Those idiots.
The reputation of your casino had plummeted, and it was all thanks to those goddamn idiots.
You wanted to scream at them, those few, tear into them for what they'd done, but that would get you no where. They're now your employees, according to D'arby, who're only here to work to pay off the debt they owe for the damage they caused.
There was eight, to be exact. Eight men you were itching to beat into oblivion, with naught but your fists (and maybe a crowbar or bat). They lined themselves against the wall, as though they were getting a mugshot for some heinous crime. From shortest to tallest, they all stood there and waited, stiff as dolls, as you flipped through the file on your desk and matched each one to their name.
The first you had the privilege to look at was the least troublesome of the group. Doppio Vinegar, a short, innocent looking individual, who's only reason to be there being his desire to help his friend get out of his debt. He should be easy to manage.
Diavolo, 'Solido Naso', was the friend in question, coincidentally the person standing to Doppio's left; He was responsible for breaking a number of slot machines, and causing injury to other visitors after going on a drunken rampage.
Diego Brando and Funny Valentine, both in for the same thing on two different accounts. While they'd both wasted money on horse races, Diego had bet more than what was in his wallet, and as for Valentine, he'd assaulted two other gamblers, one of which was disabled, after losing for the sixth time.
Kars... No last name. He was next and line, and from what you read from the provided information, he was a participant in some auction, and threw a tantrum when he didn't win. His fit cost a pool table, the injury of four patrons, and a door-- No, two doors.
Dio Brando. This one had attempted to poison a family member or two, and after drinking it, said family members thought it had something to do with the bar's wine, and filed a lawsuit. Thankfully, Dio was caught, and agreed to instead work here rather than have a police report filed and serve prison time. However, he didn't seem to be the most cooperative type, based on how he seemed to look down on you.
As for the others, Enrico Pucci and Yoshikage Kira, it was the same old case of a fight breaking out, with them being the sole instigators.
"Right as rain." You mumbled to yourself, shutting the file and pushing it off to the side. "Well, I feel as though you already know why you're here, and what you'll be doing for while, so let's skip all the boring stuff and get to the point."
There was no doubt in your mind that Daniel had already spilled to them about who you were, and quite possibly, how strict you can be. However right he might've been to warn them of you, he always likes to leave out a few things here and there, just so they may be surprised by you every now and again.
"As I'm sure you know, I'm (Y/n) (L/n), your manager, and the only person you'll be taking orders or instruction from besides the big man down the hall. As hostile as I may seem, I'm willing to be civil if you behave, so I'll start us off with something simple, no introductions. What is it you want to do?"
The room was silent. No one dared to be the first to speak, however, no one wanted to keep you waiting. Even as the tapping of your pen on the desk showed your growing impatience, there was still nothing.
"Need I to call on one of you like children in a classroom?" You snapped, only to bite your tongue... Right, patience is key. Be patient.
"...Fine then, I suppose that was a bit too broad. Could one of you start by telling me what you're experienced in?"
That seemed to coax an answer out of a few of them.
"Bartending."
"Cooking."
"Legal business."
The list would go on, some adding onto what they'd said before, others sticking with the single thing they mentioned before keeping quiet and waiting for everyone else to finish. It was a quick and painless process, your hand scrawling down each given point before you waved the rest off as meaningless.
A couple of the lot dragged it on for another handful of minutes, maybe trying to subtly compete with the other about their achievements, though it didn't matter much to you in the end. If Dio wanted to flex his attempt at trying to kill his brother to a man who dyed his hair while having a mental breakdown at three in the morning, then he can do that on his own time.
"If you all would please take a moment to follow me, I'd like to show you where your uniforms are, as well as the changing rooms and your living quarters."
It was never a far walk to the locker room right down the hall, nor was it ever an interesting one. You've had to walk that same route countless times, escorting persons of every kind who ended up working at the casino to pay what was due. However, this time, it seemed your new employees were not as boring as all those before them.
That isn't to say there was anything striking about them, neither did it mean that they'd done something to color you surprised on that short walk. There was merely a feeling in the air, the space that encompassed each shady individual following behind you, that made you shudder-- and not many were capable of doing that.
"In here, there are two walls of lockers, a few showers, and the basic bathroom necessities. You each will have your own uniform that can be found in separate lockers, which can only be accessed with the key I give you." You emphasis your point with a dangling key hanging from a coiled tie. "I won't be giving you any spares. Don't lose it."
It seemed almost random, the keys you swiftly threw at each person, though everyone knew you tossed each one with intention. Key four went to Kira, keys one and six went to Dio and Pucci, and so on. There were a few that had repeating numbers, Doppio and Diavolo both ending up with two different keys both labeled 'five', as did Valentine and Diego had with two keys labeled 'seven'.
"Is this some kind of joke?" Diego snapped, holding up his key and its double. "I'm not sharing a locker with that posh dumbass."
Valentines face wrinkled in disdain as he saw that Diego had gestured to him, "I beg your pardon, but who's the broke bastard that bit off more than he could chew?"
"Both of us, except I'm not a goddamn sociopath that beat up a disabled guy over a fucking horse!"
"Talk to me when you're over 5'5, short shit-- Making my goddamn neck hurt looking down at you this much."
Before Diego could retaliate, a sharp hiss was sucked through his teeth as his shoulder tensed up, his hand quickly flying to hold his upper arm-- Valentine practically mirroring him. A card could be seen sticking out from either of their shoulders, buried into their skin as though it was shot like a bullet.
"Are you two done? Or do I need to put you both in time-out?" You asked, almost genuinely, as you held open the door to the locker room. Everyone else had already left to get changed, not minding their key-mix-up even if they had one themselves.
Mumbling lowly to himself, Diego trudged into the room and went around looking for his locker, Valentine following right after him, sparing you a quick, passing glance before disappearing behind a wall of chipping concrete.
If those two had payed attention, then they would've realized you'd already explained the reason for the doubled keys, which was merely a manufacturing error you corrected by lazily adding a 'one' in front of the seven with a marker. So, technically, Diego had locker seventeen... Or was it Valentine that had gotten that key?
It wasn't quite obvious, as you didn't see which one Valentine was given back after Diegos little tantrum, but you didn't care too much. Rather, you were more invested in eavesdropping on the conversation happening beyond the changing door.
"...How long do you think we're all going to be here?" Kira was the first to speak, striking up some casual chatter to possibly ease the tension.
"With the damage I caused?" Kars laughed. "Years. You might get out in just one though, all you did was break some wine bottles on the other side of the bar."
"And the bar itself."
"Well... Suppose that's a factor too."
"Huh, years?" Dio repeated from the other side of the room, peeking through his neat locker. "With that bastard, I wouldn't survive a week."
Pucci was quick to shoot him a glare, "I suggest you don't bad mouth the person giving us an easy way out of our debts. Mister D'arby and Mx.(Y/n) could've cut off our arms instead, if that's what you'd prefer."
"...Pardon me for asking, but how much more time do you all need just to change clothes?" Your muffled voice could be heard just beyond the changing rooms door, Dio having half the mind to give you a piece of it.
"Jesus Christ! It's been ten fucking minutes-" No sooner had those words left his mouth did a playing card get stabbed into his forearm, another strip of curses fleeing from his mouth as his muscles tore and his veins were sliced.
"You will watch your mouth when you speak to me, Brando. Hurry up."
"Yes, Mx.." Pucci, as though he'd become a scapegoat, was once again at Dios aid, all while everyone else finished whatever was left to do before closing up their lockers again.
Red and white suits, that's an interesting color choice, isn't it? Kira, of course, doesn't much fancy the distasteful clash of colors, though respects that he has no say in it either way. That's the difference between him and the other idiots there. He knows when to show respect for someone, regardless of whether he likes them or not.
Take Kars, for example. Charming as he may be, he doesn't have enough respect for his manager to not press his ear against the door, and eavesdrop on the conversation that was taking place right outside. As interesting as it might've been based on the faces kars had made, Kira kept to himself, as any normal person who wanted a peaceful life might.
Diavolo struggled with his tie for a bit, Doppio put his pants on backward, Valentine went oddly quiet for a while, and Dio bitched about your attitude again. In the end, all was as it should've been, and each of the debtors filed out of the changing room and awaited their next instruction.
Some might begin to wonder why they don't just leave, being the all powerful people they were. It's not like they possessed weak stands, nor ones that couldn't get them out of their little situation... Rather, they simply couldn't bring them out.
It was as impossible as trying to thread yarn through a needle. Even though it's right there, and they try and try again to bring them through, all they could manage was to get little slivers to manifest right before giving up. A few of the bunch speculated it was your fault, others wondering if it was the casino itself. Whatever the answer was, it wasn't obvious.
The best thing to do at that point was to simply wait it out until there was a chance to act, though that begs the question, how long would they have to wait?