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Post by Beelzebibble on May 4, 2010 17:03:11 GMT -5
Monday the 16th 1:11 pmVinnie pressed open the door out of the employee-only stairwell and onto the hall, where the lush arboreal pattern on the carpet seemed to point sinuously in the direction of Don Massimo’s inner sanctum. All the way down the length of the hall on either side were bedrooms. No one there, although a cleaning lady’s well-stocked cart stood unattended some distance off. Good thing, too. Vinnie and the boys didn’t usually enter the hotel this way, and he hadn’t wanted to run into any more customers like the lady who busted them out of the car. Not with Phil looking like he’d just come out last in a fight with a golf club. All the fault of the f*cking counterfeiter and his friends. Funny how expletives just seemed to spring to his head automatically when Vinnie thought about this guy Terrian Brogue. “The counterfeiter” – now that just sounded wrong. “The f*cking upstart counterfeiter prick” – that was more like it. The f*cking upstart counterfeiter prick with a secret. The f*cking upstart counterfeiter prick who was actually a Power! Damn it, Vinnie couldn’t believe he’d forgotten that part until now. His head was still throbbing. Brogue wasn’t running a press after all. He could just copy things. “The boss?” Dom asked. “Who do you think?” Vinnie snapped. “Let’s go.” They took off down the padded hall, Dom still supporting Phil’s weight. Around the next corner and down another corridor and they’d be at the lobby. A straight shot from there to Don Massimo’s office. Vinnie expected the boss would be very interested to hear what he had to say about the f*cking upstart counterfeiting Power prick. ISHKABIBBLE SCENE NINE The Hotel Staff will Ultimately be Spared the Trouble of Cleaning Up the Mess in Room 126
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Post by Kuroboom on May 4, 2010 21:55:23 GMT -5
"I still can't believe it wasn't here. Still, even if we had found it I'd still wanna blow this place. A scream is a scream after all and hearing it come from those mafioso dickheads will make it all the more pleasurable."
Scar finished wiring the charge and activated it, placing the detonator into his vest pocket. He picked up his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder feeling the weight of the few remaining charges he had. "I need to find a place to dump these..." The thought of wasting the bombs seemed a travesty to Scar. Looking back he smiled at his baby, a ten pound brick of C-4 with a layer of ball bearings and wood screws wrapped around for maximum personnel damage, laid carefully on the bed.
The door opened to the right as he exited the room into the hallway and he turned right to exit the building. Scar shut the door and on the other side stood an unexpected treat for Scar--3 battered mobsters and a chance to show these pieces of shit that they aren't invincible. They didn't look to be in fighting shape, but he didn't care. Scar began laughing menacingly as Magnum Killer appeared in his outstretched hand.
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on May 20, 2010 23:20:58 GMT -5
Lucas could hear Scar muttering in the next room, but the reverb of his whispers echoed unintelligibly off the marbled tiles of the master bathroom and was lost on his weathered ears. He'd been packing plastique into a workable brick for a little over five minutes now, affixing the explosive to a load-bearing beam that ran the length of the building and inconveniently happened to be behind the toilet stall. Now he was wedged in tight, shoulders bent and head ducked painfully low, laying on his side as he worked the high explosive into its ordained corner.
Feel like a fuckin' plumber here... he thought to himself, smirking a bit. 'Oh, don't mind me, madam,' he chimed, riffing to no one in particular, 'I'm just checking the pipes. This toilet's all kinds of screwy - damn near set to blow!' The last words were punctuated by a stifled laugh as Lucas killed himself with his own joke. With a grunt of victory, he stabbed the blasting cap down into the mold and wormed his way out of the stall.
He walked into the main room just in time to see Scar walk out, carrying the unused charges in his satchel. Lucas grabbed his coat and followed suit. He caught the door just before it closed, heavy hand gripping the wood and pulling it aside.
'Hey, I got a place we could stash those - oh...'
He followed Scar's hungry stare to the three mafiosos limping down the hallway. He felt the air shift as Magnum Killer appeared. His steel eyes glittered with delight. Calmly he set his palm against his friend's wicked blade, pushing it down towards the plush mosaic carpets.
'Put that away. Save it for someone worth using it on.' he grinned, stepping forward towards the trio. 'My, my, my...' he cackled.
'You boys are just having a hell of a day, aren't you?'
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Post by Beelzebibble on May 23, 2010 21:39:35 GMT -5
When the sword appeared in the scarred guy's hand, Vinnie stepped back and grabbed for his gun, which obviously wasn't there. F*ckin'... He didn't step on Dom's toes, which told him that the big guy had backed up too. Christ, you wondered why Don Massimo'd hired a guy like Dominic anyway. Maybe 'cuz all that flesh he could take a hit or two from a f*ckin' sword? Now sword asshole was laughing like an idiot. Vinnie glanced over his shoulder at Dom and Phil. Looked like they didn't get the joke either. "'S guy some kinda nutcase?" Phil asked. Well, taken his mind off the goddamn leg, that was for sure. Vinnie was about to make a guess in the ballpark of yeah 's guy was in fact some kinda nutcase right when another freakshow showed up in the doorway of the room they were in front of, 126. Guy had grungy hair and a statistic grin. Came over and pushed the scarred one's sword down. Okay if these two weirdos had just been bumpin' uglies Vinnie was pretty glad Don Massimo'd overruled Ces's idea to stick hidden cameras in all the rooms because f*ck. "My, my, my... You boys are just having a hell of a day, aren't you?" Grungy-haired guy rasped like a smoker, 'cept Vinnie could think of at least one smoker off the top of his head and Don Massimo definitely didn't rasp like that. This guy'd have to be cuttin' his tobacco with sand to get this kinda timber. What f*ckin' ever. Vinnie brushed his knuckles. "C'n we help you, buddies?" "Mini-bar out of Coke?" Dom rumbled behind him. Vinnie liked that one. "F*ckin' mini-bar outta Coke?" OOC:'I'm just checking the pipes. This toilet's all kinds of screwy - damn near set to blow!' Biscuit wins Lucas forever.
Anyway, great start guys. A reminder to try to make sure this party moves inside room 126 pretty soon. However you want to enforce that. Also, I love writing Vinnie so much. There's something therapeutic about his terrible word choices and clunky syntax.
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on May 23, 2010 22:15:37 GMT -5
"F*ckin' mini-bar outta Coke?"
He felt it click inside him, like a switch toggling itself deep within his gut. It was the wildness, the animal fury that dwelled within him and took control when the situation called for a certain degree of… ultraviolence. It started as a warm wash over his stomach, tightening the muscles of his core and shooting bullets of adrenaline into his chest. He strode towards the three, his gait cool and deliberate.
‘Oh, you’re funny.’ he chuckled, his voice like gravel and glass. He sped up his walk as he closed on Vinnie. He realized at the last second that he was taller than this greasy-faced goon, and used that to his advantage as he drove a horned finger into the mafioso’s chest, forcing him to stumble backwards as Lucas walked, effectively separating him from the other two. The big one had enough trouble holding up his f*cked-up friend – plus the look on his face said he wasn’t going to try anything stupid; not with a killer like Scar staring him down.
At five paces, Lucas shoved his palm into Vinnie’s chest and grabbed a fistful of button-down. With a jarring flex, he drew the hired gun to his scarred face, their noses almost touching. ‘You know, I like a funny guy. Really breaks the tension-‘ he punctuated this with another hard jerk of the shirt, '-in a room, y’know?’ He could feel the hot fever burning through his whole upper body now – it was beginning to tremble the muscles in his shoulder and upper arms, and red fingers were beginning to tickle the edges of his vision. ‘You always got the one guy in the movies… that one funny f*ck who always cracks jokes and gets himself in sticky situations!’ Lucas clapped his other hand on Vinnie’s throat and the two whirled around, Lucas using the bulk of his strength to heave the mafioso off his feet and slam him against the papered wall between doors 126 and 127. He could hear the plaster split as the big man hit. It made the rivers of fire in his blood run hotter.
‘Is that what you are, eh? You the guy? The funny guy?!’ Lucas shook him with every question, rattling Vinnie like a doll. ‘You know what happens to the funny guy in the movies, right?’ It was becoming too much. Black stars danced across his vision, and his head felt like a pressure cooker. Lucas hung his head, taking deep breaths and struggling to control the rage that had almost completely invaded his brain. When he looked back up at Vinnie, his eyes were glassy, and his smile was nothing short of sadistic.
‘He dies last.’
With a bellow and a shove, Lucas threw the goon through the wall, sending plaster and dust exploding into the marbled bathroom he’d just finished rigging to blow. Lucas spat into the hole he’d just created and clapped his hands against his jeans as the dust settled in the hallway.
‘I like you, man. I do!' he said, half-shouting as he rolled his head around shrugged shoulders, the bones of his neck flexing and popping, 'You’re f*cking funny. So you know what?' He was jumping on his toes now, bobbing up and down like a boxer preparing for a match. 'I'm gonna give you a special treat; you’re gonna get to watch. Scar!’
Lucas turned to face the fat one and the crippled one.
‘These fellas look like they’re two inches from an early expiration. Let’s see them out the door.’
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Post by Kuroboom on May 24, 2010 5:08:23 GMT -5
With one swift motion, Scar backhanded Dom into the wall and he used the momentum from the swing to completely swing around. As he came back to face Phil, Scar was swinging Magnum Killer and with one swift motion of his ragged blade, Phil was separated from his legs. Phil landed hard on the ground and blood was spurting from his arteries; he'd be in shock soon and then dead in a matter of seconds so Scar had to finish this quick.
Looming over Phil, who still hadn't quite grasped what happened, Scar spun his blade downwards twice on either side of Phil. Phil looked at each side of his body not registering that his arms had just been cut off. He did, however, realize what was happening when the blade pierced his chest and he was lifted off the ground. Phil was bleeding profusely from his stumps and mouth as Scar held him in the air for a moment. The tall man looked at Phil in the eyes and smiled. Scar rotated his body to face Dom, who was just now getting to his feet, and flung Phil at him. The impact knocked the mobster back on his ass and Scar asked Lucas, "You wanna kill this one or should I just go ahead and do it?"
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Post by Beelzebibble on May 28, 2010 20:36:09 GMT -5
Pretty soon the darkness let up and sound came back and Vincenzo opened his eyes. F*ck. Mistake. His head was throbbing. Plus basically all the rest of him. His cheek was gettin' comfortable with some saranmic tiles. Oh. He was in the bathroom. He tried to move his head and wound up spitting out a tooth. The f*ck was he doing on the bathroom floor? Also why the f*ck didn't this look like his bathroom? A heavy thump came in from the other room and there was someone talking. Vinnie planted his palms on the tiles and, wheezing, pushed himself up onto his knees. Then he said "f*ck this" a few times and eventually that was enough to get him onto his feet. There was a huge f*cking hole in the bathroom wall. Okay. Right. He remembered. He'd came in that way. He started rememberin' other things. F*ck, his head hurt. He opened the door into the bedroom. To see Dom yelling like an idiot and thrashing around tryin' to push away a mutinated body that had just been Phil. What the f*ck. What the f*ck. Yeah, there was Phil's leg with the bandaged kneecap rolled up against the closet door. Guess he wasn't gonna bitch and moan about that anymore. The two f*ckers were grinnin' at each other like they just swapped handjobs. The f*cker with the sword's sword was bloody. Big surprise. Vinnie coughed and for a second he thought he was gonna throw up. He tried to turn around and get the f*ck out of the bathroom but he was still feelin' woozy and his legs gave and he fell down against the glass shower door. He reached out a dust-covered hand and slid it open. Didn't f*ckin' know why. Maybe thought there was gonna be an escape root. OOC: F*ck tally: 13 (counting that one). Wolves, I'd like to dedicate this post to you.
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Post by ch00beh on May 29, 2010 13:40:13 GMT -5
OOC: I'm assuming you cats are inside the room now. Or else!
BIC: Julia entered the main hall of the grand hotel. She was greeted by the doorman, to which she replied with a smile, but continued on. She could have asked various people, such as the receptionist or the doorman, if they had seen a brown-haired man and several odd looking companions, but that was a mistake for anyone trying to remain unnoticed. Instead, she made her way straight to the elevator, as if she knew exactly where she was going.
She didn't know where he and his other Powered friends could have gone, though. She had entertained the thought of them going on a rampage throughout the hotel, but the people milling about as if nothing were happening shot that theory down. Were they going straight for the Don, then? She had no idea where his office could have been. Alternatively, they could have gone somewhere else.
Julia reached the elevator. Best to start on floor one, anyway.
The doors smoothly slid shut, and quiet lounge music played from overhead. The doctor grabbed her notebook and scrawled a quick note about these Powers not attacking the innocents in the main hall.
The door opened again after a very short ride, and the woman stepped out into the hallway. Wait. There was a slight smell of plaster and drywall in the air. And blood. The latter was the most troublesome. Maybe she had stumbled on that Power incident that was waiting to happen.
Julia hugged the nearest wall and inched towards the intersection of hallway and elevator foyer. She checked the far end of the hall. Nothing. Before she turned to look around the corner, she heard a thump and a sound not unlike a pile of bodies hitting the floor. God, knowing that sound was the sign of a questionable profession.
The doctor waited a moment, her heart thumping loudly in her ears, before braving a look. She glimpsed a man walking into one of the rooms, and from that short look, she saw that he was horribly disfigured and was carrying a gigantic sword. Covered in blood. In fact, there was blood everywhere.
Maniacal laughter. Wait. She recognized those laughs; it was the same crazed voices at the restaurant. This was more... pressing than a supposed Powered counterfeiter. The woman looked down at her hands. They were shaking. Not for long.
Her fingers started oscillating at a regular rhythm. Her mind counted with the same pattern. She closed her eyes, then lazily opened them again.
Julia's eyes were dilated. The thumping in her ears slowly died down to a steady 50bpm. She rounded the corner and stalked up to the unattended maid's cart, conveniently situated near the room. As silently as she could, the woman hopped into the dirty towel and sheet bin and buried herself beneath the dank fabrics. She listened. She waited.
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on Jun 2, 2010 12:37:16 GMT -5
The blood...
It made him giddy; he trembled like a small dog. Scarlet spatters on the wall, crawling sensuously down the patterned wallpaper towards the padded carpeting below. Deep red stains, almost black, spreading as the beautiful fluid oozed from Phil's stumps and permeated the fabrics. Blood filled his vision - blood everywhere. He felt his head begin to swim with ecstatic visions; he shook them away with a sigh of mild disappointment. There was no time for indulgence.
'I'll tend to the third. Finish these. Bring the heads.'
_________________
Lucas stumbled into room 146 just as Vinnie staggered out of the bathroom, choking on blood and plaster, the chalky dust making him look like a ghost. They locked eyes for one terrifying second and stopped in their tracks. Lucas grinned.
'Oh, goodie... you're still alive.' he hissed as he cleared the distance between them in two steps, snatching Vinnie by the neck and dragging him backwards into the bathroom, throwing him hard against the bathtub and placing a hobnail boot against his heaving chest. 'You saw my friend's sword, didn't you?' He dropped to Vinnie's level, resting on his haunches, hands draped over his knees. From behind his head he unsheathed his own wicked blade, a simple thing with an ancient patina, its edge beautifully ground to a microscopic point. It seemed to draw energy to it, and Lucas could feel the air shifting around it, like a static magnet.
'This sword... eh, this sword doesn't cut as well as my buddy's. Takes a little more oomph to get through the tough parts. But that's just how it's made. Can't fault nobody there.' Lucas ran his fingers along the back side of the blade, feeling the cool steel. 'But this sword DOES have one thing that it does very well.'
In one lightning move, Lucas slammed the hilt into Vinnie's teeth, forcing his head backwards and wrapping his hand around the mafioso's face with a vise grip, pinning the sword against his gaping mouth. He sat calmly on the goon's scrabbling feet. 'Don't fight. It's quicker if you don't fight.'
It came from deep inside, detaching itself from somewhere in his belly and floating free, tickling his innards and tingling his gullet. It wafted up Vinnie's throat, an amorphous orb of some clear, vaporous substance, floating on gossamer tendrils that were barely discernible in the low bathroom light that drew lines through the swirling dust. It drifted over his twitching, probing tongue, drawn towards the sword that lay over the cavity of his gaping mouth. As if alerted to some sinister presence, it suddenly drifted backwards, hanging its fragile ganglia on the root of Vinnie's tongue, against his back teeth, attempting to pull itself back down his throat and into the warmth of his belly, but it was already too late; the sword pulled, and the waifish thing fell free and rolled slowly towards it.
Lucas pulled the sword away slowly, drawing the soul out as though he were baiting a trap. He took great care not to startle or injure it; his movements were deliberate and delicate, tenderly guiding it as it floated through the air, light as a dandelion fluff. He glanced at Vinnie.
'That's yours, friend. Ever seen one before?' he whispered, eyes wide, like a child.
It drifted towards the blade, made a shrill, faint wail, and vanished into the reflection. The room fell silent. The dust ebbed and flowed between shafts of yellow light.
'Do you know what it's like to die without your soul?'
Lucas was standing now, returning the sword to its sheath and dusting off his shirt.
'Yeah... me neither.'
He peeked through the hole at Scar's cruel work, and then exited through the bathroom door, leaving Vinnie alone for a moment to ponder his fate.
When they returned with the heads of Dom and Phil, their eyelids removed and jaws gaped sickeningly wide, packed with plastic explosive, he would have no choice but to pray, pray to whatever gods there were, if there were any.
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Post by Kuroboom on Jun 3, 2010 15:39:50 GMT -5
"I'll tend to the third. Finish these. Bring the heads," Lucas replied as he vanished to deal with Vinnie.
Scar turned his attention to Dom as he struggled and flailed trying to get the torso of Phil off of him. "Sorry I can't make your death all poetic and shit, but my buddy's in a hurry." Magnum Killer vanished but Scar was holding his hand like he was still grasping his blade and he maneuvered so that he was well within striking distance. Dom knew what was coming next; he started to scream but the cry was literally cut short as Magnum Killer appeared in the space where his vocal cords were. The blade severed head from body simply by taking up the space where they connected.
Taking a page from Medieval history, the tall man picked up the head and showed Dom his body while chuckling raspily. Scar knew the head would live for a short while after decapitation and wanted to take the small amount of pleasure in tormenting Dom one last time.
Walking over to Phil, he unceremoniously lopped his head off and was suddenly aware of the weight of the explosives in his bag. Scar was struck with inspiration and reached inside his vest for a combat knife. Some tasks required more finesse than what Magnum Killer could provide.
A few minutes later he handed off the heads to Lucas having removed the eyelids and giving each a Glasgow smile to accommodate the explosives lodged in their gaping maws.
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Post by ch00beh on Jun 7, 2010 20:29:09 GMT -5
The ensuing violence was much quieter than a massacre, that was for certain.
The doctor didn't dare move a muscle, going so far as to take slow, easy breaths, despite being enveloped in the filthy, sound-muffling towels. As was observed, whatever was going on beyond the nylon walls of the towel bin was fairly quiet as far as deranged killings went.
A prematurely ended scream here, a clean chop there. Some banter in between. One of them said something about dying without a soul. Interesting. Needed to make a mental note about that. These two were definitely Powers, especially considering the nonchalance with which they brandished oversized bladed weaponry instead of conventional firearms. It now seemed that the nature of one of their powers could be narrowed down to the domain of soul-capturing, although the man might have just been taunting the poor mafioso.
They really didn't deserve this. The doctor saw no reason why these two Powers would even bother with them. Or the restaurant, for that matter. There didn't seem to be much sport in it. Could have been a power trip, though those usually cropped up at the onset of finding out about one's abilities. Also, the multitude of scars and unnerving deliberateness to their actions showed that they had been at this for some time. They could have been hired. This was a slightly more logical conclusion, but what madman would think to choose them? Or even live after speaking to them? And that still didn't unravel their purpose.
The doctor began another slow, easy breath.
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on Jul 12, 2010 21:38:41 GMT -5
Lucas grabbed the brass faucet and cranked it over, drizzling a crystal stream of water over his bloodied hands. He laid a stripe of chalky hotel soap over one palm and worked it into a foamy lather, pink bubbles dribbling red tendrils onto the polished porcelain. His eyes widened as he watched himself wash. The swirling miasma of blood and grit pooling around the drain was hypnotic; exhilirating.
'Wash your hands. Plastic explosive's bad for the skin.' he mumbled to Scar, working his hands in earnest. He turned and gave Vinnie a glance, examining his handiwork. The poor bastard was still alive, thank God. He'd turned an unusual shade of pale when they set his friends' heads between his feet. Now he was drifting in and out of consciousness, eyelids twitching and drawing shallow breath.
'Don't worry, friendo. If memory serves, you've only got a few more minutes after we're gone before this whole place goes up and you're far, far away from all this... this, uh... well, y'know. This.' He gestured to the shattered wall, the blood, the heads, the bombs. His wild flail splattered foamy, soapy blood across the far wall. Lucas returned to cleaning his hands.
'It wasn't so bad, though, was it? I mean, we had fun,' he nodded his head to Scar, 'and what's a little violence between friends?' He grabbed a plush handtowel from the rack and shut off the water. Diligently he worked the fabric over his palms and between his fingers. 'That's us, man. Friends. You and me, we had a moment, didn't we? I feel like we've known each other for years now.'
He tossed the soggy towel at Vinnie. It crumpled against his chest with a wet slop. Lucas patted his hands against his jeans.
'So there you go. It's not a life wasted. You had a friend there at the end.'
He patted his pockets, glancing around to ensure he'd be leaving nothing behind. 'You got the rest of our stuff?' he asked Scar as he ventured into the hotel room proper, checking for leftover items.
'Guess so. Let's get out of here, Scar.'
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Post by Kuroboom on Jul 13, 2010 10:07:41 GMT -5
Scar raised an eyebrow at Lucas' comment about washing his hands. He doubted it would matter much, what with the plaster dust, blood, plastic explosive residue, and whatnot covering him at the moment. In a halfhearted effort to appease his comrade, he wiped his hands on his vest.
Scar waited for Lucas to say his goodbyes to Vinnie; Scar had already said his to the other two. "We don't really have much to leave and anything we might have left couldn't've been that important," Scar grunted in response to Lucas' question. Scar was fairly irritated--the fun was over and they were no closer to obtaining the Reiki.
Scar turned to follow Lucas out before the whole place went up. They had placed quite a few bombs, and Scar would rather avoid getting caught in such a large explosion.
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on Jul 13, 2010 10:31:39 GMT -5
(OOC: gonna keep this moving just a bit. Wanna explore some dialogue.)
They got as far as the hallway when Lucas stopped Scar, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.
'Hey, hey, hold up a sec.'
The pair faced each other, standing in the settled plaster, boots squelching in the blood-soaked carpeting. The hotel was eerily quiet, and their only company was the maid station several rooms down. Lucas eyed Scar with a hard stare, trying to glean a cause for his partner's troubled demeanor.
'What's the problem, man? Figured a little carnage would have fired you up.'
He had an idea of what the issue was, but he wanted to hear it from Scar.
'Did you wanna grease the other guy? Because you can just ask, man. I'm a caring, sharing killer. Equal opportunity executioner, heh.' He hoped a joke would lighten the mood. Who killed who wasn't the trouble on Scar's mind.
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Post by Kuroboom on Jul 13, 2010 12:02:27 GMT -5
Scar looked into his comrade's eyes with his own piercing gaze, "Nah, that guy's fucked regardless. It was fun, don't get me wrong, but I'm kinda pissed we didn't find the damned Reiki. I don't usually care much for objectives or any shit like that, but the promise of the sword was one I could follow."
Scar turned to leave. "Let's get outta here. This place is gonna get ugly fast."
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on Jul 13, 2010 15:28:48 GMT -5
Lucas rubbed the back of his head hesitantly. The Reiki... he'd forgotten all about it. They probably could have asked those guys about it, he supposed, but it was just so much more fun to 'cut and run', as it were. He giggled at the comparison and patted Scar on the shoulder.
'We'll find it. It's here. But let's try to have a little fun while we look, yeah?'
Lucas fell in step behind Scar as they headed further down the hall, to circle around the lounge and enter the dining hall from the rear entrances. As they rounded the corner, he stopped, briefly.
The hallway was dead quiet. He couldn't even hear Vinnie's labored breathing. But something wasn't quite right...
He took one step backwards and leaned into the corridor, drinking in every door, every lamp, every detail of trim and moulding. His eyes fell on the errant maid station.
Had she heard him? The cleaning lady had to have been inside the room when they first engaged the mafiosos; and they certainly hadn't been quiet about it. Had she seen them?
He began walking back down the hall, towards the cart. He reached up and drew his sword, anticipating the thrill of removing the woman's witnessing eyes from her skull with excessive force.
He reached out to move the cart out of the way...
...then realized the foolishness of his actions. The whole place was about to become a parking lot. What threat was some pitiful old maid? He drew back his hand and stepped away.
'Hey, Scar, wait up!' he shouted as he hurried back the way he came.
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Post by ch00beh on Jul 14, 2010 0:46:28 GMT -5
More banter, this time about washing your hands because plastic explosives were bad for your skin. God these men were sick. Also, the mention of explosives was somewhat alarming. The doctor slowly drew in another breath, counting seconds past while listening for their footsteps to start moving away. There it was. As soon as they were out of earshot for a minute, it could probably be safe to leave.
Wait. The muffled, steady thumping of combat boots on carpet were getting louder again. Crap. This was not good. Hopefully the owner of the footsteps had only forgotten something in the room. Maybe his cell phone? Ha. Like a mass murderer would keep something with which to integrate with society like-
The cart's wall bent at someone's touch. The doctor's lungs and limbs froze despite the intensifying heartbeat.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
Slowly, the doctor was aware the there was no longer any pressure on the cart wall. Carpet-muffled footsteps again receded. Silence. Seconds past. Then a minute. Time to get out.
The open door and blasted wall revealed the mess those two men made. It was not a pretty sight. Hold on... was that man alive? The doctor jumped out of the cart and to the man's side, dragging him somewhere less visible from the hallway.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jul 15, 2010 11:34:49 GMT -5
Vinnie would have told her about the bombs. The lady who came into the bathroom, Vinnie didn't actually see her, I mean, because he didn't really see anything anymore even with his eyelids slightly open, she came into the soapy bloody bathroom and dragged him across the slippery tiles back into the bedroom of the suite not the bathroom. The towel the soggy one from the killer slid down off his belly and onto the floor. It the towel left a wet stain all up and down his shirt. He'd been drooling on it the shirt also, a little. She propped him up against one of the beds. His head lolled. She held up his arm the left one and pressed two fingers the index and the what was the middle one called against the wrist. His wrist. Was there a special name for the middle finger he forgot. He wasn't thinking this really anyway. He wasn't thinking anything. She pressed the two fingers hers up against his neck. Suite lady. Sweet lady. This was Vinnie's lucky day wasn't it. Pretty ladies all over the place first the blonde in the garage and now a brunette in the bedroom. Moving on up. Heh. He might have chuckled if he had thought that in the first place which he hadn't. Oh it looked as though he was not ever going to run into her again the blonde in the garage again which he had hoped he might do. He might have regretted this if he had thought it in the first place which he hadn't. The brunette kept saying things to him. He couldn't respond he also didn't really hear her he also didn't necessarily know there was a lady in the bedroom suite although there was. Which is too bad because if he'd known she was there he really would have told her about the bombs. He really would not have just run out of the hallway and left her to her fate. You have to understand that. He would have made sure she was okay. Anyway that's stupid and he didn't think any of that because he did not have a soul any more. She the lady stood up and looked around the bathroom no the bedroom. Then she shut the bathroom door then she took something out of one pocket a pocket of hers which looked like a handkerchief the thing not the pocket but Vinnie didn't think it was a handkerchief. He didn't know what it was anyway he couldn't see it anyway he had no idea she was there. He his head rolled down his tongue came out a little and he dribbled. She was still standing there in the bedroom not the bathroom. She took hold of the doorknob the bedroom one and she closed the door the bedroom one with a click. ISHKABIBBLE
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