Dying Breed

Chapter 1: The Daily Routine On a cold October morning in Cincinnati, 1916, a man walked into a three-story shotgun building in Mt Adams. There was a slight, chilly mist in the air. The brick and stone infused building sits at the top of the hill overlooking the Ohio River with a stunning view of it and the towns of Covington and Newport. As well as the city of Cincinnati itself. The sign above oak double door reads ‘Clubhouse Café’. The man is John Rourke. He was average height, wearing zip up brown leather jacket, dark royal blue shirt, charcoal-colored pants, and laced brown boots. On his side he carried a .44 S&W New Century Revolver and tucked in his back, he carried a S&W Model 4 as a backup. He walked through the newly finished wooden door then flashed silver dollar to the cute blonde server. She smiled and winked then escorted him to the back of the bar where the door that leads to the second floor. She unlocked the door opened it for him and singled that he could go through. John tipped his hat and proceeded upstairs. Rourke worked for the Cincinnati Merchants Company, which is owned by a friend of his, Dave Wedley. He owns all 3 stories of the building. On the first floor is the café that hides the Company’s location. On the second floor is the actual Clubhouse of the Company. The third floor is nothing than basic spare rooms for the Company. This company distributed bounties collected from the Cincinnati area to pay the bills, though if you knew some of the men that worked here some of them just enjoyed the chase a bounty offered them. The Company also handles cold cases from the local areas of Cincinnati, Newport, and Covington. So, confidentiality is important to this place. John opened the door to find an empty room of wooded round tables and a billiards table sitting in the middle freshly brushed and cleaned. The walls were red and green striped wallpaper with B-board, small wood panels, going waist high to the floor. On the wall to his right was a giant corkboard, blank because the bounties hadn’t come in yet. He thought to himself, “Thank God... it’s going to be a slow day.” On the right wall was four towering windows and a door that lead you out to the ironworks balcony. At the far end there was a small ornate bar with a half stove and sink, and plenty of booze. Everything from local whiskey distilleries to imported scotch from Europe handpicked by Bruce. On the shelves were also a simple set of ceramic dishes. He could see the coffee pot steaming on the bar and a blonde headed, thinner man standing at the top of the bar hunched over it making a list. It was Bruce, not considered one of the Rangers but he manages the clubhouse that all the rangers use when they are in town. he would even arrange for sleep rooms for those that needed a night to crash . Bruce was wearing his somewhat usual attire, white dress shirt with textbook rolled sleeves, a black paisley vest with his derringer peeking out with a black ascot to match. His hair was perfectly cut and clean shaven. He moved in almost feminine fashion but with high confidence in himself. Bruce owned and operated a night life bar next door. it had been busted by local law several times for perversion though it wasn’t real perversion in John’s mind nor in Wedley’s mind. Men dressed as girls and the gay folk would go there to be social. It was very lowkey place until the local prohibitionist and bible thumpers found out about the place. John didn’t care for that world and didn’t agree with it but he appreciated the hustle. There was another man sitting at the closest table to the bar reading the morning paper. “Morning, Bruce!” John exclaimed as he entered and proceeded to the bar. Bruce gave a little wave and smile in return. “Alright, that’s too damn loud man, too much energy for a Monday morning” The man at the table says while sipping coffee with a slight chuckle. His name was Lucas Fletcher, he lives on the third floor of the building. He stands about 6 feet tall, gangly and pale. He also wore glasses and wore a beret. He wore a basic shirt and slacks, was not very stylish. He’s also a ranger that handles the science affairs, and he rarely collects a bounty, but his scientific/crafty mindset helps him collect the $50 weekly salary. He is some sort of genius almost to the point of mania. He had a medical background before being asked to step down from the practice due his experimental procedures, even though they were humane and successful. he was also a firefighter here in Cincinnati, he also holds the captain status in the company. John walked up to the bar and sat near him. This was his work station is many ways. He could do most of his work from home But to do his job he has to report into the boss every morning. John was captain of the cold case division thus had to choose some to solve for the week. “What’s up bub? How are you holding up?” he asked Bruce “I am fine, the businesses are doing great, but the burlesques can only be open for a limited time and we are only barely breaking even, the café will definitely go under if the prohibitionists get their way. But I am assuming this place will stay so it’ll be fine... what about you?” he asked back