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Shadowy Lunatic

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ᴄᴏᴏʀᴅɪɴᴀᴛᴇs: Restaurant
ᴄɪᴠɪʟɪᴀɴ(s): Christy
ᴜɴɴᴇᴄᴇssᴀʀʏ: Trying not to think.

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ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴅ

          ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ

            ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ǫᴜɪᴛ

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴇᴀsʏ ᴅᴀʏ ᴡᴀs ʏᴇsᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ!



                                              Engel had to do everything he could to not begin rubbing at his temples when his date, Christy, let loose another overly loud laugh. He'd been out with her three times prior to now and in all honesty he didn't even know who this Christy was. He'd met her a few months ago at a Senior Detectives wedding, and at this moment he regretted he'd actually gone to the damn thing, but at the time he'd had no idea he'd have this to deal with when he'd agreed to go out with her after she'd asked him out during the reception, and he'd only done that because she seemed normal enough. In truth Engel had also agreed because she'd looked so certain he was going to say no... as had everyone else looking on. He'd suddenly begun to worry everyone was suspecting him and so he'd said yes. What was I thinking?

                                              Unable to help it he winced when she reached out and dug her nails slightly into his arm as she laughed again. Simply nodding at her words he breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she de-clawed her nails from his arm. Reaching out for his water glass he raised it to his lips, his gaze moving away from his date to spare himself from having to continue looking at her. Just as the cold wetness of the water touched his lips he froze in place, his heart thudding in his chest painfully as his gaze landed on a very familiar figure. Sucking in a breath as if being dealt a blow he leaned back slightly against the chair he was sitting in, a numb sensation filling him. No... he can't be here. As this thought entered his head he was able to focus on something other then the man who haunted him. An intense anger filled him when he took note of the hand pawing at Crevans jacket in a obvious pretense to touch him.

                                              As was his way he began to count to three, or higher if need be, forcing calming breaths into his lungs as he turned his gaze away, returning his attention to his date. He could not react, if he let even the smallest reaction happen he would loose complete control, and he'd be across that room tearing off the hand touching what was his. NO! He fairly shouted in his head. Not mine... never can me mine. Forcing those thoughts in his head was painful and almost made him wince once more, his heart aching for a moment. Finally taking that swallow of water he carefully set the class down, reminding himself he was in control. Always in control.
                                              It took a minute to realize his date had fallen silent and was pouting at him. God how he hated pouting, however more desperate then ever not to reveal anything, not to let Crevan know how bothered he was by the sight of him being with that other man, he smiled at Christy, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his features softening slightly from the effect. "I'm sorry. Please, continue your story. After the words left his lips his date smiled in return, a flush filling her cheeks with obvious pleasure before she began to once more continue speaking.

                                              With half an ear Engel listened to her words in case she were to ask him something, while the rest of his focus was turned inward. He hoped for a moment Crevan had seen the smile because if the man truly knew him he would remember he never really smiled but for anyone but those he cared for, and while he felt sudden guilt about smiling at this woman he cared nothing for, he couldn't help but desperately hope that in case Crevan was still wondering if there was anything more between them, that he now new there wasn't.
                                              You lie to everyone... even yourself. Engel thought, his fist curling into a ball where it rested on top of the table. For two weeks he'd been haunted by thoughts of Crevan, both wonderful and bad. He felt so very tired, but there was no sleep for him as of late, and any he did get often woke him up an hour later in a cold sweat... other times it was more a hot sweat.

                                              He was jarred from his less then pleasant thoughts when Christy, more then a bit tipsy, leaned across the table, grabbed him by the tie and hauled him towards her so she could plant a sloppy kiss on his lips before giggling something about just trying to get his attention. Forcing a smile on his lips once more he fought the urge to wipe his mouth clean, but lost the urge not to look over at Crevan again, his expression fully composed in its usual reserved mask but for the slight smile he held on his lips for his dates benefit.
Kefka Fanatica's avatar

Hilarious Codger

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Adrian ☼ Moretti
The Leader of the Merchants.
x x x[/white] Io sono in controllo. x x x ● ● ● ●


                                    The evening had only just begun. There was nothing particularly of interest going on for Adrian Moretti this night so he had asked Dominic to join him at the peelers, thinking some good old partying would be nice for the both of them. The two frequented this building quite often, even though the Merchants leader had no idea that the Syndicates already had their stronghold on this place. He enjoyed coming here at least three times a month, knowing a few of the girls on a first name basis and the owner himself.

                                    Adrian already had himself seated in one of the comfortable V.I.P. walled-in booths alongside Dom with a chocolate martini in one hand and a flavoured cigarette in the other. He liked leaving the velvet curtains open so he could take a peek at the women but instead eyed down a pair of men whom walked by before his lips curled into a smirk and he leaned over towards the Muscle, "Do my eyes deceive me or did signor Komarovskii just strut in here with one of his lackeys?" The Italian sounded more amused then anything that he was in the vicinity of Logan. What would bring that man to this humble little strip club? The place was more of a hole in the wall then anything.

                                    The Mafia leader was relaxed in his seat nonetheless, taking a gracious puff of his expensive vanilla flavoured cigarette while keeping a steady eye on the booth where the two had seated themselves in. Adrian himself was impeccably dressed as always, choosing to portray casualty by wearing dark Armani jeans with a tight fitted pink dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up so he could flash his pricey wrist watch. The whole look was topped off with a drastic black scarf. To the normal being, they would probably say he looked like a flaming homo and that his cologne was the destroyer of sinuses. To Adrian, he was the pinnacle of fashion within the crime ring. To each their own.

                                    Adrian's golden eyes sparkled with humor as he spoke, "It would be rude if I did not go over to extend my greetings, wouldn't you agree? Signor Komarovskii must have buisness here, though..." Unless the latter just liked seeing women get naked. That was why Moretti was here with Dom, afterall. It was a boys night out with the two. It never really crossed the leader's mind to invite any of the other members since this was always something he did only with Dom. Adrian almost viewed the other as a best friend more then a bodyguard.

                                    With a quick swig of his martini glass, the brunette downed the rest of the liquid before sliding out of the booth with a slick grin. "C'mon, we shouldn't be snobbish." Adrian strode down towards the area where he assumed the blonde woman had led the Syndicates. The club was woefully empty still so it did not take long to find the other VIP seating area with the men. Adrian stood at the open entrance, his gaze flickering from Logan to the red haired nobody he couldn't care less about. It was up to the mafia leader to learn of his potential foes but this was an unfamiliar face to him. So...a nobody.

                                    "Signor Komarovskii. It has been awhile, hasn't it?" The young man purred, his arms crossed and cat-like gaze rested on the Russian, "I hope I am not interrupting anything?" Eyes flickered between the two. It was only once before that Adrian had tried speaking to Logan in regards to merging the gangs together but that had ended up...a complete disaster. Th Merchants had not really crossed with the Syndicates in person as of late.













                                    x x x Mi dubito ogni giorno. x x x● ● ● ●
                                    Location: Strippers.
                                    Company: Dom.
                                    OOC: xx.

                                    x x Mi salvare dalle mie paure? x x● ● ● ●
b o n n a b y's avatar

Tipsy Shapeshifter

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filler filler filler filler ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇
filler filler fil° & it's!! just ﹕the __beginning. ██ ██ ██ ██ xxxxxxxx
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler EVEN THOUGH I KNOW, I SUPPOSE I'LL SHOW all my c o o l and c o l d like an old job
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler DESPITE ALL MY RAGE I AM STILL JUST A RAT IN A CAGE!

filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler Then someone will say, "what is lost can never be saved."

xxx¤ in a crowd xxx¤ fancy sky-scraper lobby xxx¤ hell on icezzzzxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


                          Wine was brought. As high end restaurants were prone, the presentation of the bottle was something of a show in itself. The sommelier was young, but well trained and each gentleman at the table was given a glance of the bottle's label while a small statement was given. Year, dominee, age expectancy. Crevan's accomplice had chosen a red - some unspoken prayers do get answered, Crevan mused - and although the vintage wasn't one he normally requested, it would do. A flash of silver; the sommelier cut away the foil and then proceeded to uncork the bottle. As he did, the red head let his chin turn a fraction, away from the corking.

                          Chance, luck, fate, coincidence or God aside, being in the same room with Engel so unexpectedly was... 'Torture. I doubt he missed me, either...' He wasn't being presumptuous. Engel was a veteran and police officer. If he missed anything in the going ons about him, it would come as a surprise. His training was too complete, the extent of his observation powers too extreme. They had gone years on their own and kept all feelings and thoughts of one another to the back of their minds in some dark corner. Now? Crevan could feel his skin prickle and the palms of his hands warm. Engel was front and center of every passing thought. He was aware of the man as he was of the heart beat in his chest. Even when he wasn't around the man, thoughts and images harried his every waking moment... and infected his dreams. What little sleep he got came haunted by a blue eyed ghost.

                          The question, however, was whether Engel endured similar afflictions. Crevan's gaze widened. As he watched, Engel's face softened and he smiled. Like being doused with ice, shivers broke out across Crevan's body and a tightness spread in his chest. Breath faintly constricted, Crevan jerked when the cork popped from the wine bottle's mouth. Pale, jaw tight, he only barely managed to nod when the sommelier asked for him to sample. Whatever flavor the wine possessed fell flat on Crevan's tongue. The corporate giant across from him busied himself with a slice of bread and a load of butter. Crevan, however, touched nothing. His mind had fragmented and it was all he could do to gather his scattered sensibilities and try to listen to the man as he spoke. While he droned on, laying out what he thought was a winning argument, Crevan could not fight the urge to look away. Again.

                          It was that smile. He could not figure out why. Engel's date wasn't entirely unattractive, but that did not account for that... expression! Was it real? Was it true? Had Engel done it on purpose, and if so, was it to appeal to his date or had it been to... trick him? In the pit of his stomach, a spark ignited. The ice of shock began to thaw and a burning, vicious anger clawed away the remaining chunks to sit in its place. Crevan's gaze froze as it found the ex-Marine's table. What color there was left in his face seemed to vanish and his eye opened wide, unwittingly displaying a flash of surprise. Engel and that thing were joined in a physical display that had the hairs on the back of Crevan's neck bristling.

                          He was spared from making a rash decision when his phone buzzed where it sat on the table.

                          Excusing himself, Crevan opened his text mail and scanned the contents of a message. His brow wrinkled and a soft sigh was spent on his lips. Luca. The boy had been furious and, for the past few weeks, had made himself scarce. There had been no way to explain or excuse his absence: Crevan had told no one of his meeting with Engel. Their connection was private, buried under years and history and altered identities. There was, in fact, no possible way to trace Crevan to that battlefield from so long ago. Except for one... But that, too, was private. Crevan knew he owed Luca a "date", although just why the young Frenchman desired his company was a mystery. It was enough that he made a living through falsities, lies, violence and bloodshed. His presence was all but poison on those around him. He kept his reply short and sent it off with a final push of a button. Delivering a message. The wine is terrible. Much like my manners, of late. I will be free by tomorrow. Brunch? If not, I have a place in mind. Not quite an apology, but he hoped to satisfy the younger man with some of his time, as was so firmly requested.

                          Crevan heard, rather than saw, the sound of a gun's safety being released.

                          Chin low, his exposed eye slowly drew up until his gaze fell across the table. The businessman's face was set in a hard, smug expression, the sort a man wears when he thinks he has the upper hand. The gun was set on the table, muzzled with a silencer, half hidden between a flower stand and folded napkins. Softly, Crevan replaced his phone in his pant pocket. "I had hoped to enjoy tonight... What, with you having made the reservation, even after I suggested a more formal arrangement. I will miss trying the salmon. And the veal, I hear, is exquisite. Not that I am partial to it, but one can always hope to be surprised... yes?" Crevan remarked quietly, his nonchalance mirrored as he idly touched the shining cutlery besides his stemware. His companion, however, laughed at him and started up a verbal tirade. The usual arrogance, for certain, boasting of connections and rumors and spies. Rather slip-shod, but to the man's credit he got at least two of the facts right.

                          Crevan jerked, half spun around by a sudden impact to his upper body.

                          Something, in that instant, emerged from the bottom of his soul and, howling, possessed him in both body and mind.

                          Crevan was up in a blur of motion. The problem with guns? The wrist was stiffened up and breaking the hand that held it took Crevan all of a moment. The crunch of bone was louder than the shot had been and the gun clattered to the floor. The man's mouth fell open, inhaling a nasty, painful snarl. Crevan had the man pinned, the arm with the gun disabled under a strategic press of weight on the swelling wrist. Leaning in, Crevan whispered into the man's ear, a cruel tilt to his mouth. The man shook and his face was white and sickly and sweating from both pain and fury. Not trusting the idiot to do as he was told, Crevan wrenched away quickly headed for the exit, cold and composed and deaf to a white noise screaming inside his head. All he could see was the way out, where he could disappear and subdue the urge to snap the man's neck along with his wrist.

                          His right arm burned white-hot.

                          Someone screamed. Instinct surged, boiled in his veins. From behind him came a second gun shot. Crevan paused, glancing over his shoulder: the businessman's eyes were wide and white-rimmed, his shirt bloody where he held his wrist to his chest, his left hand holding a second, smaller gun. Crevan smirked as the sprinkler system kicked into gear; his hand rested on a fire alarm with the handle pulled. The restaurant exploded with noise and water. Within the chaos, Crevan glimpsed blond hair as he spun for the exit once again. His arm bled, but there was no feeling around the wound. Shock, probably. He thanked whatever god there was for that as he swiftly maneuvered down the hall.

                          At the elevators, he shoved through a waiting couple and hit the lobby button while they stared at him, stunned by the screams behind them and his behavior. The lady gasped, glimpsing the rip in Crevan's sleeve before the doors slid shut and the elevator descended. As the floors sped past, Crevan managed to tie his handkerchief around the bleeding gash. It was stained through by the time he made it to the lobby. Fire alarms blaring, he joined the rush of people heading for the exits, calm, stoic, in control. His teeth were clenched tight, suppressing a nauseating curl in his belly.


xxxxxxx
                          xxxCREVANtheREVOLVER

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xXI_Kuro_IXx's avatar

Questionable Hunter

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Location Office
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    A few groceries was all he wanted before returning to the office, usually an easy task yes, but it was a bit more tedious when having to on the phone with someone that felt the need to make the same argument and 'suggestions' almost every time they spoke. All in Japanese to boot. His mother simply didn't want to accept that Bahn was wasting his time in a small clinic when he could be working his way up in a larger, known hospital. Even in good conversations she had to add in that there was an opening in some hoity-toity hospital or another. This was hardly a good one though. She was ranting quite a bit which likely meant she had a bad day and he was her chosen vent. The only good thing from the call was hearing that his brother was doing well in the midst of this rant session, but it didn't make this any less irritating. Before he reached the checkout he let out a sigh that could have passes as a faint growl. "Warum musst du dies zu tun? Jedes Mal! Geld kann nicht heilen Menschen, das kann ich."

    Without waiting for any response Bahn ended the call and slid his phone into his coat pocket. One this that could shut his mother up was switching into German. The language alone always saddened her somewhat since Bahn sounded a lot like his father. Things that reminded her of him made her lost focus and hesitate which was part of the reason she moved them to Japan. He tried to clear his as he went about purchasing his borderline unhealthy food, mostly ignoring the curious look from the cashier. People didn't care too much when someone else was speaking another language though switching between two usually earned a weird look from someone in earshot. German and Japanese didn't exactly flow smoothly.

    Regardless once he was finished paying he went on his way out of the store, fishing his keys from his pants pocket before he reached the automatic doors and walking into the slightly chilly air. Bahn didn't mind the winter weather as long as it wasn't below zero and even then he did have a dependable car. His BMW has yet to fail him. It's engine quietly purred as it turned over with the press of a button and started warming up again as he walked over and got in, setting his lone grocery bag on the passenger seat before getting on his way back to his office. The drive didn't take too long and Bahn was focusing on nothing but the road to clear his head without much success. 'She just has to make everything her business..' While waiting at a red light Bahn did something that just about always helped soothe his mind and nerves; smoke. It only took a few seconds for the smell of spearmint to fill his car and slowly work on his nerves. While he'd never actually looked into weather it was harming his lungs he hadn't had any abnormalities in his own checkups since he started smoking his minty version of a cigarette.

    Bahn was still smoking as he pulled into clinic's lot and parked, not even bothering to put it out as he went into the building. He nodded to the young woman behind the front desk who was the only person there it seemed, "I think it's safe to say you can take an early night tonight. It'll only get quieter." he mused as he walked to his office and got the few things out of his bag. Just a few apples, a pear, box of crackers and a bottle of flavored water. "You sure Bahn? What if there's an accident or something?" The girl, Risa, could be a bit of a worrywart at times, but she was bright. Risa really would have been in a local teaching hospital if not for a mark on her background involving narcotics. The charge was years ago and she obviously turned a leaf, but it was still a risk to some of the paper pushers. He was working on getting her into an actual nursing job better suited to help her out. Bahn was a good doctor, but he was horrid at teaching.. "If there's an accident people go to emergency rooms, not clinics. Go home, eat actual food, watch a movie..relax." Risa frowned a bit before nodding, gathering her things and saying goodbye.

    A quiet office meant one thing for a doctor and as far as he knew no doctor liked it. Patient files. It wasn't hard, but it was a bit tedious. That and some order forms for medications was all he had on his plate for now though so Bahn lit up another spearmint cigarette and got started.


(( Translation: Why do you have to do this? Every time! Money can't heal people, I can.))
UntamedRain's avatar

Shadowy Lunatic

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ᴄᴏᴏʀᴅɪɴᴀᴛᴇs: Home
ᴄɪᴠɪʟɪᴀɴ(s): Crevan
ᴜɴɴᴇᴄᴇssᴀʀʏ: Trying not to think.

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ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴅ

          ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ

            ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ǫᴜɪᴛ

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴇᴀsʏ ᴅᴀʏ ᴡᴀs ʏᴇsᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ!



                                              Engel jerked slightly, and a odd soul wrenching sound slipped past his lips, his gaze on Crevan. It was like his worst nightmare unfolding in front of his eyes. Frozen he felt unable to move, and that moment nearly cost him as he watched Crevan leave his seat, attempting to make a quick exit. Following suit, he jumped out of his seat so he could rush forward, silently commanding the two other cops in the room to the guy with the gun. Though he was fast Engel was not fast enough as he heard the sound of another gun shot, quickly followed by the sprinkler system coming on.
                                              Cursing as someone stepped into his way he nearly shoved them but managed not to at the last minute, going around them in his effort to reach Crevan. Seeing him slip into an elevator he quickly changed course, not wasting his time trying to catch up to him before the the doors slid closed. Taking the stairs he leaped down the various flights, making sure to avoid all the cameras, which were far fewer then was wise in his opinion.

                                              Exiting the stairwell into the hallway, Engel glanced around quickly, before running over to the elevators. Looking up at the numbers above the elevator doors he found the one he wanted. If he was wrong and Crevan had gotten off already, sending it down empty without him, Engel wasn't certain what he was going to do. The man was far to good at disappearing. Heart beating painfully at the mere thought of loosing him, of not knowing how bad he'd been shot. Closing his eyes he forced himself to calm, forced breathes into his lungs and did what he always did to be calm. He began to count.

                                              Hearing a soft ding he opened his eyes just as the doors slid open, revealing Crevan to him. Breath releasing in a soft woosh of sound he felt the tightness about his heart ease, though it instantly tightened again when he saw the blood. Quickly reaching in he pulled Crevan to him, barely restraining himself from crushing him in his arms as he prevented him from rushing off. "Lets go." Engel said as he literally began pulling Crevan along, once more still avoiding cameras. He didn't need anyone seeing them together, that would cause questions he couldn't answer, and since he was suppose to be chasing him to bring him in, he didn't need anyone to know he had caught up with him and didn't bring him in like his job required him to do for questioning. [******** my life up one Crevan moment at a time, he couldn't help but think, in his rare odd moment of humor, such as it was.

                                              It took far longer then he would of liked to reach his SUV where he had it parked. In his hurry he gentle tossed, if tossing could be gentle, Crevan into the passenger seat before rushing around to the drivers side. Once behind the wheel he sped off, and also got on the cell to dispatch, telling them he was in pursuit. He had to make this look as legit as possible, and to account for why he had left the restaurant, what was taking him so long in getting back, all that. Like most of the places he ever went to, they were never to far from his house. Though he hated that it still took him twenty-five minutes to get home, the time was going to be odd to account for added with the fact he still had to patch Crevan up before returning. Cursing under his breath as he pulled into his driveway he wasted no time in getting out, rushing over to the passenger side door and pulling Crevan out as well.

                                              As they ran up the stairs to his room where he kept his first aid supplies, he once more called dispatch announcing he had lost him, but would take a few more loops around the block before returning to make sure. Once in his room he finally released Crevan so he could get the kit. "Remove the shirt and sit. I need to make sure the bullet went through and to stitch you up before I return." He fairly growled these words since he was getting frustrated by this. He wanted to demand answers, but he didn't have time for a conversation. He had to get the man stitched up quickly so he could leave, and he knew Crevan would not still be here when he finally could return for the night.
b o n n a b y's avatar

Tipsy Shapeshifter

9,700 Points
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filler filler filler filler ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇ ▇
filler filler fil° & it's!! just ﹕the __beginning. ██ ██ ██ ██ xxxxxxxx
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler EVEN THOUGH I KNOW, I SUPPOSE I'LL SHOW all my c o o l and c o l d like an old job
filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler DESPITE ALL MY RAGE I AM STILL JUST A RAT IN A CAGE!

filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler filler Then someone will say, "what is lost can never be saved."

xxx¤ with Engel/puppy xxx¤ Engel's bedroom xxx¤ anger / trepidation zzzzxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


                          "Let's go."

                          A broken shiver swept down Crevan's spine, spiraling after both shock and indignation and a myriad of other sentiment as the elevator doors silently parted to reveal a broad shouldered man with steady blue eyes. Engel wasn't breathing hard for someone whom must have raced the elevator down so many flights of stairs, and if not for the mussed hairs dangling over his brow, it was as if he'd magically appeared in the lobby. There was no time for questions, not as the fire alarm blared and bodies paraded toward the front doors. Crevan didn't resist Engel, not the hand pulling/pushing him along nor the direction they went. Later, he might wonder why he hadn't, for certainly it would make more sense to fight and flee. Was it the wound? Had some reasoning decided that Engel was the best choice - the only choice - given his situation? Or was it just wild abandon, logic tossed to the wind, that steered him along the path Engel illuminated? Again, no time for questions.

                          They rushed out of the lobby and were step for step toward the destination, Crevan neither following nor guiding so much as matching Engel's pace and direction. Engel brought them to a large SUV and into which Crevan was half tossed into the passenger seat, silent despite the hurried manhandling. He knew Engel would do what it took to accomplish his goal and, as Crevan snapped a buckle around his waist, what that goal was had something to do with him now. His stare was a fleeting and weighted as Engel got in, skirting away once the door snapped shut, the engine turned on and the gear put into drive. The car merged with the traffic congesting Chicago's streets with Crevan a sudden passenger heading toward an unknown end.

                          His head turned away and he gazed out the window while lights and shadows strolled over his pale features. Actually, he did have an idea of where Engel was headed. If Engel had intended to take him to the station, than leaving the hotel in such a way wouldn't have been necessary. As if to ascertain his suspicions, Engel called into dispatch. Pursuit? A tiny frown pinched at his lids, framed his mouth. No, what Engel had planned didn't involve a trip 'downtown', even if, by all rights, the man had every reason to cuff and book him for questioning. Crevan's stomach twisted uncomfortably as the minutes passed. He could only think of what Engel was doing and what he should be doing instead. With how they had last parted, Crevan had felt that Engel would likely feign disassociation during any future run-ins. Yet that was not the case and Crevan had time enough to mull over what other possibilities there remained. Engel could kill him. Engel could help him. Engel could hand him over to another party. Engel could...

                          They arrived in front of a house Crevan knew. Not because he'd ever been invited inside, but because he'd spent many hours staring at it. For the last two weeks, he had paid Engel numerous visits, in secret, watching for he knew not what yet. The odd feeling in his stomach twisted even more, nearing on pain, as Engel hauled him up the path to the front door and inside. There was no pause as Engel sped up the stairs, relentlessly steering into a bedroom that, without the light being on, Crevan knew to be the man's own. He was released and his eyes were empty of thought or feeling as Engel gave him instruction. Chin tipped a little south, Crevan remained unmoving for several seconds. For once, it did not take much to read Engel, for the man was on edge and it showed, plain as day. It was strange, and Crevan realized guiltily that he wanted to see more of this Engel: an Engel not quite so composed, an Engel too caught up in the moment to reign in his expressions. He wanted to know what would happen if he took them to that ledge and if Engel would show him more of what Crevan had seen that day.

                          Pushing away those dangerous thoughts, Crevan turned to the bed instead. He hesitated, but only because he dreaded sullying Engel's neatly made sheets, but eventually took a seat, looking both resigned and irritated. With his good arm, he flicked on a lamp set on a bedside table. In the low lighting, he dutifully unbuttoned his shirt, managing to do so with just one hand. Shrugging his good arm out first, Crevan slowly peeled off the ruined sleeve. His brow furrowed and his mouth set into a thin line as he folded up the fabric in his lap and then dropped it to the floor. The makeshift bandage was soaked through and dark with blood. Crevan reached for it, untying the hasty knot with steady, agile fingers.

                          As that gave way, Crevan made to drop it onto his shirt, but froze as something small and furry pressed against his shin. Light eyes widened and the bloodied strip wound up on the little table instead as Crevan peered down into sleepy, curious eyes. "Hello there..." He murmured, a hint of amusement softening his already quiet tones. Crevan shot a glance at Engel, "Yours?" he asked, despite the obvious answer. He hadn't pictured Engel being an animal type, but, with a bundle of baby fur and whiskers at his feet, suddenly he could, and it made his heart pitched in his chest. A slick feeling drew his attention and Crevan frowned at his wound, still leaking from the bullet's impact. Already, pain was starting to register through the haze of shock. "Hel op aarde, dom mans met gewere...*" Crevan hissed, a lick of the mindless, alien fury rising back up, his lips drawing away to bare his teeth.


                          [ translation: * - "Hell on Earth, stupid men with guns..."]


xxxxxxx
                          xxxCREVANtheREVOLVER

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Distinct Lunatic

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Shiiduo



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"Losing an illusion makes you wiser than finding a truth."


Shiiduo watched, dispassionately, as the other youth stood up for him. Had he cared at all he may have been worried over the sheer bulk of the man when compared to the two of them but in reality he was actually worried over the spit on his face from when the man had loomed over him. Ew, seriously, people needed to learn to keep their bodily fluids to themselves. Looking around he noticed those little packages of wet naps on the counter near him and grabbed a few swiftly opening them and wiping his face vigorously. When he was done he did it again and then a third time, just to be sure. When he looked up again he noticed the silence surrounding him and then looked down to where the big man was rolling on the floor gasping. Shiiduo took in where he was clasping at his neck, the way people where looking at the blond man and how the cooks where whispering about getting the security feed later.

He must have been punched in the throat and Shiiduo nodded at the effectiveness of the maneuver. He knew the science behind it, he knew that the front part of your throat, your trachea (aka windpipe) is made out of cartilage, and it can be broken or snapped even without significant bleeding. A medical study showed that it sometimes takes less than 8 pounds per square inch of force to damage the trachea and Shiiduo hoped that was what had happened here. Although it could be a different spot because just below your adams apple is a ring of cartilage called the cricoid cartilage, and its more loose-moveable than the rest of the cartilage that forms the trachea, this could be damaged, and if it is that is what causes you pain when you swallow. If it is damaged, it could compromise your airway, damage more of your trachea, or damage your esophagus. Maybe then the man would loose a few pounds, if he couldn't swallow.

Or maybe it was farther down? Below the cricoid cartilage is the thyroid tissue. If the thyroid tissue has been damaged, you can lead yourself up to some major long-term medical problems due to thyroid problems. Or maybe there could be some cosmic justice to this? Like Inside your trachea, located below the cricoid cartilage are ones vocal cords. They are a thin tissue on either side that form a 'V' shape and close and vibrate in order to make sounds in us humans. Although Shiiduo was mute he knew for a fact that his own vocal cords were under developed, while he may be able to make small sounds they where far too quiet to travel up to his mouth. The punch may have simply caused the vocal cords to swell, making the man sound hoarse, which should go away at some point. However, the vocal cords may have been damaged, ripped, torn from the sudden impact, in which case they will likely NOT heal correctly without intervention and he may actually have a lifetime of vocal woes ahead of him. Given the delicate tissue of the vocal cords, a great deal of damage could happen without much (or any) coughed-up blood and if that's the case then Shiiduo will immediately give thought to the whole Karma theory.




While he was debating this the manager had kicked his workers into gear and managed to get a big mac meal ready along with the other man's mc nuggets. The cashier put it all in a bag and Shiiduo snatched it up and put it into his back pack for later. He was going to leave when Cameron turned towards him. "Hi, I got a twenty peice chicken nugget that I'm probably not going to eat because of this a*****e, you want some?" Shiiduo looked down at the man still flopping around on the floor and then back to Cameron debating about this. If he refused he would be passing up the chance for an in. If the other youth began to trust him he may let things slip. Every source of information is a good one, even if the information is first believed to be trivial. Quickly taking a chance Shiiduo blinked and gave the other a small smile before nodding. He looked around and found an acceptable table, one in the corner and away from the windows. Not to mention both seats allowed them both to see the entire restaurant. He wouldn't be comfortable any where else. Making his way over and motioning the other to follow he tossed his stuff down on the seat beside the table and wiped it clean with the last of those wet naps. He then walked over to the concession table and grabbed some napkins, salt and some more wet naps to put into his bag.

He quickly arranged his napkins and pulled his own food out of his bag. No need to take the others food away from him. Tilting his head he motioned for the other to sit down as he pulled everything out of his bag before flattening the bag and pouring his fries out onto it. He then arranged them according to size and then sprinkled the salt onto them. Smiling he counted the fries and looked at his burger and deduced it would take six fries to every two burger bites to finish it all. Nodding he took two bites and then ate six fries making sure not to get anything on his face or hands, no need to make a mess after all.





...


"We are all spirits clad in veils..."

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