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Post by Tout-Perd on Jul 4, 2010 22:47:07 GMT -5
“Man... Oh, man. This wasn't... the best time to treat you to, eh?” His grimace disappeared into a bright smile for just a moment, and then returned, “Of course, I was the one that almost got shot there, so maybe I came out a bit worse. I don't know.”
He went to stand up, putting both hands on the pier to do so. After a failed attempt, staggering to his knees with a sharp exhalation, he managed to teeter upright. The woman at his side had a concerned look in her eyes, visible even with her wet braids clinging to her face.
“It's okay, really. They just skimmed my ribs with it. Otherwise, I wouldn't be cut like-” He sighed, and shook his head, “Who'm I kiddin'? You've got a lot more experience than I do at this sorta stuff. You know it all already.”
“If we could just clean the salt water out of this, and get back to my place-”
“Hello!” A sudden flash of vivid color exploded from atop one of the docked boats, like an unseen bird of paradise flinging itself from the forest canopy. The two warily took ready stances, only dulled by the evident abuse they had been through. After a moment though, they returned to nursing their wounds. The newcomer was a girl in a chef's uniform, sopping from head to toe. The heavy, dayglow coat hung from her frame like a suit of armor two sizes to big, and her ponytail was a veritable saltwater faucet from all the dripping it was doing.
“Who are you?” The man staggered again, the blue haired woman catching him by the sleeve of his Hawaiian-printed shirt.
“I'm one of the cooks from the boat you were just on. I saw that whole fight thing, with all the guys in suits, and you guys fought a bunch of them off. I came over here to thank you guys.”
“You're- you're welcome I guess, Miss, Miss?”
“Emily. Emily Schwartzwald.” The girl stuck out her hand for a shake. A few droplets of blood ran down her palm.
“You're-”
“Oh, this?” Emily wiped her palm against her pants. “I musta got a scrape or something going over the railing.”
“Okay then...” The man smiled slightly, and took her hand delicately in his large, calloused mitt.
“I'm Olaf Hamilton. Glad to meet you.”
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Post by {WW}BetaBloodWolf7 on Jul 16, 2010 6:20:52 GMT -5
"Olaf Hamilton? Really? Well I must say the two of you did a nice job. A very nice job indeed." said Regal as he walked towards the trio, slowly applauding as he approached.
"I was about to referee a swimming contest when I heard the ruckus on that boat. I just couldn't resist checking it out." He stopped, his dark brown eyes fixated on Olaf. "I must say I was impressed by your performance, and yours in particular." He said, turning his attention to Olaf's companion, his voice beginning to take on an exhilarated tone.
"Not that you really needed to bother with them. The fight was clearly lost before it even began, though it was most entertaining to watch them struggle to bring you down. Only to have their goal frustrated when you jumped from the ship!" He chuckled lightly, and beamed at the pair. "I don't know what it was they wanted, or why. But I do know that I would dearly love to join you in whatever it is you are doing. My name, or at least the only name you need to know, is Regal."
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on Jul 21, 2010 19:41:45 GMT -5
'MY BOAT!!!'
The scream shattered the air, a heavy, guttural thing that shook bones and trembled spirits. It was coming from beneath the pier.
'MY BOOOAAATTT!!!'
_______________________
He hadn't even bothered to crawl out of the water.
For fifty-five, Stavros Demitrios Kosmetatos, 'Cosmo' to his friends and family, was no slouch. They still built Greeks like gods, even in this age of Big Macs and Whoppers and La-Z-Boys. His soaked clothes stretched heavily across his broad frame, white shirt now transparent and showing the taut iron cables that coiled beneath his trembling back. His fists, each the size of a softball, clenched so hard the knuckles had turned bone white. Even from up on the pier, they could hear his teeth grinding against his squared, bearded jaw. His hair, normally thick, curly, and flecked with skillet grease or baking flour, lay in a glistening black mat against his olive brow. Water poured off of him from every extremity, he was shivering from the cool evening breeze, and there was no telling what sort of jagged, infectious detritus was buried in the sands beneath this pier, home to junkies and vagrants alike. Cosmo did not care.
He could only stare, dark eyes wide with fear, sorrow, and rage, as the bow of his restaurant, Hestia, yawned out of the water, crumbling under the boiling smoke and reaching flames that had consumed the ship in a brilliant explosion and blown him out into the bay not two minutes before.
Hestia... all that work, all that money invested. He'd just wanted a quiet life. Make payments, cook food, forget about the life he'd lived before. Now that was gone. And for what?
Something shifted in his belt and prodded him in the ass. Cosmo jerked, thinking something might be crawling up his soaking pants. Then he remembered. Reaching behind his back, he produced the .357, feeling its terrible weight in his considerable hands. He stared at it for a moment that stretched out like a thousand years.
He remembered scrabbling for it when the first shots rang out. Had he used it? He'd sworn that off years ago. He tossed the chamber.
One missing.
Cosmo hung his head. It was then, staring at his rippling reflection in the moonlight, water glinting with yellows and oranges as the burning corpse of the Hestia sank beneath the waves, that he saw the shadows of people moving between the slats of the pier above, and realized he was not alone.
_______________________
He found them, three of them, exchanging pleasantries with the smoldering ruins of the ship behind them like some sinister romantic-comedy backdrop. He didn't aim the gun- he had no intention of shooting anyone, and the saltwater had probably rendered the bullets as effective as a chickpea in a too-small straw - but he held it at his side just the same.
They were wet.
They were there.
The big one. They'd had words with him before the shooting started. Red lights danced in Cosmo's eyes.
'You.' he hissed, pointing a thick, accusing finger at Olaf.
'YOU..'
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Post by pokemaniactim on Jul 26, 2010 17:43:22 GMT -5
Ventus awoke to the sound of the waves, he'd washed up on the beach. "Ugh, my head.." He thought to himself, he remembered having a nice meal, then all of a sudden, BOOM! BOOM! He heard shots firing here and there, the a white flash of light, and the rest was a blank.
He stumbled around for a few minutes and then noticed a small group of people, so he hurried over to introduce himself and get some answers. "Hello!" He said as he approached them, "My name is Ventus, does anyone know what just happened?" he asked, slightly panicking.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Sept 15, 2010 0:22:19 GMT -5
“I… But I…” Olaf gaped at Regal, his jaw hanging slack for a brief moment, “I didn’t win anything! Aquara and me-“ ”And Emily!” The technicolor chef interjected. “And Emily… We just got out of there before whatever blew that boat up did so. We didn’t win, we just survived.” It was then that the second (Or maybe third, depending on how close one was to the explosion) most jarring event of the evening occurred. Olaf’s head snapped to the side, turning to look directly at the looming newcomer. It seemed that the docks were downright infested with loonies. His hand slipped into the pocket of his khakis, and encircled the handle of the wrench he’d brought with him. Not exactly the most practical thing to carry around, but it had become habit after he was mugged four years ago, and it had been very handy this evening. Even though he was still somewhat numb from the chilly waters of the California cost, he could feel the tingle of adrenaline coming back to his body. “I…” His eyes twitched away from Stavros for an instant, glancing to his “date”. Aquara had handled herself much more capably in the brawl that broke out, and she had a good head on her shoulders. Maybe she’d be able to- No, she wasn’t in the mood for talking, it seemed. She watched the Greek with the same caution one would use with a potentially deadly animal, like he was a shark that just clambered up onto the docks. Her lips twitched slightly. Was it a grimace, a smirk? In the flickering light of the streetlamps, it was hard to say. Olaf’s grip tightened. “Listen-“ Olaf paused as the man inhaled loudly before baying out another accusation. While it echoed, Olaf spoke again. “Listen! I’m not the guy that started this or whatever the hell is going on here! I was just trying to have dinner, and bunch of jackasses in black suits jumped me!” Though his frame was less imposing than the towering Kosmetatos, he had drawn up to his full height, and he seemed to bulk out, like a dog raising its hackles. “I’m just trying to figure out why, exactly, there are people out to kill me!” “It’s true, Mr. Cosmos,” The brightly dressed chef spoke for the first time since the man had climbed ashore. She’d been employed by him for almost a year now, mostly working on an assortment of bizarre but delectable pastries and cakes. And she still had yet to get his name (or his nickname, for that matter) right. “These people were just eating their dinner, a pan-seared steak with teriyaki sauce and a side of mashed potatoes and a glass of cranberry juice and I was going to give him another side of artichokes and the girl was eating that tilapita fish and some pasta salad which is really good especially when tomatoes are in season but then there were these guys with angry guns and they-“ Emily paused to inhale, “And then they started shooting. By shooting I mean that they, the they guys with the guns and not the fish, started shooting at the two that were just trying to finish eating to get to dessert so I could make them chocolate lava cake with dinosaur sprinkles.” Emily stood on her tiptoes, still barely as high as Cosmo’s collarbone. Her eyes were big, catching the light of the burning ship in reflection. “I am allowed to use the dinosaur sprinkles, right Mr. Costmo?” Aquara turned to the side, hearing a familiar voice. “Ah, Ventus. I-“ She shook her head slightly, and then spoke once more, “Ventus, it’s good to see you again. There was a fight on board the restaurant ship out there, the Hestia, and one group brought out molotovs and grenades. We managed to escape, but it was close.” She gasped a moment after concluding the thought. “Do you have a cellphone on you? We really should try to call the coastguard.” OOC: Sorry about the autos, Kev, but we really can't wait two months to get going.
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Post by pokemaniactim on Sept 16, 2010 11:10:17 GMT -5
Ventus searched his pockets for his cellphone, but it didn't seem to be in his pockets..."I think "I think I might have left it on the ship..." he said, as he looked on the ground behind him.
"Oh, wait, nevermind, here it is." He handed his celly to the girl, "There we go, I'm afraid it might be a bit unresponsive on some parts of the screen, though."
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Post by Albatross Trevelyan on Sept 17, 2010 17:37:23 GMT -5
Aquara accepted the cellphone, punching in the numbers for the local authorities. She explained vaguely about what happened, and was instructed to stay put for questioning on the scene.
"Well," she said sighing, "It seems that the authorities will be here soon, so we can give our statements and hopefully have this all blow over."
The thought sounded nice in Aquara's mind, but, inside she knew that wasn't the case. Nothing of this magnitude it always boils down to some secret conspiracy hopefully ending with the good guys taking down the bad guys. She's watched enough shows when she was younger, thats how it always plans out.
Turning to Olaf, whom used to be an acquaintance but quickly transpired to a close friend, with the events being a catalyst of the relationship, "What do you make of it, Olaf? Something seems off put."
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Post by {WW}BetaBloodWolf7 on Sept 18, 2010 20:13:59 GMT -5
"You claim you just survived, yet you are here and whole, while your opponents are not." He smiled at Olaf. He turned to gaze upon the remnants of the ship, but found the sight blocked by an older man who seemed ready to impale Olaf with a meaty index finger.
Regal continued to wear a smile as he waved at the newcomer who didn't seem to realize that he was even there.
"Well then.." he said, walking to Aquara and out of the man's way. Whoever the man was, he was thicker than Olaf and, as such, much thicker than Regal. Although he was well past his prime, he still seemed quite fit.
I hope that he sticks around too. Whatever it is that I'm involved with has just become much, much more interesting...
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on Sept 19, 2010 17:06:22 GMT -5
Cosmo felt his blood rise as Olaf squared off against him. He was in a fighting mood tonight, and this seemed like a good matchup. Then Emily, God bless her, saved the day.
He could remember it all now, even as she described it to him in that delicate voice of hers.
____________
'Table Fifteen, up! Come on, come on, let's move some plates, guys!'
He remembered cooking that steak. The teriyaki glaze was way off tonight - the new chef had been too liberal with the syrup stock and it had separated in the freezer, so Cosmo was having to make each portion of glaze from scratch as he worked, and in his rush, he was managing to overcook it each time. Tonight was just not his night.
'Hey boss!'
'Yeah, Tony.'
'Eighteen's asking for a wine pairing for the oyster remoulade.'
'What? Geez, uh, I dunno. Give them the Saenz '76.'
'You kidding, boss? You know what they say - 'not drinkin' any-'
'-any fuckin' Merlot, yeah, you're right. Uh... try Fleisen Farm '84. We should have a bottle way back in the back. Leave the dust on and charge them an extra $3 per glass.'
'You got it.'
Cosmo turned back to the steak. Dammit all, he'd burnt the glaze again.
Shouting from the main room. A fight? Here? Cosmo flipped the burners off with one smooth stroke, grabbed a towel, and headed for the flapping kitchen doors.
Then gunfire.
______________
'The... dinosaur sprinkles...'
He felt the gun slip in his hand, and then suddenly it was clattering to the wooden planks as the giant began to calm himself down. He heaved a breathy sigh and furrowed his brow with a hairy hand.
'I... I'm sorry,' he held an apologetic hand out to Olaf, 'I'm just a little worked up. My name's Cosmo, and I... I... that was my ship, and Emily... oh-' He turned to Emily, eyes suddenly widening with the sort of worry a father might express. In a single broad sweep he had her in his arms, squeezing her in a grateful bear hug. 'Emily, oh thank God...' he set her down and knelt down in front of her, wide hands feeling of her arms and legs, searching for injury.
'Are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere?
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