LogFAQs > #923170787

C) Ask the gang leader for tips on getting through to the employees.

As the safety meeting devolves further into gun violence and drug use, you quietly sneak out of the room. You have a feeling that nothing you said to those guys is going to stick. Gang life is synonymous with danger, and they refuse to acknowledge that it doesn't have to be. You wish there was a way to get through to them... and you think you might know who could do it.

Flynn Floris is the leader of the Floris crime family. He understands that passion and intimidation are essential to any gang operation, but it is no substitute for levelheadedness. He built this empire from the ground up, starting with barely a pistol to his person. Flynn was careful, he was calculating, but above all else he developed a substantial benefits package for his current and former employees. Growing up, you never would have thought you'd hold so much admiration for a gang leader, but when a gang leader holds himself to the same ideals you do, it's hard not to. He referred to hiring you as a "match made in heaven."

You step into the elevator to the second floor of the warehouse, which Flynn has outfitted into a penthouse suite of sorts. As you step out of the elevator, you greet the familiar sights of exotic fishtanks, white leather couches, and kilos upon kilos of narcotics. However, not all the sights are familiar. Sitting behind Flynn's marble desk is a man that looks to be in his late sixties. Flynn couldn't have been a day over 45. Perhaps this is his father, filling in for Flynn while he's out of town?

"Hello there," the old man greets you.
"Hi. I'm looking for Flynn, is he around?" you ask him.
"Fraid not," he answers gruffly. "I killed him about two weeks ago. Walked into this office when he wasn't here, then hid in that closet behind me for hours. When he finally came back and sat down in this chair, I popped out and strangled him to death with a rope."
"Flynn's dead?" you ask somberly before whispering, "We told ourselves we'd learn SQL together."
"No time for that now," the man shrugs. "I'm Flynn's uncle, Horace."
"Horace Floris?"
"Don't you dare laugh at me, boy," Horace threatens.
"I wasn't planning on it. You just killed my boss. Your own nephew, I might add" you say.
"Oh come off it now," he scolds you. "He was going to be the death of this organization. He was leading us down a bad path. Plus, how do you think he got put in charge, anyway?"
"He told me he built this organization from the ground up," you reply.
"That's a load of rubbish, boy. It's a nice story, but it ain't the truth. He killed his cousin Abe to get the gig. And Abe killed someone else, who had killed some other Floris before that, and so on," Horace explains his dark family history.
"So who really started it all?" you wonder aloud.
"Who knows?" Horace puts his feet up on the marble. "What's done is done. All that matters is the now. Which brings me to you. Why have you come up here?"

You take a deep breath. "Well, a lot of the gang members aren't paying attention to the safety presentation I was giving. They haven't been following any of the safety guidelines in the Code of Conduct either."
"Are you snitching, boy?" the old man growls.
"No, no! Of course not." you quickly try to dissuade any rumors of snitching to the hardened murderer sitting in your late friend's seat. "I was just looking for pointers on how to get through to them. These rules are important, after all."
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.