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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"I am ready, Don McLaughlin," Mary-Beth replied, her eyes flashing with thrilling excitement. Together, with the Underboss, the enforcer, and the captain falling into step behind them, Caleb and Mary-Beth walked toward the grand marble staircase, ready to step out into the light and formally show the entire state of Lemoyne exactly who owned their world.
Antonio, possessing a flawless understanding of dramatic timing and ceremonial protocol, seamlessly broke away from the shadows of the second floor corridor.
The immaculate head butler descended the first few steps of the grand, sweeping marble staircase and raised his hands, signaling the liveried footmen stationed around the perimeter of the foyer.
Instantly, the footmen struck heavy brass chimes. The resonant, clear notes cut through the chaotic, buzzing din of the massive party, echoing off the high, frescoed ceilings.
Out in the meticulously landscaped back gardens, the twenty piece classical orchestra immediately caught the signal. The lively, sophisticated waltz they had been playing seamlessly transitioned into a slow, commanding, and triumphant march.
The hundreds of guests, from the scarred mafia enforcers drinking bourbon to the wealthy plantation owners sipping imported champagne, fell entirely silent. The sheer, palpable tension in the air skyrocketed as every single face in the sprawling mansion and the adjoining gardens turned toward the grand double staircase.
Antonio stood tall on the landing, projecting his cultured voice so that it reached the very back of the canvas marquees.
"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, and honored members of the family," Antonio announced, his words carrying the absolute, undeniable weight of history being made. "It is my profound privilege to announce that the new Don, and the Madam of the family, are now gracing us all with their presence."
As the words hung in the humid, floral scented air, Caleb Thorne and Mary-Beth stepped out from the shadowed corridor and into the brilliant, golden light of the massive crystal chandeliers.
Down in the center of the marble foyer, standing near a towering display of white orchids, Mayor Henri Lemieux and Chief of Police Leclerc turned around to look up at the landing. Both men were the absolute pinnacle of legitimate power in Saint Denis, corrupt to their very marrow, and entirely accustomed to dealing with the violent underbelly of the city.
But when they saw Caleb standing at the top of the stairs, both the Mayor and the Chief were profoundly, visibly surprised. The color drained slightly from Mayor Lemieux's perpetually flushed, sweating face, and Chief Leclerc's hand tightened instinctively around the stem of his champagne coupe.
They simply hadn't expected it. They hadn't expected that it was the notorious, lethal bounty hunter 'McLaughlin' who had orchestrated this massive, city wide coup and become the new Don.
Lemieux leaned close to the Chief of Police, pulling a silk handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his sweating brow. He whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of terror and dark awe. "My god, Leclerc... it's him. The bounty hunter."
"Looks like Angelo Bronte invited a wolf in sheep's clothing right through his own front doors," Leclerc muttered back, his eyes narrowed as he assessed the heavily armed, towering men flanking the new king. "And the arrogant fool didn't realize it until it was entirely too late."
The two corrupt officials exchanged a long, deeply unsettled look. They had, of course, gotten the intelligence reports over the past few weeks. They had heard the whispers of how Caleb had first risen fast through the ranks of the Italian mafia. They knew that Bronte had liked how brutally efficient the man was at solving problems.
They had watched in stunned silence when Caleb was suddenly elevated, becoming the new Underboss and abruptly replacing Guido Martelli, a terrifying man who had served Bronte faithfully for years, only to vanish into the bloody ether of the underworld.
And now, the wolf had finally showed its true colors. The bounty hunter hadn't just joined the mob, he had hollowed it out from the inside and worn its skin.
"And Bronte?" Mayor Lemieux whispered, his eyes darting nervously around the heavily guarded room, half expecting the old Italian don to jump out from behind a curtain. "Where is he? Dead?"
"God knows where Bronte is after the coup," Leclerc replied grimly, keeping his voice strictly between the two of them. "There's talk on the streets... whispers among the patrolmen. They say he is still alive. Only, he was dragged down into the dark and put into captivity. Locked in a cellar like an animal while his empire is carved up upstairs."
The thought of the once untouchable Angelo Bronte rotting in a cage sent a shiver down the Mayor's spine. If Caleb could do that to the most powerful crime boss in the South without batting an eye, the politicians knew they had to bend the knee instantly, or face a similar, horrifying fate.
Meanwhile, scattered throughout the opulent foyer and the back gardens, a completely different kind of political scheming was violently unraveling.
The single high society ladies of Saint Denis, ambitious debutantes, wealthy widows, and ruthless social climbers wrapped in expensive silk, had all come to the banquet with a very specific, highly calculated agenda.
They had wanted to use this massive celebration as a chance to get closer to the mysterious new Don. A new, unmarried king meant a vacant throne, and they had all arrived eager to catch his eye, to seduce him, and to climb up the ladder of power to become the mistress of the city's wealth.
But they were absolutely shocked, stopped dead in their tracks, when they heard Antonio announce that there was a 'Madam' already standing beside the Don.
When they looked up at the top of the sweeping staircase, their ambitious plans were instantly burned to ash. When they saw how breathtakingly beautiful Mary-Beth was, their jaws practically dropped.
She wasn't just pretty, she possessed an ethereal, radiant elegance that completely eclipsed every other woman in the room, and how elegant and beautiful her dress was!
The bespoke, emerald green velvet gown with the black Chantilly lace overlay from De Coursey's atelier fit her like a second skin, projecting an aura of dark, untouchable royalty. The glittering emerald choker around her neck caught the chandelier light, blinding the envious onlookers.
All of them immediately began to murmur behind their painted silk fans, whispering frantically to one another, asking who she is and how could she stand beside the Don so suddenly.
"Where did she come from?" hissed a wealthy shipping magnate's daughter, her face flushed with pure, unadulterated jealousy. "She wasn't at the Mayor's ball last month. I've never seen her before in my life!"
The shock was so profound because these women had done their homework. They had spent the entire morning bribing estate guards, slipping cash to maids, and asking around their corrupt social circles to find out the new Don's weaknesses.
They had discovered that the terrifying bounty hunter McLaughlin, who had become the new Don, was an ascetic predator. He never had any ladies around him. He completely refused to allow any high class working girls or saloon madams to seduce their way into his bed in exchange for some money or favors. He was famously solitary.
So now, the sudden, undeniable presence of a woman, a woman he was formally declaring as his equal, thwarted all of their meticulously crafted plans.
Caleb and Mary-Beth began to walk down the grand marble stairs. They moved in perfect, synchronized harmony.
Caleb, looking like an absolute titan of corporate power in his midnight-blue tuxedo, kept his hand resting gently over Mary-Beth's gloved hand as she gripped his arm. Vincenzo, the new Underboss, and Silvio, the giant personal enforcer, followed two steps behind them, their cold eyes scanning the crowd for any sudden movements.
The sea of guests practically parted for them as they reached the bottom of the staircase, stepping onto the polished marble floor of the foyer. The sheer, overwhelming aura of Caleb's max level Leadership and Persuasion skills washed over the room, forcing the crowd into absolute, terrified submission.
Mayor Henri Lemieux and Chief of Police Leclerc, knowing they had to establish a working relationship immediately to protect their own corrupt interests, pushed their way to the front of the crowd. They were the first ones who greeted him.
"Don McLaughlin!" Mayor Lemieux cheered, plastering a wide, sweating smile across his face as he offered a slightly trembling hand. "Welcome, welcome! And congratulations on your new... enterprises. The city of Saint Denis looks forward to a highly prosperous relationship with your administration."
Chief Leclerc nodded stiffly, offering his own hand. "Indeed. The streets are already feeling the steadying influence of your leadership, Don."
Caleb returned their greetings, his handshake firm, crushing, and brief. He looked at the two corrupt officials with a cold, knowing smile that clearly communicated he owned them body and soul. "Mayor Lemieux. Chief Leclerc. I appreciate your swift attendance. Stability is good for business, and I assure you, business is going to thrive."
Caleb then smoothly shifted his posture, pulling Mary-Beth slightly forward to introduce Mary-Beth to them.
Saying, his voice carrying clearly to the eavesdropping crowd, "Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my lady, and the Madam of this family. Miss Alice McFarlane."
Mary-Beth did not flinch under the intense, calculating stares of the most powerful politicians in the state. She channeled the fabricated aristocratic persona flawlessly. She offered them a slow, graceful nod, the emeralds at her throat catching the light.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mayor, Chief," Mary-Beth greeted them, her voice perfectly pitched, polite, cultured, but carrying an underlying steel that demanded respect.
To which both men, deeply intimidated by her poise and the terrifying man standing beside her, quickly returned the greeting, bowing over her gloved hand with exaggerated courtesy. "The pleasure is entirely ours, Madam McFarlane," Lemieux stuttered.
With the political pleasantries concluded, Caleb and Mary-Beth went to mingle with the vast guest party. They moved out of the foyer and stepped through the massive glass doors into the humid, vibrant atmosphere of the back gardens. The classical orchestra swelled, providing a lively soundtrack to the high stakes social navigation.
As they walked across the manicured lawns, moving beneath the white canvas marquees, many of the guests, of course, went to pay respect to the new Don. Capos with scarred knuckles and tailored suits bowed their heads, swearing their undying loyalty to Caleb.
Wealthy merchants and factory owners offered him cigars and stuttered out promises of increased protection payments. They were all absolutely terrified, desperate to curry favor because they were deeply afraid to become the next in line for the Don's target. They had seen what happened to Angelo Bronte, and none of them wanted to end up in the dark.
Meanwhile, as Caleb expertly handled the brutal business of mob politics, Mary-Beth found herself separated by a few paces. The high society ladies, single or not, saw their opportunity and circled her like a pack of perfumed vultures, their painted smiles hiding venomous fangs.
But Mary-Beth completely managed to stand on her own facing the high society ladies.
"Madam McFarlane, is it?" a haughty, older widow sneered lightly, snapping her lace fan open. "Such a lovely dress. Though I must confess, I don't believe I've ever heard of the McFarlane family in the Saint Denis social registers. From where did the Don import you, my dear?"
Mary-Beth did not wither. She engaged her brilliant mind, the survival instincts of a Van der Linde outlaw kicking in seamlessly. She looked down at the widow, her dark eyes flashing with a cold, terrifying amusement.
"We do not bother with city registers, Mrs. Wentworth," Mary-Beth replied, her voice ringing clear and authoritative, showcasing that she had a huge backbone. "My family owns the western plains of Texas. We measure our wealth in horizons, not cobblestones. The Don and I met in Blackwater, far away from the smog and the petty gossip of this city."
She took a slow sip of her champagne, her gaze sweeping over the gathered, scheming women, showing that she wasn't afraid of them in the slightest. "And I would advise you to remember that the air in this city has changed. The Don values loyalty above all else. I would hate for any... misunderstandings... to reach his ears."
The veiled threat hung heavily in the humid air. The society ladies paled, their fake smiles freezing on their faces. They realized instantly that this woman was not a fragile, naive doll they could bully. She was the Madam. She held the ear of the most dangerous man alive, and after all, if they caused any trouble to her, they knew their lives would be absolutely miserable.
The Don would bankrupt their families or worse without a second thought. The pack of vultures quickly scattered, murmuring frantic, terrified apologies as they retreated back to the safety of the buffet tables.
Then, after nearly two hours of intense, highly successful mingling, the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long, golden shadows across the garden. It was time for the main event.
Caleb excused himself from a conversation with a terrified shipping magnate and went to stand on the raised, marble-tiled backyard porch.
He didn't need to shout. Silvio simply stepped forward and slammed the butt of his heavy repeating shotgun against the stone tiles twice. The loud, sharp CRACK CRACK cut through the waltz, the laughter, and the clinking glasses. The orchestra immediately ceased playing.
With everyone's absolute attention fixed solely on him, Caleb stood tall, looking out over the sea of wealth, corruption, and violence that he now completely controlled.
He let out a deep, resonant voice easily reaching the back of the garden. "Friends, partners, and brothers of the family," Caleb began, resting his hands casually on the stone balustrade. "I thank you all for joining me today. I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed the party, the food, and the hospitality of this estate."
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Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 8/10
- Agility: 8/10
- Perception: 9/10
- Stamina: 8/10
- Charm: 8/10
- Luck: 9/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl MAX)
- Rifle (Lvl MAX)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl MAX)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl MAX)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Dead Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Bow (Lvl MAX)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl MAX)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl MAX)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl MAX)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 100x100x100)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl MAX)
- Leadership (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,322 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 282,992 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 74 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 1 land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Braithwaites Land Deed, 1 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, 1 Senator Pendleton Sealed Envelope, Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co., 10 Dynamites, 1 LeMat, 1 M1899, 1 Carcano, 1 Ownership deed of Doyle's Tavern, 3 Diamonds, & Important Documents & Deeds Of Cornwall
Bank: -