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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 14, 2010 20:10:43 GMT -5
Wednesday the 18th 2:47 pmReally, it was quite fun putting all the puzzle pieces together. Everything was falling into place nicely. The photograph of the man with dark coiffed hair was already held to the bulletin board by five thumbtacks. One of these was linked by a length of string to a thumbtack holding in another photo of a serious-looking woman with glasses. The second was linked to a photo of a woman in a dark tank top and fatigue pants. The third thumbtack was tied with a long thread which was knotted in the middle – Beta’s reminder to himself that there was another link in this particular chain for which he had no representation – but which ultimately led to a pushpin holding a playing card in place. The fourth thumbtack was tied to a pushpin holding in a scrap of lined paper on which the word “ Man” had been hastily written. Shame about that – very informal – it was just a pro tempore placeholder until he found a proper image. The fifth thumbtack led to a Polaroid of a young man who looked very much like Beta. Exactly like him, in fact. However, the large “A” written in red ink on the bottom of the snapshot guarded against any confusion as far as that went. Beta examined the bulletin board for a few moments. Then he brought out the spool, assessed a distance, and then cut off a new length of string. He pushed a new tack in next to the photograph of the man with dark coiffed hair, and connected it by the string to another photo some distance away on the bulletin board, depicting a thin middle-aged Asian woman sitting at a table. He looped the string around the thumbtacks with great care. These were actions of real gravitas. Then Beta, the historian, the one who dealt with old stories, who had temporarily been brought into service to sort through a very new story, consulted his album and brought out a fresh photograph. This one depicted a very well-dressed older man with salt-and-pepper hair. His mouth was open and his index finger was raised, as though giving instructions to someone out of the frame. With a couple more pushpins and a shorter piece of string, Beta adjoined this photo to the one of the man with dark coiffed hair. He didn’t foresee having to connect the salt-and-pepper man to anyone else on the bulletin board, but this one was nonetheless relevant enough in his own way to merit inclusion. Thank God for this bulletin board. As wide as a bed. Anything much smaller and Beta would have run out of room for new dramatis personae long ago. He so dearly wished to be able to apprehend the full picture. He turned away from the bulletin board for a moment to consult his notebooks. He found one of the older, more frayed installments and flipped through pages densely covered in tiny writing until he found one headed with “FASCERE ORDER”. ISHKABIBBLE SCENE SIX Auguste Tylor is the First Character to Correctly Interpret the Rumor Monday the 16th 1:01 pmThe entire Archipelago lay sprawled before Alpha on a map which had overtaken most of the front seat. The island chain was covered in writing that denoted all the major cities and landmarks, as well as a few depictions of iconic Pokemon apparently thrown in for flair. Alpha’s eyes moved along the broken coastline; he was aligning these contours with his mental profile of nearby Japan, from which the Archipelago had split off when the world had been a bit younger. Although one mostly heard English these days in the large cities across all regions of the Archipelago, there were smaller towns and villages where the inhabitants still spoke their offshoot of the mother tongue Nihongo. Alpha supposed that when he’d finished the primary Romance languages, he might return here to Asia and pick up the small Japonic language family. A new rumble came to his ears and he looked up quickly; he’d become too absorbed in the map to monitor the garage. A mistake. Chastising himself, he put down the map and turned around in his seat to look. There was a white Chevy pickup with silver trim moving down the ramp into the garage. It came to rest next to a dark gray sedan which hadn’t been there the last time Alpha had looked up. One look at the dark coiffed hair of the fellow who got out of the pickup was enough to confirm that Alpha recognized this man as a friend. This in spite of the fact that he had never personally met him before. The man walked swiftly and surely, without taking in the details of the garage; perhaps he was not here at the hotel for the first time. He moved toward the stairwell next to the elevator, while Alpha struggled to fold down the enormous map. As he worked, he sent a message to Terrian. I’ve spotted a friend of yours in the garage. I’m going to say hello.At once, a response in shorthand: okay tell later. need focus for chat.Shrugging noncommittally, Alpha bent the map double and slid it into the compartment. He looked behind him. The three men in the back seat appeared as unconscious as ever. They could be left unattended for a moment. Alpha unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed out of the car. His footsteps echoed as he hurried up into the stairwell after the man. “Nopcsa?”
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Post by Tout-Perd on Jan 19, 2010 1:41:57 GMT -5
OOC: Before Photu's post: BIC: Nopcsa got into the truck, noting with disdain the smell of the cheap, convenience store air freshener. He wasn't sure if it was better or worse than the alternative, the reek of stale cigarettes that permeated the upholstery. Either way, the people at the rental placed had really dicked around with him. He had requested a small Toyota to get around in.
They first tried to move him over to one of their "greener" options. The only thing greener about those was the cash that would be flying out of his pocket. And once he started dropping hints that he knew the manager and his clerk were having an affair... They gave him the cheapest thing that they could find, some battered pickup from the early nineties, and shooed him right out the door.
Well, blackmail USUALLY worked out well. Speaking of which... As Nopcsa pulled out of the restaurant's parking lot, he produced a cellphone from his pocket. The archipelago, mercifully, was lax on cell phone use while driving. Something about the primary cause of automotive accidents being rogue powers and such tended to make the lawmakers less concerned with the little stuff.
Well, THAT explains the prices they charged me for this jalopy. He hit a button on his phone, and there was a series of beeps as it automatically dialed a longer than ordinary number. Maybe next time, I'll just learn how to hotwire something... Nopcsa put the phone to his ear, and forced a cheerful smile onto his face.
It had rang twice before he had held it up. Another ring, another two... Auguste was not one to answer calls slowly.
Normally. However, he had made it quite clear to Nopcsa. Between the insanity on that Prince Thomas and the Power he had referred bailing after only a handful of jobs, Tylor was not exactly pleased with him. Making him do this mission without any financial support from the Fascere Order made that crystal clear. And refusing to pick up the phone? Really, Nopcsa had to admit, Auguste was just belaboring the point by now.
"Auguste Tylor speaking. State your name and business."
"Nopcsa. And you gave me my business."
"I had guessed as much. How did Miss Mangjeol pan out?"
"She didn't, exactly. Some rumor about a counterfeiting ring, with Terrian somehow involved. I guess a some Mafioso came in talking about it, and she's been telling anybody who will listen," Nopcsa pulled to a stop, the light ahead turning red.
"Why would he resort to counterfeiting? We pay legally, and more generously than anything but the biggest printers could even hope to do without catching the attention of the law."
"She didn't say... Or know, at all. I guess. I mean, maybe Terrian's using copies to help him run an operation. Doing the work of thirty men, and keeping it all. Then he might make a profit."
"Of course, there's that. But still... Why would he be doing this on his own?"
"Auguste. Really." Nopcsa didn't have to speak. The incident in Salt Lake City had been rather jarring for Terrian. Almost dying in ways normal people only had nightmares about could do that to a man.
Until now, their initial assumption had been post-traumatic stress disorder. It wouldn't be the first time a Fascere operative had come down with such a thing. They had sent Telrien, posing as a bill collector, to Whelkshore to try and find the missing man. Though Nopcsa could've gotten more information, they didn't want to risk him being recognized by any of the Powers there.
Ms. Wallen, upon coming back, only could say that he had moved somewhere in Winstone. And twenty minutes earlier, Nopcsa had visited Yoon Mangjeol to see if she knew of any new Power activity in the region.
It wasn't much of a lead, but it was all they had...
A horn brought Nopcsa out of his reverie. The person behind him, some frumpy, middle aged troll of a creature, was laying on her horn like she was trying to push her steering column through the dashboard. The light was green.
"Boss? Did I miss something you said?" Nopcsa started slowly forwards, letting the woman creep along behind him.
"No, no you didn't."
"Why so quiet?"
“I'm just wondering if we pushed him into this.”
“Well, we did send him to Giguere's mansion. It's only natural that he'd be somewhat... Unhappy with us after that.”
“It's not that. I'm referring to the job before that.”
“Making clothe- Oh. F*ck.” Nopcsa had to admit he had been blinded by how close he was to the situation. Terrian had saved his life back in the mansion, and had been right there for what had been quite possibly the worst time in his life. He didn't want to assume ill of the man.
“It's very possible that forcing Terrian to duplicate all those items for us catalyzed an evolution in his powers. And now, he's doing what we wanted him to do, but for himself, for his own pay. There's not really much that we could offer him that would top an infinite paycheck.”
“That is true, I guess. So now he's on his own, since we managed to piss him off. And quite capable of churning out more cash than the U.S. Mint does in a day.” Nopcsa pulled aside, letting the troll woman blaze by. He'd be turning soon, anyways.
“It looks like your mission is a lot more important than we thought, Nopcsa. As of this phone call, I'm reinstating the Fascere Order traveling budget for the rest of the time you're trying to get Terrian back into the fold. And until you do, mind you, that is your sole purpose.”
“He really, really, doesn't want back, I'm guessing. As I said, that stuff in Salt Lake City...”
“Hire a psychiatrist if you need to. If we can get him back, we'll recoup the cost in a day or two.”
“Affirmative, I guess. Is that all?”
“Not quite. What about our informant?”
“Yoon? I could see blackmailing her, feasibly, but I think it's better to just keep good relations with her. I can keep coming back and skimming her mind for information as long as she considers us to be good business partners.”
“Good enough. Anyways, I have some business with some potential customers, so I must be going.”
“Understood, Boss.”
“Good luck.” Auguste hung up the phone noisily, the noise smarting Nopcsa's ear. He turned the corner, phone in hand making it awkward to grasp the wheel, and then quickly tucked it away. The Hotel Ansonia was coming up on his left. Another quick turn, and he was going up the ramp into their garage.
OOC: Begin Photu's post here.
BIC: He coasted to a stop, and turned the engine off. Plucking the keys from the ignition with a bit of fumbling, he stepped out of the vehicle.
Terrian, once he had achieved a breakthrough in his powers, had simply abandoned Nopcsa. That wasn't something he had foreseen. He had noticed that Terrian didn't like being restricted by the Order's procedures and such, but to just up and leave?
And he hadn't said anything about any of it to Nopcsa, once he had allegedly gained this new ability. He didn't know if it meant Terrian felt like he didn't need to know about it, or more depressingly, that he thought he'd betray the info to the Order without regards for their friendship. If it could be called that-
“Nopcsa?”
The mindreader spun on his heel. Terrian, or at least a Terrian was standing behind him in the stairwell.
“Hey, Alpha,” Nopcsa scooped up the name almost instantly. Redundant memories like name, address, and age were all easy enough to pick up even without making the subject focus on them. He put a hand against the wall, and leaned on it.
“Does Terrian know how many mages and mercenaries we've got out there looking for him? Hell, I don't know if we actually managed to make it clear to most of them that this wasn't a kill-on-sight mission,” He let the horror spread across Alpha's concerned face. Terrian was indeed busy with somebody at the moment, and he hadn't exactly specified if it was an altercation of some kind or not.
“Well, the answer, really, is one,” Nopcsa smirked and thumped his own chest with his free hand.
“What've you guys been up to? I'm hearing all kinds of crazy crap."
OOC: Eh, cruddy. But not too bad, I guess.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 19, 2010 16:14:35 GMT -5
As he'd expected, Alpha felt a slight shifting in his head, a mental rustling of papers, as soon as Nopcsa looked at him. Theoretically it ought to have been impossible to perceive when one's mind was being read, at least by a telepath with as much finesse as Nopcsa. But the collective Terrian Brogue mind had been read more and more often in the last couple of years, and while Alpha doubted he had grown any more impervious to this form of examination, he'd evidently become more sensitized to the feeling. Certainly with Nopcsa at least it was possible to discern when his mind was being read.
"I'm guessing my original would be disappointed if I didn't make some effort at small talk before discussing business," he said up to Nopcsa, who was standing about half a flight further up the steps. "So, let me respond with: How are you? How does this day find you? What brings you here to the hotel?"
Nopcsa didn't seem won over. "Not casual enough?" Alpha hazarded. "I'll try: How do you feel about this fine weather? Isn't the hotel grand? Do you like my shoes, which are new?"
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Post by Tout-Perd on Jan 23, 2010 19:36:10 GMT -5
"Irrate and somewhat surprised."
"This day finds me looking for somebody who really should have stayed in touch."
"Since that somebody didn't stay in touch, I'm at this hotel as home base to look for him."
"This weather is okay."
"It's not bad, but I've seen better."
"Not really my style, but they look decent enough."
As Alpha asked each question, Nopcsa batted them out of the air. He didn't seem to focus on answering them, merely handling them as if it was a reflex. He narrowed his gaze, looking at Alpha's face, and then almost fell over.
He flailed for balance for a moment, before stabilizing himself again.
"Terrian did what?" Nopcsa's voice was a mixture of incredulity and surprise.
"You've gotta be freakin' kidding me! He welched on a contract with a f*ckin' mage?" Nopcsa's palm slammed into his forehead.
"Terrian, Terrian, Terrian, what on earth will we do with you?" Nopcsa turned away, as if starting to head up the stairs. He kept muttering under his breath.
"Alpha, I thought Terrian was a smart guy. But going back on a deal with a mage... What? What on earth was he thinking?" Nopcsa paused, and Alpha felt the rummaging through his brain begin again.
"He wasn't, eh? Makes sense. All I can say is that you two are seriously lucky. Most mages bind magic effects into any business agreement they make. That's just solid business for them. Why worry about somebody not repaying a loan on time, when you can have a swarm of demons hell-bent- pardon the pun- on torturing them until they pay what they owe? If somebody quits a job, why badmouth them to future employers? Why not just make their head explode?"
Nopcsa slumped back against the wall, and threw his head against it with a loud thud.
"Terrian... Erm, Alpha, buddy. There's a reason we all use pseudonyms in the Fascere Order. And it's not to make us sound cool. Nopcsa was a name chosen by numerologists, as far from my ordinary name in mystic signature as possible," Nopcsa sighed, his whole body sliding downwards.
"You are very lucky your ass didn't go nuclear when Terrian yoinked you. That tells me that the mage you're dealing with either was very incompetent, or very trusting."
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 25, 2010 1:04:27 GMT -5
Through the thin walls dividing the stairwell from the garage, Alpha heard the sound of a car door opening, but felt it safe not to break away from Nopcsa to investigate. Although he was willing to admit the possibility that the three men in the backseat might be coming to their senses by now, he somehow doubted they'd manage to break their own bonds. More to the point, if the sound of the door was signalling a new arrival to the hotel, Alpha preferred not to draw their attention to the three men in the backseat by moving toward the sedan.
"It's such a shame not having the opportunity to explain anything on my own terms," he said. He punctuated this with a sigh and tilted his head slightly, despite his features remaining utterly deadpan from the nose up. "What a wretched subhuman existence I've been cursed with. Yes, you seem to have put together the Blaise Euler situation successfully. I'll be sure to pass your words on to the original. I assume he's missed your counsel in the time since you two last met."
Standing up straight, Alpha met Nopcsa's eye simply. "Well, now, at this point I could try to give you my interpretation of the original's reasons for taking a vacation from the Fascere Order, but for that matter, I could also just stand here and let you pry it out of my brain. Poor decision-maker that we are, I'll leave the choice to you."
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Post by Tout-Perd on Jan 25, 2010 1:35:37 GMT -5
"I'd like to hear your own, or his own words for it," Nopcsa crossed his arms over his chest, "Since it's not like we wouldn't have helped you get set up with this whole scheme of yours or anything. So it seems, moreso, that you just didn't want to deal with us."
He leaned forwards, his cloak wrapping around him for a moment before he stood up straight.
"That's about right, hm? You'd rather go on to Winstone and throw money at the dancing girls, instead of bothering to honor your agreement with us."
"Sorry. Never mind. Not exactly you. Him, but you. You fellows really, really can get to be a bear to talk to." Nopcsa's voice wasn't very apologetic.
OOC: Not much to work with here. Not sure when to move along, so maybe another short round, and then?
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jan 31, 2010 23:28:37 GMT -5
"Let me try to give a reading of the original's thought processes," Alpha said. "Without either defending them or condemning them, if possible."
Suddenly, his eyes widened and his pupils contracted. He slumped back from his upright posture and, resting one hand on the railing, ran the other through his hair. When he spoke again, his voice was an almost imperceptible notch higher.
"Well, see, I decided..." he started. He let out an aggravated sigh before starting over. "The first thing I thought was, what's the Fascere Order been offering me in exchange for these jobs? Money. And what do I have a whole damn lot of now? Money. So -- So basically, I thought, isn't this going to totally upheave my contract with the Order? I mean what are they going to give me now? If I'm still going to work with them, then there has to be something new they can offer me. Now, I thought, I can just fly right to headquarters, barge into Auguste Tylor's office and tell him hallelujah the day has come... and what'll happen? He'll probably have been preparing for this conversation. That's what I need to do. I'm not going in there until I know how to negotiate with him. Until I've got something to ask for. 'Til then I don't go near the place. And I keep my head down. It all stays under wraps.
"And once I'm ready to step forward and start the bargaining... then who at the Order do I tell first?" Alpha's lip curled upward, but the smile didn't reach his eyes any more than the earlier melodramatic sigh had. "Why my dearest pal Nopcsa. My buddy. My number-one guy."
He drew himself upright again.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Feb 4, 2010 1:27:38 GMT -5
"Coulda at least filed a change of address form, or something, y'know?" Nopcsa's expression was somewhat unreadable, "Don't tell me you guys still have issues duplicating a ballpoint pen."
"But, instead, Auguste sends me down here to see if that rookie I recruited really did bail, or if he's just taking the world's longest unexcused sick day. Whaddya know."
"Our dearest pal, my number one guy Terrian has become an entrepreneur!" Nopcsa exuberantly palmed his face.
"Of course, he manages to step in a big ol' pile of thugs and such without me around to keep his nose clean. And the only wraps he seems to keep things under is a bunch of bandages. God, I swear that man's business leads to more knee-damage than the entire sport of skateboarding," The mindreader turned around and started to head up the stairs, "He's around here, right? C'mon."
"We're gonna-" Nopcsa paused, a faint, high noise echoing in the stairwell. "Did you just hear that? Sounded like a whole bunch of people screaming. And I'm pretty familiar with that- Gee, I'm really not helping my case here."
Nopcsa smirked, twisting around and meeting Alpha's gaze.
"Either there's a surprise party going on, or something really peculiar's afoot. And knowing our luck, it's the latter."
"Oxhead, I think it's time you took me to your leader."
OOC: Kinda short. Mindreaders are good at cutting down on exposition, but dang, if they don't seem like cheating...
It's weird writing Nopcsa in a scene like this, since he's almost always the "dominant" party. Having him have to jump into a situation without having a huge plan ready is a bit... bizarre.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Feb 9, 2010 15:11:21 GMT -5
"Give me a minute," Alpha said. He didn't like the sounds upstairs. He'd have to ask the original about them. Hopefully he, Rie, Jonas and Rhys hadn't gotten into a shootout. But the first thing was to check up on his charges in the garage.
With a twist of the cold doorknob, he opened the door from the stairwell back out into the garage. There was Nopcsa's pickup, and some distance further away, Terrian's sedan... which looked empty. Alpha ran to the car and looked into the backseat. They were gone. They were nowhere. Without flinching, Alpha started putting together a message to the original, but stopped short. Something else had caught his eye. One of the back seat windows was shattered, explaining the breakout easily enough. But there was no glass out here on the cement floor of the garage. Touching the frame of the car gingerly, Alpha looked inside. A handful of tiny points of light glimmered on the car seats and floor along with the movement of his head. The shards of glass were strewn inside the car.
He was trying to come up with a way to explain this to the original when a voice that wasn't Nopcsa's sounded behind him.
"Right. You two faggots, on the floor now." A man with a goatee and various piercings was walking up to Alpha while covering Nopcsa with the gun in his right hand. His rough voice bore a thick working-class British accent. "Don't f*ckin' take your time about it."
Alpha stood his ground. His first idea was to have Terrian recall him, but he imagined Nopcsa might take it harshly if he were abandoned in the garage with this intruder. He stared at the pierced man as he approached.
"Some kind of f*ckin' problem?" the man asked. "Knees locked up a bit, maybe? Need some help?"
"The knees are all right," Alpha said. "To be honest, I'm just curious whether you're actually going to shoot me."
The pierced man's black eyes widened. He reared back, but didn't take the gun off Nopcsa. He seemed more comfortable letting it stay in the background and giving the lead role to his left hand instead, which would explain why he brought the latter up in a clenched fist. "You f*ckin' poof!" he shouted as the fist connected with Alpha's forehead.
There was no pain, but Alpha's head jerked back too quickly. He had an instant's pause to struggle to put a cohesive thought together before the hand grabbed at his collar. The pierced man swung Alpha forward, slamming his face down against the hood of the next car over.
There still wasn't any pain but after that there weren't really any sensations at all, particularly.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Feb 10, 2010 18:16:53 GMT -5
"Hey, hey, buddy. Watch the language. I know a few cigarettes that could be offended by talk like that," Nopcsa held up both his hands, as if trying to push away the thug's bad mood. He slowly put one to his cheek.
"Of course, on the other hand, the homophobic slurs may be misplaced. After all, we're not the ones demanding a bunch of nubile young men to assume a submissive position in front of them, are we?" Nopcsa's eyes darted to Alpha as the duplicate spoke. They widened for a moment, and then snapped shut as he winced.
"Well, that ended predictably," He sighed, and stepped towards the criminal, "Of course, you resume with the epithets. We're not the ones with pierced ears, y'know."
The cloaked man took another step towards the pierced man, and twitched. A swing at his face brushed past harmlessly. Nopcsa's hand darted towards the man's gun, tugged at it, and then slipped away. His grip was too solid to break easily, but he had managed to flip the safety on while he maintained his grasp.
"You're out of your depth here, Sikes," The thug looked at him, surprised by his name. Nopcsa didn't bother explaining himself. He darted in and ripped the man's lip ring out.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Feb 16, 2010 16:36:35 GMT -5
OOC: Man, okay, Nopcsa is picking up some hardcore points. I guess we'll only need a few more posts in this one.
Sikes fell back against the car behind him, howling, fumbling at his bleeding lip with his free hand. Eyes wide, he watched the man drop his ring, with a bit of flesh still attached, onto the garage floor. After realizing that he'd let his gun swing away wildly, he drew it up to the man and squeezed the trigger. It didn't even occur to him this time to consider that he'd never shot anyone before. All he wanted was to make this little cocksucker pay.
Nothing happened. Sikes pulled the trigger a few more times. Oh, f*ck -- what was it -- jammed? Was he out of ammo? The man hadn't even flinched. Pressing his upper lip against the wounded bottom one, Sikes let his free hand and his eyes fall to the gun. The f*cking safety hadn't been on a second ago! He switched it off, backing away between the two cars, before he could look back up and take an actual shot at the man.
Sikes grabbed for the walkie-talkie on his belt, but he'd have a go at taking this one down before he tried to contact anyone. Allen'd be busy at the moment, anyway.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Feb 17, 2010 18:06:20 GMT -5
"Hey, how about you get on back to Oliver Twist?" Nopcsa bit his lip for a moment. However much he'd enjoy dropping the reference, anything about 'beating the Dickens' out of somebody was unlikely to incite any manner of fear.
"C'mon, your jaunty band of thieves could use their comedic bumbler," He stepped towards Sikes, between the two cars. He let his eyes drift slowly shut, focusing entirely on what Sikes was seeing. If the man went to shoot, he'd know before the trigger was pulled.
The mindreader threw himself forwards, putting his full weight into a blow that struck squarely on the thug's chin. Sikes rocked back, instinctively grabbing Nopcsa by the arm. With a jerk, he slammed the smaller man into the fender of the car to his right. The impact left a noticable dent, a few spots of blood on the paint.
"Gee... You guys really don't know much about subtlety..." Nopcsa pushed himself up, his back against the tire.
"But what else should I expect? I mean, you are working for the King of Clubs after all. It's not like I should be expecting some brain trust or something." He rubbed at the back of his head, feeling a tear in his hood. It was slightly sticky... Oh, wonderful. He had to be bleeding all over his expensive white uniform.
He clenched his teeth, and braced his full weight back against the sedan. Both of his feet lashed out, aiming to kick Sikes' feet out from under him.
OOC: Ehhh... That last paragraph was worded awkwardly. Feel free to tweak it into something better if you have any ideas on it.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Feb 18, 2010 14:39:54 GMT -5
OOC: Our little Nopcsa is a sass machine! I'm loving this one-sided banter.
"F*ck!" Sikes took a heavy fall to the floor, accidentally discharging the gun as he landed. The bullet punctured one of the front tires of a dark gray sedan across the garage, producing a hissing sound as the air escaped.
He rolled over onto his chest, ignoring the pain in his shins. He only had four more bullets in the magazine. And this little prick had just dropped the King of Clubs' name right in there like a comment on the weather. Knew Sikes' name, too, come to think of it. Now that was a right surprise because Sikes was pretty sure he'd left the sticker displaying his name and affiliation on his other jacket.
A psychic? Was that who he'd found here? Some kind of mindreader? Ruddy first, wasn't it?
But Sikes was wasting seconds, and if this man actually was a mindreader, he was already ahead of the game. As Sikes pulled himself up roughly, an idea occurred to him that he hadn't even processed all the way before putting it in action. He aimed the gun at the other man from his low angle on the ground and filled his mind with an image of himself squeezing the trigger. Without doing anything of the sort, he charged the other man while still bent close to the ground, and drew his fist back to land a punch.
It should be fairly obvious at this point that Sikes was no longer intending to waste bullets on a man who could dodge them without even trying (the fact that, as Alpha guessed, Sikes had never shot anyone before this afternoon also contributes). However, the law of conservation of detail also indicates that there must be some significance to the act of pointing out that Sikes' gun still contained four bullets. Indeed, he would be expending them soon enough, but his target at that upcoming point would not be Nopcsa. Nor Alpha, for that matter.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Feb 25, 2010 22:52:36 GMT -5
OOC: Like that last paragraph. Interesting change in tone. BIC: "Not happening, pal!" Nopcsa had rolled to his feet during Sikes' time on the floor, and had resumed his close-eyed vigil. As the image formed, Nopcsa dashed forwards, at a low angle, and extended his knee, aiming for the thug's groin. He felt a light impact, striking a glancing blow.
But... That was supposed to be dead on-Nopcsa's eyes flicked open, and he jerked sideways. The punch tore past his face, scuffing the skin and leaving a red mark before Sikes had even pulled back. The larger man winced slightly from the underhanded attack, and Nopcsa seized his opportunity with all he could muster.
He balled his left fist and took hold of it in his right, bending his knees. With a violent torque of his body, Nopcsa threw an elbow straight into Sikes' adam's apple. The man choked and staggered, his bloody spit spattering the face of his would-be hostage.
Nopcsa broke his grip on his fist, and grabbed the man's sleeve. He wrenched with all his might, putting his shoulder against the vulnerable crook of the elbow. A beefy arm slammed into the side of a car with enough force to crack the glass, and the gun finally slipped from Sikes' workworn hands to clatter across the roof.
The mindreader, panting with exertion, shoved the somewhat stunned Sikes back a half pace. He stepped to meet him, and put his entire weight into a full-bodied haymaker. The punch hit Sikes between the eyes with a wet SNAP, causing his head to jerk back and his knees to buckle momentarily.
Nopcsa twirled away, grabbing the gun with his right hand as he widened the gap.
"That's it, Sikes. You put up quite an effort, but simply said, somebody like you? You're a nobody," Nopcsa gripped the weapon sideways, jerking it slightly to emphasize the last word.
"There's a reason you're just serving as a crony to some old geezer, running some little heist like this. You just don't have the initiative to go into things and come out ahead. Let's face it, you're an imbecile. Sure, you almost came up with a way to deal with me, but..." Nopcsa panted, catching his breath. He could feel the blood trickling down the nape of his neck, sticking in his hair...
"Let's face it. I'm a world class mentalist. I could see every thought percolating through that brain of yours before even you realized it." Nopcsa cocked the weapon, and with his free hand, lowered his hood. Three larges scars stretched from his cheekbone downwards, leaving his entire left cheek looking as if it had been mauled with a knife.
His eyes met Sikes. The man's eyes were stern, and he met Nopcsa's gaze without hesitation. Nopcsa didn't bother to read the man's mind. Hatred, fear, anger? It was unpleasant. It wouldn't do well to have thoughts like that roiling through his brain while there were more criminals about.
"Sorry to get rid of you without appropriate aplomb and a witty remark, but I really do need to be going. Gotta save an old pal's bacon."
"But hey, I'll at least tell that cute redhead that you died bravely. Very stupidly, too, but I guess those end up as synonyms fairly often," Nopcsa shrugged, keeping the weapon level through the gesture. He focused his aim, pointing it directly between the man's eyes, and pulled the trigger.
"ARGH!" Nopcsa screamed, his hold breaking on the gun before a shot could be fired. It fell to the floor, echoing in the parking garage's open space. He clutched at his right hand, his breathing going from panting to hyperventilation in moments. His right index finger was twisted at a bizarre angle, the bones pressing against the skin like some freakish additional knuckle. It hadn't been a nose that his punch had wrecked, apparently...
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Post by Beelzebibble on Mar 7, 2010 20:25:57 GMT -5
Blinking through the twirling dots of light that obscured his vision, Sikes watched the mindreader drop the gun and fall back to nurse his hand. Not immediately clear what his problem was. The f*ck cared, though? Point was, this was the moment to end it. Get him while he was distracted. Sikes rushed forward into a full-body tackle that knocked the mindreader back against one of the cars behind him. As the mindreader's arms pinwheeled for balance, his right hand struck a rear-view mirror and he let out another scream that was up a few pitches from the last one. Sikes seized the collar of the man's hood. The folds of fabric threatened to give way under his sweaty fingers, but he held his grip long enough to swing the mindreader by the neck down onto the hood of the car. When he came back up, the mindreader's eyes were squeezed shut in pain. Sikes took the opportunity to land a solid punch against the man's face. The mindreader fell back against the hood. There was blood trickling from his nose. His eyes were still closed, but they weren't furrowed any more. They looked relaxed, really. Might've been an act. Sikes grabbed the man by a limp arm and dragged him off the hood, letting him collapse heavily to the floor. He didn't flinch. Around this time Sikes decided that he was ready to write the mindreader off as unconscious even though the prospect of inflicting further damage on him to make absolutely sure was very appealing. He wiped his mouth. He picked the gun up off the floor. He looked over to the other man, the one he'd dropped much earlier in this little skirmish. Hadn't budged. Still out. Sikes took another look. He must not have been paying attention before, as he'd missed a curious detail: scattered around this first man's prone body and the green-blue sedan with the broken window which he lay beside, there were several loose ropes. No obvious reason for them to be there. Maybe something had been tied to the rack on the roof. Some stupid blighter'd probably smashed the window in trying to pull whatever it was off the car. No one knew how to do anything properly anymore. A thought which, to be fair, didn't make it all the way through his mind without causing him to register a note of hypocrisy. If Sikes'd done this job properly, each of these two f*ckers would've swapped an eyeball for a bullet by now. He turned the gun over in his hand. The metal was still cold despite having changed hands so frequently in the last minute or so. The boss knew Sikes'd never shot anyone before... That was established. No one else in the crew knew it, but Tanner'd figured it out without the least prompting. Sikes remembered what he'd told him, in private, after Sikes'd nearly ballsed up a mission for not being able to shoot down a guard at a critical moment. "Infernal things," Tanner'd said. "Important, indispensable rather, but infernal. How strange it is that physically the easiest way to kill a man should also be, mentally, one of the hardest... When the instrument is a knife, or a blade, or a stretch of lead pipe, there is an animal bloodlust that soon takes over and guides one's hand. Blow follows naturally upon blow and really the whole thing becomes a simple matter of picking up momentum. To pull the trigger of a pistol is a singular, decisive and thoroughly modern act for which no primeval instinct has prepared us..." And other words of such kind. Sikes set down the gun and picked up one of the lengths of rope. He had every intention of making use of this unexpected convenience. It'd just be irresponsible of him to leave the two men lying there like that. Before he propped the mindreader up to start tying his wrists behind his back, Sikes gave him an extra kick in the ribs, strictly to be sure beyond the shadow of a doubt. ISHKABIBBLE
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