A liberal poke in the eye (Olesya/Open)

[Marcus Prasad]

{OOC} For those who want to join this thread, this is gonna be taking place within Barker Territory at night. You have been warned. Also, this is going to be set BEFORE Smoke and Mirrors, but AFTER all other of my threads so far. {OOC}

It was filthy here.
That wasn’t to say that the other territories protected by Crows and Dragons were the paragons of neat and orderly streets and clean alleyways, but at least they didn't leave dead bodies to rot on the street when they weren't being piled up and set alight. The air was saturated with the stench of Burning flesh, rotting garbage and human refuse with a pinch of diesel for seasoning. It was enough to make one gag and retch when they weren't busy hiding from roving patrols and vicious hungry packs of stray dogs. Huddled shapes dressed in rags gathered around trashcan bonfires that speckled the streets and alleyways like holes poked in black fabric and held up to the light as furtive eyes casted worried looks about themselves.

The feeling of Misery was appalling as decomposing bodies swayed while they hung from broken streetlights, the carrion birds having already eaten their fill and moved on. Limp rope betrayed signs of bodies cut down more for the pragmatic idea that starvation breeds desperation than to give a loved one a proper burial.
I mean, everyone has to eat right? With all that meat just hanging there going to waste.........
Periodically a car or truck would scream recklessly down the street, shattering the almost supernatural quiet that gripped the area. With bits of Scrap metal seemingly vomited all over it in some half hazard attempt to cover up the holes that the rust had eaten away, the vehicles carried Members of Barkers Goon squads as they ran patrols.

The miserable rag people would then scurry like rats into whatever hidey hole they thought was safety everytime they caught the sound of screeching tires and the cacophonic roar of poorly tuned super engines, lest they be picked up and either forcibly recruited into Barkers army, or spirited away to whatever place the some of the soldiers like to ‘play’ with their catches.

Tonight there was something different prowling around the ‘red zone’. With a plan that was months in the making, Marcus Prasad had gathered up his tools and set out to make a statement of intent. Dressed in a black pair of slacks and hoodie, Marcus had jury rigged something that looked like combat webbing using a knapsack, paracord and LOTS of nylon. The product was a Reinforced Backpack that buckled across his chest with a string of pouches that clipped around his waist. Inside the Pack were folders containing Anti-Barker posters Marcus planned on Pasting around the bastards territories using a home made wheat paste he cooked up in Silks Kitchen. Hooked to the bottom of his pack was a paint roller and fitted snuggly in the waist pouches around him were cans of Spray paint. The wheat paste was poured into small Tupperware containers that hooked to the webbing that ran across and down his chest. Shaking himself down to ensure everything was secured; Marcus took a red bandana and tied it around the lower part of his face. With his hood up, he would be hard to spot, let alone recognized.

"Well I fell into prison about a quarter till three
Where I found in my cell a glass waiting for me."

The man began to sing softly to himself, his normally rubbery New York accent replaced by a lyrical Irish lilt as he hopped a fence and penetrated deeper into Barker controlled space. He stayed away from the main streets, too many walking patrols. His mission wasn’t to fight, but to give the poor sods trapped behind the lines a reason to hope. Picking a good spot behind a Laundromat (Or at lease what USED to be a Laundromat) Marcus unbuckled his paint roller, reached back to pull out a poster and went to work.

"So I filled what was empty and I pulled up a stool
But he stood in the corner, the old devil wouldn't move."

The man was particularly proud of his poster of Barker taking it in the hindquarters by a donkey painted on the top half of a pizza box. It took him less than two hours to completely bomb the space of five city blocks with spraypaint and posters. He attacked the area with an almost obsessive determination as he laid up condemnations to Barkers regime in every nook, cranny and hard to reach yet visible spot his sharp eyes could find. Taking great pains not to leave a trace of himself behind, he replaced empty cans and Tupperware cases back into their specific slots as he fluidly pulled out new ones and continued his work like a man possessed.

"He said, 'You drink when you're lonely.' No I drink when I want!
He said, 'You'll never be sober.' Sure. Why would I want that?"

Waiting for a passing patrol to walk by, Marcus darted out into the streets, ducking behind a newspaper box. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a heavily drawn on map of long beach and conferred with it using a trashcan bonfire for light. He gritted his teeth when he realized that if he wanted to stay on schedule, he would have to risk the open street for a few blocks before he could duck back into the relative safety of the alleyways. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, offering a quick prayer to whatever powers that be were watching over him, Marcus began to move quickly down the block, trying hard to fight the urge to bolt like a shot. He was tense of course. Every shadow felt like the man himself was watching him. Barker represented a critical shot to Marcus’ self confidence. Never before in his life had he met another human being that made him feel so unsure of himself. The truth was, as much as he hated Barker, he also feared him.

"I only drink to be merry but unfortunately
I'm in the wrong prison cell and the wrong company."

Almost reaching the end of the next block, Marcus flattened himself against the wall of a brick red building as he heard crude loud voices coming from down the intersection. Peeking his head around the corner, he spotted a group of primitively armed thugs sitting around a broken streetlight. He cursed softly to himself. With his nerves as keyed up as they were, he would have blundered right into them. Instead he spent five nerve wracking minutes waiting for the right moment to dart across the street and disappear. Unslinging a few spraycans, Marcus went right to work with a more frantic desperation. He didn’t like the fact that he was working with a patrol at his back. He would have to be careful and quick. His entire plan hinged on remaining undetected. What he wanted was to give Barker and his goons something to scratch their heads over.

[Your Mom~]

After finding out about David's brother, Olesya took it upon herself to gather more information. With no sign of her own family, she figured it was best to help out a friend who at least knew where his brother was, even if it was in the hands of her worst enemy. Barker had done many terrible things in his life, and Olesya had been victim to one of them.

She tied her tell-tale white hair beneath a coal gray bandana that matched her equally dark tank top and pants. Another bandana covered her face, both to hide her identity and to filter out the horrid smell of the place. She had rubbed her skin with dirt to make her fair complexion more muddled and less visible in the dim light. The only source of light came from the moon and the varied bin fires that dotted their way around the fallen city. Dirty and run down people gathered around these fires, looking like the world's largest Hooverville. Some of them had been CEO's, business owners, bag boys, and used car salesmen. Nothing like a little catastrophe to even the playing field right?

Olesya stuck to the shadows, moving silently through the rubble, running a little recon outside the safety of the Crows' territory. She carried a pouch bound around her waist, smaller than her usual scavenging bag. She kept her supplies to a minimum, so they didn't weight her down or make her bulkier than necessary.

"He said, 'You drink when you're lonely.' No I drink when I want!
He said, 'You'll never be sober.' Sure. Why would I want that?"

A jolly voice drifted among the moaning of the city, catching the young woman's attention. Following the source of the sound, her sharp vision caught sight of a figure darting across a street into the shadows. Olesya silently followed, avoiding the line of sight of the patrolling goons.

"I only drink to be merry but unfortunately
I'm in the wrong prison cell and the wrong company."

She stopped about twenty feet away, watching the man spray painting the walls of a desolate building. There was something vaguely familiar about his body language, but the voice wasn't one she'd heard before. He covered in such a way as to hide his own identity, his face and head hidden by fabric and a hood. She watched him, much like a cat watches a mouse, though more out of curiosity than sabotage. What was he up to?

[Marcus Prasad]

Halfway done, Marcus checked his stock. He had at least enough poster, paint and paste for another two or three blocks if he used his tools sparingly. Hearing laughter echo down from the adjacent street, the man tensed. He wished for nothing more than the chance to dive swinging into the gaggle of thugs and let out some pent up aggression that was slowly building up from being so close to potential danger, but he knew damn well that even if he painted the streets with them, all it would take was one goon with a flaregun or some equivalent signal maker to fuck up months of planning. So taking a few deep breaths, breathing out in an angry wet growl in the direction of the laughter, Marcus fought to lower his speeding heartrate and got back to work.

'Next time shit heads. Hope you get some sleep cause you guys are gonna have one hell of a mess on your hands come morning time.'
A giddy thought that made the mans lips pull back into his wolflike grin from underneath the bandana that covered his mouth. Moving through the small cluttered courtyard, rolling gobs of wheat paste against the walls and doors and slapping posters on them, Marcus reached a high chain link fence, leaping over it with a quick tic tac and landing in a crouch.
It had taken awhile, but he had finaly used up all his 'art' and was ready to call it a night. Unfortuantly wanderlust was upon him. It didn't help that he was also emboldened by his success. Still undiscovered, why not scoop around the place for some intel to take back to Spike and Unfettered?

"On the Fourth of July, eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the sweet Cobh of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the Grand City Hall in New York"

His voice falted at that last line. The wound left behind from watching his city burn still itched in his heart from time to time. Pulling the bandana from his mouth (And gagging from the taste of the air) Marcus wiped the sweat from his beard and took a moment to look around after feeling the hair on the back of his neck prick up but could find nothing.
'Which doesen't mean nothing's out there.'

Almost as if to challenge the unseen stalker, Marcus pulled his hoodie down and shook out his unbound hair. With hands in his pockets, he began to slowly walk down the dark empty street. The only sound comming from the wind and the pop crackle of fire.

[Your Mom~]

Olesya noticed that the signs he was putting up and words he was spray painting were all anti-Barker propaganda. This piqued her interest, and she continued to follow him, sticking to the shadows and remaining ever so silent. The streets were like home to Olesya, it was where she'd spent a good chunk of time when she was out of her mind messed up on the chemicals Barker had injected her with. She could blend into the shadows just as easy as a ghost, but no one could hide from a good sense of intuition.

She caught her breath when he froze, appearing to have that feeling on the back of his neck. Imagine her surprise when he removed his hood and face mask to reveal...that boy from the stomping grounds! What a riot he'd been, though at the time she didn't know where his loyalties lied. Now it was quite obvious, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't pleased by this news.

Olesya slithered out of the shadows, if just barely, fixit her mismatched eyes on him. Her own face and hair were covered, but if he was a smart boy he'd recognize her voice and swagger.

"That's some mighty fine art you've got there, sweetheart."

She cooed, nodding toward his handiwork.

[Marcus Prasad]

Marcus would be lying if he said he wasen't startled almost clean out of his shoes when he heard that silky voice drift from a dark alleyway. He was expecting a surprise attack, not a conversation. In a flash, he found himself jolted in a 'lazy boxer's' stance, arms by his waist but fists clenched and body language projecting hostility. His Mellow brown eyes now sharpened and scanning the darkness. Keyed up as he was, Marcus didn't quite recognize the voice, though a small feeling in the back of his head told him he should have.

Eventualy he would see a shape slip out of the darkness with an almost seductive grace and that was when the small feeling became a nagging itch. Confusion painted the mans face as his instincts to lunge and attack warred with the notion that the shape may be a non hostile. Those curves told him his guest was clearly female. Nice shape. Athletic, sensual, cuddly.

'Threat analysis: High to extreme. Awww shit, this chick could give me trouble.....Wait a minute......those eyes! Is that.....Bobcat?'

A Spark of recognition and the man would slowly relax, unclenching his fists as he shifted his weight and took a casual stance. Well she was DEFINATLY not who he expected to see here. The man tried and failed not to look increadibly pleased to see her again. He wouldn't admit it, but since their first meeting in the warehouse area he liked so much, the girl had been on his mind. With her teasing demeanor, willingness to banter back and forth with him and that freaky wallclimb thing she did, Marcus had found her absolutly intriguing. It didn't help that she had such a heavy air of mystery to her.

And he STILL didn't have her number!

"Well, what can I say."
Marcus replied with a smirk.
"I'm New York City born and raised."

New York was FAMOUS for it's Graffiti scene. Many of the old legends hailed from there and much of the city was absolutely covered in spraypaint. Marcus took pride in his work and the praise made him glow somewhat.
"Hopefully they will be smart enough to know what Sic Semper Tyrannus means."
That had been something of a warcry for the man and appeared quite numerously alongside 'Barker Six feet Under' and 'Crows, Dragons and Wolves. Oh My. RIP Barker, we're comming for you.'

"So. The hell have you been up to lately?"
The man asked casualy enough. Wondering if there was more to her being here than just a case of wanderlust.

[Your Mom~]

Olesya couldn't help but snicker at his fighting stance, how he had gone from almost carefree delinquency to instant fight or flight. Granted, smearing propaganda around Barkers territory was no mean feat, he had every right to be on edge, but it was still funny. Olesya pulled off her face mask, leaving the bandana on her head to hide her tell tale white hair. Like Delilah had said, she may as well paint a target on herself of she walked around unsafe territory with her hair unbound. Actually she had been surprised the man hadn't instantly thought she was one of Barkers amped up experiments the first time he saw her. Well, she WAS one of barkers amped up experiments, just mostly rehabilitated.

"Oh, you know. No good as usual."

Her laughter echoed down the alleyway like a phantom, bouncing disembodied off the bricks around them. She fixed her mismatched eyes on the delinquent.

"And I can see you've been doing the same."

[Marcus Prasad]

"Well what can I say, I gotta do my part right?"
Marcus replied with a casual shrug. She seemed pretty impressed with what he had accomplished so far, which pleased Marcus more than he wanted to admit.
The man looked about himself with his hands on his hips as if he was judging his work for himself and found it wanting.
"But I gotta admit. It's just.......not enough."

He crossed his arms and locked his Mellow brown eyes with Olesya's mismatched pair.
"Let's face it, this is kids stuff. They'll have it cleaned up within the day, long after I'm gone. Nah, I need something that will show 'the man himself' that I'm free to come and go as I please and do whatever I please in his neck of the woods and that there's not a damn thing he can do to stop me."

Marcus' lips widened into a sly smirk and there was a definite twinkle in his eye.
"I could use a hand though, if your up to it I mean."
Challenge laid down. It was up to Olesya to decide if she was willing to accept. Marcus was a pretty damn good judge of character. He had to be, growing up in New York City, where every smile was fake and friendships were more a matter of necessity and protection than for camaraderie. After what he had seen of this wild eyed woman, his gut was telling him he could trust her.

[Your Mom~]

He was right, Barker's men would see this boy's handiwork pretty soon and get to cleaning it up right away. He wasn't the kind of man to take lightly to resistance, but posters and spraypaint were child's play. If they wanted to actually make a difference in these people's lives, they would have to make a statement that couldn't be painted over or torn down.

...There she went, already thinking with the inclusive 'we.'

Olesya was already in on this idea even before the boy offered, asking for her help. Sean Barker had ruined her life. She had had friends, she was feared and respected as the Varsity Captain of PHS #259, she had a good life and good family, and he tore that all away from her. He even took her sanity, her dignity. Barker was the sole reason Olesya was as fucked up as she was. No amount of revenge would be enough to make up for it.

"Challenged accepted, Fire-head."

She crossed her arms over her chest, a vengeful glint burning in her eyes.

"What do you have in mind?"

[Marcus Prasad]

'Fire head?'
Said head then tilted like a confused puppy dog. What was that supposed to mean? Comicaly Marcus then held some of his long hair between his fingertips and held it out for inspection, face scrunched up in contemplation. He never did quite consider himself a red head, more of a Rusty brown color, but he figured the light from the streetlamps were hitting just right, bringing more of the red out. It tended to happen alot more than he thought it did.
Not wanting to stay in one place too long, the man released his locks and motioned with a tilt of his head for Olesya to follow him down the street.
"Dunno. Yet."
He added with a chuckle.

The woman's enthusiasm mirrored his own, which put a mile wide smile on the man's face. Already he could feel his body hum with excitment!
Marcus had already burned through a few bad idea's by the time they reached the end of the block, when suddenly he heard something. Stopping, he put a hand out gesturing for Olesya to do the same and craned his head, trying to hear the sound again.
"The fuck was that?"
He whispered before hearing the sound again, a tiny tortured wail drifting on the winds. Upon hearing it again, Marcus turned to look Olesya dead in the eye, concern painted on his face as the look in his eye asked a silent question.
'Well, wanna check it out?'

[Your Mom~]

(Sry for the super delay...)

As they reached the end of the alleyway, a small pained sound floated through the air to meet their ears. Was it a child? An animal? A trap? Olesya frowned, looking to her fellow troublemaker, their eyes conversing silently. She nodded very mildly, almost imperceptibly, before moving to the corner of the building and pressing her back against the brick.

Out here, anything could happen. There were no rules, no police, no safety net. No one would save you. You could die without a moment's thought and no one would miss you. Strangely, that was part of the excitement. An electric blue eyes peered around the corner to see if the way was clear before gesturing back to her compadre. 'Come on.' She snuck around the corner, keeping low, taking cover behind a metal trash can.

She wasn't sure what caused the cry, but she wasn't about to offer herself up as a target.

[Marcus Prasad]

Without a single word spoken, Marcus slipped into line and followed Bobcat through the broken territory toward the anguished cry. The only reason they were able to hear the screaming was due to how eerily quiet everything had become, which set Marcus' teeth on edge. At least he could keep his mind off the sinking feeling in his gut by focusing on the rather difficult task of keeping up with Bobcat.

Like liquid shadow the pair wound thier way through the derilect quarter, stopping only to avoid the roving patrols and to crane thier ears listening for the wailing which was steadily growing louder and closer until Marcus could make out the sounds of children screaming, raucus laughter and snarling dogs.
Suddenly the alleyway they were creeping through opened up into a back alley parking lot.


What they saw would haunt Marcus for the rest of his life.

It would seem that one of Barkers patrols had caught themselves some prey. A group numbering 10 soldiers, the leader sticking out from the rest of the pack via a gas mask that horribly distorted his voice. They were all standing in a wide circle, a young captured girl struggling in the arms of a tall lanky woman as they watched a pair of wild dogs jump around, tackle and maul a young boy who struggled vainly to throw the savage dogs off of him. As he approached the edge of the circle, one of the soldiers would hoist the poor child up and punch him hard in the gut before tossing him back into the center.

All the while the girl shrieked and sobbed, pleading with the Patrol to let her brother go. She could be no younger than 15 years old, her brother looking almost 8 or 9. The dogs knew this was sport and took great pains not to snap at anywhere vital, instead focused on keeping the boy running in circles, crying in terror and pain as he bled from numerous wounds. The patrol even seemed to be taking bets on how long the boy could last and would cruely laugh everytime the boy was tackled to the ground, holding his feeble arms up as he tried to protect his face from the dogs teeth.

So gruesome was the sight, that Marcus was shocked into inaction for a heart rending few minutes as shock, horror and grief played out on his face.

[Your Mom~]

Olesya heart rate jumped as her mismatched eyes caught sight of the horror in front of her. Two children being harassed by a bunch of Barker's goons. She quickly surveyed the situation: ten soldiers, two kids, two dogs. The boy obviously took priority as he was wounded and get worse by the second as the dogs nipped and clawed at him like he was some kind of sick toy.

They would need to act. Now.

"I'll get the goons. You get those kids out of there."

Olesya took off from her hiding place, power sliding between two of the soldiers as she pulled her knife from her pocket and flicked it open, sliding to a stop in a crouched position. Noticing the new entrant to the circle, the dogs temporarily abandoned their sobbing squeak toy to advance on her. All around her, the jeering and laughing had turned to gasps and shouts from the soldiers.

Still crouched, she took off at the dogs, slitting each of their throats with a sweeping gesture. She had no time to wrestle with feral canines. Straightening up, she flicked the blood off of her knife to the ground.

"Party's over."

She snarled, engaging the soldiers in a fight. The leader stood back, crossing his arms over his chest as he let his goons do his dirty work. The woman was still holding the little girl who was thrashing and screaming. The little boy lay curled up in a whimpering ball on the ground. He needed to get out of there soon or he would be trampled by the soldiers' hasty feet.

---

Olesya has engaged 8 of the 10 soldiers.

Both dogs are dead.

Both kids are still in danger.

Death count: 2 (canine)

[Marcus Prasad]

Grab the kid? Fine by him. Marcus always had a soft spot for kids. It was one of the rare things that could distract him from a good fight. Marcus was right behind Olesya as she ran into the scrum, almost mimicing her moves as he leapt forward, tucked into a roll as he dove into the group as Bobcat began evicerating the dogs and skidded as he scooped the bleeding child up into his arms before leaping backwards out of harms way.

Soon the child became his ultimate priority as he dropped his harness and backpack before pulling his hoodie off and wrapping the boy in it. He couldn't do much to stop the bleeding, but he sure as hell could keep the kid warm to stop him from slipping into shock.

"TOSS ME THE GIRL!"
Marcus would cry as he pulled a few medical supplies from his backpack. Marcus might seem like an impulsive hyperactie kid, (Mostly cause he is. Mostly) But one did not surive a sojourn from New York to California by being careless. It wasent enough to get the kid out of trouble, but he would have enough bandages to at least keep him from dropping dead right here right now.

In the meantime, the goon squad surrounded Olesya, laughing and taunting her. Marcus smiled visciously. They were soon going to learn why he had nicknamed her Bobcat as they all pounced on her in an unruly mob.