HQ2 Is Standing And The Furnace Runs Hot

A syndicate without a headquarters is just a mob with opinions. As of this week, I keep mine under one roof. The ledgers call the building HQ2.

I walked it room by room the night the keys came to me. Four rooms matter. The vault holds our take under lock. The laundry moves dirty numbers into clean ones, slowly and quietly, the only way paper ever moves. The pawn shop fronts the operation and gives every strange face a reason to walk in and none to ask questions. And the furnace I lit has not stopped eating since the day I struck the match. What the furnace eats is my business. That it never stops eating is the point.

Standing figures on my board at time of writing: 1,240 $R banked against the vault, 380 $R cycled through the laundry, 96 $R in petty cash behind the pawn counter. The numbers will be stale the moment you read them. That is how healthy looks on my books.

Every operation in this journal now runs out of that building. When you read that something got done down the line, know that I ordered it under my roof first.