HomeCriminal Consequences
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Mr. Fountain
Thade
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Re: Criminal Consequences
by Megantron Fri Apr 24, 2015 11:10 pm
Slim
Slim sat up in her seat and pulled down the sun visor down and propped open the little mirror. After checking to make sure no blemishes were showing, she caught Richie's eye before answering him.
"That's quite a lot of questions you have there," she began. "Are we being interrogated?"
She gave him a deadly look that's probably killed a few men in her lifetime before lifting the corners of her mouth up into a genuine smile, allowing her eyes to appear light-hearted. "Only teasing," she giggled.
"But if you must know, it's all about knowing the right kind of people. Having friends in high places can do you wonders, like say..." she hesitated, "Having your identity completely wiped in all systems and records. It wouldn't even matter if I gave you my maiden name because that girl doesn't exist anymore and according to the government, she never has."
She snapped the mirror closed, keeping the sun visor down to do it's original intended use of blocking the sun's rays. She lifted up her hands and faced the palms toward Richie. "Also... notice anything unusual?"
Her fingertips had varying scars and burn marks on them.
Slim sat up in her seat and pulled down the sun visor down and propped open the little mirror. After checking to make sure no blemishes were showing, she caught Richie's eye before answering him.
"That's quite a lot of questions you have there," she began. "Are we being interrogated?"
She gave him a deadly look that's probably killed a few men in her lifetime before lifting the corners of her mouth up into a genuine smile, allowing her eyes to appear light-hearted. "Only teasing," she giggled.
"But if you must know, it's all about knowing the right kind of people. Having friends in high places can do you wonders, like say..." she hesitated, "Having your identity completely wiped in all systems and records. It wouldn't even matter if I gave you my maiden name because that girl doesn't exist anymore and according to the government, she never has."
She snapped the mirror closed, keeping the sun visor down to do it's original intended use of blocking the sun's rays. She lifted up her hands and faced the palms toward Richie. "Also... notice anything unusual?"
Her fingertips had varying scars and burn marks on them.
Megantron- Esquire
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Re: Criminal Consequences
by Thade Sat Apr 25, 2015 12:01 am
Jack Godwin
The man most often called Jack growled into the silent phone before sliding it back into his pocket. He gripped the wheel tightly with both hands, and he knew that whoever Mr. Fairbank really was, it didn't matter, because he was obviously a threat. And now he had put his life in danger, likely made an enemy, and given ol' Foxtrot the perfect excuse to come and shoot him in the head.
He honked the horn on the old and odd car that he obviously took great pride in.
Traffic, as always, was a bitch.
Finally, he had the opportunity to exit the main stretch, parking in an abandoned parking lot a block and a half away from his small apartment that cradled the line between downtown and the red light district.
Striding quickly down the street, he eventually reached his building. Bypassing the almost never present security guard, he cut through a different building and took a side staircase before finally arriving at his door. 512. With an agitated sigh, he unlocked the three locks on the door and stepped into the shit heap he had the displeasure of calling home.
Bottles and plates strewn all over, a booze and blood stained couch, a television that played nothing but static and occasionally a porn channel if you kicked it hard enough. The rather cheap apartment did have a spare room however, which Godwin had turned into a study, liquor cabinet, and even an O.R. on one rather memorable occasion.
It was there he retreated, hanging up his coat and taking off his shoulder holster, setting the pistol he had taken with him down as he collapsed into the chair behind the wooden desk that sat roughly in the middle of the smallish room. With another grumbling sigh, he poured himself a neat glass of cheap bourbon out of a bottle he kept in the drawer and turned on the radio.
♫ When they come for me, I'll be sitting at my desk/With a gun in my hand, wearing a bulletproof vest singing/"My, my, my, how the time does fly, when you know you're gonna die/By the end of the night."♫
And with that the radio was promptly shut off as Jack drank deeply from his glass, waiting for the info he had requested.
The man most often called Jack growled into the silent phone before sliding it back into his pocket. He gripped the wheel tightly with both hands, and he knew that whoever Mr. Fairbank really was, it didn't matter, because he was obviously a threat. And now he had put his life in danger, likely made an enemy, and given ol' Foxtrot the perfect excuse to come and shoot him in the head.
He honked the horn on the old and odd car that he obviously took great pride in.
Traffic, as always, was a bitch.
Finally, he had the opportunity to exit the main stretch, parking in an abandoned parking lot a block and a half away from his small apartment that cradled the line between downtown and the red light district.
Striding quickly down the street, he eventually reached his building. Bypassing the almost never present security guard, he cut through a different building and took a side staircase before finally arriving at his door. 512. With an agitated sigh, he unlocked the three locks on the door and stepped into the shit heap he had the displeasure of calling home.
Bottles and plates strewn all over, a booze and blood stained couch, a television that played nothing but static and occasionally a porn channel if you kicked it hard enough. The rather cheap apartment did have a spare room however, which Godwin had turned into a study, liquor cabinet, and even an O.R. on one rather memorable occasion.
It was there he retreated, hanging up his coat and taking off his shoulder holster, setting the pistol he had taken with him down as he collapsed into the chair behind the wooden desk that sat roughly in the middle of the smallish room. With another grumbling sigh, he poured himself a neat glass of cheap bourbon out of a bottle he kept in the drawer and turned on the radio.
♫ When they come for me, I'll be sitting at my desk/With a gun in my hand, wearing a bulletproof vest singing/"My, my, my, how the time does fly, when you know you're gonna die/By the end of the night."♫
And with that the radio was promptly shut off as Jack drank deeply from his glass, waiting for the info he had requested.
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Re: Criminal Consequences
by Mr. Fountain Sun Apr 26, 2015 9:40 pm
Isaac "The Nose" Rosenberg
Rosie turned his head from the road to check out Slim's fucked up fingers. "Fuh-reaky," the Jew said as he turned back to towards the front. "You've got to introduce me to your people, man. I'd do whatever they want to get the deal they gave- FUCK!"
Isaac suddenly swerved to avoid an obviously drunk driver that had just ran a stoplight. He damn-near pulled an entire three-sixty just to avoid the drunken derelict. After successfully managing to pull back onto the road without hitting any of the other cars, Isaac began to mutter a series of curse words and ill thoughts towards the man that had just nearly killed him - Richie's question completely forgotten.
Rosie turned his head from the road to check out Slim's fucked up fingers. "Fuh-reaky," the Jew said as he turned back to towards the front. "You've got to introduce me to your people, man. I'd do whatever they want to get the deal they gave- FUCK!"
Isaac suddenly swerved to avoid an obviously drunk driver that had just ran a stoplight. He damn-near pulled an entire three-sixty just to avoid the drunken derelict. After successfully managing to pull back onto the road without hitting any of the other cars, Isaac began to mutter a series of curse words and ill thoughts towards the man that had just nearly killed him - Richie's question completely forgotten.
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Re: Criminal Consequences
by Fi Skirata Mon Apr 27, 2015 1:17 am
Luka
The Irishman lit his cigarette, steering momentarily with his knees. "What the fuck kinda name is Chekhov?. Chekhov, Chekhov. Chekhoooovvvv.... Like. Oh what is it." He rolled the name around testingly on his tongue. "Like the movie thing? 'never bring a gun into the first act, unless yer gonna use it in the third,' Chekhov's Gun, right? My fuckin' nephew was a huge movie buff. God bless 'is soul."
Luka looked over his shoulder at Cyrus. "You gotta problem with yer ol' man, brother? My old man was a right cunt. But its thanks to him I got work nowadays. Gotta thank the holier-than-thou fucker." Luka turned back to the road as he slid to a halt at a stop light. The Irishman whistled pointing to a car that was about to pass them.
In the drivers seat of the car he pointed to sat a young woman, with dyed green hair and black highlights, facial piercings, and a tattoo of the roman numeral for five on her neck. Luka shook his head "Daaammmnn. That's a right catch right there."
The car swerved past them, and Luka looked in his rear view mirror "A right catch thats had a wee bit too much to drink by the looks of it. Hope she don't hit Richie-boy's car. He'll throw a fit."
Richie
Several moments later, mid-averted crash.
Richie grabbed onto the back of the seats in front of him to keep from sliding around. The man evidentally did not believe in seat belts. As Isaac righted the car, Richie squinted after the car that nearly hit them, mumbling the license plate under his breath. He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and scribbled the numbers onto his wrist. He wouldn't let someone get away with almost hitting his car. No way.
Richie righted himself and thought back on what he had just learned. Isaac was a damned good driver. And Slim had connections, and was good and not leaving tracks. "You two are quite the pair of professionals." the rat-like man thought out loud. "I think we might have a good future together. Take this right here, Mr. Rosenberg, and park out front, behind Luka."
Outside the Yakuza apartment complex.
Richie slid out his car first, and stood between the two cars as everyone got out, grabbing their guns and personal effects. Luka grabbed his leather jacket from the back seat, fitting it on and nodding at Richie "You see that drunk driver, mate?"
"If it weren't for Mr. Rosenberg, bitch may have killed us."
Luka looked at Isaac with an impressed grin. Richie gave a brief speech. "Alright. Don't be afraid to make small talk between yourselves. You look casual, they think we aren't afraid. No one takes your guns, period. Lee, Campbell, stay close to Luka and try to look scary. If things go bad, which they won't, you guys are my trump card, listen to anything Luka says, no matter how insane it may be, because this Irish fuck won't do you wrong."
Richie looked over to the two who were just in his car "Jew. You said you've done this before. I saw what you can do just now. I trust you. Don't fuck up. Slim, you're the eye candy. You're distracting to the chinks, stay close and look pretty, but keep that gun ready. If things go bad, I expect as much out of you as I do these boys. ... More, actually, because I imagine you have a few more braincells."
Luka tossed his cigarette down and stamped it out "Richie, can we get a move on. Now I'm a goddamn blabber mouth and that's the god's honest truth but all day it's been nothing but talk talk talk and I'm ready to earn some fuckin' cheddar if you don't mind."
Richie nodded and led the group into the lobby of the apartment complex. The inhabitants were all foreign, Chinks, most of them seemed like they could care less about the more than half dozen armed people that walked in. One foreign man walked up to Richie and bowed, offering to show them the way. Richie gave a curt nod, and the group was led down hallways and up stair cases. The walk was long, and made virtually everyone a tad restless.
"Vinny"
Affiliation: NA Crime Family
Boss: Toni Rossi
The Sicilian man had just arrived at the apartment building of the one and only "Godspeed Jack". He chuckled to himself. These people and their names. Vinny glanced over and found the guard catching up on his sleep. The mafioso chuckled and made a finger-gun at the guard.
Bang.
He chuckled to himself once more, sliding his hand into his pocket and whistling to himself as he looked around looking for the right door. "Ah. Here we are. 512, shithole street." Three locks on the door? Bit much. Then again. Maybe not in this city.
The young man kicked the door sharply. "Yo! Jack!"
The Irishman lit his cigarette, steering momentarily with his knees. "What the fuck kinda name is Chekhov?. Chekhov, Chekhov. Chekhoooovvvv.... Like. Oh what is it." He rolled the name around testingly on his tongue. "Like the movie thing? 'never bring a gun into the first act, unless yer gonna use it in the third,' Chekhov's Gun, right? My fuckin' nephew was a huge movie buff. God bless 'is soul."
Luka looked over his shoulder at Cyrus. "You gotta problem with yer ol' man, brother? My old man was a right cunt. But its thanks to him I got work nowadays. Gotta thank the holier-than-thou fucker." Luka turned back to the road as he slid to a halt at a stop light. The Irishman whistled pointing to a car that was about to pass them.
In the drivers seat of the car he pointed to sat a young woman, with dyed green hair and black highlights, facial piercings, and a tattoo of the roman numeral for five on her neck. Luka shook his head "Daaammmnn. That's a right catch right there."
The car swerved past them, and Luka looked in his rear view mirror "A right catch thats had a wee bit too much to drink by the looks of it. Hope she don't hit Richie-boy's car. He'll throw a fit."
Richie
Several moments later, mid-averted crash.
Richie grabbed onto the back of the seats in front of him to keep from sliding around. The man evidentally did not believe in seat belts. As Isaac righted the car, Richie squinted after the car that nearly hit them, mumbling the license plate under his breath. He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and scribbled the numbers onto his wrist. He wouldn't let someone get away with almost hitting his car. No way.
Richie righted himself and thought back on what he had just learned. Isaac was a damned good driver. And Slim had connections, and was good and not leaving tracks. "You two are quite the pair of professionals." the rat-like man thought out loud. "I think we might have a good future together. Take this right here, Mr. Rosenberg, and park out front, behind Luka."
Outside the Yakuza apartment complex.
Richie slid out his car first, and stood between the two cars as everyone got out, grabbing their guns and personal effects. Luka grabbed his leather jacket from the back seat, fitting it on and nodding at Richie "You see that drunk driver, mate?"
"If it weren't for Mr. Rosenberg, bitch may have killed us."
Luka looked at Isaac with an impressed grin. Richie gave a brief speech. "Alright. Don't be afraid to make small talk between yourselves. You look casual, they think we aren't afraid. No one takes your guns, period. Lee, Campbell, stay close to Luka and try to look scary. If things go bad, which they won't, you guys are my trump card, listen to anything Luka says, no matter how insane it may be, because this Irish fuck won't do you wrong."
Richie looked over to the two who were just in his car "Jew. You said you've done this before. I saw what you can do just now. I trust you. Don't fuck up. Slim, you're the eye candy. You're distracting to the chinks, stay close and look pretty, but keep that gun ready. If things go bad, I expect as much out of you as I do these boys. ... More, actually, because I imagine you have a few more braincells."
Luka tossed his cigarette down and stamped it out "Richie, can we get a move on. Now I'm a goddamn blabber mouth and that's the god's honest truth but all day it's been nothing but talk talk talk and I'm ready to earn some fuckin' cheddar if you don't mind."
Richie nodded and led the group into the lobby of the apartment complex. The inhabitants were all foreign, Chinks, most of them seemed like they could care less about the more than half dozen armed people that walked in. One foreign man walked up to Richie and bowed, offering to show them the way. Richie gave a curt nod, and the group was led down hallways and up stair cases. The walk was long, and made virtually everyone a tad restless.
"Vinny"
Affiliation: NA Crime Family
Boss: Toni Rossi
The Sicilian man had just arrived at the apartment building of the one and only "Godspeed Jack". He chuckled to himself. These people and their names. Vinny glanced over and found the guard catching up on his sleep. The mafioso chuckled and made a finger-gun at the guard.
Bang.
He chuckled to himself once more, sliding his hand into his pocket and whistling to himself as he looked around looking for the right door. "Ah. Here we are. 512, shithole street." Three locks on the door? Bit much. Then again. Maybe not in this city.
The young man kicked the door sharply. "Yo! Jack!"
Last edited by Mr. Finale on Sun Oct 11, 2015 1:21 am; edited 1 time in total
Fi Skirata- Knight
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Re: Criminal Consequences
by Thade Mon Apr 27, 2015 4:52 pm
Jack Godwin
"Yo! Jack!"
Jack winced at what sounded like someone trying to kick the entire damn door down. Jesus Christ these people are never subtle, are they?
Mr. Godwin rised from his chair and downed the rest of the shining amber liquid with a slight cough before slamming the empty glass harshly down on his desk. He pulled open a drawer and took out a different pistol. A much, much smaller Walther PPK. Something easier to conceal. Stuffing it into his waistband, Jack strode out of his small dingy study to the front door and looked through the foggy peephole.
Yeah. Just as expected. An idiot kid, as always.
Jack quickly unlocked the door, pulling it open and grabbing "Vinny" harshly by the shirt collar. In less than a second, "Vinny" was inside the apartment with a gun being pointed at him by an exasperated New Yorker with no patience for those who don't know how to play the criminal game.
"Have you people ever heard of subtlety? Just once? I'll bet you just waltzed in the front door, right? In front of the security cameras? And parked just outside? Jesus. They just keep getting dumber."
Jack lowered the small pistol with a sigh, shoving it back into his waistband as he turned towards his study.
"In here."
"Yo! Jack!"
Jack winced at what sounded like someone trying to kick the entire damn door down. Jesus Christ these people are never subtle, are they?
Mr. Godwin rised from his chair and downed the rest of the shining amber liquid with a slight cough before slamming the empty glass harshly down on his desk. He pulled open a drawer and took out a different pistol. A much, much smaller Walther PPK. Something easier to conceal. Stuffing it into his waistband, Jack strode out of his small dingy study to the front door and looked through the foggy peephole.
Yeah. Just as expected. An idiot kid, as always.
Jack quickly unlocked the door, pulling it open and grabbing "Vinny" harshly by the shirt collar. In less than a second, "Vinny" was inside the apartment with a gun being pointed at him by an exasperated New Yorker with no patience for those who don't know how to play the criminal game.
"Have you people ever heard of subtlety? Just once? I'll bet you just waltzed in the front door, right? In front of the security cameras? And parked just outside? Jesus. They just keep getting dumber."
Jack lowered the small pistol with a sigh, shoving it back into his waistband as he turned towards his study.
"In here."
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Re: Criminal Consequences
by Nexeria Tue May 05, 2015 2:00 am
Cyrus A. Lee/Wade Campbell
As soon as Richie finished briefing the gang, Cyrus pulled Wade off to the side out of Luka's sight and quietly informed of their situation, "Wade, we gotta serious fucking problem. I'm pretty damn sure Luka is a fucking cop."
"W-What? What the hell are you talking about, Cy?" Wade replied, puzzled by the revelation.
"I saw a fucking badge in his coat. Problem is, I don't know what kind of dumbass cop would forget about their badge like that. I suppose there's also the possibility that he stole a detective's coat or something like that, but I don't think we can trust him, man. At least, not right now." Cyrus elaborated still trying to piece the absurdity of it.
"Fuck... I liked that guy. We gonna have to kill him?" Wade asked with a hint of sadness in his voice.
"Well shit, Wade, I'm real fucking sorry that you have the emotional attachment of a 5-year-old, but we do in fact have problem here if he rats on us. He saw the guns, he has information on us, he knows what we do and who we are." Cyrus replied, lightly banging the back of his head against a steel beam.
"So... are we gonna kill him?" Wade asked again.
"Not right away. Maybe not at all depending on how fast we can get out of here after the job. People go away for life for killing cops, and I really don't wanna be one of those poor fucks. Once we're in there keep an eye on Luka. I doubt he'll try anything in a room full of armed men, but it wouldn't hurt to keep watch either. Afterwards, we get paid and split. Maybe skip town for a few weeks. Chekov will let us know about any bounties if there are any after this." Cyrus explained.
"Alright, sounds good. Besides Luka seems like he's been working with these guys for long time now, so I doubt he'll turn on them today of all days." Wade responded, almost optimistically.
"Alright, it's settled then. Now put your stone-cold-motherfucker-face on and let's get this over with already." Cyrus stated hastily as they regrouped with Luka and Richie.
As soon as Richie finished briefing the gang, Cyrus pulled Wade off to the side out of Luka's sight and quietly informed of their situation, "Wade, we gotta serious fucking problem. I'm pretty damn sure Luka is a fucking cop."
"W-What? What the hell are you talking about, Cy?" Wade replied, puzzled by the revelation.
"I saw a fucking badge in his coat. Problem is, I don't know what kind of dumbass cop would forget about their badge like that. I suppose there's also the possibility that he stole a detective's coat or something like that, but I don't think we can trust him, man. At least, not right now." Cyrus elaborated still trying to piece the absurdity of it.
"Fuck... I liked that guy. We gonna have to kill him?" Wade asked with a hint of sadness in his voice.
"Well shit, Wade, I'm real fucking sorry that you have the emotional attachment of a 5-year-old, but we do in fact have problem here if he rats on us. He saw the guns, he has information on us, he knows what we do and who we are." Cyrus replied, lightly banging the back of his head against a steel beam.
"So... are we gonna kill him?" Wade asked again.
"Not right away. Maybe not at all depending on how fast we can get out of here after the job. People go away for life for killing cops, and I really don't wanna be one of those poor fucks. Once we're in there keep an eye on Luka. I doubt he'll try anything in a room full of armed men, but it wouldn't hurt to keep watch either. Afterwards, we get paid and split. Maybe skip town for a few weeks. Chekov will let us know about any bounties if there are any after this." Cyrus explained.
"Alright, sounds good. Besides Luka seems like he's been working with these guys for long time now, so I doubt he'll turn on them today of all days." Wade responded, almost optimistically.
"Alright, it's settled then. Now put your stone-cold-motherfucker-face on and let's get this over with already." Cyrus stated hastily as they regrouped with Luka and Richie.
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Re: Criminal Consequences
by Megantron Mon May 25, 2015 9:22 pm
Slim
As they were all being briefed on their roles and duties, Slim couldn't help but smirk at Richie's comment, "because I imagine you have a few more braincells."
She hadn't been wearing the appropriate attire she normally would for this kind of mission... skin-tight cocktail dress just loose enough so that she could hide her gun underneath strapped to her thigh.
Today had been a leather kind of day. Skinny, leather pants coupled with a leather jacket that would hopefully conceal her weapon tucked in at the back of her waistline. Luckily, her tank top of just tight and low-cut enough to keep Chink eyes on her.
As Richie and Luka were finishing their conversation, Slim applied a think layer of red lipstick, just enough to give her lips a fuller look. There's a reason Asians love white women. More to show.
Walking into the building, Slim already knew what to expect. These criminal hideouts all looked the same. A bit run down with a stench of foul cigar smoke and alcohol in the air.
As they were all being briefed on their roles and duties, Slim couldn't help but smirk at Richie's comment, "because I imagine you have a few more braincells."
She hadn't been wearing the appropriate attire she normally would for this kind of mission... skin-tight cocktail dress just loose enough so that she could hide her gun underneath strapped to her thigh.
Today had been a leather kind of day. Skinny, leather pants coupled with a leather jacket that would hopefully conceal her weapon tucked in at the back of her waistline. Luckily, her tank top of just tight and low-cut enough to keep Chink eyes on her.
As Richie and Luka were finishing their conversation, Slim applied a think layer of red lipstick, just enough to give her lips a fuller look. There's a reason Asians love white women. More to show.
Walking into the building, Slim already knew what to expect. These criminal hideouts all looked the same. A bit run down with a stench of foul cigar smoke and alcohol in the air.
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Re: Criminal Consequences
by Mr. Fountain Tue Jun 16, 2015 11:17 pm
Isaac "The Jew" Rosenberg
Huh, Isaac thought to himself. It seems like the whole getting-ran-the-fuck-over scene showed off his good points to his new employers. Maybe this would all work out well in the end. If he got in good with an organization of this caliber, he might be able to use its network for his own independent work.
The Jew made sure to grab his gun from off the dashboard and tuck it into the front of the waistband of his pants - easy to reach, plus it didn't seem like this was meant to be an unarmed trade-off. He followed Slim into the warehouse with the rest of the crew.
Huh, Isaac thought to himself. It seems like the whole getting-ran-the-fuck-over scene showed off his good points to his new employers. Maybe this would all work out well in the end. If he got in good with an organization of this caliber, he might be able to use its network for his own independent work.
The Jew made sure to grab his gun from off the dashboard and tuck it into the front of the waistband of his pants - easy to reach, plus it didn't seem like this was meant to be an unarmed trade-off. He followed Slim into the warehouse with the rest of the crew.
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Re: Criminal Consequences
by Fi Skirata Wed Sep 02, 2015 3:04 pm
Mr. Chen
Affiliation: New Angeles Yakuza Associate
Age:29
Chen sat in a wheeled chair in the middle of the miniscule apartment that served as the meeting room for him and Mr. F's men. He spun in the chair idly, whistling a tune to himself. This wasn't how it was supposed to go down. Tanaka-san was supposed to take care of this meeting.
But a SWAT raid on a Yakuza coke operation demanded the psychopath's attention more. That left Chen as the next best choice. He really wasn't the type for these hand-off type meetings. Oh well. Such things had to be done.
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Richie and his bunch of two cent goons were ushered into the room. Six people in total. Chen chuckled, not bothering to rise from his chair, leaning forward and speaking with a perfect American accent "That... is a few more people than I told was normal for you to be bringing, Mr. Richard."
Richie snarled "And I was told we normally do these hand offs on neutral ground. want to explain why we're here on your turf, John?" John, like Chen was some chinaman railroad worker from the wild west. Fucking racist. The Irishman, Luka, roamed around the room idly before leaning out the window and commenting on the view from the third story apartment. Chen ignored him entirely.
Chen looked up at Richie, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbow. "Gladly. You're here on our turf because your boss "F" has been asking for more money than usual. We don't like responding to threats, so we refused. And suddenly the police have an interest in us. Now, I don't know about you, but I practically pay the N.A.P.D. Pension, so I can't imagine the 5-0 would have any interest in Yakuza territory except if you had an inside man. Oh, and by the way? My first name is, in fact, John. Good guess."
Richie sighed "Are you accusing us of affiliating with the police?"
Chen nodded and stood from his chair "Mhm. You should be glad I came and not my associate Tanaka. He'd have had you all flayed like cheap fish before you even made it to this room. But he is a brute. I like to think I am a tad more professional."
Richie nodded "As do I. Can we just get this done?"
Chen nodded "Absolutely. I'm in a hurry, myself, other things to attend to, you understand." Chen waved one of his subordinates over. The lackey presented a large metal case to his boss.
"The money?" Richie indicated towards the case.
Chen lit a cigarette as his subordinate opened the case, taking a long drag before exhaling. "Do you know what they call me in Japan?"
Richie shrugged "No fucking clue."
"Double Dragon. My fists hold the twin beasts that slay the family's opposition." From the case, Chen drew a pair of ornate 1911's, with jade grips and engravings of a pair of dragons along the slides.
Richie only had time to push Slim away from him before Chen put a .45 caliber round in his knee, dropping him to the floor. Luka cursed and turned towards the gunman, but before he could bring his Mossberg shotgun to bear, Chen had already half turned, and used his second pistol to fire. Four rounds through the chest, and Luka fell from the window.
Luka didn't even have time to shout an obscenity before his body hit a car in the parking lot, setting the car alarm off. Chen whistled "He almost got a shot off. Good kid."
Meanwhile....
Vinny
Vin threw a collection of folders on Wade, Cyrus, and the Jew on Mr. Godwin's desk. "Can you not wave a gun in my face? Mm, thanks, old man. Got those files you oh-so-politely asked for. None on the girl." Vinny waved an empty folder in Jack's face to emphasize his point.
"You're lucky you didn't go on that mission for that F fuck. We just got word that Johnny Chen, a chink hitman, was sent to off the guys that did. Not sure why. Think it's something to do with the police pushing on Yak territory. Those guys don't know what they're up against with this guy."
Back at the apartment complex
Chen shook his head "It's pretty obvious that either you or the Irishman is a cop, and whichever it is, I'm here to make sure you don't leave this building alive. I could've taken the time to narrow down which of the two of you it is, but, well. I'm a busy man."
In the amount of time it took Richie to pull his gun, Chen had already pulled the trigger twice. One round to the chest, one to the face, and Richie fell back to the floor in a growing pool of his own blood.
Chen nodded to the remaining four individuals infront of him "For the record, I'd have killed this rat looking motherfucker either way. Racist fuck. Shouldn't you four be running? Or shooting. Whichever. I'll kill you all either way. Or they will." Chen nodded to his subordinates, who each produced weapons of their own.
Affiliation: New Angeles Yakuza Associate
Age:29
Chen sat in a wheeled chair in the middle of the miniscule apartment that served as the meeting room for him and Mr. F's men. He spun in the chair idly, whistling a tune to himself. This wasn't how it was supposed to go down. Tanaka-san was supposed to take care of this meeting.
But a SWAT raid on a Yakuza coke operation demanded the psychopath's attention more. That left Chen as the next best choice. He really wasn't the type for these hand-off type meetings. Oh well. Such things had to be done.
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Richie and his bunch of two cent goons were ushered into the room. Six people in total. Chen chuckled, not bothering to rise from his chair, leaning forward and speaking with a perfect American accent "That... is a few more people than I told was normal for you to be bringing, Mr. Richard."
Richie snarled "And I was told we normally do these hand offs on neutral ground. want to explain why we're here on your turf, John?" John, like Chen was some chinaman railroad worker from the wild west. Fucking racist. The Irishman, Luka, roamed around the room idly before leaning out the window and commenting on the view from the third story apartment. Chen ignored him entirely.
Chen looked up at Richie, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbow. "Gladly. You're here on our turf because your boss "F" has been asking for more money than usual. We don't like responding to threats, so we refused. And suddenly the police have an interest in us. Now, I don't know about you, but I practically pay the N.A.P.D. Pension, so I can't imagine the 5-0 would have any interest in Yakuza territory except if you had an inside man. Oh, and by the way? My first name is, in fact, John. Good guess."
Richie sighed "Are you accusing us of affiliating with the police?"
Chen nodded and stood from his chair "Mhm. You should be glad I came and not my associate Tanaka. He'd have had you all flayed like cheap fish before you even made it to this room. But he is a brute. I like to think I am a tad more professional."
Richie nodded "As do I. Can we just get this done?"
Chen nodded "Absolutely. I'm in a hurry, myself, other things to attend to, you understand." Chen waved one of his subordinates over. The lackey presented a large metal case to his boss.
"The money?" Richie indicated towards the case.
Chen lit a cigarette as his subordinate opened the case, taking a long drag before exhaling. "Do you know what they call me in Japan?"
Richie shrugged "No fucking clue."
"Double Dragon. My fists hold the twin beasts that slay the family's opposition." From the case, Chen drew a pair of ornate 1911's, with jade grips and engravings of a pair of dragons along the slides.
Richie only had time to push Slim away from him before Chen put a .45 caliber round in his knee, dropping him to the floor. Luka cursed and turned towards the gunman, but before he could bring his Mossberg shotgun to bear, Chen had already half turned, and used his second pistol to fire. Four rounds through the chest, and Luka fell from the window.
Luka didn't even have time to shout an obscenity before his body hit a car in the parking lot, setting the car alarm off. Chen whistled "He almost got a shot off. Good kid."
Meanwhile....
Vinny
Vin threw a collection of folders on Wade, Cyrus, and the Jew on Mr. Godwin's desk. "Can you not wave a gun in my face? Mm, thanks, old man. Got those files you oh-so-politely asked for. None on the girl." Vinny waved an empty folder in Jack's face to emphasize his point.
"You're lucky you didn't go on that mission for that F fuck. We just got word that Johnny Chen, a chink hitman, was sent to off the guys that did. Not sure why. Think it's something to do with the police pushing on Yak territory. Those guys don't know what they're up against with this guy."
Back at the apartment complex
Chen shook his head "It's pretty obvious that either you or the Irishman is a cop, and whichever it is, I'm here to make sure you don't leave this building alive. I could've taken the time to narrow down which of the two of you it is, but, well. I'm a busy man."
In the amount of time it took Richie to pull his gun, Chen had already pulled the trigger twice. One round to the chest, one to the face, and Richie fell back to the floor in a growing pool of his own blood.
Chen nodded to the remaining four individuals infront of him "For the record, I'd have killed this rat looking motherfucker either way. Racist fuck. Shouldn't you four be running? Or shooting. Whichever. I'll kill you all either way. Or they will." Chen nodded to his subordinates, who each produced weapons of their own.
Fi Skirata- Knight
- Posts : 883
Join date : 2015-01-08
Age : 30
Location : Despair Academy
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Nexeria Sun Sep 06, 2015 11:24 pm
Cyrus A. Lee/Wade Campbell
"The fuck?!" Cyrus exclaimed as Richie shoved Slim into him knocking his Ithaca aside. Wade -- who had stepped out of the meeting room to take a piss -- quickly pulled the Jew into the bathroom upon hearing the first few gunshots.
"For the record, I'd have killed this rat looking motherfucker either way. Racist fuck. Shouldn't you four be running? Or shooting. Whichever. I'll kill you all either way. Or they will."
"Shit! Get up! Get up! Move!" Cyrus yelled as threw Slim off of his body and into an open bedroom directly to the right of them. As he reached for his shotgun, a young Yakuza with dyed-blond hair kicked away from him before turning to aim an Uzi at Cyrus's head.
"An Uzi?! Really, Blondie?! You're a fucking cliché!" Cyrus yelled furiously at the Jap. With a shit-eating grin of his face, the chink looked over at his boss, Mr. Chen, for a nod of approval not expecting his prey to do something bat-shit insane... which is exactly what Cyrus did.
Cyrus slammed his head back against the floor, planting his left foot into the ground while raising his right leg and kicked the Uzi up into the air, leaving the chinks distracted and confused as Cyrus rolled backwards onto his feet and pulled out his Beretta.
"Oh, yeah! I'm shooting, motherfuckers!" Cyrus screamed as he riddled Blondie with bullets before turning his attention to Chen who quickly dove behind a couch while firing his 1911's in Cyrus's direction. Cyrus jumped into the bedroom with Slim and slammed the door shut.
Cyrus glanced at Slim who still seemed heavily confused as to what was actually happening after being shoved around so much, "Hey, Girlie, get your fucking gun out! In case you haven't noticed it's the O.K. Corral out there!"
Meanwhile, Wade and the Jew remained entrapped in the bathroom. Wade noticed Isaac's face twitch angrily at him, he was probably pissed at Wade for pulling him into a room with no windows or clear escape route.
"Aw, fuck! We gotta do something, man! Cyrus is gonna die out there!" Wade exclaimed, concerned for his own life as much as he was for his partner's, as his darted around the room for something they could use. Spotting a fire extinguisher resting behind the toilet, Wade turned to the Jew and said, "Hey, uh, Isaac, right?! You see that fire extinguisher right there?! If I throw into the other room, do you think you'll be able to nail a shot on it?"
"The fuck?!" Cyrus exclaimed as Richie shoved Slim into him knocking his Ithaca aside. Wade -- who had stepped out of the meeting room to take a piss -- quickly pulled the Jew into the bathroom upon hearing the first few gunshots.
"For the record, I'd have killed this rat looking motherfucker either way. Racist fuck. Shouldn't you four be running? Or shooting. Whichever. I'll kill you all either way. Or they will."
"Shit! Get up! Get up! Move!" Cyrus yelled as threw Slim off of his body and into an open bedroom directly to the right of them. As he reached for his shotgun, a young Yakuza with dyed-blond hair kicked away from him before turning to aim an Uzi at Cyrus's head.
"An Uzi?! Really, Blondie?! You're a fucking cliché!" Cyrus yelled furiously at the Jap. With a shit-eating grin of his face, the chink looked over at his boss, Mr. Chen, for a nod of approval not expecting his prey to do something bat-shit insane... which is exactly what Cyrus did.
Cyrus slammed his head back against the floor, planting his left foot into the ground while raising his right leg and kicked the Uzi up into the air, leaving the chinks distracted and confused as Cyrus rolled backwards onto his feet and pulled out his Beretta.
"Oh, yeah! I'm shooting, motherfuckers!" Cyrus screamed as he riddled Blondie with bullets before turning his attention to Chen who quickly dove behind a couch while firing his 1911's in Cyrus's direction. Cyrus jumped into the bedroom with Slim and slammed the door shut.
Cyrus glanced at Slim who still seemed heavily confused as to what was actually happening after being shoved around so much, "Hey, Girlie, get your fucking gun out! In case you haven't noticed it's the O.K. Corral out there!"
Meanwhile, Wade and the Jew remained entrapped in the bathroom. Wade noticed Isaac's face twitch angrily at him, he was probably pissed at Wade for pulling him into a room with no windows or clear escape route.
"Aw, fuck! We gotta do something, man! Cyrus is gonna die out there!" Wade exclaimed, concerned for his own life as much as he was for his partner's, as his darted around the room for something they could use. Spotting a fire extinguisher resting behind the toilet, Wade turned to the Jew and said, "Hey, uh, Isaac, right?! You see that fire extinguisher right there?! If I throw into the other room, do you think you'll be able to nail a shot on it?"
Last edited by Nexeria on Tue Sep 29, 2015 2:55 pm; edited 1 time in total
Nexeria- Esquire
- Posts : 392
Join date : 2015-01-11
Age : 108
Location : Fucked
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Thade Mon Sep 28, 2015 1:36 pm
Jack Godwin
“Yeah, yeah, none on the girl. It’s always the damn girl.” He slid back into the cracked leather chair and picked up the glass tumber in front of him, swirling the liquid for a moment before looking back up.
“Chen, huh? Can’t say the name rings any bells. I’ve always made a point of staying out of the way of the fuckin’ Yakuza though. I’ve seen the fingers. And the heads.” He took a contemplative sip, imagining how his head would look if cut off by a Jap with a severe honor-shame complex. Not bad.
“Anyway, get out. I’ll call if I need a lead sponge. Or, wait, hold on.” Jack stood, setting down the glass and starting to flip through the files absent mindedly. “If, say, the family needed something or someone taken care of… Well I’m dead fuckin’ broke is what I’m trying to say.”
He looked up at Vinny, leaning forward against his desk.
“Got anything?”
“Yeah, yeah, none on the girl. It’s always the damn girl.” He slid back into the cracked leather chair and picked up the glass tumber in front of him, swirling the liquid for a moment before looking back up.
“Chen, huh? Can’t say the name rings any bells. I’ve always made a point of staying out of the way of the fuckin’ Yakuza though. I’ve seen the fingers. And the heads.” He took a contemplative sip, imagining how his head would look if cut off by a Jap with a severe honor-shame complex. Not bad.
“Anyway, get out. I’ll call if I need a lead sponge. Or, wait, hold on.” Jack stood, setting down the glass and starting to flip through the files absent mindedly. “If, say, the family needed something or someone taken care of… Well I’m dead fuckin’ broke is what I’m trying to say.”
He looked up at Vinny, leaning forward against his desk.
“Got anything?”
Thade- Esquire
- Posts : 396
Join date : 2015-01-11
Age : 105
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Megantron Tue Sep 29, 2015 9:25 pm
Slim
After being shoved from man to man to bedroom, Slim was starting to think that this job wasn't so "easy" after all... not like she suspected much from the Yakuza. She quickly pulled out her gun and her knives and slid over to the wall closest to the door. She looked over to Cyrus who was breathing heavily.
"For the record, next time you want to get a girl into the bedroom, you don't have to use so much force," she spat out with a snark. Mostly because she didn't like to be manhandled and partly because sarcasm came as a second language to her when she was pissed off. "Anyways, what's the plan? Your partner and the Jew are in the room across the hall and I highly doubt those chinks out there are just going to wait for us to come out willingly..."
Slim lifted up her knives, showing them to Cyrus before quickly spitting out her concerns, "Okay, three things. One: I can probably use these to cripple Chen and one of his goons before we take them down with our fire power. Two: How many of them did you count? And three: Do you have anyway to quickly contact your partner?"
After being shoved from man to man to bedroom, Slim was starting to think that this job wasn't so "easy" after all... not like she suspected much from the Yakuza. She quickly pulled out her gun and her knives and slid over to the wall closest to the door. She looked over to Cyrus who was breathing heavily.
"For the record, next time you want to get a girl into the bedroom, you don't have to use so much force," she spat out with a snark. Mostly because she didn't like to be manhandled and partly because sarcasm came as a second language to her when she was pissed off. "Anyways, what's the plan? Your partner and the Jew are in the room across the hall and I highly doubt those chinks out there are just going to wait for us to come out willingly..."
Slim lifted up her knives, showing them to Cyrus before quickly spitting out her concerns, "Okay, three things. One: I can probably use these to cripple Chen and one of his goons before we take them down with our fire power. Two: How many of them did you count? And three: Do you have anyway to quickly contact your partner?"
Megantron- Esquire
- Posts : 478
Join date : 2015-01-27
Age : 30
Location : Flo Rida -
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Nexeria Tue Sep 29, 2015 11:17 pm
Cyrus A. Lee/Wade Campbell
"Okay, three things. One: I can probably use these to cripple Chen and one of his goons before we take them down with our fire power."
Cyrus glared confusedly at the knives, "W-what? Knives? What are you a ninja?! What are you gonna do? Throw it at him? They have fucking guns! They can fucking shoot us, lady!
"Two: How many of them did you count?"
"Ah, shit. I killed one, I know that. Alright, well, there's that asshole Chen and at least... four or five other guys. Not too sure, it could be the entire imperial navy out there for all I know," Cyrus shrugged.
"And three: Do you have anyway to quickly contact your partner?"
"Uh... quickly? Yeah, okay. YO, WADE!" Cyrus yelled as loud as he could, his voice echoing across the hall and into the bathroom where Wade and Isaac were hiding.
Confused, but happy to hear that his friend was still alive, Wade responded, "WHAT'S UP, CYRUS!
Unsure of what he could possibly tell him, Cyrus just kind of spouted out, "UH... DON'T GET SHOT!"
"ALRIGHT... GOT IT!" Wade replied, now very confused.
Meanwhile, outside in the living room, Chen's eyes bounced back and forth between the rooms. Chen began to wonder just how stupid these guys could get.
"THE JEW WITH YOU?!" At this moment, Cyrus noticed the bedroom window and began snapping his fingers and pointing at it. Outside of the window there was a small two-foot wide ledge wrapping around the building. If Slim was careful, she could use it to inch herself over to the balcony and get the drop on Chen and his goons.
"YEAH, HE'S RIGHT HERE!" Wade responded looking curiously at Isaac.
"TELL HIM NOT TO GET SHOT!" Cyrus yelled, lighting up another Marlboro cigarette, as she quietly opened the window.
"Hey, don't get shot, man. ALRIGHT, I TOLD HIM!" Wade shrugged, wondering just what the hell Cyrus was doing.
"ALRIGHT, GOOD, WE'RE MAKING PROGRESS!" As she eased herself out the window, Cyrus latched onto Slim's hand to prevent her from falling off backwards while having the Beretta in his left hand trained on the door.
"CYRUS, YOU GOT A PLAN?!" Wade hollered back.
"I'm... uh... I'M WORKING ON IT." As she began shimmy across ledge, Cyrus leaned his head out the window and quietly whispered, "Hey, please don't fall."
Unsure of how to proceed with the current situation, Cyrus just started yelling at the Yakuza leader, "HEY, CHEN, WHY DON'T WE KNOCK IT OFF WITH ALL THE GUN PLAY? IT'S TOO QUICK DON'T YA THINK?! WHY DON'T WE FIGHT REAL MEN?! MAYBE, WE CAN HAVE A COOL SAMURAI SWORD FIGHT IF THAT'S YOUR THING?!"
Hearing the sounds of approaching footsteps, Cyrus hit the floor as a shotgun shell blasted a hole through the door, flew over his head, and shattered the window behind him. "Aw, fuck! That's my gun!" Cyrus yelled as he began returning fire while rolling onto broken glass, under the bed, and out the other side.
Cyrus quickly hopped up, small shards of glass piercing into his skin causing him to grunt in pain, as he flipped over a nearby wooden dresser to use it for cover. "MOTHERFUCKER! I AM TAKING THAT GUN BACK! GET IN HERE, ASSHOLE!
"Okay, three things. One: I can probably use these to cripple Chen and one of his goons before we take them down with our fire power."
Cyrus glared confusedly at the knives, "W-what? Knives? What are you a ninja?! What are you gonna do? Throw it at him? They have fucking guns! They can fucking shoot us, lady!
"Two: How many of them did you count?"
"Ah, shit. I killed one, I know that. Alright, well, there's that asshole Chen and at least... four or five other guys. Not too sure, it could be the entire imperial navy out there for all I know," Cyrus shrugged.
"And three: Do you have anyway to quickly contact your partner?"
"Uh... quickly? Yeah, okay. YO, WADE!" Cyrus yelled as loud as he could, his voice echoing across the hall and into the bathroom where Wade and Isaac were hiding.
Confused, but happy to hear that his friend was still alive, Wade responded, "WHAT'S UP, CYRUS!
Unsure of what he could possibly tell him, Cyrus just kind of spouted out, "UH... DON'T GET SHOT!"
"ALRIGHT... GOT IT!" Wade replied, now very confused.
Meanwhile, outside in the living room, Chen's eyes bounced back and forth between the rooms. Chen began to wonder just how stupid these guys could get.
"THE JEW WITH YOU?!" At this moment, Cyrus noticed the bedroom window and began snapping his fingers and pointing at it. Outside of the window there was a small two-foot wide ledge wrapping around the building. If Slim was careful, she could use it to inch herself over to the balcony and get the drop on Chen and his goons.
"YEAH, HE'S RIGHT HERE!" Wade responded looking curiously at Isaac.
"TELL HIM NOT TO GET SHOT!" Cyrus yelled, lighting up another Marlboro cigarette, as she quietly opened the window.
"Hey, don't get shot, man. ALRIGHT, I TOLD HIM!" Wade shrugged, wondering just what the hell Cyrus was doing.
"ALRIGHT, GOOD, WE'RE MAKING PROGRESS!" As she eased herself out the window, Cyrus latched onto Slim's hand to prevent her from falling off backwards while having the Beretta in his left hand trained on the door.
"CYRUS, YOU GOT A PLAN?!" Wade hollered back.
"I'm... uh... I'M WORKING ON IT." As she began shimmy across ledge, Cyrus leaned his head out the window and quietly whispered, "Hey, please don't fall."
Unsure of how to proceed with the current situation, Cyrus just started yelling at the Yakuza leader, "HEY, CHEN, WHY DON'T WE KNOCK IT OFF WITH ALL THE GUN PLAY? IT'S TOO QUICK DON'T YA THINK?! WHY DON'T WE FIGHT REAL MEN?! MAYBE, WE CAN HAVE A COOL SAMURAI SWORD FIGHT IF THAT'S YOUR THING?!"
Hearing the sounds of approaching footsteps, Cyrus hit the floor as a shotgun shell blasted a hole through the door, flew over his head, and shattered the window behind him. "Aw, fuck! That's my gun!" Cyrus yelled as he began returning fire while rolling onto broken glass, under the bed, and out the other side.
Cyrus quickly hopped up, small shards of glass piercing into his skin causing him to grunt in pain, as he flipped over a nearby wooden dresser to use it for cover. "MOTHERFUCKER! I AM TAKING THAT GUN BACK! GET IN HERE, ASSHOLE!
Nexeria- Esquire
- Posts : 392
Join date : 2015-01-11
Age : 108
Location : Fucked
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Megantron Wed Sep 30, 2015 10:14 am
Slim
As Cyrus started yelling over the threshold to his partner, he directed Slim over to the window and pointed to the ledge that lead over to an opposing balcony. She took the hint and started to climb through, being extra careful that she didn't accidentally slip and fall to her death... or, at the very least, a broken leg or two.
As she slowly made her way over to the balcony, gritting through her teeth, "Who did they think I am, Catwoman??!? This is not what I signed up for..." and in that exact moment, the blaring of a shotgun rang out and proceeded to shatter the window that she had just crawled through. "Jesus fucking Christ!"
This put her in a dilemma. Either she could go back and make sure one of her new-found partners in crime didn't need help or she could continue with the plan, which at this point seemed the better of the two options. After all, Slim didn't get where she was by being sentimental over people she had just met.
And then the thought occurred to her that she could just slip out of there and avoid the showdown altogether... but something told her this Mr. Fairbank guy wouldn't let something like that go unnoticed. So instead, she reached the balcony and prepared her gun at the ready. She peered through the sliding glass door at her current opponents. Cyrus said he counted Chen and at least four to five other goons. There Chen was still hiding behind the couch. Slim quickly moved out of sight as he could just turn his head and see her crouching there. Still surveying the room, she saw one blond yakuza dead in the corner and two more with their guns at the ready near Chen. The other two were outside of the bedroom her and Cyrus were holed up in and the bathroom Wade the Jew were in.
Slim slowly slid the door open, hoping that the current gun fire going on would drown out the noise and opened it enough to get her own gun through. She steadily aimed at Chen and took her shot.
As Cyrus started yelling over the threshold to his partner, he directed Slim over to the window and pointed to the ledge that lead over to an opposing balcony. She took the hint and started to climb through, being extra careful that she didn't accidentally slip and fall to her death... or, at the very least, a broken leg or two.
As she slowly made her way over to the balcony, gritting through her teeth, "Who did they think I am, Catwoman??!? This is not what I signed up for..." and in that exact moment, the blaring of a shotgun rang out and proceeded to shatter the window that she had just crawled through. "Jesus fucking Christ!"
This put her in a dilemma. Either she could go back and make sure one of her new-found partners in crime didn't need help or she could continue with the plan, which at this point seemed the better of the two options. After all, Slim didn't get where she was by being sentimental over people she had just met.
And then the thought occurred to her that she could just slip out of there and avoid the showdown altogether... but something told her this Mr. Fairbank guy wouldn't let something like that go unnoticed. So instead, she reached the balcony and prepared her gun at the ready. She peered through the sliding glass door at her current opponents. Cyrus said he counted Chen and at least four to five other goons. There Chen was still hiding behind the couch. Slim quickly moved out of sight as he could just turn his head and see her crouching there. Still surveying the room, she saw one blond yakuza dead in the corner and two more with their guns at the ready near Chen. The other two were outside of the bedroom her and Cyrus were holed up in and the bathroom Wade the Jew were in.
Slim slowly slid the door open, hoping that the current gun fire going on would drown out the noise and opened it enough to get her own gun through. She steadily aimed at Chen and took her shot.
Megantron- Esquire
- Posts : 478
Join date : 2015-01-27
Age : 30
Location : Flo Rida -
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Fi Skirata Wed Sep 30, 2015 12:59 pm
Mr. Chen
Status: Doing the goddamned math.
Chen glanced over the apartment and did a quick mental check. Himself and four underlings vs. Richie, Luka, the broad, the guy with the massive nose, and the two guys currently shouting to each other. Richie was bleeding out his head, and Luka went out of a window. But Chen had lost a subordinate already. That made even 4 to 4 odds. Those weren't great odds.
Chen watched as one of his men, toting a shotgun, stormed the bedroom where the woman and Cyrus were. He then immediately discounted that underling as good as dead. This was a mess. He'd have to call more guards in.
Luka
Wait: Luka? What the fuck?!
One second life has you leaning out of a window enjoying the view. The next, life puts a few bullet holes in you, pushes you out of the window, and starts blaring a car alarm into your ear. Dude, fuck life.
Luka saw spots in his vision, his torso felt wet, and it hurt like a bitch to move. Hell. He was probably hallucinating, cuz it looked like Slim was standing up on a window ledge. Oh. Wait. That's real. Why the hell is that real?
"S..." Luka coughed harshly, the taste of iron his mouth, "Slim! Feck... Ey! I'm alive down here! Fuckin' send some help!" No sooner did the Irishman choke out a sentence did some of the Yakuza in the parking lot close in on him.
"Fuckin' squinty eyes! Git it!" Apparantly Luka still had some fight in him, one handing his Mossberg and pistol, rolling off of the car he landed on, blowing away the nearest gangster.
Richie
No, just kidding, he's dead as a doornail.
Mr. Chen
Fun Fact: Hates loose ends.
Chen clicked his tongue in annoyance as he heard Luka shouting from the parking lot. That was a loose end. The job was to kill the undercover cop, and it had to have been either Luka or Richie. Given he didn't know which...
Chen puffed on his cigarette, which somehow managed to stay lit and in his mouth in the firefight. Was Luka shouting to the girl? Chen turned his head just in time to see Slim leveling her gun at him. With a foreign curse, Chen shoved himself to the side as hard as he could, the bullet hitting him in the side of his lower torso.
Chen clicked off several rounds before ordering the two men nearest him to take care of the girl. The last man of his goons entered the bathroom to take care of the Jew and the last of the Americans.
Chen looked down at his torso and grimaced. He couldn't feel it yet. He wasn't too sure if that was good or bad. He'd have to get to a doctor, but first... The Irishman needed to be dealt with. While his men had the Americans distracted, Chen struggled to his feet, holstered one of his guns in his chest holster and hobbled out of the room, taking a deep drag from his cigarette.
In a passing thought, the gunman thanked his ancestors that the police were too occupied to send anyone to this little shoot out.
Warren J. Michaels
NAPD Inspector
The coffee shop smelled like stale doughnuts and freshly ground beans. Sitting here made me feel like a fucking cliche straight out a Tarantino flick. On one of my younger days, I'd be sitting at a table with my coworkers, cracking wise and talking shit. Instead...
Inspector Michaels was a middle aged African American man, with short cut graying hair, and a short, scraggly beard. He looked disheveled and tired at all times, as if he never slept or took time for himself. He looked like he was properly dressed in a suit or uniform at one point, but now the sleeves of his button up shirt were folded to the elbow, his tie was loosened, and his shoes desperately needed a polish. Sitting in a cross draw holster on his chest was a Colt Python revolver, with a heavy weight compensator. Warren insisted the gun was scary and classy all at once.
Across from him sat a girl, somewhere in that uncomfortable gray area between 17 and 20. She had soft, mocha colored skin, and was dressed in a highschool goth's wet dream, showing far too much skin, her hair with a shock of color dyed into it. Any man would have trouble resisting her appearance. Any man but Warren that is.
Instead I'm sitting across from my daughter, who looks like she just got done turning a trick to pay for the tattoo the thinks I don't know about. Her breath smells like cheap vodka, and I'm not sure she's said a word to me in the last half hour.
Warren stared at the young girl, Alexia Michaels. Their relationship hadn't been the same since her mother died. The two simply couldn't connect, and he simply wasn't there for her. He knew that. But he wished they could at least pretend to be family. Just once.
The ashes of a cigarette he forget he had ever lit fell into his coffee and he gave a mournful sigh as his daughter glared at him in disdain. Before either could think of anything to say, Warren's phone jingled. Alexia glared at him with cold eyes, silently daring him to take it, to ignore her again. He knew if he so much as glanced at the phone. So much as touched it, she wouldn't even look at him for a week.
"Inspector Michaels speaking. Apartment complex downtown? Yeah. You can't send someone else? Right. Of course. I'll take care of it."
Apparantly some chinks were shooting guns off in their own front. That could mean trouble. And the entire rest of the station was off getting plugged across town in a raid. "Business calls, baby girl."
Alexia crossed her arms and gave a huff.
"I need the car keys."
"Excuse me?! I'll have to take a taxi home! In this town!"
That would be less a cause for concern if you dressed like a normal human being. What would your mother think? "You're drunk. I can smell it. You drove my Altima drunk. You lose your privileges. Simple as that."
Alexia flung the keys at her father's face and stormed out of the shop. Warren gave one of the employees an apologetic shrug and pulled on his coat, leaving a generous tip before he headed off.
Vinny
Job offer: Abysmal.
Vinny took a long moment, running his fingers through his hair and rubbing his second chin. "I... well. There's uh. There's one thing. I had to deliver a message to someone else this morning, uh. There's a hit. It's kind of an open thing, whoever does the job gets the money, but the family is trying to keep the word on the down low... But I mean. You, you're made in all but name. So. I guess... Yeah okay, I can tell you."
Vinny leaned in uncomfortably close. "You really should have asked about an hour sooner, you could be done by now, with enough money to set yourself up for a few years, minimum. The family wants the head of one Mr. Fairbanks."
Status: Doing the goddamned math.
Chen glanced over the apartment and did a quick mental check. Himself and four underlings vs. Richie, Luka, the broad, the guy with the massive nose, and the two guys currently shouting to each other. Richie was bleeding out his head, and Luka went out of a window. But Chen had lost a subordinate already. That made even 4 to 4 odds. Those weren't great odds.
Chen watched as one of his men, toting a shotgun, stormed the bedroom where the woman and Cyrus were. He then immediately discounted that underling as good as dead. This was a mess. He'd have to call more guards in.
Luka
Wait: Luka? What the fuck?!
One second life has you leaning out of a window enjoying the view. The next, life puts a few bullet holes in you, pushes you out of the window, and starts blaring a car alarm into your ear. Dude, fuck life.
Luka saw spots in his vision, his torso felt wet, and it hurt like a bitch to move. Hell. He was probably hallucinating, cuz it looked like Slim was standing up on a window ledge. Oh. Wait. That's real. Why the hell is that real?
"S..." Luka coughed harshly, the taste of iron his mouth, "Slim! Feck... Ey! I'm alive down here! Fuckin' send some help!" No sooner did the Irishman choke out a sentence did some of the Yakuza in the parking lot close in on him.
"Fuckin' squinty eyes! Git it!" Apparantly Luka still had some fight in him, one handing his Mossberg and pistol, rolling off of the car he landed on, blowing away the nearest gangster.
No, just kidding, he's dead as a doornail.
Mr. Chen
Fun Fact: Hates loose ends.
Chen clicked his tongue in annoyance as he heard Luka shouting from the parking lot. That was a loose end. The job was to kill the undercover cop, and it had to have been either Luka or Richie. Given he didn't know which...
Chen puffed on his cigarette, which somehow managed to stay lit and in his mouth in the firefight. Was Luka shouting to the girl? Chen turned his head just in time to see Slim leveling her gun at him. With a foreign curse, Chen shoved himself to the side as hard as he could, the bullet hitting him in the side of his lower torso.
Chen clicked off several rounds before ordering the two men nearest him to take care of the girl. The last man of his goons entered the bathroom to take care of the Jew and the last of the Americans.
Chen looked down at his torso and grimaced. He couldn't feel it yet. He wasn't too sure if that was good or bad. He'd have to get to a doctor, but first... The Irishman needed to be dealt with. While his men had the Americans distracted, Chen struggled to his feet, holstered one of his guns in his chest holster and hobbled out of the room, taking a deep drag from his cigarette.
In a passing thought, the gunman thanked his ancestors that the police were too occupied to send anyone to this little shoot out.
Warren J. Michaels
NAPD Inspector
The coffee shop smelled like stale doughnuts and freshly ground beans. Sitting here made me feel like a fucking cliche straight out a Tarantino flick. On one of my younger days, I'd be sitting at a table with my coworkers, cracking wise and talking shit. Instead...
Inspector Michaels was a middle aged African American man, with short cut graying hair, and a short, scraggly beard. He looked disheveled and tired at all times, as if he never slept or took time for himself. He looked like he was properly dressed in a suit or uniform at one point, but now the sleeves of his button up shirt were folded to the elbow, his tie was loosened, and his shoes desperately needed a polish. Sitting in a cross draw holster on his chest was a Colt Python revolver, with a heavy weight compensator. Warren insisted the gun was scary and classy all at once.
Across from him sat a girl, somewhere in that uncomfortable gray area between 17 and 20. She had soft, mocha colored skin, and was dressed in a highschool goth's wet dream, showing far too much skin, her hair with a shock of color dyed into it. Any man would have trouble resisting her appearance. Any man but Warren that is.
Instead I'm sitting across from my daughter, who looks like she just got done turning a trick to pay for the tattoo the thinks I don't know about. Her breath smells like cheap vodka, and I'm not sure she's said a word to me in the last half hour.
Warren stared at the young girl, Alexia Michaels. Their relationship hadn't been the same since her mother died. The two simply couldn't connect, and he simply wasn't there for her. He knew that. But he wished they could at least pretend to be family. Just once.
The ashes of a cigarette he forget he had ever lit fell into his coffee and he gave a mournful sigh as his daughter glared at him in disdain. Before either could think of anything to say, Warren's phone jingled. Alexia glared at him with cold eyes, silently daring him to take it, to ignore her again. He knew if he so much as glanced at the phone. So much as touched it, she wouldn't even look at him for a week.
"Inspector Michaels speaking. Apartment complex downtown? Yeah. You can't send someone else? Right. Of course. I'll take care of it."
Apparantly some chinks were shooting guns off in their own front. That could mean trouble. And the entire rest of the station was off getting plugged across town in a raid. "Business calls, baby girl."
Alexia crossed her arms and gave a huff.
"I need the car keys."
"Excuse me?! I'll have to take a taxi home! In this town!"
That would be less a cause for concern if you dressed like a normal human being. What would your mother think? "You're drunk. I can smell it. You drove my Altima drunk. You lose your privileges. Simple as that."
Alexia flung the keys at her father's face and stormed out of the shop. Warren gave one of the employees an apologetic shrug and pulled on his coat, leaving a generous tip before he headed off.
Vinny
Job offer: Abysmal.
Vinny took a long moment, running his fingers through his hair and rubbing his second chin. "I... well. There's uh. There's one thing. I had to deliver a message to someone else this morning, uh. There's a hit. It's kind of an open thing, whoever does the job gets the money, but the family is trying to keep the word on the down low... But I mean. You, you're made in all but name. So. I guess... Yeah okay, I can tell you."
Vinny leaned in uncomfortably close. "You really should have asked about an hour sooner, you could be done by now, with enough money to set yourself up for a few years, minimum. The family wants the head of one Mr. Fairbanks."
Fi Skirata- Knight
- Posts : 883
Join date : 2015-01-08
Age : 30
Location : Despair Academy
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Mr. Fountain Sat Oct 03, 2015 8:07 pm
Isaac "The Jew" Rosenberg
"Ah, Christ! The fuck is this?!" Isaac had shouted when he was pulled into the bathroom and onto the wet floor. The Jew rolled onto his side and took one glance at the brown-colored liquid he had fallen in. "I-Is this piss?!" he shouted. All the while, the Jew's second layer of thoughts were dwelling on what the fuck had happened. Had one of his superiors just been shot in the face on the first fucking gig? Had another been shot out of the goddamn building? Had he really just stood there like a fucking moron staring at it all? Yes, yes, double yes: he was a fuck-up getting fucked up.
Wanting to get out of the shit-colored water as soon as possible, the man placed both hands on the floor and pushed himself up just in time for Wade to give him an amazing tip.
"Hey, don't get shot, man. ALRIGHT, I TOLD HIM!"
"Tch, yeah, sure, no pro- FUCK!" Isaac's hand had lost its grip on the floor, and he collapsed back into the piss. Now, with the side of his face pressed against the floor forcing him to look in the direction of the only toilet in the room, Isaac saw that the toilet was actually completely shattered down to the pipe.
He quickly pulled himself up to sit on his knees and looked at his hands in horror. Then, the Jew turned to Wade with an unbelieving look. "H-holy shit, man! Is this your piss?!" he shouted in absolute shock.
That was when the Chinaman decided to kick in the door. Isaac turned his head to look at the scene unfold - mouth agape, eyes wide open in awe; he saw the Chink actually slip on the pisswater and slide - flailing his arms wildly - further into the room. The gunman came to a sudden stop - the momentum carrying his body forwards and downwards and his fucking neck onto the shattered ceramic of the toilet.
"Khtkhkthkt!" the Jap gurgled on his own blood - his face and head fixed in such a way that he was staring in horror at Isaac. Blood spurting every-fucking-where and pooling in with the piss, Isaac had just a moment to think that it was the most fucked-up thing he had ever seen before the dying man - who had managed to keep hold of his gun - actually started to pull up his weapon and aim at the Jew.
"F-f-f-fuck!" the Nose stammered loudly and scrambled to pick up his own weapon which had fallen near the doorway. The Jew turned, grabbed his piss-covered gun off the floor, and swung his arm wildly back towards the dying Jap and pulled his trigger as quickly as he could.
"Ah, Christ! The fuck is this?!" Isaac had shouted when he was pulled into the bathroom and onto the wet floor. The Jew rolled onto his side and took one glance at the brown-colored liquid he had fallen in. "I-Is this piss?!" he shouted. All the while, the Jew's second layer of thoughts were dwelling on what the fuck had happened. Had one of his superiors just been shot in the face on the first fucking gig? Had another been shot out of the goddamn building? Had he really just stood there like a fucking moron staring at it all? Yes, yes, double yes: he was a fuck-up getting fucked up.
Wanting to get out of the shit-colored water as soon as possible, the man placed both hands on the floor and pushed himself up just in time for Wade to give him an amazing tip.
"Hey, don't get shot, man. ALRIGHT, I TOLD HIM!"
"Tch, yeah, sure, no pro- FUCK!" Isaac's hand had lost its grip on the floor, and he collapsed back into the piss. Now, with the side of his face pressed against the floor forcing him to look in the direction of the only toilet in the room, Isaac saw that the toilet was actually completely shattered down to the pipe.
He quickly pulled himself up to sit on his knees and looked at his hands in horror. Then, the Jew turned to Wade with an unbelieving look. "H-holy shit, man! Is this your piss?!" he shouted in absolute shock.
That was when the Chinaman decided to kick in the door. Isaac turned his head to look at the scene unfold - mouth agape, eyes wide open in awe; he saw the Chink actually slip on the pisswater and slide - flailing his arms wildly - further into the room. The gunman came to a sudden stop - the momentum carrying his body forwards and downwards and his fucking neck onto the shattered ceramic of the toilet.
"Khtkhkthkt!" the Jap gurgled on his own blood - his face and head fixed in such a way that he was staring in horror at Isaac. Blood spurting every-fucking-where and pooling in with the piss, Isaac had just a moment to think that it was the most fucked-up thing he had ever seen before the dying man - who had managed to keep hold of his gun - actually started to pull up his weapon and aim at the Jew.
"F-f-f-fuck!" the Nose stammered loudly and scrambled to pick up his own weapon which had fallen near the doorway. The Jew turned, grabbed his piss-covered gun off the floor, and swung his arm wildly back towards the dying Jap and pulled his trigger as quickly as he could.
Mr. Fountain- Knight
- Posts : 958
Join date : 2015-01-07
Age : 29
Location : Judecca
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Nexeria Fri Oct 09, 2015 10:30 pm
Cyrus A. Lee/Wade Campbell
A Shitty Situation
"Watch out!" Wade yelled, seeing the piss-and-blood-stained Yakuza aim his weapon at the Jew, before grabbing hold of the fire extinguisher and bringing it down hard on the Jap's right arm just he fired. The bullet narrowly grazed Isaac's left ear as Wade continued to repeatedly hammer the fire extinguisher against the dying man's skull. Once he was done, the Yakuza's cranium was cracked open like a bloody bowl of brain matter filling up with a sickening brown-yellow liquid seeping out of the broken toilet seat.
"OH, OH GOD! That's ugly! Fuck!" Wade yelled, clenching his hand against his nose, as he lifted Isaac's onto his feet. "This shit right here is why I leave Cyrus the dirty jobs."
Peeking his head out the door, Wade could see Slim crawling around on the balcony trying to avoid the hell-storm of bullets flying over her head.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the hall, the Jap with Lee's Ithaca kicked in the door to the bedroom. Just as the man entered, Cyrus shoved a wooden dresser down on him and pinned the gook bastard against the wall. Cyrus swiftly stepped onto the dresser, pressing more weight onto the man, and pressed his Berreta deep into the back of the man's throat and quickly pulled the trigger. Cyrus quickly hopped off, taking back his shotgun, and yelled over to Wade and Isaac, "GET THE GIRL!"
"Working on it!" Wade hollered back before throwing the fire extinguisher out into the meeting room as the Jew lock onto to it with eagle-eye precision and fired. Suddenly, the room was clouded in a white powder sending Chen's goons into a coughing fit.
"Alright, let's get out there, man. Girl's counting on us," Wade told the Jew before charging out into the hall.
Peering out the shattered window, Cyrus spotted Luka fending off more Yakuza out in the parking lot. "What the fuck?" Without really even thing about it, Cyrus began unloading his shotgun down upon the incoming Japs.
A Shitty Situation
"Watch out!" Wade yelled, seeing the piss-and-blood-stained Yakuza aim his weapon at the Jew, before grabbing hold of the fire extinguisher and bringing it down hard on the Jap's right arm just he fired. The bullet narrowly grazed Isaac's left ear as Wade continued to repeatedly hammer the fire extinguisher against the dying man's skull. Once he was done, the Yakuza's cranium was cracked open like a bloody bowl of brain matter filling up with a sickening brown-yellow liquid seeping out of the broken toilet seat.
"OH, OH GOD! That's ugly! Fuck!" Wade yelled, clenching his hand against his nose, as he lifted Isaac's onto his feet. "This shit right here is why I leave Cyrus the dirty jobs."
Peeking his head out the door, Wade could see Slim crawling around on the balcony trying to avoid the hell-storm of bullets flying over her head.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the hall, the Jap with Lee's Ithaca kicked in the door to the bedroom. Just as the man entered, Cyrus shoved a wooden dresser down on him and pinned the gook bastard against the wall. Cyrus swiftly stepped onto the dresser, pressing more weight onto the man, and pressed his Berreta deep into the back of the man's throat and quickly pulled the trigger. Cyrus quickly hopped off, taking back his shotgun, and yelled over to Wade and Isaac, "GET THE GIRL!"
"Working on it!" Wade hollered back before throwing the fire extinguisher out into the meeting room as the Jew lock onto to it with eagle-eye precision and fired. Suddenly, the room was clouded in a white powder sending Chen's goons into a coughing fit.
"Alright, let's get out there, man. Girl's counting on us," Wade told the Jew before charging out into the hall.
Peering out the shattered window, Cyrus spotted Luka fending off more Yakuza out in the parking lot. "What the fuck?" Without really even thing about it, Cyrus began unloading his shotgun down upon the incoming Japs.
Nexeria- Esquire
- Posts : 392
Join date : 2015-01-11
Age : 108
Location : Fucked
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Fi Skirata Sat Oct 10, 2015 12:20 am
Mr. Chen
Gunshot wound: Yeah. Yeah that's there. That uh. That hurts. Yeah. Okay. Great.
Chen leaned against the wall for support as he descended a staircase to the ground floor. "Chen-San!" came the cry of one of gangsters from the lower floor. Chen gave a dismissive grunt and grabbed the underlings shirt, pulling him in close.
Chen growled at the man "Take some guys. Go up to the meeting room, blaze the Americans. Don't spare the girl."
"Chen-san, we got a call from one of our guys down at the landromat, you know, by the cafe? They said that an unmarked car started running a siren and headed this way."
Chen cursed under his breath. Was there one fucking cop that wasn't at the raid across town? That's fucking ridiculous. "Okay. Okay, forget the Americans. Let them go, keep everyone out of their way, no resistance. Have everyone go to their rooms, and if the cops ask, no one saw shit." The underling nodded and scurried off
Chen cupped his hand over his wound and stormed out of the building with purpose. He still had to get the Irishman before the cops arrived.
Luka
Status: He has four gunshot wounds, and he's walking around. Who fucking knows at this point.
The wounded Irishman laid down suppressive fire across the parking lot at his pursuers with his handgun, working towards his car with a pained gait, . When the gun clicked empty, Luka glared at it like it had personally betrayed him and flung it across the lot, racking his Mossberg and tumbling to the ground against his car. He glanced up at Cyrus, who was firing from the apartment "Mate! MATE! Fuckin'... GET DOWN HERE AND HELP."
Across the lot he could here Chen shouting at his men to get inside. Was Chen calling them off? Luke peered over the hood of his car. "Hey... pal we uh....we good?" several bullets flew past Luka's head and he ducked back behind his car "No... I didn't think so."
Gunshot wound: Yeah. Yeah that's there. That uh. That hurts. Yeah. Okay. Great.
Chen leaned against the wall for support as he descended a staircase to the ground floor. "Chen-San!" came the cry of one of gangsters from the lower floor. Chen gave a dismissive grunt and grabbed the underlings shirt, pulling him in close.
Chen growled at the man "Take some guys. Go up to the meeting room, blaze the Americans. Don't spare the girl."
"Chen-san, we got a call from one of our guys down at the landromat, you know, by the cafe? They said that an unmarked car started running a siren and headed this way."
Chen cursed under his breath. Was there one fucking cop that wasn't at the raid across town? That's fucking ridiculous. "Okay. Okay, forget the Americans. Let them go, keep everyone out of their way, no resistance. Have everyone go to their rooms, and if the cops ask, no one saw shit." The underling nodded and scurried off
Chen cupped his hand over his wound and stormed out of the building with purpose. He still had to get the Irishman before the cops arrived.
Luka
Status: He has four gunshot wounds, and he's walking around. Who fucking knows at this point.
The wounded Irishman laid down suppressive fire across the parking lot at his pursuers with his handgun, working towards his car with a pained gait, . When the gun clicked empty, Luka glared at it like it had personally betrayed him and flung it across the lot, racking his Mossberg and tumbling to the ground against his car. He glanced up at Cyrus, who was firing from the apartment "Mate! MATE! Fuckin'... GET DOWN HERE AND HELP."
Across the lot he could here Chen shouting at his men to get inside. Was Chen calling them off? Luke peered over the hood of his car. "Hey... pal we uh....we good?" several bullets flew past Luka's head and he ducked back behind his car "No... I didn't think so."
Fi Skirata- Knight
- Posts : 883
Join date : 2015-01-08
Age : 30
Location : Despair Academy
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Thade Sat Oct 10, 2015 10:25 pm
Jack Godwin
“...You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Jack slammed back the rest of his drink. If only he still had that M110, it might’ve been easy. Or at least not so impossible.
“Fine. I’ll take it. Now get out.” The man turned around, unlocking and opening the large metal cabinet behind his desk.
He was proud of his collection. It mostly consisted of handguns, and quite a few were personalized. People liked their signature weapons for some reason. It made sense, he supposed. James Bond had his PPK, Patton had his Colt, a Jedi had his lightsaber. And Jack had noticed a nice big shiny revolver on Mr. F.
~~~
A man dressed in a black suit leaned against a black El Camino and raised the pair of binoculars to his eyes. He had a fair view of the warehouse from this location, and it seemed mostly silent. No movement in or out for the past half an hour, and the windows were too high to give a decent view inside. And he was getting impatient.
He stowed the binoculars in the flatbed of the car and started to walk over, calmly and quickly. Once he reached the side of the warehouse, he pulled a gun from his jacket and began to screw on a suppressor. .22 caliber, subsonic ammo. Not a lot of stopping power, but if he found anyone here, he wanted them alive. He needed info.
Jack slid around the corner of the building and peaked ever so carefully into the warehouse, gripping his gun tightly, just waiting for someone to jump out and shoot him in the face.
“...You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Jack slammed back the rest of his drink. If only he still had that M110, it might’ve been easy. Or at least not so impossible.
“Fine. I’ll take it. Now get out.” The man turned around, unlocking and opening the large metal cabinet behind his desk.
He was proud of his collection. It mostly consisted of handguns, and quite a few were personalized. People liked their signature weapons for some reason. It made sense, he supposed. James Bond had his PPK, Patton had his Colt, a Jedi had his lightsaber. And Jack had noticed a nice big shiny revolver on Mr. F.
~~~
A man dressed in a black suit leaned against a black El Camino and raised the pair of binoculars to his eyes. He had a fair view of the warehouse from this location, and it seemed mostly silent. No movement in or out for the past half an hour, and the windows were too high to give a decent view inside. And he was getting impatient.
He stowed the binoculars in the flatbed of the car and started to walk over, calmly and quickly. Once he reached the side of the warehouse, he pulled a gun from his jacket and began to screw on a suppressor. .22 caliber, subsonic ammo. Not a lot of stopping power, but if he found anyone here, he wanted them alive. He needed info.
Jack slid around the corner of the building and peaked ever so carefully into the warehouse, gripping his gun tightly, just waiting for someone to jump out and shoot him in the face.
Thade- Esquire
- Posts : 396
Join date : 2015-01-11
Age : 105
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Fi Skirata Sat Oct 10, 2015 11:29 pm
Vinny
The chubby goomba looked over Jack's shoulder and whistled at the weapons. "You're on some whole different level, Dante."
~~~
Alexia Michaels
Location: NA Harbor
Alexia had picked up a cab to the harbor. It wasn't the safest place, she had heard plenty of rumors that the lowlifes of the city worked out of some of the warehouses, and it was exactly the kind of place her father wouldn't want her to be. Which is precisely why she was there. Someone with her looks was bound to get into trouble, and she perpetually sought trouble as some kind of sick way to get back at her father for neglecting her.
Not that she wanted his attention. She could manage just fine, thank you very much.
Thankfully. Trouble wasn't hard to come by in a city like this. Dressed in a dark suit and clutching some pathetically tiny handgun, a man seemed to be spying on one of the warehouses, peering in.
Alexia sauntered up behind him, her heels clicking loudly on the cement "Whatchadointhere?" she strung her words together in a sing song voice. She fully expected to end up with a gun in her face, and was all to happy for it to happen. Getting a hole through the head would certainly show her father.
Then again. When you're wearing black lace from head to toe, have unnaturally colored hair, and look like a mocha colored goddess, guns arent usually the thing being put in your face. Alexia was confident she wouldn't get blazed in some shit hole like this.
The chubby goomba looked over Jack's shoulder and whistled at the weapons. "You're on some whole different level, Dante."
~~~
Alexia Michaels
Location: NA Harbor
Alexia had picked up a cab to the harbor. It wasn't the safest place, she had heard plenty of rumors that the lowlifes of the city worked out of some of the warehouses, and it was exactly the kind of place her father wouldn't want her to be. Which is precisely why she was there. Someone with her looks was bound to get into trouble, and she perpetually sought trouble as some kind of sick way to get back at her father for neglecting her.
Not that she wanted his attention. She could manage just fine, thank you very much.
Thankfully. Trouble wasn't hard to come by in a city like this. Dressed in a dark suit and clutching some pathetically tiny handgun, a man seemed to be spying on one of the warehouses, peering in.
Alexia sauntered up behind him, her heels clicking loudly on the cement "Whatchadointhere?" she strung her words together in a sing song voice. She fully expected to end up with a gun in her face, and was all to happy for it to happen. Getting a hole through the head would certainly show her father.
Then again. When you're wearing black lace from head to toe, have unnaturally colored hair, and look like a mocha colored goddess, guns arent usually the thing being put in your face. Alexia was confident she wouldn't get blazed in some shit hole like this.
Fi Skirata- Knight
- Posts : 883
Join date : 2015-01-08
Age : 30
Location : Despair Academy
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Thade Sun Oct 11, 2015 12:31 am
Jack Godwin
Status: Less drunk than is acceptable.
“What the-” The man spun at the sound, gun aimed directly at the young woman’s center of mass. He hadn’t heard the sound of clacking heels, but he had heard her goddamned annoying singsongy voice.
“Motherfuck-… ” Jack didn’t lower his gun, it was still aimed directly at her, his hand steady. He prayed to god someone inside the warehouse hadn't heard that, if more than one wiseguy ran out at once, he was royally fucked.
He tensed up, waiting for a sound from within, before letting out a sigh of relief. Jack turned back to the warehouse, cautiously peering into it again. “I don’t have the time or money to entertain a whore at the moment, so get the fuck out of here before you get caught up in something bigger than you.” He muttered from between his teeth.
He wasn’t particularly concerned about her having a weapon, it didn’t look like she had a place to put one in those clothes. Nor was he exactly in the mood to deal with someone like that. So ignoring her until she went the fuck away seemed like the best possible option.
Status: Less drunk than is acceptable.
“What the-” The man spun at the sound, gun aimed directly at the young woman’s center of mass. He hadn’t heard the sound of clacking heels, but he had heard her goddamned annoying singsongy voice.
“Motherfuck-… ” Jack didn’t lower his gun, it was still aimed directly at her, his hand steady. He prayed to god someone inside the warehouse hadn't heard that, if more than one wiseguy ran out at once, he was royally fucked.
He tensed up, waiting for a sound from within, before letting out a sigh of relief. Jack turned back to the warehouse, cautiously peering into it again. “I don’t have the time or money to entertain a whore at the moment, so get the fuck out of here before you get caught up in something bigger than you.” He muttered from between his teeth.
He wasn’t particularly concerned about her having a weapon, it didn’t look like she had a place to put one in those clothes. Nor was he exactly in the mood to deal with someone like that. So ignoring her until she went the fuck away seemed like the best possible option.
Thade- Esquire
- Posts : 396
Join date : 2015-01-11
Age : 105
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Fi Skirata Sun Oct 11, 2015 1:11 am
Alexia Michaels
Trivia: Thinks Italian men are megahot.
The girl simply grinned a little as the dark suited man off handedly blew her off. How rude, trying to get rid of her like that. This guy seemed to be up to something, and Alexia wanted nothing more than to get involved.
"I'm used to things bigger than me, thankyouverymuch~." She sang suggestively. The man really didn't seem to want anything to with her. The safe decision here would be to get out of sight before anything got heavy.
So naturally, Alexia pushed past the suited man and glanced at him "Its practically empty, or you'd hear people inside, obviouslydon'tyouthink?" She stuck inside, glancing left and right "Okay, like, there's just on guy. I'll distract 'em and you come mop up, alright? Alrightcooldon'tletmegetshotkay?"
The lolita practically skipped into the warehouse, humming, coming straight up to a very confused looking guard "Hi there, stud~" If spoken words could have hearts in them, hers would,. "You're boss sent me to help you relieve a little work stress." She walked around the guy, waving her hips and drawing the man's attention away from Jack's direction.
She was a meddler, but she was at least useful.
Trivia: Thinks Italian men are megahot.
The girl simply grinned a little as the dark suited man off handedly blew her off. How rude, trying to get rid of her like that. This guy seemed to be up to something, and Alexia wanted nothing more than to get involved.
"I'm used to things bigger than me, thankyouverymuch~." She sang suggestively. The man really didn't seem to want anything to with her. The safe decision here would be to get out of sight before anything got heavy.
So naturally, Alexia pushed past the suited man and glanced at him "Its practically empty, or you'd hear people inside, obviouslydon'tyouthink?" She stuck inside, glancing left and right "Okay, like, there's just on guy. I'll distract 'em and you come mop up, alright? Alrightcooldon'tletmegetshotkay?"
The lolita practically skipped into the warehouse, humming, coming straight up to a very confused looking guard "Hi there, stud~" If spoken words could have hearts in them, hers would,. "You're boss sent me to help you relieve a little work stress." She walked around the guy, waving her hips and drawing the man's attention away from Jack's direction.
She was a meddler, but she was at least useful.
Fi Skirata- Knight
- Posts : 883
Join date : 2015-01-08
Age : 30
Location : Despair Academy
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Thade Sun Oct 11, 2015 1:38 am
Jack Godwin
Status: Flabbergasted
The man stood there silently, becoming more confused by the second. He scratched his head with the end of his gun, probably not the best decision, but his brain cells were quickly dying due to lack of cheap whiskey, and a bullet probably wouldn’t get all the way through his skull anyway.
It took him a second to decipher what the girl was saying, she talked so quickly. Once he worked it out, it took him another few to figure out how to respond, if at all. So once she walked up to the guard, he just stared, holding his gun at his side. Finally something clicked and he blinked hard, raising his weapon to squeeze off two rounds at the man’s leg.
The sound of him collapsing in pain was louder than the gun, but the guard still had the will to reach into his cheap suit for his weapon.
“...Hey! You- whatever the hell your name is! Get his fucking gun!” Jack kept his weapon trained on the man, taking a few steps toward him. He needed info badly, and killing this guy would not be a good move.
Status: Flabbergasted
The man stood there silently, becoming more confused by the second. He scratched his head with the end of his gun, probably not the best decision, but his brain cells were quickly dying due to lack of cheap whiskey, and a bullet probably wouldn’t get all the way through his skull anyway.
It took him a second to decipher what the girl was saying, she talked so quickly. Once he worked it out, it took him another few to figure out how to respond, if at all. So once she walked up to the guard, he just stared, holding his gun at his side. Finally something clicked and he blinked hard, raising his weapon to squeeze off two rounds at the man’s leg.
The sound of him collapsing in pain was louder than the gun, but the guard still had the will to reach into his cheap suit for his weapon.
“...Hey! You- whatever the hell your name is! Get his fucking gun!” Jack kept his weapon trained on the man, taking a few steps toward him. He needed info badly, and killing this guy would not be a good move.
Thade- Esquire
- Posts : 396
Join date : 2015-01-11
Age : 105
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Fi Skirata Sun Oct 11, 2015 1:46 am
Alexia Michaels
The Mocha Lolita
"Youwantmetowhat." The girl deadpanned, there was no way she was going mess up her outifit trying to pry the gun from this mooks hands. Thinking on the spot, she instead stomped her high heel down onto the goons gonads with a sickening crunching noise. With a whimper, the man clutched his family jewels and the young woman scooped up his handgun.
She lost all interest it whatever the suited man was doing to Mr. Crushed Nuts, instead looking over the firearm. A dinky little five shot revolver. A .38? It seemed similar to the arm sized monstrosity that was her father's magnum. Just... fun sized. She decided to keep the gun, it was all too fitting.
The Mocha Lolita
"Youwantmetowhat." The girl deadpanned, there was no way she was going mess up her outifit trying to pry the gun from this mooks hands. Thinking on the spot, she instead stomped her high heel down onto the goons gonads with a sickening crunching noise. With a whimper, the man clutched his family jewels and the young woman scooped up his handgun.
She lost all interest it whatever the suited man was doing to Mr. Crushed Nuts, instead looking over the firearm. A dinky little five shot revolver. A .38? It seemed similar to the arm sized monstrosity that was her father's magnum. Just... fun sized. She decided to keep the gun, it was all too fitting.
Fi Skirata- Knight
- Posts : 883
Join date : 2015-01-08
Age : 30
Location : Despair Academy
Re: Criminal Consequences
by Mr. Fountain Sun Oct 11, 2015 2:32 am
Isaac "The Jew with the Nose" Rosenberg
Status: What's that smell? Oh, right...
Alright, Isaac might have been covered in piss and shit and now blood splatter, but there was a firefight going on around him. So, you know: priorities. After being compelled to follow Wade's idea of shooting the fire extinguisher by an almost invisible force and thus providing everyone some cover, Isaac had the bright idea of walking back over to the dead chink in the bathroom to grab the man's handgun - a black Beretta 9mm.
He carried the new weapon in his left hand and the snub-nosed Magnum in his right. The Jew wasn't going to go full-Woo or anything; he simply planned on alternating when he ran out of ammo one or the other.
After that, he quickly followed Wade in his charge into the room covered in a cloud of extinguisher-agent. The man quickly locked onto the one on the right - assuming that Wade would take the man on the left. It was easy prey as the man was both distracted with shooting Slim and was coughing wildly from the chemicals - Isaac was squinting his eyes through the fog and trying not to breathe much. He aimed and fired his Magnum twice: once in the man's chest and another in his back when he began to turn and fall. Nice and clean. The Jew walked up to the Jap's crumpled form and sunk another slug into the back of the man's skull for good measure, too.
Status: What's that smell? Oh, right...
Alright, Isaac might have been covered in piss and shit and now blood splatter, but there was a firefight going on around him. So, you know: priorities. After being compelled to follow Wade's idea of shooting the fire extinguisher by an almost invisible force and thus providing everyone some cover, Isaac had the bright idea of walking back over to the dead chink in the bathroom to grab the man's handgun - a black Beretta 9mm.
He carried the new weapon in his left hand and the snub-nosed Magnum in his right. The Jew wasn't going to go full-Woo or anything; he simply planned on alternating when he ran out of ammo one or the other.
After that, he quickly followed Wade in his charge into the room covered in a cloud of extinguisher-agent. The man quickly locked onto the one on the right - assuming that Wade would take the man on the left. It was easy prey as the man was both distracted with shooting Slim and was coughing wildly from the chemicals - Isaac was squinting his eyes through the fog and trying not to breathe much. He aimed and fired his Magnum twice: once in the man's chest and another in his back when he began to turn and fall. Nice and clean. The Jew walked up to the Jap's crumpled form and sunk another slug into the back of the man's skull for good measure, too.
Mr. Fountain- Knight
- Posts : 958
Join date : 2015-01-07
Age : 29
Location : Judecca
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