New City New Start
5 Months Later (August 2241)
I hit him! I couldn't even believe it myself, but I most definitely held it together. Johnny Double Ds in the blue hat fell to the ground and I saw the result on the wall behind him. Angel Eyes and I got down and waited for a blind burst of automatic fire in our direction. When that didn't happen, the mercenary looked through the binoculars to see what was up.
Angel Eyes chuckled and said, "Guess those guns with him lost their meal ticket! Hahaha!"
Angel Eyes handed me the binoculars and I saw what he was talking about. The mercenaries watched their employer splatter all over the wall and then casually walked away with the man's briefcase. Angel Eyes thought we'd have to fight the hired protection, but I was only glad that I hit the guy. At almost 300 yards away, I hit the target without a scope!... I guess the loyalty of the mercenaries was why Mr. Double Ds was seeking Salvatore protection.
Angel Eyes was a different person all the way back to the Shark Club and I walked past Vincent giving him a wink and a thumbs up. I was in, Tuco was ecstatic, and I was employed by the Bishops immediately. Tuco personally walked me to the reception desk and got me a room key. I had earned almost instant acceptance with this gang and finally felt like I'd made it. I didn't know what my life in the Bishops had in store for me, but that night I was celebrating. I felt like I survived the past two months of total bullshit just to end up made in New Reno. All I had to do was… Kill a stranger just trying to sell a product to tourists under a reasonable protection fee from one of the New Reno Families… (He probably deserved it in one way or another)
Anyway, I woke up in my hotel room on the 7th floor of the Shark Club and later got to have a brief interview with the one and only "Mr. John Bishop." The event wasn't much; the dapper old man met all his employees when they get hired on and I was no exception. He initially noticed my darker complexion and looked at me like I was beneath him, asking the goons what a "Stinking Brown Spear Chucker" was doing in his suite. But, Tuco and some other thugs said what I did, and he changed tunes, thanking me for offing that, "Wannabe Salvatore Scum Fuck" and I was happy to oblige. I shook the guy's hand and he went on about his own business while Vincent the thug led me to the Bishops' personal tailor on the 6th floor. Standing in a nearly untouched prewar room, I was surrounded by cloth strewn in measurement marks while a hunchback mustachioed man sized me for a pristine sky-blue suit. When that was over, I was given a cut from that kill by Tuco and was 500 bucks richer. It was hard to believe that hardly three months prior I was squatting at the gates of Klamath.
While my pair of suits was being made, I spent the next couple days shadowing some of the thugs. I ended up spending most of that time with the giant thug who tried to get me killed named Vincent. He gave me a tour of the casino and gave me the rundown of everything the typical Bishop thug tends to do on a daily basis.
The thugs work a ten-hour shift and the jobs could vary based on the day. I got to observe some of the standard daily jobs and got the gist of all they entailed. After a couple days, I found my clean pressed suits laying on my bed when I got off. That next morning, I put on the clothes and felt like a brand-new person. I patted the shoulders of the extravagant attire, threw on some shades, lowered my white fedora, rolled my shoulders back, and met with Vincent for my first day as an official Bishop thug.
Most of the jobs were the same. If I wasn't standing menacingly by the entrance with the other thugs, I was joined by another to watch over a shop or dealer on the street. Mr. Bishop's thugs had the primary duty of standing and looking mean (Something that my ignorant and easily awed face struggled with at first). The days were fairly slow, but early on I was excited.
I especially enjoyed being part of the entrance crew. It certainly was something else to lean on a turnstile, chew on a toothpick, and frown while flipping a coin as the flow of tourists passed (in very stereotypical scumbag fashion). The whole shift would go by steadily and we'd occasionally have to cuss out a tourist or throw a drunk down an alley. When the shift was over, a new crew would take our spot and we would have the rest of the night or day to do whatever we wanted. At first, when I got off work, I just headed to my room after getting a bite to eat and maybe a drink or two. I simply enjoyed life for the first time ever. 12 years of isolation with my family, and almost 6 years of simply trying to survive were finally paying off.
Standing and looking tough was a big part of the daily job but not the whole thing. At first, I was just assigned to the guard crews and casino patrols, but after a few weeks I was given different tasks. Sometimes, the Bishops needed to rough people up. I was no giant like Vincent or most of the other thugs, but I had my own unique role in those instances. Occasionally, the Bishops wanted to deal with someone in a more diplomatic way and that's when I was called up. I'm 5ft 8in, fairly muscular from years of survival, and unlike the typical hulking thugs: I'm "relatable." When somebody wronged the Bishops, I was sent to "convince" them to make amends. People who see nearly 7ft muscle freaks with machineguns and identical suits walking towards them in an alley tend to run away in fear. When they see a little man like myself approach with two giants in tail, they usually feel that "conversation" is at least an option. Every now and then, things did heat up, and I learned just how painful repeatedly punching someone can be for your wrist and knuckles. My rough beatings got worse if the victim got any blood on my blazer. The best part of those instances was the fact that nobody fought back. When they saw the goons standing behind me, they knew what I was doing to them was the "easy way." When all was done, we would walk back to the Shark Club with everything that was owed. I swear, there aren't many feelings better than parting a crowded street in a suave suit with towering thugs to your left and right. (I will admit those days got to my head a bit)
Bishop's goons never left the Shark Club grounds alone in uniform. However, there were times when I was sent out on a task alone. Some tasks required Bishop operatives to approach a situation more incognito, and I would have to change back into some wastelander rags. It took some time to get used to the stiff pristine suit, but eventually it got to the point where anything else just seemed foreign. Anyhow, I had a few jobs where I had to pick up a drop-off around town or discreetly collect something from a shopkeeper. Usually those jobs involved looting a designated trashcan on the outskirts of town or passing a message to a spy in other family territory.
On the patrols through the tourist parts of town, crews of Bishop's men were allowed to proceed uninterrupted. There was an agreement between the families allowing the thugs free patrol of 2nd Street to Virgin Street for the purposes of Family business or security. A mutual peace was upheld, but passing Mordino's or Salvatore's men made me uneasy and angry. The families all agreed that the main spots of town couldn't be a constant brawl between rival gang members. Tourism would be severely impacted if gangs were always fighting in the street, and that wasn't good for anyone. However, there were disputes between thugs of different families and some parts of town were off limits or free-for-alls to other families. For example: anyone south of the Reno Archway or near the vacant lot was fair game and the sight of many brawls… Like the one that knocked me out.
Families knew to stay out of each other's territories. I couldn't walk into the Desperado Casino wearing a blue suit or I'd be shot almost instantly. The "Tourist Trap" between The Desperado and Shark Club had plenty of shops and places of interest that were typically under protection by us or the Mordinos. That place called, "The Golden Globes" turned out to be a pornographic studio under Mordinos protection and the "Jungle Gym" was a boxing gym and arena owned by us. The Bishops and the Mordinos essentially dominated the tourist part of New Reno while the other families had their own neighborhoods. Even though "Salvatore's Bar" was across the street from us, the Salvatores dominated everything to the west, including Commercial Row. Then there were the Wrights; they owned the east side of town and everything to the rail yard. I frequently visited the Commercial Row, but every time I did, I made absolutely sure I wasn't wearing anything that said I belonged to Mr. Bishop.
After my first couple weeks, I had been around town spending my pay on whatever came to mind, but since I spent most days in my room, I had a lot saved. That hit job on the chem pusher gave me more cash than I had since finding the slaver corpses in Klamath. One day, I bought some new clothes from a place in Commercial Row and suddenly got an idea. Tuco had just left a few days before to link up with his gang in the wastes, so I thought, "I have to thank Sophia for getting me where I am."
I hit the streets and walked past the Reno Archway entering the Cat's Paw. I briefly considered showing off to her in my snazzy suit, but I'd probably get jumped in front of the brothel again (I didn't want to end up in her company that way again). Entering the candle lit velvet lobby of the brothel, I saw the famous Miss Kitty. She remembered me and asked if I was there for business or pleasure (I think business meant that she wanted to make me a Gigolo) so I said, "Pleasure." I said that I wanted to see Sophia and she buzzed an intercom to her room. Not long after, I saw her again.
She was just as beautiful as when I saw her the first time in a Jet withdrawing panic. She remembered me instantly and was delighted to see me. I was just surprised she remembered me at all considering all the clientele she'd seen in the weeks since I last saw her (I suppose the passed out guy who inhabited her bed for nearly three days was something to remember). Anyway, she walked me to her room, and we talked for a little while. She got word about me from her brother a few days after my initiation and said she was waiting to see when I'd stop bye. I told her about the introduction with her brother and the morbid prank Vincent pulled on me. It was really easy to talk to her.
Finally, our conversation reached the question of why I was there. I pulled out a bag full of cash from my hit on Johnny Double Ds and gave it to her in appreciation for taking care of me. 500 dollars could buy a few days of "comfort" in the Cat's Paw, or one unique fantasy. Instead, I ended up purchasing a lot more than that. Sophia and I celebrated in that room with a couple hits of Jet and a bottle of whiskey. I had the next day off anyway, so I decided to let loose a little. Things went fuzzy and I woke up the next morning on a bench in a strange building with a passed-out priest looking man drooling on my right shoulder and Sophia on my left.
We were in "The Drunk Cupid Chapel." It was a church in Commercial Row that I walked by fairly often. I heard stories that the owner, "Father Tully" was an unbelievable drunk, and based on the empty bottles surrounding us in the pews, I believed it. I noticed a cheap brass ring on my finger and the identical one on Sophia's hand.
The picture painted itself. I got really drunk and high with Tuco's sister and partied the night away with an alcoholic priest who married us. Sophia gradually stirred awake and took in the scene. She looked at me and then at the unconscious priest drooling on my shoulder.
She wiped the sleep from her eyes and asked simply, "We married now?"
I nodded through the pounding headache and she said sleepily, "Wow… Okay."
That was how I got married to a New Reno prostitute.