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Post by Beelzebibble on Nov 9, 2015 14:09:24 GMT -5
Monday the 16th 1:34 pmMost had disappeared into the smoke and plaster-dust, but one towering figure still dominated the dining room, eyes wild and hair disheveled, hurling machine-gun fire at any sign of movement from an unfamiliar figure. It was Cesare Giarrettiera. For the time being he’d abandoned the task of killing the cloaked magician, whose roulette wheel shield had bounced all the ammo Cesare had cared to throw its way. He’d have to content himself with boiling every one of the Brit’s goons into a fine red paste instead. As if on cue, one of them stumbled out of the haze into his sight, a balding guy with a napkin still comically tied around his neck. He only had enough time to turn his gun on Cesare before going under in a spray of bullets. There was a song in Cesare’s heart. He’d been dreaming of this day. Let the hotel burn to the ground, this whole fussy, chintzy, packed-in pile of concrete and gold finish. This was Massimo’s way, and their father’s. Cesare would not do his business under cover. He wouldn’t appease the police. And he would not flatter himself with this bullshit pretense of respectability. He had his own ideas of how you earned respect. “Come on, segarsi!” he called with a crazed laugh. “Come on out and die! I’m right here!” Then a silvery blaze scorched his left hand and he buckled, letting the machine gun fall to his side. He clutched the hand as if to stop the escaping blood. Another goon, the fucker who’d been playing piano, took this as his opportunity to rush him. Pressing the bleeding hand against his thigh, Cesare hoisted the machine gun with his right hand, swung it wide, and, with a choked bellow, smashed it full across the attacker’s face. * * * Monday the 16th 1:34 pmThe roulette wheel spun gently to a halt and split into two, one angling upward and one angling downward. Then each of these split again, forming a sphere of four iridescent rings of colored light around the man on the balcony. Each of them resumed spinning in a dizzy clatter, ensconcing the King of Clubs within a blur of red, grey, and gold. He saw no reason not to take precautions. The tall man had packed a sterner brand of machinery than he’d expected. No matter. Tanner would see him grovelling on his knees before he relented. He saw the tall man, the middle Giarrettiera, gun down Warren through the smog; saw Rowland felled by a bullet from an unseen marksman. This troubled him not at all. Casualties had been inevitable, and he welcomed an opportunity to clear the rubbish he’d accumulated in Europe. There would always be more to pick up out of the gutter. Perhaps a goodly number of the wiser survivors from the mob would hitch their carts to his. To be perfectly honest, however, he would have preferred that number include Massimo Giarrettiera. If it was true that one of Tanner’s own had quite frightfully ventured off-script by shooting the don, then it would be best whichever delinquent was reponsible should die now before Tanner had the opportunity to discover him. Massimo had been a tame, toadying ringleader; it was apparent Cesare would be much more difficult to control. And then there were the explosions here and throughout the hotel, the latest and most local of which had unexpectedly winded him: Who on the lord’s earth had set these off? Tanner had rather liked the Ansonia; he had been looking forward to subsuming its business. If he’d possessed any intention of blowing it up, then Flo, Hugh, Belinda, and Culverton, in their weeks or months of clandestine employment here, would have had ample time to plant the requisite bombs - but of this he was innocent. Nor could he imagine that Massimo would be so imprudent as to rig the Ansonia to go up in flames at the first sign of attack. No, unless this could be attributed to the half-witted Cesare, Tanner would have to admit that this wrinkle in the plan was a trifle worrisome. Investigating these matters could wait. For now, he could bring this scene of bloodshed to a close most quickly by incapacitating the Giarrettiera’s figurehead. Tanner lifted a finger, and a gleaming silver playing card materialized at the tip. This he directed in a streak toward Cesare’s hand. * * * Monday the 16th 1:34 pmOf course he had no microfiber cloth on his person. Obviously he had nothing better to wipe his glasses with than the hem of his own shirt. No, not clear enough. He turned the glass over and over within the cotton folds, squinting in the dim light of the corridor, where the sun was admitted only through slats. He held the glasses up. Not clear enough. Still speckled with dust and grit from the explosion. To return would be suicide. He would not return if the glasses were unclean. This was an extremely simple matter. Now reduced to brushing the glass against the fibers of his tie, he gazed half-blind down the corridor in the other direction, back toward the office. Would it be more sensible to--? The Giarrettiera family deserved a measure of caution, in this moment, after Massimo… But he would be leaving his other brother there to die. There was no reason to pretend otherwise. He glared up at the lenses against the striped sunlight. “Fine,” he muttered. Then he gently lowered the glasses onto his head, ducked out of the doorway and back behind the potted plant that obscured it, rose, and fired a bullet that lodged neatly in the skull of the taller napkin-clad attacker, the bagman, who had just at that moment been aiming his StG 44 upon Cesare’s lumbering silhouette. ISHKABIBBLE SCENE NINETEEN Concessions are Made, Some Forcibly, Upon the Presentation of Superior Firepower
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Post by Tout-Perd on Feb 2, 2016 13:21:41 GMT -5
Three figures stalked along the hallway outside the main dining room of the Hotel Ansonia, their measured steps muffled by the plush carpeting. Rhys brought up the rear of the group, holding his forearm over his head as if he was shielding himself against the rain. Between said arm and the floor, a membranous shadow stretched, interposed against the thundering firefight the next room over. In contrast, Helen crept low, holding her sword out to the side to keep it out of her way, providing a minimal profile for the stray bullets that went zipping through the walls like angry bees.
At the head of the pack was Natalie, nonchalantly strolling as if there wasn’t a gang-battle raging less than ten feet away. A shot skimmed across her forehead and smashed through the glass over a painting on the opposite wall. She gave a mild sigh of annoyance, her eyes flicking towards the two following her.
“Ya know what that means?”
“That we probably shouldn’t be here?” Helen retorted, trying to get even lower to the floor.
“Nope. Means they were shooting at somebody on the other side,” Natalie bared her teeth, blood pouring down her cheeks in sheets. She crouched near to the wall, putting her ear against it. She flickered, a tiny furry creature braced like a tripod on leathery wings replacing her for less than a second. She reappeared, kneeling with her blade in hand.
“He’s taking cover. That’s adorable,” Natalie lunged forwards, jamming her sword through the drywall. She flicked her wrist, braced her foot against the wall, and shoved off. There was a muffled scream from the other side, and a man exploded through the wall, headfirst with the blunt edge of Natalie’s blade coiled around his throat.
Nat tumbled in a half circle, rolling along her shoulders to keep her momentum, and sprung to her feet. She pounced onto the man’s gut, leading with her elbow and letting his solar plexus break her fall. The gunman folded virtually in half, choking out a surprised wheeze before his head slammed back into the floor.
The shapeshifter rolled to her feet, and gestured to the tattered gap that had been smashed into the dining room.
“Made a door,” She grunted.
“Ah, well, after you,” Helen rolled out her most authentic looking fake smile.
“Okay,” Natalie sat on her haunches, smearing the blood out of her eyes with her forearm. “I’m cool with that. More for me.”
With bestial alacrity, Natalie shot forwards, flickering through the gap.
”I... Think we may be best off finding another entrance,” Rhys pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Helen took a second glance at the thug Natalie had demolished, and took cover behind Rhys’ umbrous curtain.
”To be completely level with you, I’m leaning more towards ‘another hotel’ or ‘another city’ at this point.” ------- Nat landed in a crouch, her gaze shooting upwards like a wolf catching sign of prey. A rotund man with a proportionately huge handgun leveled the weapon at her head.
“I’m guessing this was you?” She reached up and tapped the gash across her forehead. The man simply cocked his weapon in response.
By the time he pulled the trigger, Natalie was gone, replaced by something scaly darting across the carpet. She exploded back into her human form beneath the table to his right, flinging it into the air. The shapeshifter slammed her palm into the table, hammering the furniture’s solid hardwood edge into his throat. Shoving off of the table as it plowed through the gunman, she spun into a legsweep, blasting chubby’s feet out from under him before he even realized he’d been hit.
Natalie twirled back to her feet, and jumped atop the nearest standing table to take in the rest of the room. It had devolved into a chaotic melee, gunmen from both factions and unfortunate civilians all desperately scrabbling for cover, with no clear battle lines.
Fine by her. She didn’t have a side, after all. If anything got in her way, she’d just rip right through. Life was simpler this way.
She threw back her head and let out a frenzied roar, one that sounded like it couldn’t have issued from a human, nevermind a girl just barely out of her teens.
”Come on, bitches! Let’s play!”
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Post by ch00beh on Feb 8, 2016 23:20:05 GMT -5
Rie heard gunfire from ten distinct gunners ahead and she had five bullets left. More popping noises. Make that at least twenty. The girl still ran ahead of her companions, boots pounding on the plush carpet. She was faster than them, and more importantly, she didn't trust any of them to not get in her way during a firefight.
Rie came to a stop a few steps away from the dining hall's side entrance and pressed herself against the wall. The door was swung wide open and was riddled with holes. Mingled with the sounds of gunfire were screams. Of course there were screams. The mild aroma of roasts, herbs, and oil lingered in the air behind the hanging stench of gunpowder, plaster, and blood. Screams always accompanied that smell.
Rie moved away from the wall then held her pistol in a shooting position. She phased and took one calculated step to the side so she could freely see into the dining hall. In an instant, she had identified the kill zones, clusters of hostages, and the groupings of combatants. Most of the combatants were obviously the Giarretieras' given the way they stood around several key positions--they were defensive and confused, trying to protect their turf from guerrillas who had been peacefully dining not too long ago.
A bullet, mostly aimed by reflex at her sudden movement, passed straight through Rie's chest and lodged itself into the wall behind. Rie paid it no mind and stepped back into cover. Something else was wrong. Despite their numbers, the Giarretiera men were heavily panicked. The explosions might explain it, but that didn't feel right...
"Come on, bitches! Let's play!"
Ah. Natalie.
With Nat taking the focus for the moment, Rie ducked down and sprinted low to the ground toward flipped table near the corner of the room, using smoke in the air to stay obscured. Behind the table was a crying middle aged woman, head in her hands. At the sign of Rie's movement, the woman let out a yelp. The woman eyed Rie's gun and broke into hyperventilating shivers. "Are you going to kill--"
Rie punched the woman square in the jaw, knocking her out before she made anymore noise, then stepped over the body and peaked around her cover. Through the smoke and debris something spun and shined. Magic. Fuck.
The gunfire rose and fell like waves as gunmen paused between their wild sprays. When one of the relative silences came about, Rie took another look to take better stock of the room. Not too far away and behind one of the potted plants, the girl spotted one of the Giarettieras. The quiet one, Nico. Rie fell into the floor.
Moments later, Rie rose from the floor behind Nico.
"My baseline fee is $50,000 per head; double if you want them alive. One million to engage the mage up there, but I will charge $100 per minute after that. The crazy girl isn't for sale."
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Post by Beelzebibble on Feb 10, 2016 17:59:54 GMT -5
At the first word from behind him, Nico flinched enough to set the potted plant nearly toppling. While the giant leaves of the elephant's ear quivered like nodding heads, he turned, still ducking low, to find the woman from the train crouched there, holding a pistol at the ready. "My baseline fee is $50,000 per head; double if you want them alive. One million to engage the mage up there, but I will charge $100 per minute after that. The crazy girl isn't for sale." His first reaction was nothing better than to blink in silence, for which he promptly chastised himself: here, in Nepas' offer, was the kind of impersonal and enterprising response under fire that he should by rights have been able to achieve. She'd taken the measure of the situation and staked out the way she intended to profit from it. He was remiss in not doing the same. ( And isn't that what Massimo would have wanted? came the grieved, madly jeering retort in his head, not to see you waste a second on mourning him, is that right?, but this he ignored.) His second reaction was to nod, hold up a finger, and turn back to survey the room. One million for il medico della peste up there on the balcony... It was a steep price, steeper than Nico cared to promise to an assassin on a moment's notice, with who could say what monetary calamities about to buffet house Giarrettiera following Massimo's death. But why play the miser at a time when doing so might spell his own death? Nico could believe their men would lay the rest of the intruders low, but there was no knowing whether il medico would consent to surrender at that point, nor whether anyone but this woman stood a reasonable chance of killing him. On the other hand, she knew the pressure of the situation licensed her to overcharge, and Nico found his very nature protesting the thought of consigning the family to such a massive debt on the frantic decision of an instant. There was a compromise. He faced Nepas again, pointing through the leaves to the towering shape of his brother, now stepping heavily forward, machine gun askew in his one good hand, to face the woman of wild brown and green hair who had roared for a challenger. "What price to... keep someone alive?" * * * Disappointment upon disappointment. To be sure, Charles Tanner had taken Ms Ulima for the brash type, yet to throw herself impetuously into the fray without the whisper of an effort at rational engagement could only signal that he had quite woefully misjudged her seasoned experience. Perhaps that sort of bellicose bravado had seen her through a few petty scrapes, but quite evidently not the kind of high-end busywork she had claimed as a specialty. A pity. Came to grief at test number one. Tanner's minutes were valuable things; better to cut his losses and have done than waste any more of them on her. When he twirled one gloved hand above his head, there formed in it a copper billiard cue, followed by two orbs the size of cannonballs, spinning into ivory solidity before him: one the withered paper hue of the moon, the other a rich mahogany. Numbers seven and fifteen were his favorite color. Tanner drew the cue back in a vulture-like hunch, then struck the cueball, the force of which sent No 7 rocketing in a beeline down from the balcony toward the figure of Ms Ulima. I had to assume that Natalie would've told Tanner her name, but I wouldn't blame her if she chose to use an alias, so if Lee would prefer I substituted a different name for "Ms Ulima", I can change that.
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Post by ch00beh on Feb 10, 2016 23:34:18 GMT -5
OOC: scaling back prices "The fee for," Rie raised her voice over another rattle of unaimed automatic fire. "The fee for standard bodyguard work is based on the risk profile before any engagements. Since the shooting has started and there's a," Rie stopped herself from swearing in front of a prospective employer, "a mage, Mr. Giarrettiera, these numbers are exactly the price to keep someone--that would be you and your brothers--alive. Specifically I will keep you all alive by killing your enemies." Something in Nico's face dropped when Rie said "brothers", but she didn't pay it as much mind as the waiter who had popped out of cover to aim a beretta at her. She instinctively phased and turned translucent as a couple bullets passed through her head. A shower of lead cut foliage rained down on Nico's hair. Rie raised her own gun which made the waiter immediately drop back to cover. The girl didn't shoot and just adjusted her position to be more out of sight then continued on reciting her terms of service. "I'll be honest and tell you that these prices are high mostly because of that mage. I don't deal well with magic, and more importantly I don't know what kind of magic that guy has, but I am pretty sure I have more experience with mages than everyone else in the room, barring Natalie. And speaking of, as I said, I will not fight her, even if your brother chooses to engage as he looks to be doing right now. I can tell her off, but if she wants to press him, I will not stand in her way." Something glowed at the edge of Rie's vision. She focused on it and saw the mage conjuring multicolored cannonballs. The magic orbs rocketed down from the mage's balcony toward Nat and Cesare's position. Rie furrowed her brow at the display of power. She was itching to get this negotiation done so she wouldn't be as much of a sitting duck. "Tell you what: as a gesture of good faith I'll wave the minutely fee and kill whatever goon gets in the way of me, you, or your brothers for free. Still one million to fight the mage."
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Post by Tout-Perd on Feb 28, 2016 12:44:35 GMT -5
Natalie had only a scant moment to see the projectile screaming towards her. Gritting her teeth, she coiled her blade into a tight loop, and slammed her left arm into the flat of the helix.
The sphere smashed into her and sent her tumbling across the room, the shards of her shattered blade spraying into the air. In mid-fall, Natalie stuck out her leg, catching Cesare Giarrettiera across his brutish face with her calf. She used the impact to spin herself around, planting her sneakers and right hand on the plush carpet as she skidded backwards.
The shapeshifter rose to her feet, and took inventory of her myriad wounds. Her right arm had several jagged fragments of her broken sword jutting out of it, and the skin of her palm and fingertips had been torn off by skidding to a stop. Her calf was throbbing slightly- Nat could only hope that she wouldn’t be left with a bruise in the shape of Cesare’s ugly mug marring her body. As for the piece de resistance, her left arm twisted the wrong way at the elbow, slimy fragments of the bones of her forearm jutting obscenely out through the skin.
Natalie let out a low, panting chuckle in the back of her throat.
“Oy! You in the mask up there!” Natalie took hold of her shattered arm, twisting it around so that it pointed towards the ringleader on the balcony. She managed to will her broken fingers into flipping him off (though it very well could have just been muscle memory).
“You’re going to wish you chose something a lot less pointy, because the next step is seeing how far we can jam that thing up you ass!”
She charged back towards the center of the room, vaulting over Cesare as he began clambering back to his feet. Another thug with slicked back hair and a poor fitting suit, presumably a flunky for the brute, aimed his shotgun at her. Nat lunged into him footfirst, knocking his aim askance. His shot went wide and vaporized an expensive vase on the other side of the room. Natalie kicked off of him, spinning away. Curling her right hand to her bicep, she spun back towards, yanking a fragment of her shattered weapon out of her arm and jamming it into his upper thigh. As he gave a yelp of pain, Natalie wrenched his gun out of his hands and lammed him across the head with it, sending him to dreamland with a single stroke.
Nat smashed the butt of the weapon against the floor and shattered it, then flung the remains aside. The less thugs and guns to worry about, the better she could clean up the rest of this mess.
Aaand, speaking of such, one of the hotel’s weedy looking gardeners stepped into her path, pulling dual pistols that were far too big for him out of his smock. As Natalie rushed towards him, he turned, aiming his weapons at a cowering socialite.
Natalie skidded to halt. That made sense. Threaten a pawn with a pawn, to keep the Queen from checkmating his King. Natalie knew chess quite well- It had been one of her favorite games to play with Ender and Thyra when she was younger. Of course, then again, in a no-win situation, her favorite solution was flipping the board-
The shapeshifter disappeared, and in her place, a writhing, sinuous nightmare erupted into being. A mottled pink body, shaped like a spear and as long as a truck slammed into the floor hard enough to make the furniture jump. Golden eyes the size of hubcaps regarded the room with uncanny intelligence, huge square pupils narrowing as they focused on the underling. A beak thick enough to bite through a man’s leg clacked, echoing louder than a gunshot.
As the gardener prepared to flee, a long tentacle slapped across his back, barbed suckers digging into his flesh. With a single shake, Natalie snapped his neck. A second twitch, and she flung his body at the masked man, bursting his corpse across the barrier like over-ripe fruit. As his viscera spattered the ringleader, Nat grabbed every piece of furniture within reach.
With a mighty heave, she sent four chairs, two tables, another cadaver, and a burning serving cart tumbling across the room. Some hit the ceiling and exploded into splinters, others plowing through Mafioso and interlopers alike, and the flambéd cart along with one of the tables smashed across the roulette wheel protecting the masked man.
As quickly as the giant squid had appeared, it vanished, leaving a panting Natalie on her knees, taking cover behind an upended table. Blood seeped from both her ears, and she felt the metallic tang of more running down the back of her throat. She’d live through it, she’d lived through worse, but shapeshifting to a deep-sea creature without preparation had ruptured a few... things. On the bright side, the change had put her bones back inside her arm, which was always a plus.
She flickered again, a new blade appearing in her grasp. Blown out eardrums or not, her work was far from done.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Mar 11, 2016 11:08:14 GMT -5
Your brothers. The little extra letter carried a sting each time the woman spoke it. An innocent mistake, he reminded himself. She hadn’t been there. She hadn’t watched Massimo clutch Nico’s hands and draw his last ruptured breaths. There was no reason she might have said “brother”. She meant no offense. She meant very little, altogether, in fact. Properly, he should have been able to appreciate this. He willed himself to.
“One million,” he promised. “But if he dies, the fee is void. If I’m the only one who walks away from this in one piece, then there’ll be much more urgent heads I will need on a plate. Someone could make an easy million or more fetching me those. And no magic involved.” Nico saw no need to point to indicate whom he meant, this time. “Keep him alive, and the money is yours, if you can kill the mage. Fail to keep him alive, and I am not going to promise you a chest of gold for something your ‘Natalie’ seems quite happy to do for free.”
Nico straightened up and pressed himself against the wall, aiming the pistol. “It’s implicit that I will be walking away from this in one piece.”
* * *
The roulette barrier had withstood a gentle dusting of Prewett, but the table and serving cart proved too much. As both careened into the barrier, one with an earsplitting crack and the other with a booming crunch, the colored light dissipated. Tanner lurched back and struck the cast-iron railing of the narrow staircase leading downward from the balcony. The jewelled cane fell from his grasp and bounced halfway down the stairs to rest in the alcove of a miniature stained-glass window. No. Not the cane, hang it. Tanner managed to wave one gloved hand to conjure a shimmering door-sized three of spades, blocking off himself and the entry to the staircase from the rest of the balcony, but the effort furrowed his brow into a knot and twisted his stomach agonizingly. The pain bent him double at the top of the stairs. There was a numbness in his withered fingers. Without the cane in hand, it took far too much from him to weave even such a laughably plain spell. He’d allowed himself to depend upon it. Could a man of his advanced years be blamed?
Graft it to your fingers, then, old fool, if you like, only don’t lose a moment--
Clutching the railing with one hand and awkwardly stretching as far down the stairs as his bony frame would permit, he reached out with the other gloved claw and plucked the cane off its perch. Of an instant, the numbness replaced itself by a surge of warmth. With a deft movement, Tanner swung himself back up to the top of the staircase and pushed effortlessly through the playing-card barrier. He pointed the jewelled cane at the ceiling. A shame to have missed his opportunity while Ms Ulima was in the form of a squid. The little feathers would have popped her like a zeppelin. It ought to have provided a spot of entertainment to lighten up the room.
Tanner swung the jewelled cane in an arc down to the balcony floor, and a curving wing of little feathers materialized, floating in midair, in its wake. He pointed the cane at Ms Ulima, crouching behind an upended table, and the toxin-dipped throwing darts buzzed down from the balcony, converging upon her.
* * *
His head swimming, Cesare pulled himself to his feet, wiping the blood from his face. The lights passed out of his eyes just in time to treat him to the psychotic sight of a giant squid in the center of the dining room floor, picking up furniture with its suckered tentacles. This was just about enough fucking funny business for one day. When, a second later, the squid threw the furniture in all directions, a weaponless Cesare did the only thing that came naturally. With a primal roar, he punched the chair flying toward him, bloodying the knuckles on his good hand and sending a shock of nerves all the way up his arm. The chair fell in two pieces at his feet.
Wincing through the pain in both arms, Cesare glared around the room to see that the squid had vanished. The green-hair bitch who’d kicked him across the face was pulling herself behind a table for cover. Oh no. He didn’t think so. Cesare vaulted across the room, threw himself into a low tackle, and wrenched one of the metal table legs clean off, letting the rest collapse on the floor. Stomping one foot onto the upside-down table, he swung the bludgeon at her head.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Mar 22, 2016 17:13:23 GMT -5
OOC: Choobles, do you want your turn, or should I jump ahead in the turn order, since I'm currently entertaining all these enterprising gentlemen?
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Post by ch00beh on Mar 22, 2016 17:40:03 GMT -5
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Post by ch00beh on Mar 25, 2016 23:19:00 GMT -5
"Yes, sir," Rie said. Her tone had gone from annoyed businesswoman to professional soldier as soon as Nico agreed. She looked Nico in the eyes only to acknowledge his orders then immediately shifted her stance and line of sight to catalogue the hostiles in the room.
Natalie was a whirlwind of destruction in the center of it all, which had forced just about everyone into cover. Rie couldn't quite get a perfect count with smoke obscuring half the room and a flailing giant squid blocking another quarter, but it was enough to start doing something. Two heads were peaking out from behind an upturned table near a wall, and while they were wide eyed, Rie knew the difference in posture between someone looking to run and someone looking for a target. Rie held her pistol up and took two shots, neatly splattering the top of one's head, but missing the other, causing him to just duck back down. Rie lowered her pistol a few millimeters and shot twice more into the upturned table, after which the gun's slide locked back. Someone screamed from behind it. Not a kill shot, and Rie was out of ammo. Unfortunate.
Rie didn't phase into the ground to approach--she was being paid to keep an eye on the Giarrettieras, and she couldn't do that while buried underground--and instead just phased and sprinted forward, using Natalie's tentacled rage as a distraction. The assassin passed through the hole filled table and found her second victim sprawled next to his dead partner clutching a wound in his stomach.
The living man tried to reach for one of the two berettas lying in on the ground, but Rie kicked his arm away then dropped an elbow right onto his chest. The man's ribs would have snapped like twigs under the girl's full weight, but instead, Rie's elbow passed straight through the bones and turned the man's aorta and left ventricle into pulp.
Rie quickly scooped up the two pistols and slid them into her other holsters and took a look. A giant three of spades glowed on the balcony, and Natalie was a human again, scurrying for cover behind another table. The rain of furniture seemed to have given the mage some pause, so at least it seemed that he could be stopped with overwhelming force. Which, of course, Rie didn't have at the moment.
There was a flash of movement next to Nat. A millisecond after noticing, Rie had identified Cesare crashing into Nat. Fuck. A millisecond after that, Rie noticed glowing white at the top left corner of her vision--right around where that glowing three of spades was shimmering earlier. Fuck.
Rie phased and took off at a dead sprint toward Nat and Cesare. Within the next heartbeat, the running woman's body contorted and morphed into an even faster albino cheetah. The King of Clubs' magical darts shot off from where they were conjured while Rie took seven leaping bounds then jumped into the air. Her body exploded as cells violently shifted and split, and the soaring cheetah was suddenly replaced by a bloodied albino rhinoceros. Most of the darts sunk their way into the rhino's flesh and the rest hit the ground around Cesare and Nat. With the thick skin combined with Mandelbrot's poison, Rie didn't feel a thing. In fact, it was starting to feel kinda nice, and the room was starting to clear up, too. How nice that everyone stopped making loud noises--especially that asshole thumping on the door. Keeps knocking twice but he's probably gonna give up soon because he tries again slower and slower and--
FUCK
Fuzzy in the mind, Rie put every ounce of will she had left into becoming a human again. Her rhinoceros form retreated into the much smaller form of a poorly armed human female, the darts falling away as the flesh they had sunk into disappeared. Fresh, untainted blood started flowing through Rie's brain again, and she immediately took stock of the situation. Before hitting the ground, the girl tucked in her shoulder and pulled into a roll, then in one smooth motion brought out one of her salvaged berettas and shot the metal rod out of Cesare's hand.
"Mr. Giarrettiera, you are now under my protection and I very strongly advise you to not engage Ms. Ulima."
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 1, 2016 12:49:36 GMT -5
It was the skinny bitch from the train, Nepas, who'd come strolling in with Brogue earlier. Fucking amazing. She really couldn't tell when a deal had gone south? -- "The hell I want with your protection?" Cesare demanded. That was Massimo, that pigliainculo, thinking he could play ball with these freaks. Not the way of the new regime. Leave it to him, Cesare would've seen Brogue's head topping the flagpole over city hall. Really send a message. Then see if the Brit with the mask would've tried starting shit with them. Probably would've gotten a box of chocolates from that Commissioner, too. If there was something he could see eye-to-eye on with the cops. Nepas didn't know the tide when it changed, that was on her.
Still... It wasn't that Cesare redoubled his attack on the green-hair. Actually he lingered, hesitating. The pain was eating its way up both his arms, and there was a new and stinging pain in his leg, and his head was ringing, and he had no weapon. The momentum wasn't there. Why was no one rallying to his side? He could make out other black shapes around the perimeter of the room, but no one would approach him. He'd made himself a target. Then fine, let the cowards hide. He was beginning to get a sense of who his real friends were. Only let him sit down a minute. The leg was howling.
He really should've been capable of so much more, but in this pause, the least he could bear himself up for was to launch a gob of saliva at the woman on the floor.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Apr 22, 2016 15:11:17 GMT -5
Natalie had kicked off of the flying albino rhino’s side as it came barreling through, using its momentum to fling her further towards the edge of the room. She’d lost the element of surprise, and this scrum with the brute was costing her way more momentum than it was worth... She needed to find a new angle to approach the fight from.
It was then that a staggered Rie emerged from inside the soaring pachyderm, and told Natalie the fun was over. Fine by her... Cesare was just a guard dog, all bark unless you got in range of the short leash his owners kept him on. If he wasn’t going to get in her way, all the better. Natalie began standing up, and then felt something wet and hot on her cheek.
Her first instinct told her she’d been shot, and she flinched for cover. It was only when she pawed her cheek, and it came away slimy, that she realized that the Mafia goon had spat on her. Motherfucking spat on her.
To say this would not do wasn't quite putting it in enough detail. This would be undone. Nullified- No, fuck it, she was goin’a murder a bitch.
“AUGH! YOU COCKSUCKER!” She bellowed, her primal scream echoing over the gunfire even as she flickered into nothingness. She reappeared standing inches from Cesare, gleaming coiled blades lashing from each hand. The shapeshifter took a step in-
PAK! Natalie foundered, falling short and dropping to her knee. Pity- Her next move would have been cleaving Cesare from throat on through and balls on up. She shoulder-rolled away from him, not leaving herself vulnerable to any more salivary retorts. How’d he manage to shoot her? A deliberate gun-cock came from her left, and Natalie shot a glance to the side. Rie was already pointing her gun away to cover another threat, but her message came across loud and clear. BOTH of them had to behave themselves. Natalie took a few deep, panting breaths, moreso to calm her rage than to help the pain of getting shot in the leg.
“Fine then. Better get your guardian angel one hell of a fruit basket after this is over, fuckwit,” She muttered, stalking away to find her next target.
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Post by ch00beh on May 7, 2016 11:27:22 GMT -5
"Thanks, Nat. Mr. Giarrettiera, I advise you find some cover." Rie turned to Cesare and dashed at him before he could really react. She grabbed him by the wrist, her grip closer to that of a vice than a 22 year old girl. In one quick motion, she flipped the big man onto her shoulders and phased out as a spray of gunfire flew their way. She jogged to the nearest pile of debris for cover and gently--for some definition of gently--set him down. Cesare was scowling again, and the vein in his forehead was threatening to explode. Rie didn't seem to take notice as she produced the second pistol she looted and held the hand grip for him to take. OOC: I keep accidentally typing Mr. Borgia
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