The car that pulled up to the busted up bar could be heard coming three blocks away. Mostly due to the fact that during those three blocks it had backfired five times, although the driver had still taken infinite care that he had not been followed despite the noise his Interceptor made.
The car was a total mess, it had no windows anywhere, and the back end of the car looked like an arse in addition to being heavily damaged otherwise. The Englishman got out of his car, although his exit hadn't been blocked by a door in the car and entered the bar.
"This all of you? I've gotta say, you guys need to be a lot less picky." Dan took one last look over his shoulder and shut the door. However, he remained at the far end of the room, checking around for anyone who might have been laying in wait.
edited 13th Jan '12 10:22:05 AM by Plumbum
Curse the ill fortune that led you to me.The First looked to the Second. "How picky were you, exactly?"
"I'd call it being thorough. Put down the gun, now; you're scaring your guest."
The First shot the Second a death glare, which the Second promptly decided not to give a shit about. "He got you here for me. I'm not going to shoot you. Sit.", he said, restraining the urge to just tell him to 'Sit the fuck down.' As if to give his word, he placed the gun on the table, gesturing that he was now harmless. It was still well within his reach, but his intentions didn't give hint of harm.
"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank HillA blue Amarok slowly and casually strolled along the street: Behind its tinted windows, Marine smoked a spliff and listened to an Enter Sandman cover by Mötorhead. She had a bad feeling 'bout the place, but business was business... So she pulled over.
The Haitian weighed her options: She could just walk away, but that'd piss her prospective clients off. And they knew how to contact'er to begin with. She could take her tiny little S&W Model 60, hide it between her boobs... just in case. They'd probably miss it in a cursory search, but they'd surely find it if she was patted down deliberately, which happened quite often. Carrying guns openly was well and good (quite useless for business meetings, too), but trying to sneak'em past your client's bodyguards looked like a dick move.
All in all, she decided against the gun, settling for sliding a combat knife inside her boot. She had plenty experience choppin' people up: If things went sour, she'd just grab the gunman and use'im as a hostage... Or slit his throat and use the corpse as partial cover, meatshield style. She got off her car and walked inside the bar. It smelled like fuckin' dead bodies. She didn't like this whole biz at all.
She looked at the three guys in there, suspicious.
edited 19th Jan '12 4:06:25 PM by SavageHeathen
You exist because we allow it and you will end because we demand it.The Second leaned towards his partner. "Everybody you pick gonna act like that? I mean, seriously-"
"You clearly don't know how to make an impression."
The First stood, approaching the two and extending a hand to each. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Jake, the person responsible for bringing the both of you, and two more people, here. I've done this on my associate's- Emile's his name- request. There's no need to worry, you're not walking into anything but a... proposal, if you will. I'd explain further, but that's not my job. Now, will you kindly take a seat, please?", he explained, his voice clearly displaying some fake courtesy, the other half as particularly dead as it could be.
"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank HillMarine grinned, visibly (but falsely) relaxing. She proceeded to sit right next to the man with the gun. She took the chance to re-lit her blunt with a zippo. "So what's this biz all'bout', man?", she casually asked. "'N what's wit' the dead guy?
Her left hand idly dropped next to her knee: Short distance away from the combat knife.
edited 16th Jan '12 5:25:37 PM by SavageHeathen
You exist because we allow it and you will end because we demand it.An inconspicuous dark-gray beaten up sedan eased down the street. It was easily forgettable, like a hundred million other crappy cars throughout the world. It came to a stop behind what had to be the most smashed up, worthless Interceptor in the known world.
Andreas turned off the radio, and eyed the car in front of him, then the "bar" alongside him, if it could be called that. He plucked his cigarette idly from the ashtray on the dash and examined the bar closer.
This place is pretty sketch. Was his first thought. He'd seen plenty of run-down bars like this, but this place made him more nervous. Could be a sting, of course, but he wasn't afraid of the poice. He was fucking Andreas Madrid! Still, he was bringing his gun.
Andreas put the cigarette to his lips and checked his jacket, making sure his pistol was secure in his holster. He licked his lips in anticipation, and opened the car door, stepping out onto the sidewalk outside the bar. He gave the two cars outside a suspicious look through his dreadlocks, before slamming the door shut. He patted his jacket again, feeling his pistol. He took a long drag of his cigarette, then let it fall. He stamped out the burning tip with his heel. With a smile, he strolled towards the bar.
He slammed open the door with a bang, and entered the almost lightless building, squinting at the single lighted table, and it's occupants. He approached the table confidently, but kept a hand inside his jacket, just in case. He looked at each of the bar's inhabitants quickly, his eyes shifting across the four strangers.
He raised an eyebrow. " There a reason I was called here?" He asked, forgoing introductions. " What's going down?" He eyed the First and the woman suspiciously.
Your legacy shall drift away, blown into eternity, like the sands of the desert.Emile turned his attention to Marine.
"I'm not gonna kill you, if that's what you're really wondering", he replied. "But that guy behind the counter couldn't be trusted."
Jake adressed Dan.
"You'll see them shortly. In fact, there's one now."
He motioned to Andreas, now adressing him.
"My friend here has a proposition for you all. You won't be waiting long, one more person's scheduled to show up."
"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank HillAn expensive-looking, sleek, black car was en route to its destination, the musty bar where this meeting of criminal minds was to occur. Behind the dark-tinted windows, at the wheel was a very buxom and voluptuous blonde, her wavy and voluminous fair hair resting on her shoulders and framing her very lovely face, the crimson of her lips popping against her snowy complexion. Smoky and vivid blue eyes scanned the buildings and signs passing by as she searched for the proper place.
As she rolled to a stop when she hit a light, Veronika took a moment to check over her essentials; makeup and hair were immaculate, pistols were loaded and ready in case circumstances turned. . . Undesirable. However, should this all go well. . . Well, needless to say the payoff would excite her greatly. As soon as her lane began moving again, she turned onto the street and parked outside the bar. As she got out and got a good look at the place, one would notice that her upper lip moved or twitched slightly - indeed, this despicable little hovel was not the high-class establishment Veronika was so used to. Veronika herself looked quite out-of-place in the setting, appearing to be a businesswoman seeking to gain the attention of her boss through more seductive means; while her business blazer was buttoned fully, a few were left loose on the blouse underneath, providing a glimpse of her ample cleavage and a small ruby necklace that seemed to draw attention to it.
Looking suitable, with pistols prepared, she turned on her alarm and headed through the door of the bar, the clicking of her high heels against the floor making her presence known. She glanced over everyone in the room, and had to work against the disdain she felt for everyone there to keep up a stoic and professional demeanor.
"I apologize for being late," she said in a very businesslike tone, a Russian accent audible through her speech, "Bad traffic. Now, what was it you were wanting to see us for?"
“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."Emile tilted his head towards the woman. "Just take a fu-", he started, before a double take occured. It was not a moment to savor, as Emile was ever impatient, but his speech did change somewhat. "'S Alright, just take a seat."
Jake in turn looked to Veronika, but his dead stare and demeanour did not change, even as he eyed the necklace for a moment.
Once everyone was seated, Emile began, somewhat awkwardly. "Alright... look, i'm just gonna cut to the chase; Coppershore, the city you're in now? It's a fucking mess. Gangs everywhere you turn, and they keep control, believe me. There's some unspoken rules going on everywhere you look. And you wanna know what the first one is?", for this, Emile leaned close, taking the gun on the table, but not ouching the trigger. To each person, this gun was pointed, and a expression of that gun being fired once was done to the four there. "Everythings... up... for... grabs. It's all about whose got the bigger gun, and when the guns get too big, you just point 'em. Don't shoot, but you make sure everybody else know's you're damn well there. Same as everywhere else, but you see it being lived by in every corner of this place."
"Now, lemme ask you something", he continued, leaning back. "What would you want out of this fair city, Coppershore? What would you work tooth and nail to get?"
This is a question meant to be answered, but can be taken to a general sense of what they want most that they'd work for. And no, this isn't some determining of their pay, it's just what the character wants.
"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank Hill"Do you really need to ask?" Veronika replied, her lips adjusting slightly into a barely-noticeable smirk, "Neither money nor power is a concern to me. I'm in for the sheer fun of it. And if that means prying 'the big gun', as you put it, out of some pretentious little rat's hands, well, so be it. Power results in nothing when you lack the resources and tact to support it."
“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."
Reading tropes such as You Know What You Did
"Takara. Takara, wake up. Quickly, it’s important." Takara stirred, trying to remember where she was for a moment before remembering she had crashed at some guitarist's pad.
"What the fuck?" Her bleary eyes tried to focus on the older man who had come rushing in, Spit Perlman, she remembered.
"My room." Takara hears the frantic tone in his voice, yawns, sits up and stretches.
"I’m up. I’m up." Reaching under the bed she searches for the handgun she carries in case of a threat, before remembering that she wasn't carrying. "What’s the big emergency?"
"A spider." Takara freezes at the words. Otherwise she doesn’t react. "I think it’s a house spider."
"You’re an arachnophobe and you know what type of spider it is?"
"It helps control the phobia." As she wasn't armed Takara gave up looking, sliding out of bed.
"It's not gonna hurt you, go back to bed." Getting to her feet she sees the frantic look on Spit's face and sighs. "Let’s see it." Takara is led to Spit’s bedroom, where she sees the large black arachnid at the other end. "Okay."
"Fuck!" Takara spins at Spit's outburst. "That's not a house spider it's a fucking funnelweb!" Takara finds that she is breathing heavily.
"Okay." Fighting every instinct to flee, she grabs a newspaper by the side of the bed and moves over to where the spider is. "Is that bad?"
"Deadliest spider in the world. They're meant to be only in Australia."
"You know so much about it, you deal with it." The look on Spit's face indicated that wasn't going to happen. "Shit…shit…shit…" She smashes the paper against the spider, but it’s still alive. She swats it several more times but it remains huddled in the corner, staring at her menacingly. "Fucking die already!" Takara tries scraping it off the wall, the spider fighting her all the way. Finally she gets it off and quickly stomps on it.
"Fucking hell." The spider survives even this, and Takara keeps stomping it as it crawls away, until it finally stops moving. "Maybe it was a radioactive spider."
"That’s not funny." Takara could see that Spit was really scared. "You need me to tuck you back in?"
"I don’t think I could sleep." Takara nods, sympathizing completely.
"Okay."
Currently reading up My Rule Fu Is Stronger than Yours

Coppershore. Never a dull moment there, and never a really exciting one too. The gangs there are like your average military; you're enlisting if you want to really live.
Zoom in on the south end of the city, on one of the many land masses in Coppershore. You've got the docks there, home to cargo ships and smugglers alike. Sometimes their activity is in plain sight and they still get their pay at the end of the day. The funny part is, this is one of the only CPD territories in the city, and the only thing between them and the authorities are marketplaces selling the previously menioned smuggled wares.
Zoom in farther, to a bar overlooking the docks. The outside looks crappy, exactly what you'd probably expect. There isn't a catchy name out fromt or anything, just a sign saying 'Bar' hanging over a door with a sign on it saying 'Closed.' Everybody takes it at first glance and doesn't think to try the door, which is unlocked.
Inside the bar now, almost no lights are on. The only one that is is overlooking a table in the back. The bartender's inside too, but he's a bit occupied trying to smooth talk Saint Peter right now. The smell's about as bad as it was even then.
Two people are alive, though, sitting at the lit up table.
One looks very off-putting where he sits, his face illuminated by a laptop screen. He looks very sick, with fat and muscle that should be there being absent from his face, his features very sharp because of this. His body is the same way, with a very wiry frame and clothing just too small for the average guy being worn because it fits him. His hair's a dull brown, probably in need of a haircut, and his glasses are just that, the laptop screen reflecting off the lenses. What may be more startling, though, is the way he acts. It's like there's a good part of him that's dead inside, like he really doesn't give a shit about the fact that he's in the room with a dead body and a man with a gun.
That man with the gun, in contrast to his accomplice, looks very well built; Tall, strong, tan skin, shaved head, some form of ornate tattoo decorating the space around his left eye and clothing that looks like he put it on more as an afterthought, sweatchirt and baggy jeans being the key features. He's observing a pistol in his hand, quite impatiently. It's safe to say the first guy's the cause.
"You remember who we're going to be speaking to, right?", the first asked, the gun holder getting more impatient.
"Oh for fuck's sake, yes i remember who we're dealing with. You think i don't?", he replied.
"You tend to forget easily."
"Shut the fuck up before i point this at you too. Alright, fine, show me again.", the second replied, resting his head on his chin as he observed the first sifting through images, listening as the first ran details by him or showed him a chat log. "Still can't believe you got us this far..."
"Wasn't hard; you had enough connections."
The first checked a watch he wore on his arm, reflexively staring up at the door as he shut the laptop. "Someone should be showing up now. You better hope this works."
edited 13th Jan '12 5:25:45 AM by InfiniteParagon
"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank Hill