glare around the room before anyone else really has a chance to react to the Boss' terse exit.
And with that, Kid assumes the meeting is completely done. The whole thing only took about half an hour, leaving plenty of time to do whatever he wanted with the rest of the night, starting with a quick trip over to the clinic to see how the doc was doing.
Fun Fact: As Kid mentioned, Killer has done some very bad things in the past for Kid's sake. For example, way back when Kid was a cute teenager just starting out as a soldier in Whitebeard's family, he got in deep with an older woman. This particular woman did not take Kid's feelings seriously, and started seeing other men without bothering to break things off with Kid. When Kid found out, he punched the guy he caught her with in the head, then spent two days getting trashed and regretting the last few months of his life.
Killer set her car on fire. While she was driving it.
SUPER SPECIAL SURPRISE -=BONUS FUN FACT=-
"Kid is supposed to check their names against the list of those who owe money to the family, and then based on the numbers that some monkey runs through a spreadsheet, he either cuts them a deal or sends them packing..."
Kid only briefly mentions someone who plays a very key role in the family: the spreadsheet monkey.
Like most members of the family, Kid does not understand the scope or the complexity of what the spreadsheet monkey does. While this lack of understanding guarantees that potential business rivals will have a nearly impossible time replicating Crocodile's secret for success, it also leads to the spreadsheet monkey being continually devalued and underestimated by the rest of the family. Do not be fooled, the spreadsheet monkey's tireless work behind the scenes is integral to the family's prosperity.
Actually, the spreadsheet monkey has a pair of degrees from MIT in business and economics, plus an MBA from Harvard Business School. Her name is Rosa. She is 29 years old, and started working for Whitebeard after graduate school about five years ago.
Rosa is very antisocial. While she excelled in academics, during her masters program she decided that instead of starting a legitimate career, she wanted to disappear from normal society and focus on research. The best way to stay off the grid is to find a steady source of untraceable cash and a way to forge her identity or not use it at all. Obviously she settled on getting involved with organized crime.
Now Rosa keeps track of all the loans for the family, and calculates how much risk they can take lending money to new and repeat clients. To do this, she runs statistical analysis on the historical trends and customer profiles, data which she has painstakingly compiled during her time working for the family. This is difficult and hazardous work, mostly because mobsters do not keep very good records. In fact, if Crocodile found out that she was collecting what amounted to detailed evidence of the family's criminal acts, he would probably have her killed.
However, after years of dedicated analysis and forecasting, she has developed a system that produces a 30% profit from the best estimates of when to loan a customer more money, when to give him another month to catch up on payments, or when to shake him down for everything he's worth. This level of success was previously unthinkable.
She's very proud of her system, so proud that she's written a full doctoral thesis on the fascinating workings of the underground debt market. Unfortunately, she has no idea how to publish it without getting either arrested or killed, so she has made arrangements for all of her notes, data, analysis, and completed thesis to be sent to every major academic institution in the event of her death.
