Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-26104528-20150531022109/@comment-26130256-20150716221333

"Depends which sort of crazy you're talking," Azulius explained, tossing an Ursa into his mouth. "We've dealt with some nuts before, but it's a different sort of crazy."

"The way I think of it, everyone's got their priorities in life.  The reason most folks get into crime is that their priority of money, or recognition, or revenge outweighs their priority of being a good person.  When money is a person's reason for working, but not as important as their own life, you can turn that in your favor.  Bribe 'em to help you, if you can convince them that it's the best course of action.  Or if you cause enough damage in a fight or a hit, you can scare them into deserting, because their life is too valuable to risk in a mess like that.  No one's boldly sacrificing themselves in the Mob unless they're extremely loyal to their bosses."

"A cult like the Black Dawn, or any big ideological group, places their cause above everything, including life.  So they don't mind suicide bombings or other dirty tricks, because they're giving up a lesser cause for a greater one, in their minds.  As you can guess, the family rather prefers fighting more pragmatic sorts."

"It's like the old saying goes:  The greatest fighter in the world ain't afraid of the second best, but the worst, because no one knows what that idiot will do."

=
(Speaking of great fighters...)

Back at Flagg, "Director Trigo Cardiffson" had just finished a vigorous sparring session with some of the younger Eliminators-in-training. All four of them now lay on the ground in various positions, trying to hide the pain. Their Auras would soon heal the physical trauma, but the mental scars of facing "The Tornado" unprepared would linger for a while yet.

"Now remember what I was demonstrating about fighting small groups.  Stun attack the lesser priorities, so you can focus on the serious threats.  Better to end one foe than damage several.  Use their numbers against them.  And above all, don't let them see you struggle.  Remember these things, and you will prosper." With those parting words, Trigo took a swig from his new flask, bowed deeply, holstered his shotguns, and walked out of the arena, ignoring any shocked stares from passerby.

"Children these days," the enforcer complained to Ochre, taking a seat next his father. "They know plenty about fighting in arenas and tournaments, but where's the improvisation?  Whatever happened to grabbing your friends and just having a pick-up match of violence?"

"It's lamentable, yes," Ochre agreed, lighting another foot-long cigar. "But perhaps when you come here for your board meetings, you can teach the younger generation some of the tricks you've picked up over your years of... improvising." The Don laughed as his Scroll relayed Fritz's message. "Well, it looks like our evening film has arrived.  Shall we message Mr. Flagg and see if he wishes to watch it?"