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AEsob
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#31

Posted 06 March 2016 - 01:15 AM

sh*t got serious

 

Wow

 

Mokrie...


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#32

Posted 06 March 2016 - 02:02 AM

Andre Vaughn stared at the worn door of the bar, and then looked back down at his feet. Thoughts rushed through his mind as he stood, the cold air whipping against his face. The first thing, and the most important thing in his mind, was the seediness of the establishment.

You would never have thought of the place as a dusty, rotting hole in the middle of a once prosperous Industrial district. The Yelp reviews didn't make it seem like it, anyway. Andre pondered this as he stroked his hand across the door, in an attempt to feel the jagged edges and torn off pieces. There were several.

Andre sighed. "You can do this, just... just don' be shy..." He whispered to himself, trying to comfort himself in the face of human interaction. "How bad can it be?" He eyed the strange looking man staring at him a few feet away, and stepped inside.

Swinging open the door in a meek stride, it was pretty bad. The wallpaper, what very little of it, was torn and in poor shape - not to mention an incredibly bland color. The floor was dirtied and worn, and also in a bland color that hurt Andre's eyes every time he looked at the floor. The eyes of a few other patrons, a bunch of threatening looking folks Andre could've seen in just about any setting back in Germantown. Eyes stayed on him as he walked to the bar, possibly mahogany, and sat down.

The bartender sneered. "So... er..."
Andre looked around and sighed. "Y'all have some... Coro-"
"No." The barkeep said. "We, er... we only serve AMERICAN."
"f*ck, dude, really?" Andre tutted. "How the f*ck did y'all get 4 stars on Yelp, then?"
"Shut it, mouthy." The barkeep responded. "Now order somethin' or get the f*ck out."
"Er..." Andre sorted through the small catalogue of American brands in his head. "Just... some Budweiser?"
"That ain't American."
"f*ck it, Jack, then. Fine."

The barkeep sighed, and then poured a drink for Andre. Andre begrudgingly accepted, and walked towards a table with his beverage. As he headed away, the barkeep spat in Andre's direction.

LOCATION: Main Ro- I mean, Foyer

arch stanton
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#33

Posted 06 March 2016 - 06:30 AM Edited by athande, 06 March 2016 - 06:49 AM.

He brushed back his thick, black hair and heard the leather of the steering wheel being crushed by his corse fingers. A balaclava sat lightly on the top of his head. Gurdeep Singh was pissed off. An old buddy of his had vanished off his cartels radar after accidentally snitching about their entire organisation. They were both now being watched closely by the feds.. well, atleast, they were before both of them departed Mumbai International Airport in a cat and mouse chase. They both wanted each other dead.

 

"What's his name again?" asked a tall and pale Dutch man, peering over from the dark back seat of the Escalade, loading his Mossberg 500 - sitting beside Singhs brother, Carlos. 

 

"It's Rudra," Carlos answered, knowing Gurdeep was furious. Carlos tapped away with the laptop on his lap. He had managed to gain access to an old NSA satellite server - which was used last in January of 2005. "He's about 15 minutes away from that sh*thole excuse of a bar," Carlos continued. Little did Rudra know was that his own GPS device was being tracked, "It seems like he's not alone," and the four of them were all in danger. 

 

"That little sh*t thinks he can get away with putting everybody in jeopardy!" he makes a harsh U-turn and heads off the express way.. down into the very filth and grit of the industrial industry. They were close. The dutch and Carlos slipped their balaclavas over their faces - armed and dangerous. They were going to play it safe. Although it seemed like Gur was the most unpredictable out of the three, he was ambitious, calculating and most of all furiously loyal - until now.

 

Carlos brought his silenced colt 1911 to the Dutchs head. Click. And blew his brains out. A nice wet and messy blood puddle splattered on the glass.

 

Scooping up the shotgun, Carlos spoke "That's how you kill two birds with one stone.. well, kind of.."

 

"Is he wired?" Gur yelled out. Making a right into a quiet parking lot.

 

Across the street in the alley, he could see the four of them.

 

A woman was there too.. and she had jumped in front of a gun. What the f*ck is happening, he thought? He could had easily run all of them down, but decided he would savor the moment. 

 

Carlos ripped open the rats black buttoned up shirt. "Yes," before ripping the sticky tape from his chest and crunching the small mic in his hand. "What a dead sh*t," he scuffled the dead mans pockets and found two separate passports. "What the f*ck. He wasn't even Dutch. He's.. he was a New Zealander... f*cking kiwi.."

 

Gur wasn't phased. He'd seem many rats come and go. This wasn't anything different, or was it? He shut off his headlights fast and lit a Romeo Y Julieta, as Slipping into darkness played on the radio quietly in the background.

 

"What now?" asked his brother.

 

"We wait."

 

He was stinging for a shot of whiskey.. wait, Gur, that's the reward.

 

Location: 15 minutes away from The Bar.

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SRB
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#34

Posted 06 March 2016 - 09:04 AM Edited by SRB, 06 March 2016 - 09:06 AM.

"Karma" "Karma will get me" "Karma always wins" "Should I just give up now?" Tyrell Blackwell continues to gaze at the view of the balcony, thinking back to himself about his own past. His mother didn't want to be involved in his life at a very early age and decided that the door was more promising then the responsibility she had with him. His father had better morals, taking on the responsibility to keep and take care of young Tyrell. Yet, his father didn't know how to care for a child. His father wasn't home most of the time,  leading to Tyrell teaching himself how to be a man, or so he thought. He taught himself to shave, how to drive, how to do everyday normal things men do as they grow up. When his father was around, he resorted to physical violence first, before trying other means of punishment. One day, he finally had enough. At eighteen years old he took a backpack worth of clothes, the little cash he had and followed in his mothers footsteps. "She'd be proud" Winter wasn't the smartest month to be a rebel. It was cold, harsh and unforgiving when you don't have a bed, roof, or warmth. He justified small time robbery, figuring that "the universe" gave him a sh*t life, so he deserved to make it sh*tty for other people. He never liked that logic, and he usually didn't think about it. 

 

"I've wronged too many people already, six months in on my own, and the amount of people I've jumped.. karma will get me soon."  "I'm better then this, I've told myself so many times how well I could do if I was on my own and look at me? I'm a petty thief and I don't even have a roof. f*ck it, if karma's coming then so be it. I deserve it." 


AEsob
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#35

Posted 06 March 2016 - 10:02 AM Edited by AEsob, 06 March 2016 - 11:24 AM.

Out of the corner of his eye Rudra saw a black Escalade pull into a parking lot half a block away.

 

He put his gun down, and smiled. He politely asked 'Santa Claus' to let the woman go.

 

Rudra was back in his game, in all his brutal glory.

 

An old friend was here. His target had walked right into his trap.

 

He scratched his somewhat twisted, but ultimately straight nose. The jet lag had eaten up his reflexes and the lack of sleep meant he could not think as clearly as he normally does.

 

But he had somewhat of an idiot streak sometimes. It was funny, most of the times he was cold, brutally efficient and an excellent tactician, but some times he turned into a dimwitted rookie again, charged head first into the fray without thinking of the measures he was supposed to take and the countermeasures his enemy could apply.

 

His disarmament at the hands of two so-called professionals could attest to that, it had been an idiotic move. What was he thinking? He should have let Trenchcoat talk to him while he kept Tom at gunpoint.

 

He ultimately was a contract killer. Three years he had spent in deep cover in the Punjabi-Colombian cartel, rising through the ranks, earning trust and weakening Gurdeep.

 

Gurdeep Singh. Sala chutiya.

 

A deranged murderer, hotheaded coke dealer and kidnapper extraordinaire.

 

Bribing the right politicians meant he was untouchable. Local product, foreign...Gurdeep would procure and sell everything, of every kind.

 

It was that foreign product that got him in Rudra's crosshairs. He'd kidnapped some European billionaire's son and daughter. They were seen in the back of a cartel truck.

 

They were sixteen.

 

The client had offered fifteen million Euros each on Gurdeep and his brother Carlos, and two hundred million Euros, with a new identity and a new life...if he destroyed the entire Cartel. A new life, Rudra would do anything for that. In retrospect, the thirty million deal would've been better.

 

So Rudra had arranged for a fake ambush, and then jumped in and saved Gurdeep's life. Three years later, he was at the very top. It was said that Rudra's personality complimented Gurdeep's. The tall, athletic, cold and calculating Bengali and the Heavy set, hot headed, ambitious Punjabi.

 

Rudra had obtained multiple files containing every deal The Cartel had ever made, every bank account they used, every email account with the passwords. Records of arms trafficking, human trafficking, briberies, clients...everything was compromised. Later that day, Rudra was on a roof in the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport in Mumbai, armed with a Sero GM-6 .50BMG semi-automatic sniper rifle, ready to gun down Gurdeep and Carlos before they could board the plane. Two targets, and a few seconds between them. That was why the sniper rifle was semi-automatic.

 

But Gurdeep had known. In the three years he'd spent observing Gurdeep, Gurdeep had observed him, too. There was another sniper. Rudra had not seen it coming, a sniper who had his sights on Rudra.

 

It was a close range shot, 500 metres, and BOOM-clack. He was the ghor, he never missed. Blood and brains stained the tarmac that day, but it was the sniper's head that had exploded. By the time he had retrained his sights on Gurdeep, it was already too late, they'd boarded.

 

He killed many more men that day. Cartel men. What was supposed to be a clean hit had turned into a breakneck game of cat and mouse.

 

In frustration, he'd emptied all ten rounds of his Elite P500 on the last man he'd killed.

 

But today was the day when he killed Gurdeep.

He knew he was here, so he sent his U.S. based simcard, the one he was using now...and Rudra knew because it was him who set that phone up...a text:

Gurdeep, my old friend

Seems you're here. That was a good one, I hadn't expected it.

What are you up to?

Here to settle the score?

You had a sniper in Mumbai, nice gift...regardless, I'll hope you like MY gift.

Tell Carlos to check his phone.


The idiot Carlos didn't change his phone, as it was expected. He knew because the tracking software he'd pulled off CIA showed that it was downloading area maps.

That phone had a bomb in it, enough to kill a man. He called it in.

 

He'd have loved to see the expression on Gurdeep's face.


countingfingers
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#36

Posted 06 March 2016 - 12:31 PM Edited by countingfingers, 06 March 2016 - 01:32 PM.

What a day this seemed to become. What a lovely one, indeed. "Ah, so you finally came to your senses and freed me, eh?" Elizabeth muttered, " I'll call you 'Bad Rhinoplasty', ok?" Bad Rhinoplasty seemed to ignore her comment entirely, continuing to focus on the vehicle before him. Elizabeth's arm wrapped around her rib, she wasn't quite sure what the Hell was going on.

Who the f*ck was that guy in the van? What are they talking about? It wasn't relevant. What was more important was whether she'll get to keep the new villain, toy with him. Break him.

She released the strap carrying her pistol, pulling out the goods, and aiming it in such an odd manner. The gun was turned 90º from the intended position, then had the opposite hand hold a knife. It's as though she saw the stance in a movie, but couldn't get right, even if she tried.

"Do we fire upon them? I want them, I want to destroy them," she rambled, "Is this the guy? Is it?!" Her hands trembled with excitement. She'd never had such rush like this.

Mokrie Dela
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#37

Posted 06 March 2016 - 01:12 PM Edited by Mokrie Dela, 06 March 2016 - 01:15 PM.

Damn athende, nice


"Singh..." Tom stepped back, not concerned with the deranged woman or the vehicle. "That means."

"Yes," his associate said with a nod. "Ding-ding," he growled, turning to the Indian. "Supra, whatever your name is. Do you know of Singh's Ghost-Soldiers?"

The Indian shook his head.

"If you're looking to kill Singh, then somethings gone wrong. We were hired because Singh has dispatched one of his best men after you. Ghost Soldiers, called so because they're apparently invisible, and can't be killed."

"A bullsh*t myth," the man said. "Everyone can be killed."

"And yet you still live," Tom said with a smile. He couldn't resist poking the old lion.

"Here's the deal," the man said. "We know these soldiers. Hell, Tom's worked with them. Personally, I'd happily shoot you, curry-face." He turned to the woman. "And you're so crazy it's like you're getting wet with all this; I'd f*ck you so hard our kid would be born nine months later will be having an orgasm when he pops out."

The woman pulled her head back at the grotesque imagery. "Not the best chat up line," she said.

"Well maybe later, we can discuss that with cigarets."

"Let's stay on topic, old chap."

The man nodded. "We all need a little R&R. She's turned on by gun, so forgive me for wanting to put a gun in-"

"Singh's man," Tom said, cutting off his associate's vile digression. "He's our target. We take him out so you can take Singh out."

"But maybe," the man said. "You can cut us in on what you got going on..."

Rudra blinked. "I told you, I'm just a hitman."

Tom shook his head. "No low level gunner would be sent after Singh. You must be good enough, so you just have your thumbs in other pies."

"What about me?" The woman asked.

"I don't know," the man said with a sideways glance, a suggestive glance. "What [/i]about[/I] you?"

Tom was surprised the man didn't wink. "You dirty old bastard."


Edit: I'm losing track of what's going on! Damned flu. Apologies if I've shot off the wire

AEsob
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#38

Posted 06 March 2016 - 03:45 PM Edited by AEsob, 06 March 2016 - 03:47 PM.

Umm, Mokrie, can you edit that super soldier part out?

 

Thing is, I've mentioned that Rudra was Singh's full partner at a point, so, he'd know about the Predator wannabes.

 

Second, I think Rudra's already mentioned he's the ghor. Although it might have just been that Tom and Trenchcoat man didn't hear him properly.

 

Third, Does nobody really seem to care that I blew Carlos' head off?

 

Just wonderin'

 

AEsob

 

BTW, Trenchcoat man sure knows how to insult people...I just hope he doesn't get on Rudra's nerves. Because if he does, out comes the god of fury.


countingfingers
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#39

Posted 06 March 2016 - 03:49 PM

Yeah, I was kinda lost with the "Ghost-Soldier." Thought it was gonna turn into some MGS type sh*t.

AEsob
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#40

Posted 06 March 2016 - 04:11 PM

Yeah, I was kinda lost with the "Ghost-Soldier." Thought it was gonna turn into some MGS type sh*t.

 

MGSV TPP, the skulls unit...none of us is 'Big Boss' with Quiet for a buddy, sleep grenades and the Brennan sniper rifle.


Mokrie Dela
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#41

Posted 06 March 2016 - 04:15 PM Edited by Mokrie Dela, 06 March 2016 - 04:16 PM.

Whoever said that my characters were being truthful? ;) they could be talking bullsh*t
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countingfingers
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#42

Posted 06 March 2016 - 04:17 PM

Yeah, I was kinda lost with the "Ghost-Soldier." Thought it was gonna turn into some MGS type sh*t.

 
MGSV TPP, the skulls unit...none of us is 'Big Boss' with Quiet for a buddy, sleep grenades and the Brennan sniper rifle.
Yep, and being a long time fan I was a bit disappointed with that game.

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#43

Posted 06 March 2016 - 04:19 PM

Whoever said that my characters were being truthful? ;) they could be talking bullsh*t

 

Uhm...well then, Bullsh*t it is.

 

AEsob


countingfingers
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#44

Posted 06 March 2016 - 04:21 PM

Whoever said that my characters were being truthful? ;) they could be talking bullsh*t

 
Uhm...well then, Bullsh*t it is.
 
AEsob
K, so we know that the Ghost-Unit is some bullsh*t, or the sorts. Perhaps an elite unit of gangsters, if possible?

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#45

Posted 06 March 2016 - 04:22 PM Edited by AEsob, 06 March 2016 - 04:31 PM.

Sorry double post; in my defence, my connection is acting kinda up.

 

AEsob


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#46

Posted 06 March 2016 - 04:36 PM

 

 

Whoever said that my characters were being truthful? ;) they could be talking bullsh*t

 
Uhm...well then, Bullsh*t it is.
 
AEsob
K, so we know that the Ghost-Unit is some bullsh*t, or the sorts. Perhaps an elite unit of gangsters, if possible?

 

 

Oh I now, Cartel heavies. Since Carlos lost his head, literally, It'd be kinda unfair if Gurdeep has to go against Psycholops, Tommy, Fart-cough and Rudra, it'd be kinda bad.

 

If someone's wondering, Rudra is pronounced with an 'o' at the end.

 

AEsob 


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#47

Posted 06 March 2016 - 04:38 PM Edited by countingfingers, 06 March 2016 - 04:39 PM.

 

 

Whoever said that my characters were being truthful? ;) they could be talking bullsh*t

 
Uhm...well then, Bullsh*t it is.
 
AEsob
K, so we know that the Ghost-Unit is some bullsh*t, or the sorts. Perhaps an elite unit of gangsters, if possible?
 
 
Oh I now, Cartel heavies. Since Carlos lost his head, literally, It'd be kinda unfair if Gurdeep has to go against Psycholops, Tommy, Fart-cough and *Bad Rhinoplasty, it'd be kinda bad.
 
If someone's wondering, Rudra is pronounced with an 'o' at the end.
 
AEsob 

Fixed it for you.

AEsob
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#48

Posted 06 March 2016 - 04:41 PM

 

 

 

 

Whoever said that my characters were being truthful? ;) they could be talking bullsh*t

 
Uhm...well then, Bullsh*t it is.
 
AEsob
K, so we know that the Ghost-Unit is some bullsh*t, or the sorts. Perhaps an elite unit of gangsters, if possible?
 
 
Oh I now, Cartel heavies. Since Carlos lost his head, literally, It'd be kinda unfair if Gurdeep has to go against Psycholops, Tommy, Fart-cough and *Bad Rhinoplasty, it'd be kinda bad.
 
If someone's wondering, Rudra is pronounced with an 'o' at the end.
 
AEsob 

Fixed it for you.

 

 

Guys keep this up and I might just laugh for the first time in over a year.


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#49

Posted 06 March 2016 - 05:12 PM Edited by Mokrie Dela, 06 March 2016 - 05:13 PM.

To clarify, the ghost soldiers was referring to skilled goons, simply having a reputation that elevated them to an almost mythical level. You know how local legends spring up about a ghost, which turns out to be something rather dull, like a neighbours cat.

And yes, these men might not necessarily be on the level. They have their own agenda. I'm trying to throw curveballs that you guys can bounce off of

Aesob, you should go to comedy shows at a local club if you have them. Thinners are always funnier when not alone

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#50

Posted 06 March 2016 - 06:00 PM Edited by countingfingers, 06 March 2016 - 06:48 PM.

The alley was uncomfortably silent. Elizabeth impatiently rubbing her jittery finger against the trigger. She couldn't wait any longer. Why is it taking so long?

"Hey! Are we gonna kill or what? I can't take it anymore! It's just too exciting, too fun, too chaotic!" She maniacly shouted. A grin crossed her face, greatly pleased with the outcome of the scenario. The Man, or the dirty pervert, seemed to notice her impatience.

"What do you say?" He grunted, "What's our next action, Curry-Face?" Elizabeth's eye turned to Bad Rhinoplasty, giving a look similar to a puppy asking for a treat.

Rhinoplasty stood idle for a good moment, rubbing his neck like it was a genie bottle.

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#51

Posted 06 March 2016 - 06:59 PM Edited by SRB, 06 March 2016 - 07:05 PM.

"Back to usual" he mutters to himself as he makes his way down the stairs. He examines the main bar room, examining the room from one side to the other. "Just all about timing." Molly shares a smile at him as he grabs a stool. This smile was a question, asking what you want to drink without actually saying a word. "Just a coke please" Tyrell says almost to quiet to hear. The bartender hits him with a crooked glance, seeming almost confused before then nodding, and pouring him the beverage. Drinking it very slowly, he keeps his eyes trained on the register. "Finally" Molly opens the register, beginning to count the money inside. Tyrell seizes the oppurtunity, moving quickly towards the bathroom. Half way there he pauses, flipping the light switch. The lights go off. "What the f*ck?" The bartender says, frozen for a moment. The pirate dart player didn't seem to notice, or care maybe and continued tossing darts in the dark. As Molly made her way for the light switch, Tyrell made his way for the open register. "Be quick be quick" repeats itself in his mind as he grabs as much as his hands could take. The lights are switched back on as he circles back around the bar. "HEY!" Molly screams as he rushes for the door. Tyrell didn't worry about outrunning her. He had been chased so many times on foot, he figured himself to be a pro at them now. As he reaches for the front door in a rush, the door opens itself infront of him. It was a gritty bearded man coming inside of the bar at the same time. Tyrell plows into this man, almost in a full sprint. The impact was the same as if a car ran into a building, he was dead stopped, and fell backwords to the floor. "I guess Karma came early" he says aloud, smiling as he looks up at the bartender and the irishmen.

 

Location: The front door/entrance to "The Bar". The irishmen/bearded man is obviously the owner Kieran. 


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#52

Posted 06 March 2016 - 07:53 PM Edited by Ziggy455, 07 March 2016 - 06:53 AM.

Sal Brutelli was a large man. Actually, to say he was large was an understatement to the word large. Sal Brutelli was a hulking mass of muscle and fat, reigning at over six feet, with a Herculean build. Each thick leg moved though the snow like a huge truck, paving lanes for oncoming vehicles with a slow, sluggish procession.

    

Sal Brutelli slipped his old, partially numb hands in his pockets and sniffed loudly. The cold air wasn’t nearly as piercing as the news he’d gotten which continued to swim around his head. “Head-on collision. Nothing anybody could do in this weather. I’m sorry, Mister Brutelli.”

 

“Did he die quick?”

 

“Instantly.”

 

My boy, he thought. Thirty five years old and already dead. What kind of life was that? He kept moving forward through the white, noticing the red neon sign ahead that cascaded the white with a tinge of bright crimson. The neon words BAR was loudly screaming out, occasionally flickering to the rhythm of a distant L-Train running over rickety tracks. The cacophony of intermittent honks, beep, metallic scrapes, and the pungent odor of oil were all mixed together in a quartet of industrial ambience.

 

He approached the joint slowly, without a care in the world in those particular moments where inebriation overtook his main goals in life. He slipped in past some kid and another guy giving them both a slight nod. “Thanks,” he said, not realizing how old and raspy his voice had become.

 

He stepped inside completely, wiping off snow and sleet and looked around. The bar was pretty full, with riff-raff inside ranging from dock workers to warehouse operatives. There was an ocean of high-visibility jackets and the pungent odor of ammonia and cigarette-ash in the air.

 

As he stepped forward he was met with a nod from the main bar; Kieran beckoned him over and slammed a bottle of Glenlivet down with two glasses. “Thanks,” said Sal as he sat down on the nearest stool that creaked under the weight.

 

“I heard the news this morning. My ex-lass is still good chums with Matilda.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“c*nt,” they both mumbled to each other simultaneously. They shared a brief exchange of rasps and then Kieran’s thick, scarred hand slipped the cap off the bottle and he began to pour.

 

“Bottle’s free—drink it up.”

 

“Thanks, Key, I appreciate that.” The two clinked glasses.

 

Sal didn’t know exactly when he’d come to rely on the booze. As far as he knew, he came from an Italian family, and while his father was always working on the docks, it was his mother who seemed to enjoy the alcohol more. When he dropped out of school, his father had already gone and it was when he relied on his mother more that he found solace in the booze himself. Then the fighting started and things changed, if only for a little while.

 

“How do we deal with somethin’ like this?” asked Sal.

 

“No idea, mate. All I know is that no man should see his son die.”

 

“I never saw the kid, Key. Look at me. I didn’t see him for five years and boom, the call comes in and it’s just all over.

 

Sal slipped off his leather jacket and rubbed his scarred, heavy-set face. His eyelids drooped, hiding blood-shot eyes, while his face seemed to be one chiseled from stone. His thick, black hair was beginning to thin from the back, and as he eyed himself in the mirror, the question of how long seemed to set in his mind.

 

“Hey—“ the Irishman pointed a finger at him. “Your kid coulda called you too.”

 

 

“No point trying to find a way out with it. We both know I’m not worth that. I f*cked up. I f*cked up a lot, Key.”

 

“It’s in our nature to f*ck up, Sal.”

 

Bodies moved behind Sal and nudged him forcefully. Sal didn’t move but felt the force of their push. “Move yourself, you old piece of sh*t.”

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled back without looking.

 

Kieran shot a finger to one of the bodies and gritted his teeth. “Watch your f*ckin’ mouth.”

 

Sal raised his hand lazily as if to swat a fly. “Come on, Key, leave it alone.”

 

“You gotta get out this slump,” replied Kieran, his attention diverted.

 

“Ain’t no point anymore,” he replied as the jukebox in the corner began to quietly play a regular rhythm. 

 

LOCATION: Main Room.


arch stanton
  • arch stanton

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#53

Posted 07 March 2016 - 01:12 AM Edited by athande, 07 March 2016 - 01:22 AM.

"He wants you to call him.." Gur said, chuckling softly and shaking my head. "Does he really think that - " boom! The glass in the car shattered and made a crackling landing onto the cold pavement outside. His cigar dropped onto his lap, burning a hole. Carlos, the impulsive dip sh*t had called him. "What the f*ck?" he screamed, turning around only to see his brothers hunched over body - brain matter everywhere.. before ducking and grabbing the duffle bag that laid in between where the fed and his dead brother sat.

 

Zipping the black bag open, he pulled out an M16. Cocking it, before staying silent. The music on the radio continued playing softly in the background. There was shell shock. Why had it come to this? Better yet, how did Rudra know Gur was following him.. how did he track his phone? These thoughts began to clot Gur's mind. Glass slowly slipped off the dashboard onto him, as he stayed huddled infront of the glovebox. It was four against one. The odds weren't looking good. The two had history despite them becoming enemies, so he opened the drivers door of the car, and slowly climbed out. Looking at them. Holding up his M16.

 

"Rudra..." Gur yelled out. "Why would you do this to me?" he emptied his ammunition onto the ground beside him - it making a clattering. He then tossed the rifle aside, looking at the silhouettes of the thugs. He couldn't make out which one was Rudra. "You snitched about my entire organisation.. tried to kill me after fleeing the country.. you.. killed my brother.." he called out, feeling rage deep inside. "I hope your buddies know how much of a backstabbing rat you are... if I were you guys, I wouldn't touch that 'Sammy the bull' with a ten foot poll.." Gur began to walk slowly towards the group. "Carlos used an old NSA database to find you.. but there's only one explanation as to why you would be able to plant an explosive device in my device... you're working with the feds.." he stopped walking.. his tracks stop dead centre in the middle of the street. He held a hidden shard of glass in his hand from the car, "So if you're going to kill me.. atleast give your friend a hug?" his arms now stretched out, like christ. 

 

Location: 15 minutes away from The Bar.


AEsob
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#54

Posted 07 March 2016 - 01:47 AM Edited by AEsob, 07 March 2016 - 02:18 AM.

Rudra was laughing like he was mad.

 

He probably was mad.

 

"I'm with the feds? I killed forty cops at the airport, and twenty more of your men. If the cops catch me, I'm dead, gone. You know why I was able to plant that device? Because I knew that your little idiot brother Carlos didn't change his phones every week, like you and I do."

 

Gurdeep had dropped his arms.

 

"Alright, you people wanted to know who I was? I'll tell you. Rudra Sen, known in professional circles as the ghor, I am an assassin. I spent three years in your Cartel, trying to earn your trust before I sprung my trap, hell, even the ambush I rescued you from was staged. There's two hundred million euros for me if I take your Cartel out. I just did. The Cartel's finished, I blew up idiot brother Carlos. Now, it's just you."

 

Gurdeep slowly started smiling, the betrayal had been too much. Initially he wanted to know how could Rudra betray him like that, but he figured he'd get his answers from that f*ck's mangled corpse.

 

By this time, Trenchcoat man and his best pal Tommy were intently staring first at Rudra and then at themselves. They knew that Rudra had been hiding something, that he was an elite assassin and that there was a 200 million Euro price on Singh's head.

 

Suddenly from behind Gurdeep,  metal canisters rolled out, the Tear gas in them disorienting the others and making Trenchcoat man cough up blood.

 

The Cartel Heavies, Gur's super soldiers were here.

 

AEsob

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Damn. Curveballs all around. Gurdeep sounded a little too easy to kill.


countingfingers
  • countingfingers

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#55

Posted 07 March 2016 - 02:41 AM Edited by countingfingers, 07 March 2016 - 02:44 AM.

Through the cloud of tear gas, armed men stormed in. Their movements were in perfect sync, marching in like they were rehearing a play. Elizabeth's vision was blurred and her eye was burning. Despite the unfortunate disadvantage, she could still make out their basic appearance of the mysterious new foe. Whatever mafia this was seemed to have crafted a paramilitary force.

Armed with sophisticated weaponry, ammo vests, and tactical equipment made them seem like a force to be reckoned with, but still managed to dress unprofessionally. Their clothing was rugged, torn, or distasteful. The men all seemed to hold their position around the mysterious gang boss, their sights placed on the alley. "Damn it," Trench-Coat coughed, "It's them."

Tommy attempted to drag the incapacitated coughing man to a cover, while still being in pain from the gas himself. "C'mon, old timer, now's not the time."

"Oh sh*t, it's them. I know them, I know them. Well, I used to know them," Elizabeth grinned while bouncing like a child, seemingly playful and afraid simultaneously, "This is amazing! Just amazing!" Tear gas flowed through the alley, blanketing it in the blinding substance.

They were outnumbered. Troops sprouted from the opposite end of the alley and readied themselves in a mirroring position of the opposite squad. And now they're surrounded. "I was setup," Rudra growled, rubbing his jacket along his eyes.

"Yes, you were, old friend," Gurdeep chuckled, "You've deceived me, you've betrayed me, and so I must exterminate you."

The soldiers steadied their weapons, looking for a better shot of the silhouettes in the alley.


"This is your end, Ghor."


-------------------------------------
I've taken the liberty in describing the enemy. I want to make them seem powerful, but still very gang-like.

arch stanton
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#56

Posted 07 March 2016 - 02:47 AM Edited by athande, 07 March 2016 - 03:27 AM.

Gunfire outbroke in the midst of the tear gas and smoke grenades. A woman screamed. There was a constant rattling of gunfire from the man's direction. Then, after roughly thirty seconds.. there was silence, as the smoke cleared. Gur crawled on the road, as bodies of his ghost soldiers laid scattered about. His body was laced with bullet holes. Blood oozed out of all his pores, and he coughed up chunks of it. However, he hadn't been shot at by the four of them. No, his ghost soldiers had shot him - then themselves. Yes, he may had been hit a few times by the man or Rudra - but what ultimately put him in this grave situation was his own men.

 

He laughed, causing some more blood to spurt out onto the ground, "You really aren't the brightest, Rudra.. never have been," Gur rolled onto his side, slipping out a flask of whiskey.. the reward. "You don't think we're both being watched by the feds right now? And who's side do you think they're on? Yours, of course. You're their pawn. And now that you've caught me.. they're slowly going to continue watching you.. day and night, before one day - unexpectedly, you'll face court.." he coughed some more, taking a swig from the flask. "It's been game over for me for a long time. And my soldiers knew that. I told them, if there was ever a time that my death was about to be faced.. to kill me, and themselves.. because in the end, there's no escape from the law.." Singh finished the flask and dropped it weakly. 

 

You seemed confused, and a little shocked. 

 

Gur climbed to his knees - his body slowly shutting down. "But mark my words.. you know my connections.. and you better hope the feds get a hold of you before one of my many men come and hunt you down.. but in the unfortunate situation that they arrest you tomorrow.. I know people in prison, and I'm not just talking about the prisoners.. also, the other dead person in the car was an informant.. they're watching," he held the glass shard in front of himself, "Goodbye, Rudra," he dropped onto it. It penetrated his chest, and dug right into his heart. There's a constant flow of blood, and he shook a little before there was no sign of life. 

 

---

 

I thought I'd just end this character, before things got out of control. 

In reference to rule 2#


countingfingers
  • countingfingers

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#57

Posted 07 March 2016 - 02:56 AM

Holy sh*t, sh*t really hit the fan. No, in fact, sh*t sent the fan flying across the pacific oceon.

Don't think the woman screaming bit sounds like something I invisioned, but no matter.
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AEsob
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#58

Posted 07 March 2016 - 03:01 AM Edited by AEsob, 07 March 2016 - 03:49 PM.

Rudra was angry. His Elite P500 was smoking. Trying to shoot in both directions with just a derringer in your offhand is quite disorienting.

 

He slowly walked over to Gur's body and emptied the rest of his magazine into the corpse.

 

In the end, none of Gur's connections would matter. Rudra had exposed every single one of them, and implicated whoever he thought might stir up trouble. He'd deleted and cleaned every hard drive that contained the original documents, removed his name from every one of them, added whatever names he though were troublesome and then leaked them all over the Internet.

 

He'd not been sloppy about it.

 

Cabinet Ministers, NGOs, Chiefs of Police, Governors, Mayors...many people were caught in the net. There was enough turmoil in the country for them to mount a witch hunt.

 

He'd done it, hadn't he?

 

He'd brought down the Cartel. Then he had gunned down the only two people who really understood him.

 

He was a very rich man man now, so maybe 20 million euros would be enough to bribe the cops? Everyone had a price, plus, it was not like he couldn't tie up all the loose ends and get out of there any minute.

 

He'd have a nose job first, then buy a house in South of France, and settle down. Live peacefully. He'd successfully bury the gun.

 

Then he noticed Psycholops. She was shot from behind.

 

He went over to the crazy woman, she was whimpering with the pain. Any one would. A 5.56*45 mm bullet from behind was a serious problem.

 

The upside down tree had a large red blot in its bark

 

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Aww, come on. Athende, I feel a little bad about Gur.

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countingfingers
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#59

Posted 07 March 2016 - 03:47 AM Edited by countingfingers, 07 March 2016 - 04:37 AM.

The pain was unbearable. Elizabeth's shaking fingers were drenched in blood. Never had she seen such excitement before, never has she felt such pain. She studied the scene, a gruesome, tragic scene. The scene of beauty in her eyes.

She wasn't quite sure what to do. She slowly and painfully dug into her pocket, noticing that she only had a remaining 2 magazines, two of four. How many did she hit? Did she hit any at all? Rhinoplasty seemed to come to aid the wounded psychopath.

What a sight. She thought of how excellent of a painting this would be. How tragic of a painting it would be. She would be the fallen muse, surrounded by the corpses of many men. The artist would put extreme focus on the woman, on her. She laughed.

"'Curiosity Killed the Cat', that would be its name" She groaned, referring to her fictional painting. Rhino initiated his amateur medical procedure.
-------------------------------------------
I've eliminated the final sections.

AEsob
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#60

Posted 07 March 2016 - 03:52 AM

Kid, don't kill Fart-cough, he seems to have a great backstory.





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