Hyatt Plaza was no St. Regis or the Ritz, but it still had the same air of classic elegance to it. The building was very well maintained both outside and in. Lights were dim enough to allow patrons to feel at peace, as though they could simply lie down and rest or enjoy a cup of coffee in a quiet moment. As conversations flowed from the guests, accompanied by the sounds of moving luggage carts and the employees answering phone calls, there was a sort of hush. In a city where noise could easily flood your mind and the hectic pace drained you, the Hyatt was calm. Business meetings and conventions weren’t uncommon, for the space was generous enough for the price.

To Sledge it felt as though he had been shuttled into his Gram’s nursing home. Everything was clean, but there was no smell or taste of the rug shampoo or disinfectant. Mostly just wood polish and freshly laundered linens. Not a single bit of modern furniture was to be spotted, and any chair he passed by on his way to the meeting room looked as though it had enough stuffing for a bed. It just felt old to him. This wasn’t a place to feel trendy. No, the Hyatt was meant to make you look like a proper gentleman or lady without actually having to spend your last penny. He would wager that most of the regular clientele were as stuffy as the embroidered armchairs.

Including politicians. For a man who could not even vote, Sledge followed the politics of the United States closely. As a general rule of thumb he found their statements and agenda’s flawed to say the least. They spoke of ways to improve the life of those in the lower and middle class, but had little or no experience with such a life themselves. Spending a year or two on the dole before trying to run for any position seemed like a fair requirement to the Brit. You can hardly expect someone to have faith in your ability to run a city, a county, or even a country if they could not establish the connection to a basic human lifestyle.

Having a politician in your pocket was an incredibly useful thing though. To do so usually meant having either rather deep pockets or enough dirt to fill a grave. Blackmail, Sledge knew, could be an excellent motivation, provided the consequences were grave enough. Slander meant nothing these days though. It had become S.O.P if you tossed your hat in the ring. Forget trying to elect a vice president, find a good public relations assistant who could spin the dark truths into gleaming beacons of hope. He was hardly in a position to try that to his mark. Technically speaking Sledge would be the one at risk here. Who wouldn’t support a campaigner who caught an illegal immigrating criminal? Even with the deaths of some of the biggest threats, the “War on Terror” still ran strong in America, perhaps more so here in New York than anywhere else.

No, Sledge was going to use one of his favorite techniques. Manipulate the situation so that the mark thinks that their actions are what they want, and not, in fact, your desires pressed upon them. So he rented a suite at the Hyatt for a few days, packed a few of his finer shirts and trousers, and set himself up in a game of cards that the mark had been invited to. By no means was “David Maxwell” the only criminal who would be shuffling the deck that night, but he was positive that he’d be the one to take the pot. Mr. Markus Burke’s loyalties and political sway were the real prizes tonight.

Well it was open season for Markus in this mask of a palace to find some more connections for his personal secret agenda. Looking to make friends at his age was something that he knew he could barely achieve and wasn't his intentions, sure everyone in the political scheme of things called each other friends, but Markus knew better. They used one another as tools to get what they wanted and better their own lives, studying history taught him that much. But when it came around to it, Markus had no problem with being used in other peoples plans, as long as he knew where it was going could put his two cents into it as some what of an advisory, never the less that's what had brought him here.

Resources run dry, and much like what people do when they run out of something that is direly needed, they go to fetch some more. In this case the resource was people, political figures, not too big, but big enough to be used later as a well refined material for later. What better way to meet these "tools" then to play around a bit. Markus greatly enjoyed games and such that pertain a certain wit to them, cards being one of them. This was going to be fun, but he could also impress those who played by winning, even if it meant he had to cheat a little bit, by that of course meaning, having the intentions of counting the cards, an easy feet for Markus to achieve. All he did now was sit back and wait for the deck to be dealt.

"Gentlemen," Sledge said as a way of introduction and gestured to the table. He went over to the cart that had been set up with a few choices of drinks, both of the alcoholic and non alcoholic varieties, along with an ice bucket and a small selection of snacks. The ice cubes clinked loudly in the hush of the hotel as Sledge gave himself a splash of scotch. On the surface all in attendance were upstanding members of society. Sledge's cover was as a Safety Code Building inspector. Another member of the game was looking to build an expansion on his harbor side warehouse. To the general public he was known for his furniture stores where you could find finely crafted tables, chairs, desks, and couches from around the world. In darkened corners his was the name you turned to when you needed to be armed with more than the NRA would allow. Another man at the table was a philanthropist providing funds for a wide variety of causes, though there was little to no documentation of where his money went, or for that matter, where it came from in the first place. Compared to those who would be playing tonight, Sledge's gangs were hardley worth the fuss that Bradford's best made.

Now with his drink, Sledge took a seat and slid out a sealed pack of cards from his pocket. Turning to the man on his right he offered the deck. "Do the honors?" he asked. Ideally he'd have used his own worn out pack, the one that he ran his quick money fix with. New decks were always too slick for his taste. However a sealed pack helped to establish a sense of trust and honesty. He made no attempts at an American accent. Sledge had not been in the country long enough that he could pull it off. The effort was placed instead on not sounding like he had just stepped off the moore.

At the sound of the man's voice the game was about to begin, Markus was not eager, but he didn't want to wait either. He knew better though, it took time to win the trust and interest of others for his uses and at the same time knew that none of the men here would be so easily impressed. He watched as the deck to be was handed to a man by the one who had just partook in an alcoholic beverage. He might be an easy push over, don't know though, some are just fine with alcohol in their systems, as for the rest, they might not notice my counting of the cards. Markus began to scrutinize the odds that lay within the presence of those who sat at the table. Still uncertain, but that was expected, he knew little about the people at the table for now, but he had the rest of the night to instigate and assume to better his own strategy.

The man now began to shuffle the deck, he watched closely, the cards being mixed with mediocrity he assumed it would make things easier for him. Now it he would be dealt his hand, and hoped for the best. Nothing too much to worry about though, surely this would only be the first of many hands to be dealt in this game.

The cards were shuffled by another while Sledge surveyed the others there that night. His target was older, probably close to Charlie's age. Everyone was in roughly the same age range. It was that point in life when you become comfortable in your job, and the world is yours to conquer. Each man in attendance that night probably wouldn’t mind loosing a couple hundred. Maybe a few thousand too. For the first hand Sledge wasn’t the dealer, so it would be hard pressed for him to pull any sort of trickery. Not a problem. He’d been provided some money to win or loose. Coming to the card game had been his idea, but getting the politician to come back with him was a job he had been assigned. This sort of job was a nice change of pace from what he usually was ordered to do for the Sanctuary.

He glanced at his cards as they were dealt to him. On the whole it was a bland hand. Nothing particularly stunning or promising to win anything. He had a pair, but it was low and easily beaten. Sledge tapped the cards together so that he could hold them in one hand as the others studied their own hands. A simple game of five card draw seemed to be the dealer’s choice. Perhaps it was done as a courtesy to the one who was obviously foreign. When you first start learning how to play poker, five card was probably what you were taught. There weren’t too many variations of the rules, and it’s biggest downfall was just a short amount of betting rounds. The game played faster though, and money would be changing hands at a good clip that night. “So Councilman Burke, how does the campaign go?” Sledge asked politely.

Looks like his reputation succeeded him, as a man unknown to him at the time had asked him a question pertaining to his career. Before answering he looked at the hand he was given. Well what luck, a straight flush, King, Queen, Jack, 10, and 9 of clubs. This was sure to impress, but in the right way was yet to be seen. "Depends on which you talk of, politicians such as myself continue to strive towards things even when there aren't any elections being held yet, so there is a variety, also you are?" Asking the man's name for a further grasp of his motives perhaps, or at the least get a name.

Markus laid his cards onto the table then his hand still over them, as he used his left hand to loosen his tie a bit and move into somewhat of a relaxed position to lighten the mood of things, perhaps that would appeal to everyone else as well.

Sledge put his chips in for the ante. “I thought that now was the time that campaigns started up,” he asked. Presidential debates already were being held, and Sledge had noticed that there was almost a religious approach taken to the two different parties. For a nation that found it more important to elect a musical idol, there was a great deal of loyalty to whatever party you were a part of. Sure they wouldn’t vote, but they had no problem claiming that they knew who was best for the nation.

The question was asked as to who Sledge was. Of course Markus wouldn’t know the strange little British man, which begged the question of if he was aware of the less than morally clean company he was keeping. “David Maxwell,” he offered as an introduction, “Mr. Glover invited me here tonight.” He cracked a smile and nodded to the man who wanted that building expansion. “I think he’s trying to bribe me to approve his addition to his warehouse.”

Glover made a mocked expression, as though the thought had never crossed his mind. Of course it was his intention. At this point in the night however the mood was still light. Once money had changed a few hands there would be more resentment between the players.

"Pleased to meet you, and as for election of those kind, I find it best to keep things tied down for the time being, this years election will have no significance to more current events I have in mind, I assure you Mr. Maxwell." Finishing his reply Markus halved his chips and placed them in the midst of the rest of the chips and awaited the follow men to make their moves.

"Also if you ever need insight into anything of the building code area feel free to enlist my help." Markus spoke to fill the gap as he could look into some extra work on his down time.

“Fold,” Sledge said, setting down his hand. He wasn’t even going to try to bluff his way with this bodge hand. A joke was made about his manhood for folding on the first hand. Sledge simply smiled and allowed the gentle taunting to continue, though his fingers began to curl in a slight fist. With him out of this hand he could push and prod the men at the table and start his manipulation. “Thanks for your offer Mr. Burke. Mr. Glover’s project all depends upon if he can give me more concrete future goal for it.”

Now he had to start leaking information. It was critical that Mr. Burke realized that he was in the company of organized criminals. Not only that but he had to feel that his career was at risk by any one of those present. Any one, that is, except for the British man who had a trustworthy face.

Markus began to wonder about the man's words, and then it hit him that this could look bad. "Straight flush." Markus said solemnly as reality came piling on. "I'll let you guys keep your money if you let me leave without a word escaping from this place of my presence here." Markus spoke, somewhat prideful still, yet understanding what he had fallen into.

“Is that a bribe?” Sledge asked Markus, looking shocked. If Markus was the upstanding politician, or at least was trying to give off that impression, he was going to have to tread carefully. Further complicating matters, to the others at the table Sledge was simply the honest soul that had been brought in to try to corrupt. Having someone who was such a wholesome character bare witness to Markus being in the company of criminals had to be, he figured, on the same level as walking into the police station with your pockets filled with stolen money. Markus faced not only criminals, but actual mobsters, who would probably rake him over the coals if he displeased them, but someone who couldn't be bought and had a mouth that spoke freely. And that mouth had pointed out that Markus had just tried to cover up one questionable action with another.

Those who had not folded revealed their hands, and the pot went to the winner. The night was still young, but a dirty glance or two was still given. “We're grown men Mr. Burke,” the philanthropist said, taking the cards and giving them a shuffle. The deck was slowly making its way around the table as the men at play went through the different hands. Once the deck would complete it's full round, Sledge would be able to mess with it enough to keep things going on his plan. “The only ones who will complain over a loss will be our wives.”

From others at the table there were chuckles and soft agreements. Sledge just smiled through it, perpetually a bachelor. Not for lack of trying. He had gone for a swim or two in the dating pool, and was entirely capable of holding a long term relationship. Marriage plans just never happened to be made. “Well, I can't say I've that kettle of onions to deal with,” Sledge joked back, playing with his chips. A new hand was being dealt.