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Post by Vincent. on Jul 27, 2011 22:23:39 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]Details, Details.[/shadow]
"Browning 9 outfitted with 9x19mm Parabellum and ze Glock 21 (.45 ACP), hm?"
Vincent turned slowly, caught off-guard by the promptness of the girl’s entrance and the brazen manner in which she carried herself. The way she handled the gun led him to believe she was no inexperienced doll of a girl, but a hardened woman with rather sharp edges and an expert taste for weaponry.
He looked back to the two guns he had picked, feeling rather confident in his choice. And, admittedly, a little bit happy for the opportunity to be wielding firearms again; his arm felt complete with a gun in hand.
. . .
Both guns had been loaded, safety flipped on, and stowed away in his pockets—the Browning at his left hip, and Glock in the right pocket of his jacket. Spare rounds for each were stored in his other pockets. The only thing noticeable from an outsider’s point of view was the slightly gun-shaped bulge by his left thigh, but that disappeared when his hands were in his pockets. Inconspicuousness achieved.
He stood in the parking lot a few feet away from “Unfettered”, his eyes on his feet although concealed from view again by his dark sunglasses. A look of extreme seriousness had been cast over his face and his head was lowered as if he were taking a moment of silence.
"...Let'z go."
He looked up at the man, nodded, and walked away from the group with an air that he had never interacted with them at all. His footsteps fell quietly but at a brisk pace, and to any bystander he looked like any young man on his way to some calling of mild importance. He wasn’t headed toward a massacre; fully armed, prepared to kill many men for the sake of something he had no certainty of. There were no thoughts of death on his mind; neither of the men that had no idea of what was coming nor of his own, if the plan should fail. He was simply on his way to grab a cup of coffee, and possibly meet an old friend for the first time in years…
But beneath the cloak of normalcy, some very non-commonplace things were circling in Vincent’s head. A dark shadow was cast over his being as he walked toward what was possibly a trap or a dead end for him. His thoughts were in stark contrast to his appearance; how often, while having a pleasant walk down the street, does one contemplate their doom?
Rhetorical question. Don’t answer.
For the remaining two minutes of his walk, he smoked a cigarette and managed to push the thoughts away.
The door to The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf was pushed open, a welcoming jungle sounding overhead as an anonymous young man, dressed in a black suit and dark glasses entered the café. His left hand was comfortably nested in the pocket of his pants. He smelled lightly of tobacco smoke and had an unassuming, complacent air about him as if he planned to be here for awhile—to relax. A few eyes were upon him as he walked over to the counter to make his order, but within a few moments, the customers were riveted back to their own business and no one even remembered they had seen him. It wasn’t until later that his actions would demand their attention again—but later was later, and now he was ordering a small coffee which he didn’t plan on drinking. But he needed to order something, or else why would he have entered at all?
The small details mattered to Vincent.
All the while, he kept his eyes on the liquor store across the street, staring past the gaudy advertisements plastered to the window. He wondered what kind of glass it was made of. It meant the difference between merely traumatized costumers and customers with shards of glass stuck in their faces, if any gunshots happened to hit and shatter them. He would avoid shooting through the windows for that reason, of course, because typically that would be counterproductive to ‘not drawing attention’ to oneself.
And it would make a mess.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Aug 2, 2011 17:29:21 GMT -8
Getting Messy ---A man strode over to the Liqueur Store. He had long, white hair that was tied up into a ponytail. He wore a white t-shirt, blue jeans with a black belt holding it up, the silver buckle hidden underneath the contours of the baggy white t-shirt. His arms were smooth, long, but defined. Hanging from his long neck was an air filter mask---which he promptly put on with both hands the moment that he stepped into the store.
Three figures stood in front of him, perusing the store's contents, talking quietly to each other in a familiar manner, the place devoid of any employees. They all wore jeans with black running shoes and large black sweater-jackets with hoods over their heads.
On the shoulders of their jacket-sweaters were white circles with an inverted black skull---when a man without his hood up stepped in from the backroom, the door creaking as it opened to give way to the big man.
Similar attire, he wore bullet-proof pauldrons on his jacket-sweater's shoulders, the inverted black-white skull shiny and gleaming. His face was roundish and brown of Latino descent, squished mildly flat as his head was a gleaning He stood tall at about 6'9, and equally large in girth to match---the man was a giant.
He stepped past the three flunkies, whose attention had turned towards the open glass doors, where the man with an eye-patch over his left eye stood, his hands in his pockets. The large man was shaking his head, smiling quietly to himself with an otherwise displeased look in his swarthy, sunken brown eyes."...Lil' Nazi... I tol' you that if you were to come roun' these here parts again that I'd---"---"Unfettered's" right hand suddenly shot out of its pocket with a small, sharp little kitchen knife. He lunged with his right foot in the follow-up of four seconds and plunged the blade into the big man's left thigh. The big man initially looked down with surprise before his enormous upper body clambered down with the suddenness of a man who was... stabbed in the left thigh.
...
Seven seconds had passed and "Unfettered" had retracted his foot and was already backpedaling to the entrance's glass doors. The cocksure smile on his face remained as he whirled around to push the doors open. There was a good three second delay as the flunkies began to realize what had just happened---"MOTHERFUCKER, MY GODDAMNED LEG.""HE JUST STABBED LIEUTENANT NICKS. GET THE OTHERS!""IT'S WAR! WAR!""Unfettered" began streamlining away, stopping on the other side of the road as seven men from the store rushed out, with a limping Lieutenant Nicks jumping in to make them eight. A small semi-circle began forming about "Unfettered" where he stood as the others proceeded to walk about him to ensure his capture---and he laughed as the small liqueur store began to flow out with the remainder of the Black Hoods."...Sonuvabitch, I reckon this is the last sunset yer' gonna see---""---As of zis moment... Ich, 'Unfettered,' as a representative of 'Crows,' declare ze turf of ze Black Hoods az part of its own," his left hand still in his pocket as his right hand shot out, extending itself in a public-speaking sort of manner, taking the time to look around himself as he eyed all of them.
Various blunt and sharp objects were brandished by the Black Hoods in response as Lieutenant Nicks looked back at his only-now approaching fellow Lieutenant and Commander from the rear, followed by the remainder of their men. Four black hoods in particular busted out planks of wood with nails hammered into them, walking to the flanking position of "The Coffee Bean," clearly trying to make their way to the alleyway which was "Unfettered's" only means of escape. One of them brushed past one of the patrons who was sitting down, angrily smashing his plank of wood into the glass window of the store.
Alarms went off due to the broken glass.
No one cared.
The police were all but invalids in Long Beach, after all.---"Standby..." the man said out loud, seemingly talking to himself.
---Nicks stepped forward, pulling the knife out of his thigh, a small squirt of his blood accompanying his action."Sonuvabitch, no one can help you now..." he replied, reaching into his backpocket for his gun.
---The German pulled down his mask and smiled.
...~
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Post by Vincent. on Aug 2, 2011 22:15:26 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]At the Price of Oblivion[/shadow]
“Here’s your coffee, sir—oh. Oh my god.”
“…Keep it. I’ve lost my appetite,” came a slightly muffled reply. Vincent stood on the opposite side of the counter with his mask in place; both he and the barista were staring out the window as a horde of men in black sweaters filed into the street. They bore crude weapons and cruel faces as they surrounded a young man with long white hair, who, juxtaposed with this herd of thugs, seemed rather helpless. As the scene continued to unfold, the audience of the coffee shop became frantic with the sound of shattering glass and several startled screams. Vincent stood unperturbed through it all, looking a little annoyed if anything.
However, the beating of his heart had quickened slightly.
…
The broken window would prove to be a blessing.
“…Excuse me.”
The barista took a dumbfounded step out of the way as the masked man walked casually around the counter and brushed past him without hesitation. The other employees had already done the smart thing by crouching down out of view. Vincent strode across the tiny space and hunkered down on one knee next to a frightened-looking young woman, his long torso upright and his arms flat on the counter—firmly gripping a gun in each hand. He was well hidden, but he had a clear view of the scene just beyond the broken window, and a clear line of fire.
The three leaders of the Black Hoods were in view, displayed perfectly before him like criminals before a firing squad—ready for their execution.
Such overconfidence.
He watched sternly as the hulking Lieutenant’s hand reached toward his back pocket—
One shot was fired. And then another. Followed by more screams.
One second later:
Two. Shots.
In the span of about five seconds, four .45 caliber bullets from the Glock would cut through the air toward their targets—aimed between the eyes and in the center of the chest of both the Lieutenant Nicks and his Commander. There followed a brief pause in which Vincent growled quietly; one of the cronies had moved over and was now blocking his line of fire to the remaining Lieutenant. His left index finger twitched on the trigger, firing into the man’s lower abdomen. It was a smaller bullet, but the shock of penetration typically did a quick number on the human body’s nervous system and would send the man instinctively toward the ground with a very terrible stomachache. And following that…
Two. more. .45 bullets for the last standing Lieutenant.
A mere 20 seconds had passed since Vincent had made his way behind the counter, and now he was on his way back out again—but he’d take a different route this time. Pocketing the Glock and switching the Browning to his right hand, he turned and strode swiftly to the door marked ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’, keeping his head slightly ducked. He pushed the door open and let it swing shut behind him, took a few more steps, and reached for the handle of another door.
In the alleyway, the backdoor of the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf opened quietly. The man in dark glasses and a facemask stood five feet behind the four Black Hoods, his gun poised readily at the end of his right arm.
“Drop your weapons, swine.”
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Post by "Unfettered" on Aug 5, 2011 2:52:44 GMT -8
Severing The Head With a quick look around, "Unfettered" seemed to be looking more at the encircling Black Hoods. His heart sank slightly, but for another reason: Vincent was nowhere to be found.
The doubt did not show on the German's face, however---he had been in far worse hauls to be perturbed by a few snags. His escape would be possible but only through muscling his way through, to gamble---
Two shots.
One second.
Impossible with such handguns, pray for one capable of mighty dexterity and strength with one's hands. In those one second, though, Nicks fell down in mid-sentence, blood erupting from his forehead and chest as holes formed from seemingly out of nowhere, saving the obvious cacophony from inside "The Coffee Bean."
Only to re-adjust and aim again for the shots came the breadth of time of five seconds as all the cronies stood in disbelief for a second before the Commander from behind fell down as well.
In the seconds that passed by, the entirety of the Black Hood's command structure crumbled and several men began to flee wildly while others began to crouch where they stood. Foolhardy still were the ones who waved their weapons around in the air, still trying to identify where the sound came from, waiting for an order from their remaining Lieutenant---
---When two more shots floored a certain foolish fellow who had been standing in front of the other Lieutenant began to make for "The Coffee Bean."
He had barely taken two steps when he doubled over---only to have two more shots ring overhead of him and destroy the newly promoted commander. "Unfettered" had begun to backpeddle slightly, to catch and lure the others, but stopped halfway in his third backstep as he saw the four armed men who were there to bear witness to it all.
Only then did the Barista begin to shriek reflexively after the twenty quick seconds had passed on by.---Catching quick attention and rousing the other Black Hoods in their encirclement formation... as well as the several in reserve that remained."THEY KILLED NICKS! THEY KILLED THE COMMANDER!"
"BLOOD FOR BLOOD, LIFE FOR LIFE!"
"BLACK HOOOODS!!!!"---The very right-edge of the encirclement was intercepted by "Unfettered," however, as he dashed forward to slam a right fist (OOC: 30 Strength Used) into the man's face, knocking him back a few feet, but not over and out. This was followed by a hasty-two step retreat as the entirety of the gang began to rush forward at such easy, but deserving prey.
Meanwhile..."Oh, fuckity---FUCK---""Can we take him?"The third rear-guard soldier looked uncertain while the fourth had dropped his weapon and had jumped shrunk his entire form into a small crouch, hands over his head. Morale and certainty had shattered and "Unfettered" whirled around in time to see the moment of hesitation before being rewarded with a punch to the back of his head.
Stumbling backwards a moment in his awkward twist, the German turned to greet the first wave of Black Hoods, giving the puncher a quick shove into his chest to push him back into his comrade's arms. Another Hood came for his left side with still another circling further left for a quick encirclement. However, "Unfettered" took small, crouching side-step stride and deliver an elbow, before bringing the man's body onto himself and over to his right side in a small throw. A man at his right was coming at him again, giving him a good and proper bloodying whack to his upper torso which ripped through his shirt and into his chest slightly, illiciting a stifled grunt of pain and a hasty back-step before the man would full-on pivot and turn-tail, the crowd sufficiently gathered.
He would slam the back of his right palm into the back of the right-most rear-guard's head, pushing the man down and his feet slipping from underneath him. With that, he would continue to outrun the others and grab Vincent's potentially free hand and drag him along with him. Alternatively, if both of Vincent's hands were pre-occupied, he would quickly duck forward and scoop the man up by the back of his knees and his upper back and continue running---"Unfettered" was quite strong and fast.
If Vincent were to be gathered and dragged after "Unfettered" at top speed (OOC: "Unfettered's" 40 Dexterity) then the German would drag him a ways into the cement-walled alleyway and abruptly stop thirty-seven feet in and turn around---they were faced with a now locked metal fence. If carrying Vincent, "Unfettered" would gently drop the man's legs first and allow him to collect himself with their backs distanced at about seven feet from the gate. Not necessarily a dead end, but there would only be enough time for one of them to jump it before the others would fall in on the other.
---An escape which would not be necessary.
The German made careful sure not to smile lest he reveal himself as the entirety of the still-pursuing Black Hoods rushed forward, the closest one rushing in with a huge aluminum bat at about nine feet away."Creative und reliable... Ich like it," the German would comment on Vincent's earlier disappearing actions and solidified follow-through with the plan."...Hold. Zis is ver ve shall crush them."---"Unfettered's" gaze suddenly turned towards the roof-tops towards a certain group of three people... and several loads of trash, bricks, and other weighty debris loaded precariously close to the sides.
...And three weighty fridges positioned at the edges of the rooftops on both sides just six feet into the roof from the street.
"Unfettered" was promptly rewarded with a bat to the side of his face, knocking him down onto his back, his hands falling underneath him to barely catch him.
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PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vincent. on Aug 5, 2011 3:50:07 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]'...OR GOD DAMN IT, I WILL TURN THIS ALLEY AROUND—'[/shadow]
Things looked bad.
Vincent watched with gritted teeth as “Unfettered” fought against the horde, keeping a constant eye on the black hooded guards as well in case they got too cocky. At least one of them was good at following directions, but the others looked ready to do something stupid at any moment—
But they didn’t have the chance. “Unfettered” was rushing past them, leaving one sprawled on the ground and the others to give chase. Vincent had taken a few steps backward as soon as he’d seen the white head heading his direction, but he was turned abruptly the other way as the German grabbed his free hand and kept running. He stumbled after the other for a brief moment, pointing the gun awkwardly back at their pursuers before he managed to catch up with his partner’s pounding footsteps. When they reached the dead-end and stopped, Vincent quickly turned about on his heel and aimed his gun at the approaching hoods.
“Creative und reliable... Ich like it, ...Hold. Zis is ver ve shall crush them.”
Several seconds later, the German was falling forcefully backward and Vincent had to restrain himself from firing into the face of his attacker—but he kept his finger off the trigger and would give the man a powerful frontal kick in the gut to send him falling on his ass. As the bat clattered loudly on the ground, Vincent would reach down with his free hand to grab “Unfettered” firmly by the collar of his shirt, attempting to pull him backward and out of the way as he stepped between the fallen German and the rest of the Black Hoods who were still charging.
His left hand slipped into his jacket pocket as he fired a warning shot into the air over the heads of the gang. In the next moment, he had both guns aimed at them again. He looked somewhat aggravated.
“EVERY
BODY
SHUT
THE FUCK
UP
AND SETTLE
DOWN.”
His breaths were short and his heart was beating angrily, but his voice was frighteningly authoritative and the expression he wore was nothing less than imposing.
These assholes were so unorganized. It made him sick.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Aug 8, 2011 3:44:12 GMT -8
Moment Of Lucidity Roar of a sleeping tiger?
"Unfettered" was barely recovering from the stunning attack to his face, his vision blurred, his hearing deadening into that irritating "EEEEE" sound. He was stronger then the average minion, though. So while the upper-right part of his shirt was torn slightly and the bleeding from his chest staining onto his shirt, the side of his face bleeding profusely via the ear and being rather bruised up, the German still managed to settle his feet properly into a good stand after being lifted up by his compatriot.
Roar of a sleeping tiger...
Perhaps it was because it was so uncharacteristic to the man's demeanor or due to some hidden form of charisma that this man possessed that was just laying dormant, Vincent propelled the Black Hoods to a stop. This gave "Unfettered" the chance to salute to the rooftop watchers.
---"ATCHTUNG, M.R."The response was near immediate.
Bricks, filled trashcans, and other forms of debris began toppling over and onto the crowd of Black Hoods, with several refrigerators falling behind them at the entrance of the alley in an effort to seal them in. Many hoods fell, while others struggled to get back to their feet as all mannerisms of garbage and weighty objects fell onto them. A few heavy objects of note managed to even crack down onto the heads of several of the hoods.
There was a loud aggregate of roaring.
Four managed to rush forward in a diamond formation, rousing themselves from the wreckage as the immediate onslaught from above began to slow---the vanguard being greeted promptly greeted with a forward kick from a suddenly rushing "Unfettered." The success of his plan managed to rouse up his adrenaline, propelling him forward, before he shoved the two flanking Hoods to the vanguard back as well, pushing the rearguard down along with them, the four landing in a heap.
With that, "Unfettered" jumped back to Vincent's side---several shots being fired in front of him, onto the ground. The ricochet landed on the walls to the side of him---as a laser sight was slowly moved around in a showy mannerism for the Hoods to see---towards them.
Many began to propel back to the sealed entrance where a man from above jumped down, his body hunching down into a crouch with a large expletive. However as he raised himself up into a stand, the man known as Tai jumped down from the refrigerators, revealing himself to be unharmed... and wielding a two foot steel pipe.
---"Unfettered" held up his hand in a silent command."...Black Hoodz!"
"You know as vell as Ich do that it did not have to come to zis. But Ich blame not you, nor your passionate loyalty... merely your now deceased leaderz."The German would take a few steps forward, but to the side so as not to obscure Vincent's line of sight. Many of the Black Hoods were still struggling to get to their feet. He would pocket his hands by the thumbs. "Who is ze next strongest in line of ze Black Hoods? Ze next who vould dare to take to ze helm? Who may I parley vith?""I is." A rather burly, hooded figure struggles to his feet, from the mid-center of the group, various pieces of trash and debris still on him. However, as he makes his way to the front of the group, he brushes the trash off his person, the others going to the side as the man steps about with an already recognized air of respect and... authority. He brings his fingers up to his hood, pulling it down to reveal his face---"No cool, man. Shit no joke. Black Hood is Hood life. REPRESENT."It took the German a moment to fill in the gaps of what the man was saying, who proceeded to thump his own chest with his fist before lashing it out in the German's direction, displaying the ASL symbol for "H." However, the German merely nodded, smiling quietly."Ich know. But you also know we have had no such choice in ze past.---""Boss is boss. Is Boss.""But now, you are... Mister...""...Mister.""...Erm... Mister...""Mister Jazz Willis, holmes.""Alright, Mister Jazz Willis Holmes---""Holmes, Jazz Willis, holmes.""Zat ist vat Ich said---""NO, HOLMES, JAZZ WILLIS, HOLMES---""Oh. Right, Holmes---""---JAZZ WILLIS---""---JA, holmes... Mister Jazz Willis..."
"---Ve, the Remnants of Militia, under Crows, vould like to use your territory as a strategic staging point to defend Public High School #259. Ich bring up zis proposal."
"Ve acknowledge you, Jazz Willis, as ze new head of ze 'Black Hoods' of this territory---but vish to extend ze opportunity to join ze Crows und a chance to expand upon your power-hold."
"You und/or any other future leader of ze 'Black Hoods' vill be recognized by Crows, und vould be kept in charge here, answerable only to meinself."
"...Und in zis vay..."The German would step closer to whisper to the listening Jazz Willis' ear in a sense of urgency---"---To embolden your defenses in 259... und therefore here."
"259 falls... your territory falls into the hands of the suddenly large amounts of vagrants from the fallen school."
"But ich need...""Unfettered" would go onto whispering much---before Jazz Willis, still somewhat emotionally wrought, would push the German away, overwhelmed. Their previous leaders did not treat them as well... but..."...Need think." OOC:
I am not looking for a responding RP post, but rather a singular statistical post by a mod or some other unbiased party as to the following:
"Unfettered" is attempting to---
- Gain the territory and/or failing that, setting up a respected leader of the Black Hoods from within the Black Hoods' ranks.
- Get the Black Hoods to be willing enough to provide support to Crows/Militia Remnants (out of the 20-35 members of their group of whom may still remain/have not fled, scattered, or abandoned the Black Hoods).
- Acknowledge the Black Hoods as NPCs with 8 (or 10) in every statistic.
- Determine how many NPCs are likely to fall into employ out of the 20-35 Black Hoods into Crows/Militia.
- In The Possibility Having The Black Hoods Turn On Them, Have Dora Annihilate Them All/Physically Destroy Them Into Surrender Or Annilation.
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"Do you even know how to kill me?" |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Quest Character on Aug 8, 2011 21:38:28 GMT -8
Mod Interjection: - Jazz Willis feels impudent to the amount of wording (-5 Charisma to his initial Stats due to loss of respect)
- Jazz declines to inspire a return to battle due to this impudence.
- 5 of the Hood's turn away saying a number of words including; "Fuck this", "Screw the hoods". Upon which two open fire upon said retreating members to which another 5 retreat. 3 Bodies drop dead of the initial 3.
- Jazz Willis ducks head in shame.
- The Hoods Split into two Factions: Black Hoods (Allied with Crows w/ Jazz & the new Red Fangs.)
- Black Hoods sport 15 NPC Members with 10 Stats in each statistic, Jazz sports 12 (minus the -5 penalty).
- Red Fangs sport 10 NPC Members and are opposed to Black Hoods and retreat into the city prepared for Guerrilla warfare. They are disorganized but clever.
- Territory is divided 70% to Black Hoods & Crows, 30% to Red Fangs. Pursuit of crushing the Red Fangs is permitted.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Aug 9, 2011 14:09:07 GMT -8
OOC: The following will be to put together the agreed-to terms over MSN as well as the mod-interjection into RP terms for justification.Sobering Surrender * * * * * * * * * * * * * Jazz stood there, looking back at his fellow Hoods, a concerned look in his eyes. Turning his gaze upward, he saw the bitch who had fired off the warning shots in front of the fuckin' Nazi---correction, that fine piece of ass that was workin' the corset. She had the cool, uncaring look of a hardened bitch, though, showed no hesitation on her face. The fella standing on the opposite rooftop looked like a skinny bitch, but was holding off on pushing a huge can of trash down on them, looking down at the Nazi.
Speaking of bitches, Mr. Willis had to turn round back to the Rear Guard that was standing there in all fatigues (wondering for the life of him where to get a fatigue aviator jacket), menacing that huge steel pipe in his right hand, slapping it lightly into his left hand like it ain't weighed nothin'.
The situation itself weren't nothin' but a hard-ass bitch.
He stepped back, lowering his hands to his sides, as a few of the Hoods looked up at him, their hoods still up---law was the law, they knew Jazz was the stronger of the bunch there and looked at him for a command.
One in particular walked up to the boss, tired and out of breath, patting off pieces of broken pottery off his body, holding himself up by placing a left hand on Jazz's left shoulder, hunched over."Fuckin' a... boss... what'd we do?"Jazz recognized that haggard-ass voice---it was Dennie. The new boss found himself in a predicament, looking down at Dennie... and then back up at his slowly standing crew. On one hand they could join, he'd enjoy the benefits o' leading their sorry asses with the head asswipes outta the way, and they got to keep their gang. On the other hand they could charge this punk-ass, get a lot of them killed, and get good ol' vengeance. Rage had not yet left the building, after all.
...But..."Well, shiiiiit, man."* * * * * * * * * * * * * Marina walked through the mostly deserted street now with an otherwise useless first-aid kit, noting the bodies on the ground. There were four bodies---three of which she recognized by the call signs on their shoulder armor. Those were the now dead commanders---"Unfettered" found himself a hell of a good shot. The fourth body however was not and---"Oh God, he's alive---!"She immediately rushed over, opening up the kit and setting to work on the poor man.* * * * * * * * * * * * * The Nazi was smart---smarter than himself, anyways (wordy fuckin' cunt with his fancy shit an' all). Jazz's hands balled up into fists for a moment, suddenly looking over at "Unfettered" before his grip instantly began to loosen up... with a very dejected sigh."...Aight. 'Black Hoods'll' be bitches for---"*SMACK*"NA-AH, MA' NIG. NO WAY."Jazz's face was punched the other way, his left cheek growing red with the welt on his face with two bloody cuts to go along with it, as Dennie stood up now, his hood down. His left hand was balled up into a fist with two broken off dog fangs between his fingers, stained red."Fuck this. We ain't gonna be no 'Black Hoods' under you. We ain't gonna be Black Hoods at all. You weak-minded, Jazz. AND WE AIN'T SERVING NO FUCKIN' NAZI!"Dennie raised up his other hand, middle finger raised up and defiant to "Unfettered" before spitting at him. Jazz raised up a hand, but his lips fumbled over his words too much as several other Black Hoods renounced themselves and tore away at their hoods, chiming in along with Dennie."DIDN'T KNOW THE HOODS WERE THIS WEAK, MAN!""FUCK THE HOODS."---This was not met kindly. Immediatly, several Hoods that did bring their guns opened fire, before Jazz managed to shout them down."FUCK, FUCK, QUIT IT, FUCK!"It was too late, the damage done, and several former Hoods fell---for good, this time. Tai looked at the former Hoods that had begun scrambling in his direction, but "Unfettered" merely shook his head in the distance. Tai then stood to the side, gripping his steel pipe tightly, watching the former Hoods scramble with great difficulty over the fallen refrigerators.
Dora in the meantime raced to the corner of the roof, SMG in hand, beating all of the scramblers there, training her sights on them---easy pickings. However, when she looked back at "Unfettered," his palm was raised---a halt sign. She tsked to herself, kicking a few pieces of loose rubble down on the routing, muttering frustration. Jazz looked back in a look of gratitude, to which "Unfettered" simply nodded, his face unsmiling and understanding..."...Enough blood has been shed today, much less on former comrades."The German would look back at Vincent."Danke for your efforts. Zis compromise would not have been possible vithout you," throwing a small smile, though his eye was clearly going in other directions, the man deep in thought."Ich invite you to stay vith me a bit longer, as we move onto ze next task... so that Ich may secure my promise to you."The smile became forced and upon realization, the German dropped it, settling for a nod in nonetheless sincere gratitude, before he would turn and walk towards Jazz.
At this point, all those that had broken off had fled, marked carefully with dozens of varying camera shots by a man known as "Green" on the rooftops. Tai made a point of pushing away the destroyed fridges, clearing a way to the liquor store. "Unfettered" made a sweeping hand motion for Jazz as the remainder of his crew proceeded to assemble behind him."So then... do you, ze Black Hoods, surrender.""..."
"Yeah, sure.""Then, Ich vould like to formalize your surrender in your home base.""Fine."The entire entourage would begin walking towards the Liquor Store, "Unfettered" taking to the rear. Marina at this point had begun helping the previously shot man to his feet, waiting for the crowd to pass before following after them. Dora and "Green" would jump down from above, while other hidden members of former Militia made their way out of the woodwork, all of them with means of melee arms, but nothing drawn.
Before "Unfettered" would walk too far, though, he would look back at Vincent, cupping his hands to bring up the invite again. To walk at his side.
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PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vincent. on Aug 9, 2011 21:46:19 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]Cautious Camaraderie[/shadow]
For the remainder of the negotiation—if it could even be called one—Vincent stood with his back to the chain-link fence, arms crossed, a look of indifference on his face which was all but hidden by the mask and glasses. He was intent on keeping himself out of the way and involved as little as possible; his job, for the time being, was finished. As he felt the potential danger of the situation gradually subside, he kept a mistrusting eye on the faces of the dwindling crowd and on the members of “Unfettered”’s crew as well. He felt vulnerable in his position, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it except keep meager faith in their ‘team’ and trust that things would go ‘as planned’.
…and as promised.
Everyone was on the move, now. Vincent stepped away from the fence and let his shoulders fall into a more relaxed position with some effort, (he had a habit of tensing up, which never helped with anything at all. It was a useless piece of instinctual programming) then slipped the gun into his pocket for the final time (hopefully, maybe) and walked in silence beside the German. His eyes were on the ground ahead of him. He reached up toward the mask and slipped it off over his head, threw it behind him, and took a deep and welcoming breath of cooler air — a look of mild aggravation hung over his face.
Or perhaps, that was just his face and he never looked anything less than displeased.
As they walked side-by-side, he slipped his hand into his pants pocket and withdrew the pack of cigarettes, which he flipped open with his thumb. There were two left. Vincent took one between his teeth and extended his hand without hesitation over to “Unfettered”, offering up the last one. If the German accepted, Vincent would toss the empty box over his shoulder without a word or even a glance and reach for his Zippo. If not, the box would be slipped back into his pocket again and switched with the lighter.
He thought about speaking to the German, but decided against it. He didn't know what to say.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Aug 9, 2011 22:06:30 GMT -8
Rarity Very nonchalantly, the German would continue walking, making note of Vincent's draw to his pocket. He would watch the man very carefully, before noting the cigarette offered to him.
"Unfettered" would smile.
'...Maybe, just this once...'"Danke."The German would take the cigarette in hand, slipping it in between his lips as he waited for the man to take out a lighter if he felt so inclined, watching the empty box being thrown back...
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PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vincent. on Aug 9, 2011 22:18:35 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]To Be A Gentleman, Or Not To Be...[/shadow]
With a swift click, Vincent flipped open the Zippo and held the flame to the end of the cigarette, his eyes barely focusing in the task—it was merely second nature. However, his violet gaze did slide over to the German as he held out the lighter, flame still lit… It was unclear whether he meant to hand it over or politely light the other’s cigarette himself. To avoid anything awkward he figured he would let “Unfettered” decide what the gesture meant.
The thick and warm scent of Marlboro had already begun to fill the air, and Vincent quietly sighed to himself as he walked, his free hand slipping into his pocket in a strained counterfeit of perfect ease.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Aug 9, 2011 22:41:08 GMT -8
Licht Mein Feuer The German noted the offered lighter, smiling in gratitude towards his newfound compatriot. The German take his left hand and hold his two forefingers to the base of his cig. Clearly his right hand was meant to grab onto the lighter.
So the obvious thing to do was walk closer to Vincent, keeping in his pace... and lean over so that the tips of their cigarettes touched each other. He would grin in the coy playfulness as Vincent's cigarette lit his own, before leaning back, puffing it---
---As opposed to coughing violently like a normal person, there was a quiet amount of Qi secreted into his lung, dampening the otherwise intrusive effect. He was no pro, though, and continued using his left hand to cradle the thing in his lip."Danke," the German would mutter, pulling the smoke from his lips briefly, letting out an very amateur-looking stream of smoke from his mouth.
Obviously, the German was being silly. Obviously.
...And probably far from done before the day was set.
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PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vincent. on Aug 9, 2011 22:58:05 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]Terror?[/shadow]
This was… not expected. Not at all.
He turned suddenly to his left to glare at the German with wide, startled eyes, really only making things worse by doing so. For a terribly awkward moment their faces were no more than six inches apart, touching the tips of their—
...
Vincent nearly dropped the Zippo.
His left arm retracted as if he’d been bitten, pocketing the lighter and then running the hand through his hair in a panicked attempt at keeping casual. His cheeks were noticeably reddened in a matter of seconds and he had to turn away.
The filter of the cigarette was crushed between his teeth.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Aug 9, 2011 23:08:37 GMT -8
Not. A. Clue. But Still Fucking Around...
The German would laugh to himself at Vincent's reaction---the man was apparently very tightly wound. However, he would walk ahead a few steps to look at the man's face... and therein reaction.
What the German saw was a mildly (or severe) case of phobia.
Clearly, the logical thing to do was to lean towards the man again and bring up his right hand onto his forehead, to feel the man's forehead. Should Vincent allow it to happen (or if the German caught him off guard again), the German would note from simple blood flow on the man's face that Vincent's forehead was a little warmer then the average person's.
Severe case of phobia?
The German breathed out, stifling a cough, resisting to laugh as he'd press the hand quite comfortably in a "familiar" fashion on Vincent's forehead."Oye. Your head ist quite hot. Are you feeling vell?" smiling quite concerned---at his new compatriot's expense---
---However, just in case, Vincent might start feeling a very... "cooling" sensation on his forehead, as a thin layer of ice would form on the fingers of the German's hand...
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Don't bleed on the carpet. |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vincent. on Aug 9, 2011 23:22:47 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]Bad Liar[/shadow]
Vincent had been staring hard off to the right, his brow furrowed as he ‘looked’ at something that was apparently very interesting and/or disconcerting. More likely the latter, given the look on his face which could best be described as mute horror. It would take him a few seconds for the initial WTF to subside, and then he’d look forward—
But before he had the chance, “Unfettered” was leaning toward him again, laying a hand on his forehead, smiling—
"Oye. Your head ist quite hot. Are you feeling vell?"
Vincent merely looked at him for a silent moment, his eyes wide and glaring slightly.
…
His left hand reached up for the cigarette which was held tightly between his clenched teeth, so that he could open his mouth to mutter:
“…I’m… fine.”
His forehead began to feel strangely cool, but he barely noticed. Too busy feeling the terrible awkwardness, like a stifling heat. His right hand emerged slowly from its pocket and moved upward to grasp the German’s wrist, very gently yet firmly, and remove the hand from his forehead so he could continue walking at a brisk pace toward the Liquor store.
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