Made Man

Frantz Lorsoni

Character
Independent
Rank
Citizen

Character Profile
Link
OOC
Fine Dining Set
Joined
Sep 21, 2021
Messages
8
Reaction score
7
CORONET CITY, CORELLIA
Theme

chris-voy-hc1670-d4.jpg

Lieutenant Frantz Duo was celebrating his 29th birthday, alongside his shiny new commission. After three years in the Corellian Navy's Legal Corps, and over a decade in the Navy in general, he had slowly but surely climbed the ranks of legitimate society, reaching a height of status in the Navy that a younger boy would have dreamed of. For this reason, he was celebrating: He had taken leave to visit family on-world, and just so happened to bump into his old drinking buddies from when he was little more that a grunt that mopped the shiny decks of a Star Destroyer. Those louts had left the military years ago, around when Frantz himself graduated from Coronet University's School of Law. These sailors retuned to working the many polluted and choked ports with a new skillset of violence, thuggery, and actual ship maintenance that made them effective associates of Corellia's established families. Never made, though; they were outside the family. And those that were skilled enough to enter into the family had to navigate the arcane blood-quantum politics of Corellia's mafia: One needed proven Corellian descent, and in many cases, two fully-human parents to be considered the right pedigree. Of Frantz's old rough-and-tumble buddies, only one had made the cut: A nice kid from his neighborhood, Gio Falook.

Falook wasn't so nice now, at this crowded, dimly-light dive the boys found themselves in. He had a long scar that crosses his tan face, the last evidence of a nasty wound he had found. This scar was paired with a grim look of malice and a well-tailored suit. Gio talked less than Frantz had remembered - even as the drinks started flowing. They went drink-for-drink chugging the Coronet Standard, a roughshod boilermaker composed of a pint of Corellian ale and a shot of Corellian whiskey. Strong Corellian drinks for strong Corellian souls, as the saying goes. The Besalisk bartender handed them out four at a time, neatly lined up, as Frantz, Gio, and their companions continued to get drunker, rowdier, and boastful. Four or five (or was it six?) drinks in, Falook finally opened his mouth to talk to Frantz.


"You know, Fr-Fr-Fraaaaaaantz," He belched as he spoke Frantz's name. "I got a job with your family." The words shot chills down his spine; he knew that Gio did not mean "Duo" when he said "family." No, he was referring to his distant father's clan, the Lorsoni racketeers. Frantz had rare contact with his father, Piuseppi; his mother wanted to keep him away from the life, have him grow up and be a good boy. But his father's presence hung over him like a specter - and, despite his trepidation, Frantz hungered for a deeper relationship with his father's family. The rare contact they had made, in short lunches and shorter letters, had always been stilted. Piuseppi begrudgingly accepted the demands of his ex-wife: Frantz would not even bear his birth name, Lorsoni, in favor of his mother's maiden name.

The mere mention of his family made him recall his meetings with the clan as a boy. He had always attended family get togethers, then. He had always gotten on especially well with his rough-and-tumble cousins, wrestling the Lorsoni Brothers Tone and Beto constantly. The boys usually got the better of him, but Frantz was a fighter who wasn't afraid to get dirty. Playdates at the Lorsoni mansions would end with swollen bruises, black eyes, and huge smiles all around. As he got older, and his parents relationship became perpetually worse, he bounced around Coronet City with his mother. No matter what shack, slum, or hole they found themselves in, Frantz stared longingly across the polluted seas of Corellia, remembering the good life with the Lorsoni's that he almost had.

Gio snapped Frantz back to the present with another belch. "Says they used to know you, before you ran away from them." He punctuated his stifled words with jabs from his pudgy fingers into Frantz's ribcage. Frantz felt heat grow inside him, a deep anger, as Gio laughed at him. Another of the pair's companions turned towards them as Gio started a ruckus. She brushed a red lekku off her shoulder before starting. "What's Gio going on about, Frantz? He got a job with your mother or something?"

Frantz let out a laugh - tinny and fake - before responding. "Gio's just blowing hot air, same as always. That brutto. figlio. di. puttana. bastardo." He took a pause after each word of his chosen curse, for emphasis. "hasn't ever said anything worth listening to in his life. Hell, I bet his own mother threw him out the hospital for all his jabbering after he was born. Needs to learn to shut his mouth." The threat was implied, but they were drunk enough that it seemed like bluster that could be settled with a short brawl outside. And brawl they did, two drunks haphazardly throwing punches at each other outside the bar, before laughing it off, hugging each other, and walking home.

Gio didn't expect to see Frantz at his doorstep the next morning, clean cut and suited up, while nursing a hangover. Frantz had no smiles this morning, only a demand: "Take me to the Lorsonis."
 
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