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 Posted: Sat Apr 21, 2012 11:03 pm
It's not a bargain if the terms are dictated. Rot in hell, freak. I'll see you there.
*click*
And he pushed the button, triggering the firestorm. At least...that was the intent. But while there was an audible click as his thumb mashed the button, no inferno was sparked. The explosives remained silent and inert as the caitiff slumped against the wall. His eyes eased shut and rolled back in his skull as a combination of blood loss and haemox swiftly claimed him.
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Posted: Sun Apr 22, 2012 12:12 am
((Went for the middle road, huh? Well there goes ultimate evil plan #1, AND number #2 cos you DID post.... and considering I don't trust you not to bring the place down ANYway.... I'll post after I've spoken to you XD
Well done, my love... but you're not the chess master yet.))
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Posted: Sun Apr 22, 2012 11:24 am
"....stupid move, fledgeling. Fetch him."
Sending Wendigo into the building to collect the unconscious form of the merc, Ice watched from outside, his lip curled in part disgust, and part extreme amusement.
Once the large multi armed creature had its quarry, Ice would shut the unit back up, and lead the way to the next site of impending trouble.... the DeSeer mansion.
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Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2012 11:24 pm
Nines, when deposited on his old haven's doorstep, quickly encouraged Jan to make with the getting the ******** out of there. He did not want company of any type, especially not if he was to be doing a job. It would not be until Jan was well and truly departed that Nines moved to check his armory. God willing, rolling up the door would reveal... A whole nest of wired explosives, politely disarmed and set aside where they should have been. Interesting, but hardly surprising; Nines had paid the man who owned the property well to both know what was in the building, and to keep the good safe from prying eyes for him. Money could buy trust, from time to time... Which meant he was in the clear to kit up. The polo shirt was quickly discarded, and replaced with a snug t-shirt over which he wore his holsters and combat rig. The catch slipped under the shirt, making it appear to all as if he merely had a broader chest than he actually did. To fully conceal the hardware, an old leather duster was worn, completing the street level punk aesthetic. It didn't matter to him; he enjoyed looking built. The gauntlets he slid over his forearms helped. After that, a few things tossed into a grab bag of tricks, and he was set for a night on the town. Now to investigate Cleo's place... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ His arrival was heralded by the purring of a motorcycle's engine slowly tooling a lone rider to the building. His plan? Eyeball the place from outside, then make his way into the building for a drink.
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 12:31 pm
Jan didn't hang about, acting exactly as requested and leaving after dropping Nines off.
In time, of course, this led to the merc sitting outside the club on street level, looking down to where its entrance sat, with the glare of neon lights reflecting off his bike. The clientèle seemed to be almost exclusively men, on their own, who would enter, for some to emerge later in clear states of drunkeness.
The air smelt of mediocre whiskey and cuban cigars. As well as the scent of humanity and rock bottom.
As and when Nines went inside... it was no better than expected. The barman was smoking, the sides were mildly sticky, the air was stale and the stage bore an air of shabby drabness.
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 2:20 pm
Seedy, smoke filled club with cheap liquor; no real signs of anything resembling decency or even a scrap of goodwill or hope. Somehow, the setting fit rather well. Nines blended in suitably as he picked a seat, and quietly observed for a good several long minutes. He planned on sticking about for an hour or so; long enough to get a proper feel for the place, and maybe even catch a "show"...he doubted it would be as simple as the target walking on stage to get blown away, but it was worth the try.
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Posted: Sat May 05, 2012 11:44 am
Little to no attention was paid to Nines. He wasn't, it had to be said, out of place here. For half an hour, it was your usual watering hole in the dives, though more and more people seemed to be arriving, until most of the tables had people at them.
The reason why became apparent some ten minutes after that. The lights dimmed, old spot lights performed their roles slightly wanly, lending a watery quality to the lighting in the bar as shadows criss crossed the room.
From behind the faded red curtain, a female figure emerged as music over rode conversation, and it had to be said... she WAS stunning. Clad all in black, in vintage style, her voice was as attractive as her full figure, the words those of an old 20's song.
"Sometimes I wonder why I spend
The lonely nights
Dreaming of a song.
The melody haunts my reverie
And I am once again with you.
When our love was new, and each kiss an inspiration.
But that was long ago, and now my consolation
Is in the stardust of a song."
Each word dropped like honey from those rouged lips, drawing in the men around her, shadows weaving softly in time with the music. It didn't take much to realise that the woman wasn't entirely human, and held some ability to enchant a crowd. The men folk hung on every syllable, as if the whole place had been dragged back to the early part of the 20th century, and outside the sanctuary of the drab bar lay only the sandy wastes of unconquered lands, uncouth and undesirable when society could be found right here, in a curl of black hair, a wisp of cigarette smoke, and a honeysuckle poison voice.
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Posted: Sat May 05, 2012 12:11 pm
Temptation. Not for the pleasures of the flesh; far from it, Nines was about as unphased by her charms as the bricks and furniture. The temptation lay in opting for the easy route through this job; smoke the b***h on the spot, walk out with no questions asked. Tempting...but foolish. The room was full, and she had clearly some level of control over the men surrounding her. Smoking her and calling it a night would result in fighting the whole room, which would in turn get far too messy and complicated. He needed to wait.
So he shrugged the strap on his messenger bag to ease it into a more comfortable crook of his shoulder, leaned back in his seat, and pretended to give a ********. Until the song was over and the crowd dissipated he wouldn't be doing much.
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Posted: Sat May 05, 2012 12:17 pm
The set consisted of two songs, during which the shadows moved ominously around the room, curling unheeded about the ankles of the gathered menfolk.
It was clear how the woman was staying well fed and out of sight.
And yet the shadows did not come near Nines. Monsters can sense their own, and more than once, the singer would be found staring with minor confusion in Nines' direction.
When the set ended... she retreated behind the curtain, gone.
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Posted: Sat May 05, 2012 12:22 pm
Staring at his direction? She'd get a quirk of an eyebrow, a bemused whisper of a grin, but nothing really menacing or threatening. Nines found it interesting that she took as much note of him as he did of her.
The set ended, the woman withdrew, and Nines remained seated for some time to come. He was waiting for the men to file out of the building, to minimize complications when he did decide to make his move. Once the scene was relatively clear, it was up and and to the stage to see what lay beyond the curtains.
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Posted: Sat May 05, 2012 12:27 pm
Up... and into the bartender.
"Oi. No one backstage pal. You lot know the rules. You look, but you don;t touch, and you don't pester Ms Cleo. Time for you to head home."
The bartender emerged from behind the old wooden bar and walked up to the stage, clearly intent on keeping anyone from going behind the scenes.
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Posted: Sat May 05, 2012 12:32 pm
One man, instead of fifty. Much better odds, and Nines was not in any kind of mood to give a damn. He turned, and nodded.
Just wanted a look, sir. Sorry for the trouble.
And with the word trouble Nines' feet slid into a broad, left leading stance. His forward arm lashed out, jabbing in a straight punch to the man's windpipe whilst his right darted into his coat, withdrawing a handgun. One blow to quiet the man, then a weapon to cow him into submission.
You have all of five seconds to get on your knees with your hands behind your head, or you won't have knees anymore.
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Posted: Sat May 05, 2012 12:39 pm
The man was a brawler, and not above a scrap, but Nines' disassembling manner wrong footed the bartender, and though the change in stance gave him enough prescience to begin to bring his hands up in a block, it was too little to late.
Reeling back, gasping, choking and hacking, one would expect the man to go down, be sensible, and still.
It was not to be. A strange, stale look passed over the face of the bartender, someone, or something, else moving in behind his eyes, quieting his wheezing, and sending the man's bulk flying at Nine's like a freight train.
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Posted: Sat May 05, 2012 12:46 pm
Figures.
A thrall. Either that or a fanatic. Neither would just lay down and do as they were told, which made things more complicated and more enjoyable.
The bartender outweighed Nines by a fair margin, but was not so well armed. As soon as he recovered, it was apparent that he would not be assuming the position. There was no hesitation as Nines darted forwards, trusting to blunt the charge by clashing before enough momentum could be gained to just run him over outright. His center of gravity was kept low as he lunged into the heavyset man's belly, throwing his left arm up as a shield and his right in a pistol-whip to the man's knee.
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Posted: Sat May 05, 2012 12:59 pm
Curving over Nine's in surprising speed for a large man, the bartender was completely mute as Nines dealt a hefty blow to his knee, the leg crumbling silently out from under him without so much as a grunt from the man as he tightened his grip over Nines', with intent to force him into the floor, rendering his gun impotent.
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