Post by Long Richardson on Dec 19, 2012 17:38:00 GMT -5
Long walked out of the cold weather into the equally as cold building silently, still trying to figure out why the female had turned down the opportunity to complete her job without too much hindrance. Maybe she, like some of the fighters he had faced, loved violence and was simply looking for a chance to have fun through a fight to the death. Or maybe she was like him and enjoyed fighting in order to admire another's form and to enjoy the beauty of the fight itself; the graceful ferocity, like tongues of flame dancing around each others, colliding and separating in dazzling pattern.
In the middle of his thinking, he heard the female murmur something and looked up to see some of Anton's brutes aiming guns at her. They spoke among themselves in Russian, which caused Long to not pick up some of the conversation, though he did hear something about a 'wild whore.' He truly hated these Russian dimwits. Long watched with mild reproach as they began to advance upon the female, who backed up into one of the larger guys in Anton's group, which Long suspected were part of some Mafia family that Anton probably worked for. Then kept their guns focused on Jacqueline, however, they were looking at him, as though awaiting an explanation, or possibly some form of order. Long simply glared at the men with a look that spoke of distaste, the same kind a mother gets on her face when a child does something that he knows was not to be done. The men noticed Long's rebuke and lowered their weapons.
The Hapa looked to the man behind their guest and looked back down at the female, trying to decide on something. After a bit of thinking, the male said in his normal monotonous voice "Joseph, tend to Aleksey. He had an... Accident at the cafe."
Long then stepped forward to lightly place his hand on the female's elbow. "I'll be taking you to Anton now."
Jak watched; she always watched, always observed, was always extraordinarily present in the moment. She liked to watch people, not in a creepy way, you understand, but in a way that bettered her ability to do her job properly. 70% of learning is done through observation, and Jak knew that if she watched a blind man manourvering his way around, or a prostitute confidently addressing a client then she could learn to duplicate her actions. This was useful for more subtle purposes too; she was a mean bitch at poker because she falsely created tells, she could manipulate her own behaviour and the behaviour of those around her; all because she had watched and learnt to read people for quite some time. It was fascinating really.
When his hand placed itself on her elbow she smirked, like a cat having caught a delicious mouse and nodded; silent. Letting him lead on.
Post by Long Richardson on Dec 23, 2012 19:57:45 GMT -5
Long sighed as he dropped his head, reaching up with his free hand in order to comb his fingers through his hair. Sad part was, Long was not used to dealing with females... They were not common in his line of work, so this was something relatively new to him. He knew she was a good fighter from what he had seen, but he had no idea why she presented so much of a threat to Anton that he was worried about her 'ruining everything.'
Oh well, time to see what problem she presented. And seeing Anton's reaction to her sudden arrival might be a little entertaining. As that thought crossed his mind, Long reached out to open the door, but moved back as it opened itself and a tall, thin Russian practically ran out of the room. Long was always amused by this man, with his pale complexion and his overly-large ears... Yet his face was flushed red and there was a line of sweat on his brow. The other male looked over the woman briefly before addressing Long in Russian, "Careful. Anton's mood is very shitty."
After the other male walked away, Long shrugged and pushed open the door a little more before walking into the large, lavish room. Although the walls still looked like they belonged to a warehouse, there was a large carpet covering the floor and on the other end of the room sat a large mahogany desk with two leather chairs before it. Behind the desk, two large bookshelves flanked a large, ornate, cushioned chair. In the chair sat the man the two were looking for, Anton Devow, looking quite frustrated. Long addressed the man in an almost casual tone, "Anton, I have someone here to see you. I think you'd like to meet her as well."
What the body guard did not appear to know was that Jak had already met Anton. That she had seen him at the opera, that he had bought her drinks, that he had insisted she join him for dinner. What the poor body guard did not seem to understand was that Jak had been working undercover on this bust for a few weeks now, and the reason Anton wanted to see her was because he had found out that she wasn’t sweet and sexy Summer Smith, but that she was in fact an agent from the CIA here in this cold ass of hell to take him back to the country he had ripped off in order to be trailed ‘fairly’.
Jacequline followed into the large lavish room, her eyes taking in the beautiful desk (possibly a compensation for something else) and then they came up to Anton. He was sat in a chair, looking rather annoyed and so he should be, Jak assumed. But he was a beautiful man, strong shoulders, large deep eyes and a full head of lush dark hair.
As the bodyguard brought her forward, she winked wickedly at her mark and brushed her fingers over her clothes. ”Lovely to see you again, Anton…It’s a shame we had to meet in this situation-“
“Silence!” He snapped, his frustration bubbling over. Then his eyes came back to the bodyguard. “Have her taken out back-get whatever information you can from here and leave her in the snow to rot.” He instructed, hesitating; “And if you can’t manage it get Merlock to do it, understood?”
”Aww, not quiet hello? No declaration of passion this time Anton? Shame…I was beginning to enjoy laughing at you behind your back.”
For a big man he moved quickly, the back of his hand slicing across her face and leaving it red and stinging before she had even finished mocking him. Jak’s head thumped to one side and she tasted blood on her tongue. Her hands curled into fists, but she did not over react, just looked back at him and smiled; ”Now, now, let’s not make this any worse…you’re coming back to America, sweetheart, no matter how many tantrums you pull.”
“Get her out of my sight!” He snapped, storming to his seat once more.
Post by Tyrant Creed on Dec 25, 2012 6:03:43 GMT -5
Tyr had come all this way. And for what? So some Russian prick could piss him off? Hell no. These damn Russians were going to make a deal with him, whether they liked it or not. He didn't care if he had to up the price, or by how much. His organization needed guns, and they needed them now. The situation in Mexico had gone to shit, total clusterfuck. "I don't care how much you think we should pay the fools. We need those guns and no, I will not ask my father for help." Tyr clicked end call on his smartphone, slipping it back into his pocket.
Rubbing his temples, Tyr looked every bit the crime lord he was becoming. He wore a custom tailored, dark Armani suit that fit every part of him perfectly, showing off his athletic form and making his presence and stature seem even more imposing than normal. His deep black hair was combed back, the odd red strands running through it giving it a crimson sheen in certain lights, in a professional business cut. On his right wrist, Tyr wore a rolex, gold of course, studded with a few diamonds. His shoes were of Italian leather, likewise custom made to fit his feet exactly, and the entire ensemble fit together to maximum effect.
Even with such a distinctive appearance, Tyr was so secretive and his contacts so far spread, there were actually five different Interpol files on him and aliases whom they believed to be real people. No one had yet to connect them all. At the sight of this intimidating figure storming back towards the room, the Russian grunts scrambled to clear out of his way as he made his way back into the room.
"Look, be reasonably man. I understand you do not want to become involved in the cartel war-" Tyr began but the words trailed off and died as he saw three newcomers in the room. Two he recognized as working for Anton Devow, the man sitting behind the desk. He always made sure to do his homework. But the third... Tyr had no knowledge of her. He felt as if a large block of ice settled in the pit of his stomach. This was not good, not good at all. She seemed intimately familiar with Anton, which told him they likely were not strangers. No matter. Tyr had bigger problems on his plate.
"And who, pray tell, is this, M. Devow?" Tyr asked, folding his arms over his chest, tilting his head slightly. "They seem to be interrupting. We were discussing business..?" He shot the woman another look. Tyr didnt trust her. There was something... Off, in the way she carried herself. It must have been her extreme confidence. She walked among dangerous men yet acted as if she were the hunter and they the prey. Interesting.
Last Edit: Dec 25, 2012 6:10:10 GMT -5 by Tyrant Creed
Post by Long Richardson on Dec 26, 2012 23:43:38 GMT -5
Long silently took in the female's behavior while she spoke to Anton. From the looks of it, the two had been involved in a more intimate situation than this... “Have her taken out back-get whatever information you can from here and leave her in the snow to rot.” The large man said to Long, then added; “And if you can’t manage it get Merlock to do it, understood?” The Chapa raised one eyebrow in an inquisitive manner, humored by the man speaking in a commanding manner towards him. Long had already established that he was to protect the life of the man and any thing else was optional. He was about to remind Anton of this when the woman spoke up once again.
The female spoke to Anton of how she had enjoyed deceiving him in a haughty manner. When Anton hastily reached out and delivered a blow across the woman's face, Long almost laughed seeing as to how she should have been expecting something like that with the way she was talking. ... And yet she continued to speak out.
She simply smiled and spoke to Anton in a playful tone after receiving his blow. Long felt a small shiver go up his spine as he watched the woman; this was a person with a thoroughly thought out plan.
Then he walked into the room. The man who had been haunting the place for the past two days, trying to get some gun contract out of Anton. He must have been too scared to deal with people higher in the Russian Mafia than Anton, or he was too cheap for it. But the man looked almost like a Mafioso himself. Many people try to look like one and end up failing at it, but this man had not only the style and attitude, but that sense of power emanating from him. It was an aura that spoke of the power and will to do anything to get what he wanted. Long was sure that if he had been blessed with the ability to see the chakra of others, this suited man, named Creed, would have almost no green in him at all.
Long sighed and walked behind Anton's desk, pulling a copy of 20000 Leagues Under the Sea down from the bookshelf and settling himself into one of the leather seats before Devow's desk.
Things kept getting more and more interesting around Anton Devow and Jak was quickly learning that. As the business man, though lets be honest everyone knew he wasn’t an above the board business man, heck Jak could smell the law breaker on most people these days- as the business man came in she watched him really closely, her mind analysing him instantly. She made an array of judgments and discarded most of them to the back of her mind, to Jak they were unimportant.
Anton was about to burst a blood vessel, what with his bodyguard taking a leisurely fucking seat and Creed on his ass about everything- the last thing he needed was CIA on his fucking case too. “This.” He said, with a growl in his voice as he popped polo in between sweetly savoured lips, “is Miss Summer Smith-“
She cut him off before she can introduce him as anything other than; “Look, Anton, Baby-doll, I’m sorry I made late on my rent.” She purred, in a thick New York accent. “I’m sure we can work something out.” She left it heavily suggested, left it open for their interpretation. Instantly she went from calm, cool and collected to nervous chick that oozed a dirty sexual energy.
Anton watched her, shaking his head a little bit and turned back to the body guard; “Get her out of here already.” He snapped at the man. “Or I’ll fire your ass, I don’t pay you to sit there reading-“
Post by Tyrant Creed on Dec 27, 2012 19:22:18 GMT -5
Tyr slowly exhaled, dismissing the bubbling black rage that had been coming to a murderous head within him. Dealing with such an incompetent fool as the man before him filled Tyr with disgust. To be honest, Tyr was tempted to kill Anton and feed him to the Mexicans then just take what he wanted from the Russians. Money meant little to him, and he had more men than the entirety of the Russian mafia. But, as his organization was expanding every day, Tyr could always use more guns. Something the Russians seemed adept at acquiring for him.
Receiving several small arms packages a month, Tyr was on the brink of negotiating a much larger contract that included... Well, much larger, and a lot more, guns. Of course, the Russians didn't seem very thrilled at having been muscled out of the northwestern hemisphere. Nothing could be done about that.
Gritting his teeth, Tyr held up one finger and brought forth his vibrating cell. A cursory check yielded 53 new texts. Most were from various lieutenants bit one was from a contact labeled 'Big Daddy Creed'. Tyr sighed and checked the message from his father which duly informed him that he was about to receive a request to video chat. Moments later, it came and Sol's face popped up. He was smiling and his cheeks were red.
"Hey!" Sol shouted immediately, one eye, and then a nostril moving to take up the entire screen. "You busy?" He asked, checking his finger nails for dirt. "Very." Tyr replied testily. Sol groaned aloud, looking visibly dismayed. "Well hurry up and finish what you're doing! You've got to come see this new video I found." Sol seemed to look offscreen for a moment and his laughter could be heard throughout the room.
Tyr rubbed his temples and glanced up at the people in the room. "I've told you before, you can just send it to me-" Sol promptly rolled his eyes and interrupted. "And I've told you. That's stupid. What are you so busy with, anyways? That dumb arms deal? Still?" Tyr stiffly answered with"Yes. Still." His father groaned"Oh, just kill them until the others decide to give you what you want, already." Sol suggested, adding "Maybe eat a few." Tyr sighed again. "People don't eat other people. We've talked about this. And you know as well as i do that if I went to war with the Mexicans AND the Russians, I would have to intervene personally or suffer heavy losses which would set me back at least a decade. And I hate getting blood under my nails. You know that."
Sol waved dismissively, offscreen butTyr knew from the look on his face. "did you try wearing the gloves i sent you?" He asked. " Yes, of course. They tore the first time i used them." Tyr informed him, with a frown. Sol rubbed his chin, thinking"Well..that will not do..not at all..." He muttered to himself. "look," Tyr began "you always insist on chatting right at the most inopportune times. I'm busy. I have to go. NOW." With that, Tyr ended and Sol's face disappeared.
"Apologies." Tyr offered Anton, putting the phone away, not even having to read the new text which was his father telling him what a jerk he was. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, you were about to make a call to your superior, either to acquire my new guns deal, or setting meet up for me with someone who CAN." Tyr walked over to his apparent bodyguard and gestured for him to remain seated. It would be made obvious who was in control of the situation.
"And her." Without even looking at the female, Tyr lifted his arm, one ivory digit pointing at her. "She will stay. And you will tell me who Miss Summer Smith is. Or I will ask it to tell me what you cannot. "Tyr dropped his arm, resting it against the desk as he leaned forward over it, azure eyes seeing almost to glow with an inner fury as he glared into the humans cow orbs.
Post by Long Richardson on Jan 2, 2013 17:23:13 GMT -5
Long raised and eyebrow and looked sideways towards the woman as she put on a new mask for the Creed man, obviously trying to play his arrival to her advantage and try to get out before things got hot. She seemed to turn into some form of prostitute before his eyes, amusing. Then Anton spoke... Eyebrow still raised, Long turned towards Devow.
All the while, Creed had been in the background speaking on his phone with someone in an annoyed tone. However, he seemed to finish right on time and came to Long, motioning for him to stay seated. Long finally dropped his eyebrow and just looked at Creed as if questioning him as to who he though he was. Seems like today everyone was big on trying to boss him around. Oh well.
Long continued to sit in the chair, his face once again turned down as though reading the book, though he kept his ears open to hear everything that went on.
It did not settle her mind that she was to stay, nor did it seem to settle Anton’s mind. The man shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as his beady little eyes came back to Tyrant. Anton’s massive hands curled and uncurled from fists and he cleared his throat, purposefully.
To say, Jak was rather enjoying the show would be a truthful statement as to say her hair was dark and she hated wearing dresses, but right now she knew that her enjoyment of the situation would only last as long as her cover was hidden. She had, in her life, played many parts very successfully, a hooker was an easy one to play, a drug addled tramp also, and they were indicatively easy to perform; but how to maintain these characters when there were so many loose ends in the game- well, it would be a wonderful challenge.
Jacqueline ran her fingers through her shot, close cut hair, and then let her fingers gently dance over her face; when Anton had stuck her she had felt it sting, hand felt blood against her teeth. Now as her fingertips danced over her olive skin she felt a small lump on her cheek bone, a slight swelling; surely her face would bruise.
The gun-dealer got off the phone and drew the attention back to him, he made the demand she should stay. The agent in her was curious as to why; the woman in her was not comforted by the thought.
Anton swallowed, numbly and answered the question in a way only a frightened man would; “She- I...She-” His stumbling over his words was truly a work of art. Jak got the sinking feeling in her stomach and knew then that there was only going to be one end to this conversation and it would not be a good one. “She’s just a hooker, a tenant of mine who owes me rent.” He answered in his frightened little voice- a difficult challenge for any big, muscular man.
Jak sighed, closing her eyes momentarily, how did he become such a wanted man by the CIA when he lied so badly? How did he expect to get into bed with a gun-barren if he could not keep his whores in line? This was not a knot he had well thought out, in face; Anton Devow was practically wrapping the rope around his own neck. In the playful Russian accent she had adopted the moment Tyrant had walked into the room, she spoke; “I said, I’d make pay, I swear I will, I’ll do anything, Anton, please; don’t kick me out- I’ll work harder”
The words were carefully planted, she wondered if he would take the bait.
He spoke again, to Tyrant, as if releasing himself of a great weight; “Before she double-crossed me, she was a...fascination of mine, beautiful, charming, delightful both between and out of the bed sheets. But the bitch will pay for what she has done.” Well, that was the truth, she supposed, if not a little embellished. They had a relationship as part of the work she had been doing, she could not speak for his prowess as a man, she was not the sort of girl who allowed that to happen as part of her missions, but she had flirted, she had entrapped him and he had fallen for it. Had the gun-barren not walked in, she knew she would have paid for it. It was interesting really, how he wanted her for himself, to have this kept ‘in-house’, he would rather not give her up to this dealer. For that, Jak was thankful; for now.
Her eyes went to the bodyguard; only he knew she was armed and only he knew how dangerous she could be, fortunately he seemed more interested in his book than what was passing before him. He was a paid man, then, she figured he had no loyalty, was not jumping to attention as a man who was frightened; no he was paid for his job, and probably paid well. She could not rely on his alliance, but then, it appeared, neither could Anton.
Post by Tyrant Creed on Jan 3, 2013 20:10:39 GMT -5
"Oh?" Tyr replied, sneering at Anton, flashing the woman one look of brief amusement. The man was truly starting to irritate him. The hybrid had enough on his mind without having to worry about a man who could not even keep his hookers in line. Perhaps it was time to make an example. Not of Anton, of course. Idiot though he seemed to be, he was the right kind of idiot. Stupid enough to give Tyr a serious edge, but not too stupid so as to not recognize the hybrid as a much, much higher authority than himself.
Tyr slowly took off his jewelry, setting it down on the desk. Once his rings and rolex were removed, the hybrid took off his jacket and tossed it onto the table as well. At this point, Tyr did not care if it was ruined. There was potentially work to do.
"Perhaps," Tyr began, as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing ivory muscles that showed the tension in his body. "Perhaps," he continued "An example would benefit you." Tyr rolled his shoulders, showing only the slightest tremble of bloodlust. "I would be more than willing to put your whores in place for you, Anton. But you will watch. You will learn. Anything else daddy needs to hold your hand for?" This last mocking question, coming from a 19 year old boy, would likely prick the man's pride. But Tyr did not care.
"You see, I do all of the torture for my organization. Rarely need we do it to bring actual pain, and I am quite versed in that, but most often it is done to send a message." The hybrid shook his hands out to loosen them. Tyr chuckled "Why, just the other week, I used an automotive sander on a woman's face. She was so beautiful, but, sadly, her husband was running a little late on his gambling debts. Poor fellow. He still has three children to worry about, so I doubt not he will pay."
Blue orbs settled on the woman malevolently. "Let me have her. Don't worry, I will give her back. Eventually. Well, if you consider stringing her up somewhere public to be returning her..." They needed a message, and watching what he intended to do to the woman would have to suffice.
Post by Long Richardson on Jan 4, 2013 19:39:43 GMT -5
Long sighed as he dog-eared the page he was on and closed the book, setting it down on the floor as he stood up. As Creed began to shed clothing, the Hapa removed the warm, fur-lined coat that he had been wearing, knowing it would simply restrict his movements. Beneath the long coat he wore a NikeTM thermal long-sleeved t that fit so snugly it perfectly demonstrated the muscles the moved fluidly beneath Long's skin, and a pair of loose jeans, his most comfortable outfit for all purpose activity in cold climates.
Long simply stood beside the chair in silence and watched Creed with cold, unblinking eyes, waiting to see what the man would do. 'Anything else daddy needs to hold your hand for?' Long only averted his gaze for a second at this point in order to see the infuriated expression on Anton's face, the look of a man close to boiling point.
Back to Creed, and Long began to feel slightly sickened; something he had not felt in a long time. As he spoke of using an automobile sander on a woman's face Long noted the indifference he spoke with, and that his words seem to be kind of prideful. As though he was pleased with what he had done to the woman, simply because her husband was late on his debt. Being involved in illegal fights, some to the death, Long was not a man unused to the cruelty of the world, but he agonized over his sins every day. Someone how could do something so horrendous and take pride in it was nothing but a monster.
As Creed gazed at the woman with the look of a predator ready to go in for the kill, Long extended his right arm and placed his hand lightly on the younger man's shoulder. "Mr. Creed. Your business is with Mr. Devow, not with his prostitute. May you please deal with the gun contract? You did not come all the way to Gods-forsaken Russia in order to school a whore, after all." Long had no idea what it was, but he knew that this guy was danger, and he felt the need to try and protect the woman from him.
It quickly became revealed whose side the bodyguard was on and once more he did her a favour. This was the second today, and while Jak did not like to make a habit of being indebted to people this was most certainly a debt she would pay- should it come to light that Mr Creed did not torture her. She stood, quiet, watchful and observant but did not say anything as her mind raced, trying to work out how to get out of this one, take Devow into custody and still manage to get back to the USA in time to please her boss and get that promotion that had been promised too her. It would be tricky, no doubt, but Jak had great things ahead of her. She did not know it yet, but soon her eyes would be opened to people like Tyrant Creed and she would learn to recognise them for what they truly were, not just sick twisted psychopathic humans.
Jak had been tortured before, granted she had not taken a sander to the face, but beneath her cloths she was littered with little marks and each of them had a story to tell. It was not the torture she was afraid of, though she was not content to enjoy it either, it was the way this situation was quickly degenerating into something much more violent and volatile than she had ever assumed it could be. Devow as easy prey, he as a new comer to this criminal world, Jak knew because Jak had been working on bringing him back to the USA for several weeks now, it had all been tied up in a pretty little bow until Creed got here. How had she never heard of him before?
Wetting her lips slowly, her eyes went to Anton, whose outrage had become a sick grin; she read the expression easily – there would be no better way to get rid of her- in his opinion, it would be one less thing for him to worry about, one less slight of blood on his hands. He really was a dumb shit.
“Yes, yes, you’re business is with me.” Anton spoke up, of the people in the room he was probably the most afraid of Mr Creed, and greedily he wanted to carry himself in the same way as the man. Anton was as handsome, was built like an ox, he had been a boxer once upon a time and yet, Jak could practically feel the fear on him. “We finish our business and then maybe you can have the whore.” His look became sick as he spans Jak a new web, a new hole to climb out of. “She will please you, I am sure. I even give her to you, free- after we settle our deal.”
Post by Tyrant Creed on Jan 18, 2013 2:20:07 GMT -5
Tyr yawned and began putting his shirt back in order. "I suppose you're right, mister..." he let that sentence trail off, as if he was requesting the bodyguard's name. "However, I have urgent business with baby boy over here," he waved his hand towards Mr. Devow "And apparently he can't even take care of a simple whore problem. I do suppose it would be a waist of my time to torture her though. A couple bullets and some last minute fillet would achieve the same effect."
Giving the anonymous body guard a sidelong glance, Tyr commented "It would seem, Mr. Devow, that your bodyguard may have taken a liking to your whore." The hybrid smirked. "Are you sure she is yours to give?"
The hybrid felt a small lurch in his stomach when he recalled to mind the image of the woman's face he had taken a sander to. Tyr had not enjoyed it. Not in the way one might think. Yes, her screams had been pitiful, yes, he'd wanted to stop when one of her eyes had popped and gotten gunk all over one of his shoes. But no, the hybrid hadn't enjoyed it.
If Tyr had not done it, then someone else would have had to. Because the message had needed to be sent. Fear was one of the only things criminals seemed to understand and Tyr was more than willing to supply it to them.
Post by Long Richardson on Jan 22, 2013 13:44:04 GMT -5
"Long," the Asian answered in reply to Creed's unasked question. His face seemed to relax a bit, and Long was surprised to realize that he was tense over the female's predicament... Strange. Hearing the suited man's next words regarding her, Long knew that the threat had dwindled down to almost nothing; he seemed to have lost interest.
Long made a sidelong glace at the female before settling back into the chair, watching the on-goings between Creed and Devow, no longer feeling any immediate threats in the room. He picked his book back up and turned back to the page he had left off on. In the middle of the silence that stood, he casually asked of his employer, "What do you want done with the woman for the time being, Anton?"
