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Post by Ed Taco on Feb 12, 2008 19:38:05 GMT -5
[[Ha ha, it is fine by me! I am totally winging it here! Post is bad, but needed to get something up before House XD;; I am an awful person, I know That and my hand is all WHEEE, AGONIZING PAIN TIME!]]
Saint-Clair certainly had good taste, she mused, moving out from Hank's umbrella (where she'd touched his arm to reassure him that, no, we're not going to kill you tonight) and into the warmth of the furnished building. Unlike the warehouse, this place was gloriously warm, with carpet and all the makings of a fine house. Must be one of those dimensional homes, because this was certainly much too large for the docks. Not to mention, the way her ears popped as she got acclimated.
"Where'd you get this place, Saint?" She asked, stooping to better examine the gold leaf detail on a nearby end table, running her fingers over the sinuous curves of the golden snake. "From a gentleman down in Cairo. Specialises in charms." "Fizzlebottom?" "...yes." "That man has the best exploding juice around. Pick me up some next time you're down there." "Certainly."
She flicked the gold with her fingernail before rising to follow the haphazard group. Well, she supposed she was the haphazard one, with her hair drying about her face and her lack of robes, let alone fancy ones. She didn't even own robes that weren't threadbare or covered in burn marks or old blood splatters. That would be one of the first things rectified after tomorrow (assuming she didn't die a horrible death, of course).
She returned her thoughts to the present as they migrated to an opulent and tasteful study, with plush chairs and, mmm, fire. She quickly dropped onto one and grinned as it cushioned her quite comfortably. Pulling her legs up, she looked at the others, thinking hard. There had to be a reason they hadn't killed Babel yet. There was noticeable tension now, and Mr. Newbie seemed to be getting much more relaxed, like... She glanced to Hank and Saint-Clair, who were almost waiting for...direction?
"OH MY GOD," she blurted, despite herself, pointing, "YOU GOT DUPED! THAT'S WHY–" And she started to laugh. Hysterically. Babel shot her a look as though she'd lost her mind, and Hank looked fantastically sour. Saint-Clair remained as impassive as ever as she slumped back, giggling helplessly. To think...the best two smugglers in wizarding London, getting taken in by a rookie! She wiped her eyes and grinned in her manic little way, fixing her gaze on Babel like a cat on its prize. She smirked as he tensed.
"Weimar's cursed gold, wasn't it?" She saw the whites of his eyes and she giggled again, rising to her feet. "Contract for life, right? Points, kid! Getting an unbreakable vow on them. Not to harm you, right?" From his silence, she judged he was right. She looked again to the others and grinned, already drawing her wand. The whole room went dead silent. "Nothing in that contract against killing you," Hank snapped, and she waved her offhand at him dismissively. "Oh shut up." She directed it at Babel with a smirk. Heh, Arjen would have an aneurysm if he didn't get 'his' kill. "Not on the carpet," Saint-Clair bemoaned and she rolled her eyes, but quickly snapped out an 'expelliarmus' as he went for the wand in his robes. It whipped out of his grip and she caught it, examining it offhandedly. Then she tossed it in the fire. He, understandably, made a sound of frustration and went for it, but her own wand was sparking in his eyes, and he stepped back.
"So, you tried to buy them out with cursed gold, and when they tried to kill you, you cheerfully informed them of your clever ruse?" "...how did you–" "Lucky guess. Well, that, and Hank's ego would never let him wait for someone else to start business. So, um, hmm. Looks like you've outlived your usefulness. Ilepraefoco." She turned to avoid the blood splatter from a rip of skin as white, hot light shot out of her yew wand, impacting his gut. A long stream of entrails snaked out and she frowned as his body slumped. "I hate it when they die halfway through. Pussy." "...all...over the carpet." She scoffed and flicked her wand, tidily returning him his intenstinal tract and depositing him in a nearby corner. A quick scouring charm lifted out the blood, and she dropped herself on the arm of a nearby chair.
"Now, what do we say? You know, for the whole catching on and being brilliant thing?" There was a long silence, and she scowled. "...start's with a t...ends in a 'hank you'." After many moments, she rolled her eyes and slipped her wand back in her boot, glowering. "Fine. Be that way. I'll be on my way then. Hank, you can drop off my share at my flat tomorrow." "What share?" "The forty percent cut I'm demanding for, hurr durr, killing that guy for you, and would earn if I had any interest in this deal and didn't have things to do. Because I'm so nice. I could have let you stayed in his pocket, but no, I decided–" "Oh shut up. I'll see you at eight." "Mwah~!" With her blown little kiss, she moved from the room. It was time to leave before Arjen got all bloodthirsty and decided to usurp the careful balance of power by killing the two men who actually mattered in this house in a pocket of nowhere.
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Jay
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Post by Jay on Feb 13, 2008 0:57:27 GMT -5
((Alright, once again I didn't know what you wanted. Scout and Arjen's encounter didn't have to happen, but his encounter with Saint-Clair and Hank did. I almost threw up writing this, but Arjen is pretty demented... so yeah. Enjoy.
By the way I love House. =D))
Arjen looked at the wall and softened his gaze. He listened on to the conversation with certain inertest. Scout had these people eating out of the palm of her hand. These men were pussies. The men that were suppose to be at the top were pussies! How could he not kill them? Arjen could care less about some bullshit war. If this faggot Babel was in power then obviously the crime had to be lame. He listened on and decided play with the cigarette he’d soon be smoking once he entered the next room.
What he heard was rather interesting. Hank was a pussy as well as some Saint-Clair fellow. They had bought out by Babel. This guy had to be rolling in dough. Buy out two of the biggest players in the crime world was a pretty impressive feet. However it wouldn’t last long. Arjen would be ending his life as well as the other men in the room. Scout was lucky. Then a slight argument broke out between what sounded like Babel and Scout. That fucking bitch.
She killed the bastard. Arjen stood up and held in a scream. That was his fucking kill! His fucking kill! He cracked his knuckles. His ears could still hear the blood slowly running out of Babel’s stomach. Arjen paced the room trying to vent his anger. Then more talking came over the group and she was getting ready to leave. Dumb bitch was heading his way.
By the time she closed the door he had her up against the wall. His good hand was against her neck and she was dangling two feet off of the ground. Her arms were too short to reach her boot. Arjen’s finger blade slipped out of his free hand and he held it up to her cheek. Anger and blood lust were in his eyes. He wanted to kill her right now, but his mind was working this night and he opted against it. Arjen flicked the blade back in and then let out hell.
‘You knew he was mine. You knew HE WAS FUCKING MINE! Your lucky I need you alive, otherwise I would have fucking ended your life. Get the fuck out of my sight and I’ll see you early in the fucking morning so we get this fucking pay day done!’
He threw her to the ground and looked at her and shook his head. To his surprise she did nothing about it and Well now he could kill these two bastards as slow as he wanted to. She knew better then to try anything. Arjen walked into the other room. The men were getting up and cursed loudly at the sight of Arjen. One of them drew a wand, but Arjen would have none of that. He was to powerful and disarmed the wiry man quickly. Arjen kicked the dead Babel onto the ground. They looked him awestruck as they waited for their next move.
Knife to the shoulder for Saint-Clair and Arjen used a body bind curse on Hank. He moved to Saint-Clair. Arjen pulled the knife out of his shoulder and threw him on to the ground. Then he stabbed him in the other shoulder. The bastard yelped in pain as blood shot from his shoulder. It would keep him occupied as Arjen put Hank in a chair. This would be interesting. Saint-Clair’s eyes went first. They were a shitty brown color and Arjen had no problem using his knife to gouge them out of his skull. Saint-Clair yelled and screamed and so did Hank. Next came his tongue. This was tricky, but Arjen strangled him until he opened his mouth then Arjen tugged it off. The thing took a lot of strength, but it came off. Then he slashed him ear to ear. Hank threw up all over himself and Arjen laughed.
‘What’s the matter? A little to much for you?’
Arjen laughed and ripped the man’s shirt off. He took his knife and carved a good message in it. It was large, but shallow. Saint-Clair still had some blood to give. He took the bleeding mess and levitated him the air. With his wand he using some magical binds to hold him to the ceiling. Arjen’s face brightened up as Hank threw up all over himself again. This was to much fun.
‘That looks like an expensive shirt. Don’t wreck it.’
Arjen grinned softly and turned to Saint-Clair. He’d bleed to death in due time. For Hank, he’d leave him alive. For now. He took his wand from his belt and put it to his forehead. Arjen muttered a curse and then a white jet shot from his wand. The smell of burnt flesh filled air. On Hank’s forehead appeared the mark of the Ministry. He laughed as he screamed and then pointed to Saint-Clair, who was now dead. Arjen muttered a spell and into his hands appeared a camera. He took a shot of Saint-Clair’s bleeding corpse.
‘Give this to Scout and tell her I send my regards. Hey, if you want an attempt on my life think to this poor bastard.’
The message became clear and it might take Saint-Clair’s chest to convince Hank and the rest of the world.
DON’T FUCK WITH THE MINISTRY.
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Post by Ed Taco on Feb 14, 2008 1:20:14 GMT -5
[[It's all good! Loved your post, very morbid stuff. I'm a sucker for gore and creepiness. Bweeeheehee. ...I ASSURE YOU THAT I AM MENTALLY STABLE AND TOTALLY NOT VIOLENT. =D No, really. I am. I just love creepy, violent, bloody movies. And books. And games. And everythings. Except realities, because that is just depressing! I feel like an awful person now. =o SO, MOVING ON! My post is mediocre, but my writer's block is pretty vicious. I apologise! SQUEEE, House! Boo for not being on last night. I CANNOT WAIT UNTIL NEXT WEEK TO WATCH IT DJHKSKDK. I need my weekly dose of Hugh Laurie and his acerbic wit ;o; ]]
Damn it, he had to slam her against the wall. She hated being slammed against walls. Had he not the viselike grip on her throat, she might have teased him with a 'kinky', because aggravating mentally unstable wizards is what Scout does. The back of her head cracked painfully, and she grasped at the hand locked on her throat, trying to free it because, you know, oxygen is important. It was at times like this that she was reminded she was a slight girl without much strength, and when her speed failed her, it failed her spectacularly. She was certainly kicking and squirming and trying to make it as difficult for him as possible, glowering at him. She stilled at the touch of a blade on her cheek. He could move and cut through all her meticulous stitching, and having a cross cut onto her face would just suck. The irony would kill her. That is, if Arjen didn't kill her first. Fucking maniac.
Her vision was blurring by the time she felt the ground and her ribs make violent, painful acquaintances. She coughed for air and glowered up at him defiantly, so tempted, so tempted to just castrate him here and now. Let him kill her for her efforts, fucker could bleed to death or live life without his prick, which would arguably be worse. Womanizing asshole. She also briefly entertained thoughts of cutting his Achille's tendons and paralysing him with a few well placed spells–but she had to keep him alive for that gold. That gold could get her family out and somewhere warm and tropical and safe, and maybe get her to the opposite corner of the earth (not that spheres have corners, but I digress) and as far away from possible as them. Arjen was gone now, likely to kill the two she'd left behind. She wondered vaguely if they were illusions or the real deal tonight, or perhaps folk under particularly good imperious curses with a polyjuice. You could never tell these days. Hell, if she'd had the supplies and a good subject, she would have sent someone else in her stead too, wearing her face.
She decided to leave before shit hit the proverbial fan. Or floor in the throes of death. Pitying whoever had been chosen to drink Polyjuice to die for these men (because the more she thought about it, the more it made sense), she'd gently lifted the house of a few valuables before slipping out the door to apparate back to her flat. It was cold and dark and only the scratching of Zaphod's feet punctuated the stillness. She smiled as he, swearing in Swahili, ran up her leg and back, to rest on her shoulder, nibbling at her ear and prompting her with several rude words to feed her. She was going to get groceries today, wasn't she? She'd forgotten all about that...damn it! Her fist made a small crack in the wall as she shook, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes tight. She couldn't even have an evening to fucking stock her fridge, let alone get out of all this shit.
The heat of the shower water did something to cheer her up a bit. She'd tossed her clothes into an overstuffed hamper and pulled her hair back into a tie, pulling out some old Puddlemere United shirt that brushed her thighs. She couldn't remember who had left this one. Was it the musician or the reporter? It felt strange, that she couldn't attach a name to whatever man had left his clothes in her flat. She remembered being fond of him, but for the life of her...she shook her head and moved to scrounge something up for Zaphod, turning the stereo on and playing whatever CD she'd left in there last time. It was loud and cheery and drowned out some of the unending silence. She could almost pretend that this place wasn't just another nail in her coffin if she closed her eyes.
I want to be a human being not a human not a human doing. I couldn't keep that pace up if I tried. The source of my intention really isn't crime prevention. My intention is prevention of the lie.
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Jay
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Post by Jay on Feb 14, 2008 15:30:26 GMT -5
((Hugh Laurie is easily the greatest man of all time and House is easily the best TV show of all time. I usally miss it because of basketball, but my girlfriend records for it me, so it's all good =D.
Anyway I had a good time writing this one. Definatly a side of Arjen I wanted to come out a while ago, but failed to find. Regardless, the post is a bit crappy and really has no relevence to the story. I just had a fun time writing this one.))
It was still raining when Arjen left the house. His anger was just about gone and he felt he had done exactly what he should have. With Hank alive and the prospect that he might shit himself the next time he heard the Ministries name he might stray away from crime for at least long enough for Arjen to get settled and make a bigger name for himself then he already had. It was almost a win-win situation. Plus Saint-Clair and Babel were dead. Hopefully tonight he could go out and get laid or something.
Arjen made it to some shelter and looked at his watch. 12:30. He had plenty of time to go out and get wasted. Hopefully tonight he would have no problems. There was a bar about a block away and Arjen felt it necessary go get some muggle girl and bring her back to his apartment. Arjen slipped through “security” rather easy and then looked around. Loud muggle techno and a dance floor that could fit about nine of his apartments. Fortunately Arjen retained his manhood and walked right past the dance floor. Unfortunately it didn’t last long.
A group of four girls. Two brunettes, a blonde and a redhead. They liked how Arjen looked. Luckily he spent a good twenty minutes washing his hands and his white sweat shirt, which had a couple blood stains was in the coast room. Arjen shook his head. Well as long Scout wasn’t here to see this he was fine by it. Arjen moved carefully to the group and it seemed that the prettier brunette was interested in him. Although the red head was the knock out of the group, Arjen was content with this girl.
Her name was Victoria or Jody… something like that. She got her freak on with Arjen, moving up, down, side to side. Considering Arjen can’t dance for shit it was pretty ugly. Luckily the girl didn’t mind. After about three songs Arjen called it quits. There was no way he was going to listen and dance to another song. He might just melt. Arjen offered to buy the girl a drink and she accepted. She said she hadn’t had anything to drink all night. Well getting her drunk would cost him…
Arjen had some of that American stuff, Jack Daniels and the girl had some shit vodka. They talked about this and that and she mainly made fun of the way he danced. Arjen was a killer not some fucking ballerina. He continued to talk the girl and realized that she was actually intelligent. She worked as a financial consultant to some firm in London. The girl insisted that they dance again and Arjen, with the prospect of getting her naked later tonight accepted.
They found their way back to the group and continued to dance. The blonde eyed him a little funny. As if she’d seen him somewhere before. That was never a good thing, so he continued to turn his head. Eventually she stopped when some goofy prat with glasses offered to buy her drink. She must have been thirsty because she accepted. The two continued to dance and then she complained about her feet. After all she was in high heels.
The two moved over to the side of the bar. They talked some more and Arjen got another glass of Jack Daniels. Then there must have been a magnet on both of their lips (or it could have been the fact that they were both roaring drunk), but Arjen felt the warmth of her lips. One thing led to another and they were outside of the night club dancing in the soaking street. Arjen for the first time in God knows how long was laughing and smiling. Had to be the liquor. Then she uttered the magic words.
‘So do you want to go back to my place?’ ‘Sure where do you live?’ ‘Other side of town.’ ‘How do you get there.’ ‘I’ll get a cab silly.’
If he wasn’t drunk he might have slapped her. Then she stepped out into the street and got a cab. Arjen had always been interested by the this dumb muggle form of transportation. He would have apperated back to his house, but feared that they might wind up in the jungles of South America. That would not be good and Arjen would have a funny feeling that he would not get laid. He sat in back with her and the two continued their lip locking. It was kind of annoying and Arjen wanted to see what this thing was made out of.
He had never been in the back of a taxi before. Sure he had hijacked one with Dirk and drove it into a man’s house. He’s used one as bomb to kill a man. Otherwise the back always seemed like a mystery.
After about forty-five minutes, mainly because the London traffic was at a stand still they made it back to a large apartment building. Arjen erased the man’s memory because he had no fare to pay and the two walked out and up to the fourth floor. Her apartment was very well kept and very… green. She was wearing a green shirt and she had a pair of pretty green eyes. Her bed sheets were green as well.
It must have been his shirt because when he got up at seven the next morning to grab his clothes his shirt was green. He scratched his head and slipped back into his clothing. It must not have been quiet enough because the girl stirred and looked at him. She searched for something to say, but he was sure she had a nasty hang over. Arjen looked at her and tilted his head. She spoke first.
‘Did we do it last night?’ ‘Yeah…’ ‘Oh. Um… I’ll call you.’ ‘I don’t have a phone.’ ‘Alright. I'll see you around Arjen.’ 'You too Jody.' 'I'm Victoria.' 'Same thing.'
She fell back asleep and Arjen shook his head. They did do it last night, from what he remembered. It was pretty damn good as well. Arjen scratched his head and then once he hit the hallway he apperated back into the hallway he was familiar. God he needed a shower, he smelled like green apple.
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Post by Ed Taco on Feb 16, 2008 10:35:48 GMT -5
[[Awesum. :3 You can also catch it on www.surfthechannel.com for old episodes.
That is okay! I certainly enjoyed reading it. c: And I offer apologies for my shit post. I haven't been able to write well at all recently.]]
It took her some time to identify the music blaring out of the nearby stereo. Blinking blearily from amidst a pile of blankets and pillows, Béla Fleck and the Flecktones ran through her head. Turtle Rock. Ah, it was her 'cheer up and smile!! =)' mixed album. Someone had given it to her for her birthday or something. Her dad, she thought. Opening the cd case, she examined the permanent marker scrawl and huffed quietly. Definitely her dad.
Rolling out of bed to her eerily still flat, she'd clucked her tongue and smiled as Zaphod came running. Zaphod was always happy to see her. He was intelligent enough to fill the silence, but too daft to judge her or hate her. As he curled up about her neck, she scratched his ears happily. He didn't shift from her neck, telling her, quite stubbornly, that he wouldn't until she fed him. Hazel eyes rolled to the ceiling, but she didn't bother shifting him, merely pulled on a pair of old jeans and finished girly business, painting over her scars and gently pulling out her stitches.
By the time she'd apparated to work, there was only a faint line of scar tissue bisecting her eye, and she looked as chipper as ever. It was early, but the sooner she got this done, the sooner she could get Uncle Fred and his wife out to Guatemala or something. Guatemala was warm, right? And across an ocean, if she could remember anything from geography class back in primary school. She'd check a map or something.
"Zaph, please stop gnawing on my shirt," she muttered, walking towards the evil yellow room of death. "I will feed you momentarily." Opening the door, she'd paused a moment before poking her head in (Zaphod too poked his nose in, looking around greedily for food). Deciding that he apparently wasn't going to risk killing her yet (right, that hit thing, but she'd be gone as soon as she had her gold, somewhere far away and she'd start over). So she grinned and decided not to comment on his...interesting choice in cologne (she stifled laughter with some trouble) and stepped on in.
"O Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done. The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won. The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all...damn, that's all I remember."
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Jay
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Post by Jay on Feb 17, 2008 1:00:51 GMT -5
((Shit post, but what ever.))
He had always liked green apple up until this point. His shower was unable to get it out of his skin. What in God’s green Earth did he do to that girl. Her scent was basically imprinted in him. Not even half a bottle of Axe could negate the scent. Scout would have a field day on this. He decided that he had some kind of cologne that would put this green apple shit to rest. Arjen tried a change of clothing. He threw on a white Bigonville Bombers shirt and a pair of jeans. His grandfather played for Bigonville in his Quidditch career. The old man has been dead for a while now, so Arjen never really got the opportunity to talk him about a sport that he failed in.
He shook his head as he crossed back into the living room and he looked around. Nobody was lurking today. Hank knew much better and Babel was dead. He couldn’t help but grin and then moved into the kitchen. Arjen needed a quick fix and all he could see was an apple. A green apple. He cursed loudly and stormed out of the room.
Into the yellow room and then Arjen looked down at his watch. If Scout was here it must have been some kind of miracle or the old man wanted her. Neither seemed realistically possible and Arjen knocked on the closed door of his master. The old man seemed to have already seen Arjen coming and the door swung open. At his desk his master sat. Beaming at him. Arjen knew he meant business and walked down the center of the room.
‘Falcon your entering a mission that is probably the hardest one you’ve ever faced. Listen my boy, this has to be flawless. I don’t want any of your bullshit on this mission. It has to be fucking flawless, no blood and you have to make it look like a suicide. The Ministry has told me that they don’t a war with Russia if this is fucked up. Falcon the only mess I’m allowing you to make has to come from your partner.’
Arjen scowled softly and then his master excused him. He scratched his head. A war with Russia would not be good, but then again it would give him the perfect excuse to go live in the States. For a couple of years their Ministry has been asking for somebody like Arjen. Their crime rate has sky rocketed and the Americans have no idea how handle it. Arjen did… at least from what they thought. Plus if he moved to the States he’d have no Scout and he’d ask to stay alone. Of course they’d accept.
Arjen moved into the other room and took a seat. He put his head back trying to find out what the hell happened last night. Arjen remembered only parts and he was trying to connect the dots. Then in popped his partner. With her banter. He looked over to her and shook his head. Where the hell did they find this girl? Arjen stood up and looked at her. Then something got into his stomach and head he didn’t like. Not one bit.
He wanted to apologize. Arjen tried crushing the feeling, but it kept coming back. He’d almost killed that girl last night. It was over some faggot that meant nothing to him. He hated this feeling of remorse and wondered if he should blame last night. Arjen resisted every try from his mind to apologize. The last thing he needed was to have this girl think he was weak. Arjen resisted it and looked at her. They had a long day in front of them.
‘Alright… we need explosives. No magic charges because you’ll wined up dead. Plus we need a good diversion. This hit has to be flawless or Russia invades England… which would mean we have to fight and don’t get our pay.’
Arjen nodded and wondered what the first course of action they should take was and then as he ran over the plans in his head he realized that he’d need this girl. She’d have to watch his back and Arjen didn’t like that at all. Not in a single way. Arjen looked at her and scratched his head. He’d hit her with his bombshell tonight. Arjen decided that they needed to get something to eat. He looked over to her and shook his head. Arjen could read her like a book.
‘Look I went to some girls house last night and she had a thing for things that were green. I smell like green apples because of that… it’s not mine.’
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Post by Ed Taco on Feb 17, 2008 3:00:50 GMT -5
[[Short and sweet! Or something.]]
"If we don't want war, taking down the magical embassy is kind of...stupid, isn't it?" She commented, tilting her head to one side. "I mean, there's usually diplomats from China and France and Spain there at all times, is it really possible to blow this place up without pissing someone off?"
It'd bothered her since she'd looked at the building plans. The place was old, and though held up by spells and pretty, was structurally weak (not uncommon in magical buildings) and she wasn't sure if she could get him the distraction he wanted without taking the whole place down. Which would be counter productive, though it'd be really cool. Like, INSANELY AWESOME.
She looked up as he explained and she chewed her lip, holding up her hands. "Your sordid liasons are your business Captain, not mine." Her eyes closed in her cheery smile, and the rest of the words to the verse came to her in a rush. ...the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring: But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. Needless to say, it suited him quite well.
Zaphod was getting antsy now, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets, rocking on the balls of her feet, examining the room with mild interest, and couldn't help but ask– "So, what exactly is this room?" And why did it have to be round? Round structures were so easily compromised from internal detonations. =( Someone hadn't been thinking when they had designed this place!
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Jay
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Post by Jay on Feb 19, 2008 18:13:25 GMT -5
Arjen shook his head. He needed her to get through with this. Once this hit was done. After this hit was over Arjen would end her. She annoyed him to a degree that was beyond belief and in all honesty she was a terrible partner. He’d kill her and Hank in one fell swoop. Arjen grinned to himself and shook his head as she seemed to trail. Thank god. He wouldn’t have to hear that voice. His eyes wandered to her eye. How was that thing doing. That stupid bitch blamed him…
Maybe he’d kill that stupid fucking ferret first. Kill it and send her the remains, one by one. That would be incredibly interesting. Maybe even push to the point of picking a fight where he would ultimately kill her. Although Arjen was overwhelmingly cocky it was pretty obvious that he was a better wizard. He was a bit more experienced, but if Scout got mad…
Arjen was shook from his thought of her death by his partners voice. He looked at her and then his ears forced her words into his brain. Although he’d rather ignore them and just go out and get this over with he felt obligated to answer. After all he did know what this room was for. It might be a little dumb and really not that interesting, but he could honestly care less. He looked at her.
‘Well this room was used a testing ground for the Ministry. You know one of those pick the doors kind of thing. That was ended after the room and whatever the fuck was in it killed five recruits. It was conveniently switched to the head quarters of the Birds of Prey. More commonly known as the Ministry of Magic’s Hitwizards: London Branch.’
He looked at her and then turned his back. Arjen had talked to Dirk about this maze. After all his old partner held the record for time completed. The exact time Arjen couldn’t remember, but it was somewhere in the hour and a half range. Yes you did have to go through each of the nine doors and do what ever is one the other side. After all the right door was the last door… they did magically change each time.
Arjen wondered what each door held. Dirk told him it was dumb shit. Potion identification and that whole thing. However it was the fact that Dirk had to kill a troll that sparked his interest. He did like to end things lives. After all that was his job profession and the job he chose right out of Hogwarts. He sat back down and thought about lunch when a rumbling in his stomach came over his senses. His eyes wandered the shitty yellow paint and then he stood again.
‘I’m going to grab lunch… your welcome to tag along if you please.’
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Post by Ed Taco on Feb 23, 2008 13:41:11 GMT -5
[[Rubbish, but I have to get going to my mums house. And I hate her computer with a passion. Anyways, SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY ;_; Work = hell.]]
Zaphod was antsy. He stalked across her shoulders, greedy eyes hunting for shiny valuables, and she clamped a hand down across his legs and neck, stilling him and stroking his ears with a calloused thumb. His presence kept her from losing her temper because she had to look out for his safety, because Arjen was a sick little fuck who had to involve bystanders in their...quarrel.
She'd blinked and listened, off hand in pocket, tilting her head in interest. Scout absorbed the words and arched a brow, forcibly reminded of Kings Quest V. She'd played that as a kid! She was struck with images of a twisting labyrinth, which made no sense, as the game didn't have circular rooms (well, maybe in the wizard's tower), and these hallways were clearly just normal hallways. Her imagination ran away with thoughts, sometimes, she mused. Scout opened her mouth, and out chirped a chipper little, "Cool!" And her grin was bright and cheerful and she was genuinely interested, because hey, as they always say, danger is the spice of life.
Mmm, food. "Might as well," she shrugged her shoulders, jostling Zaphod to scramble up and perch atop her head. She stretched, stifling a yawn, before rocking on her feet. "Where to, O Captain?" Brow quirk.
She'd have to wear him own about this whole blowing up the embassy thing. Because if this was supposed to be quiet, as politics often was, then perhaps destroying this place wasn't the best idea. There were so many better ways of quietly doing away with someone. Drug him up on Heat, flashed through her mind and she huffed quietly. Like it'd be possible to slip something in his drink or whatever. There are other methods. Used them before. Back when Theodore was still– She cut off that train of thought very viciously, and looked up at Arjen expectedly. Oh. He'd said something, hadn't he? Yes. Yes he had.
"Sorry? I missed that."
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Jay
New Member
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Post by Jay on Feb 24, 2008 23:27:19 GMT -5
Arjen’s eyes moved about the room silently. He would take great pleasure in killing Starkov. The man was a known monster and to be quite honest Arjen would love a war with Russia. He was sure that Andrey was somewhere on this shitty island. Andrey Perov was nine times the man Arjen was and 82345738947580183457 times the person that Scout was. His help was invaluable. He knew shit that the Ministry couldn’t dream up. Why he stayed in that business was beyond him. Arjen was praying that he’d send an owl or run into him or something. His train of thought was scrambled by Scout’s words. He scowled.
‘I… was wondering if you would… join me to lunch.’
His eyes turned down. He couldn’t go on hating this stupid fucking bitch forever. Come to think of it he could, but right now was not the time. They needed to put this stupid fucking bullshit behind them. The problem was he had no idea what this girl was capable of. It almost, key-word almost, frightened him. He was sure he could kill her one billion different ways, but if she put him in the sack he was done. The bitch would have to sink really low to do that and Arjen would have to be shit faced as well. Either way the thought of having sex with Scout was just wrong…
Arjen looked over to her and scratched his head. He just wanted to get something to eat. Arjen walked over to the door as he awaited Scout’s answer. He looked up at the roof and wondered how many useless guards he’d have to kill. Sometimes he felt bad for them, they were always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Regardless, bombing the embassy should be fun. It would make Arjen’s day to get a war. He could get his money and leave. As long as he killed the man they were good to go.
His thought wandered to the ability of this man. He doubted the Minister of Magic for a country like Russia didn’t know how to fight. Starkov was a relatively young man, at about 47. Arjen read the file pretty carefully. He was a Durmstrang graduate and afterwards he went straight home to Russia. The man worked his way up the food chain until he eventually got to the top spot. However his reign was controversial, so much so that Arjen had to kill the bastard. He has been accused of the usual, muggle killing, half blood persecution. The thing that pissed Arjen off was that he had been sighting giving these smugglers weapons they had to use against the Ministry.
He wasn’t sure how much of the weapons he’s provided. Scout has probably gotten some things from him and so has that bastard Hank. He didn’t know what Hank had planned with the stuff he’d gotten. There have been no reports of any kind of attack happening on the Ministry. He knew that Scout had passed that life behind so her information may be limited. That and he didn’t trust her in anyway shape or form. He needed someone he could trust.
That would come in the form of Andrey Perov. Why hadn’t the Ukrainian surfaced himself was beyond him. Right now Arjen needed the guy, really badly. He was the best informant for the Ministry in its history. Arjen let out a sigh and then looked over to Scout. He was sure she answered, but she didn’t catch her answer. Arjen assumed it was no, but hey he’d apperate out into the street and if she was unhappy with the place then she could just apperate to some shithole that she considered nice. Arjen sighed and then got in contact with Scout.
Downtown London was their destination. The embassy was viewable through a window in the café he chose. It was a calm spot that Arjen knew of pretty well. A girl he dated a few years ago worked here for a while and Arjen usually picked her up in a scooter he had stolen. Arjen sighed softly and then looked over to Scout. He’d might as well be somewhat respectful. He held the door open for her and followed into the shop after Scout’s lead.
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Post by Ed Taco on Feb 29, 2008 10:46:50 GMT -5
[[Sorry for the delay! Work is really, really busy right now. I may only be able to post on Fridays and Weekends for a little bit. I'll do my best, but I'm swamped =o=]]
She'd tensed suspiciously as he'd asked her to lunch, her hand slipping towards her wand, as though he might suddenly lash out and try to kill her. Zaphod was baring his teeth, and she'd arched a brow curiously. This wasn't like him. This wasn't like him at all. He didn't do polite well. He looked more like he was experiencing a very painful root canal. With no anesthetic.
She was taking too long to answer. She cleared her face of its searching look and smiled lightly with all that teasing joy that seemed as much a part of her as the multitude of scars she wore. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she shrugged her shoulders. "Sure."
Still, she'd tensed violently as he touched her, teeth grit, ready to react at a moments notice, hand at her wand. She wouldn't trust him with a small dog, let alone her life. He was pretty much certifiably crazy, and yeah, she'd gotten into shit and had her fair share of killing in her life, but not quite like that. Idly, she thought that if he'd learned to control himself, he would have made a half decent syndicate boss (but she hardly needed more of those in her life).
She pulled away in the pretense of regaining balance, because it was rude to let people know that their mere presence put you on edge. And being rude now, while her life was only partially safe, was not exactly the wisest move. She'd toe the line, get her gold, and leave. Put on an Untraceable Charm, go get these scars removed, send her folks away, and go somewhere far away. Somewhere warm and tropical and start over again. She'd get a new wand, or maybe she'd live as a muggle. Just get away from it all. She'd never even touch home, because she knew Hank's men would be waiting. Certainly, he'd know that she'd be looking to leave, and he'd want her dead. It did make sense. Once she was gone, it would be so easy to just leak information to the Ministry and let them deal with him. Not that she would–she'd rather die than squeal to the Ministry, but there was always the potential. So she could accept that he'd try to kill her. That was old news.
She paused as he opened the door and stared at him flatly, her chin tipped up in quiet defiance. He expected her to walk ahead of him, when she knew he wanted nothing more than to slit her throat? Blowing choppy bangs out of her eyes, she ducked on through, keeping him in her peripheral vision. It was a little café that could only be described in words like cute, or cosy, or comfortably cramped. She arched a brow, scrunching her freckled, slightly-crooked nose (she'd taken a bludger to the face back in her fourth year, breaking her nose quite spectacularly–and still making her shot).
And really, all she wanted was a cigarette and some hole-in-the-wall that was at least less...bright. Places like this made her feel almost confined. She wasn't surprised at the seating arrangements by the window, with the embassy in full sight. She watched it with half-lidded eyes, resting her chin in her off hand, keeping her right down in her lap. Good, decent people were always uncomfortable when they saw the burns or the white lines, the distortions of skin from chemical spills, the round cigar burn on the inside of her wrist. Good, decent people shouldn't have to see the marks of the lives that bad, horrible people lead. It was...wrong. It was why she avoided places like this like the plague. It was almost as though they might catch whatever it was that had twisted her into this shadow of a person, that they might change and lose themselves because of her. It was a stupid fear, but it always bothered her. She distanced herself from all those people she loved that might suffer because of her (and really, she should have wiped her families memories and sent them away years ago, but she'd been too weak to be utterly alone like that, now she had to, because if they died she'd never be able to live with herself).
"What do you want?" she asked after their waiter had come and gone. She watched him flatly, eyes cold and hard, searching. "You're not the type to just turn gentleman all of a sudden, especially not to 'scum' like me. Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you need." Because people always needed things from her, lest it be bombs or smuggled good or information or...services. But he was a Ministry lapdog. And she had more class than that.
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Jay
New Member
Posts: 37
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Post by Jay on Mar 2, 2008 17:47:02 GMT -5
((Don't worry about it. I've had a pretty bad week anyway. My dumbass brother got a DUI. So basically its been a family crisis. Kids a dumbass, but he did put up 14 in our basketball game. We have practice 6 days a week for four hours, so chances are I won't be able to get on until Friday. Thursday is the final. After that I start lacrosse...))
A soft sigh came from him as he saw her eyes dart at him. He didn’t blame her for not trusting him. After all if he was a tad more pissed off he might have killed her. He was incredibly close and thank god some sort of sense came into his head. If it hadn’t her blood would be spilled all over the floor of that furnished warehouse. Arjen should have killed four people that night, but there was only one body that Arjen produced. He had a chance at two.
Arjen would have to tell Scout that he kept her life in danger. In all honesty he didn’t want to get his hands wet killing her. He’d let Hank ruin her life. The bastard would probably kill her family in response to Arjen’s mockery of him. Or maybe he would lay low. After all Arjen did basically piss all over him. Not to mention mutilated his business partner in front of his eyes. Arjen grinned softly to himself as he recalled last night.
The two were seated by the window, much to Arjen’s dismay. He hated being able to be seen from so many different positions and not being able to spot anybody. It presented far to many weaknesses. He wanted to move for his wand, but knew that Scout would think it was a hostile act. Arjen could depend on his draw. He was pretty quick draw to get his wand. Five years of experience was pretty good for him.
Then his attention turned to Scout. He needed to talk to her. What better place then an unfamiliar part of London, then again the embassy was in view. The two could plot a route from here. It was a good place to plan it out. Arjen needed to stop beating around bush. He knew that she knew this wasn’t friendly. Arjen barely had anything friendly in his body. He sighed and was about to speak, but the waitress came over to their table.
She was pretty girl that looked about twenty years of age. Her blonde hair was tied back and it revealed a pretty pair of blue eyes. She had a pretty smile as well. After all part of her job was smiling at the patrons. She took their orders and Arjen made it something quick and easy so that he could tell Scout what was happening. The girl flashed him another smile and Arjen let out a grin. Muggle girls… nothing like them. He always thought what it would be like to be a muggle. Everything was so much more complicated in the muggle world, but it seemed so much more fun. Cell phones and automobiles always interested Arjen, but he wouldn’t give up the ability to turn somebody turn inside out up.
Arjen was pulled back to reality by the sound of his partner. He opened his mouth to respond, but she went on. How was he going to tell this bitch anything! A soft sigh came from him and he listened to her words. He was actually listening because that is what he needed to do this. This is what he wanted from her. She stopped talking and Arjen opened his mouth. He was sure it would fall on deaf ears. After all Scout still had her badass, I’m a fucking smuggler attitude on.
‘Alright I’m going to start off by saying listen to me because I know you probably wouldn’t. We both need this money. This is going to be a mission that we need to trust each other on. Yes, I fucking pulled the trust card out… so I’m sorry. I’m… sorry for how I acted last night. I almost slit your throat and that’s inexcusable. I’m sure you don’t believe me, but I don’t apologize. Especially to ‘scum’ like you who should be killed off. Getting back on track. We need to put this bullshit somewhere in the past. I know you still want to kill me, but we need to get this fucking hit done. The only way we can do this is if I know you can have my back. There’s no way I could do this alone, that’s why I asked you to lunch. I know your probably thinking of a simpler way to do this. We could gas his room, poison his food and shit like that. War with Russia would be just what the doctor ordered. You honestly don’t think I know your families background? I know you need them away, after last night I gave you ample time to do so without pressure from Hank. This war, though is perfect. The Ministry would rush to arm up, you can hide your families and probably run. I plan on taking a job that the US offered me. Getting back on track, I need your trust. Just for one night. That’s all.’
He couldn’t believe what just came out of his mouth. There should have been a point where he stopped. He was sure that Scout could care less and he shook his head. His eyes wandered the room. Nobody was listening. He could tell, plus this place was far to far for any kind of wizard. Especially one’s from the Ministry. He knew for fact that none of Starkov’s men spoke English. Then the pretty waitress came back with their food and drink. She flashed another smile at Arjen and then walked off.
His eyes came back to Scout. Maybe his words did hit home. All he needed was one night of trust. One night where he knew that she had his back. She could kill him after he got his money. However, Arjen decided he wouldn’t kill her. There was no point. After all he no longer had to. Hank would probably get his way, unless Scout killed him first. Arjen would put the world that the latter would happen. That is why he kept the bastard alive.
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Post by Ed Taco on Mar 2, 2008 20:45:36 GMT -5
[[Oooh, not fun. And no worries, it's understandable. =3]]
Scout was sullen, watching the window with steady determination, her lips curved into a frown. She strummed her fingers against her leg, listening quietly, keeping herself as blank as she could (though her eyes flashed angrily as he brought up her family–it was all she could do to suppress the urge to cut out his tongue. He had no right to speak of him, swine that he was–). Merlin, she wanted a cigarette. He really was crazy, wasn't he? War? He wanted war? She closed her eyes, clenching her hand in her lap. Control. She needed control right now.
"Are you like this with other women, or am I just special?" The words were mocking, as cool and biting as ever. She slowly opened her eyes to arch her brow at him and scoff. "You take and take and take and then you take some more. You use my bombs–fine, whatever, that's my job–but you do that, and then betray my trust, in which I nearly lose an eye, you physically try to kill me, you do nothing but insult my skill and my intelligence, your idiot actions have endangered not only me, but my family, and now you expect me to just forget it? Trust you? You can't just take everything. Doesn't work like that. You have to give a little. "
She reached out with her scarred hand–she didn't care any more–and caught her cup of tea, reeling it in in a smooth motion, closing her eyes. The knuckles that held the cup went white in exertion, and she could feel the cup close to cracking in her hand. She hated him so much in that moment. Hated every asshole like him who'd come into her life, captured her admiration and heart and then left her to rot when she needed them. Nails in her coffin, all of them. She was sick of it. Fuck him. She was sick of going against her better judgement and believing in jerkoffs like him. And now this one wanted her to trust him. Fuck that. She'd learned her lesson by now. Even if it had taken Theo's death and Hank's....well, Hankness, to teach her the lesson. She'd learned it. She'd been an idiot girl then, but these years of killing had finally started to catch up with her. She was starting to feel old, and she'd only turned twenty about a month ago.
Still. She had to get them out.
"You're one twisted little fucker, you know that?" She'd scoffed, looking at the dredges in her tea, ignoring the lunch that Zaphod had quietly descended upon. She'd lost her appetite some time ago. "How the fuck will war benefit anyone but the underground, dipshit? With the Ministry so focused on the enemy, they'll thrive. Not to mention, we'll be listed as traitors and any allies of the wizarding British nation will be obligated to give us up to then. So there's few places to run to in the first place. And then they'll hunt us down like the mindless little dogs they are. You fancy a life on the run?"
Arching a brow at him, she'd drained the rest of her drink and closed her eyes. "If we do this quietly, without plunging everyone into war, it'll be that much easier to disappear. I don't need anyone else out to get me, and your shiny new job might disappear if you screw up on that colossal a scale." Don't throw your teacup at him Scout. No matter how much you want to.
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Jay
New Member
Posts: 37
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Post by Jay on Mar 2, 2008 23:46:16 GMT -5
((Post=shit))
Arjen sighed. He expected it. Thank god he had his food. This bitch was unbelievable. Now he remembered why he wanted to take her life. He sighed and looked over to that waitress. At least she was eye candy. She looked good in what she wore. They were a pair of short-shorts and she fit them well. What was he suppose to say? She was a good looking girl. He could only hope that she wasn’t a bitch, like Scout was. Of course she wouldn’t trust him. This was much harder then he ever thought.
Then she cursed his idea. How narrow-minded was this bitch? He didn’t worry about these pussies in the underworld. Arjen never was. Plus that would only increase work. After all if his job in America faded then he could be a millionaire. He sighed as she continued and he shot the ideas in his mind. She didn’t understand his thinking and he couldn’t blame her. She said something about giving a little. Arjen would have to grow a pair for this. It was time to man up.
‘Your right, but nobody would turn us in. You forget the wizarding world fears us. That doesn’t change the fact that your right…’
He made eye contact to. His tone wasn’t defeated, though. In his heart he knew war would best. Maybe not for her, but certainly for him. He continued to eat his sandwich before he had the overwhelming urge to smoke. Arjen went into his jacket pocket and pulled out a half smoke pack. He pulled a cigarette out of his box and then looked to Scout. Her eyes lit up. Give a little.
‘Take one. Don’t tell me you don’t want it. If you think I would kill you with one of these your out of your mind.’
He passed the cig over to her and then took out a lighter. People looked at him and he shook his head. Muggles. Honestly how could they be hung up on this bullshit smoking cancer thing. He knew he was faster then any man in England and he’d been smoking since his fifth year. His lighter sparked and up came the tiny flame. He took a drag and then passed the lighter over the table. She obviously didn’t have a lighter.
Back to his mission he decided they’d do it quietly. Arjen needed a little bit before he could talk again. He sighed and moved cigarette from his mouth. His finger flicked off the ashes and then he looked at her. He scratched the brown hair on his head and the waitress came back. Arjen said he was done and smiled at her. She looked about twenty two… he had a way of reading people. A soft smile came from the waitress and he’d put some moves on after lunch. He needed some booze right now, but since there was none he’d have to say it sober. It pained him to say it.
‘We’re going to do it your way… what do… you suggest.’
He downed the glass of water and needed a cigarette. Smoking it would take this situation off of his mind. Honestly, he did want a successful partnership, but this bitch didn’t work the way he wanted. Not to mention that fucking bitch was still a criminal in his eyes. He couldn’t believe that his master picked her. What he saw in her was beyond him, but he was sure if would surface.
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Post by Ed Taco on Mar 3, 2008 18:56:50 GMT -5
[[Mine is worse~~!]] Scout rolled her eyes. No, they feared two wizards. And they had no idea who they were. Who was going to be frightened of a young, small woman? Especially one like her? Sure, her tongue could be sharp, but really, around people she could tolerate, she was too goddamn chipper for anyone to take her seriously. Which was great for catching them unawares and all that, but didn't do much to keep people at bay due to reputation or something. Whatever.
The cigarette he offered her made her scarred hand clench. She was supposed to be quitting. But Merlin, she needed it. Unless he fancied her flying across the table to rip out his throat with her teeth or something. Offering a quiet sound of thanks, she'd accepted her packaged death. Catching the lighter in her calloused palm, she'd lit up with the ease of practise. Sliding his zippo back to him, she took a pull and–the world became a little better, just for a moment. Her hands stopped fidgeting as she leaned back in her chair, tipping her head back to blow smoke in a slender column ever upwards. She ignored any polite stares of disapproval, relishing in the toxic suicide. Flirting with death wasn't enough for her. She had to seduce it, tango with it, dominate it, before she dared succumb.
She looked over at him as he grit out his sentence, and the word was out of her mouth before she could stop herself, "Heat." Stopping herself before she went off on something, she took another drag. Idiot. Think before you talk. Running a hand through her hair, somewhat distraught, she spoke in a very strained, very quiet voice. "He supplied the underground, he'll meet with the leaders for business tonight. They'll provide...tokens, after the deals are made. He's too important not to pander to like that. They won't risk insulting him."
She watched Zaphod curling up on her plate, breathing rapidly in his sleep, reaching out to brush him with a long finger. She tapped her cigarette against her tea cup, and willed herself to look up.
"In the brothels, the women are always drugged up. Keeps them relatively docile, lowers escape attempts. It's expensive, but it works. Heat is highly effective at low dosages, makes even the most...mediocre customer at least tolerable. In higher dosages, it's toxic. Acts like strychnine, just much, much faster. Just as painful though. Each muscle in the body contracts, death within minutes. It affects men more than women. No idea why. Some differences in biology or some shit. Whatever."
She took a long drag. Calm. Control. This is business. Don't let your emotion cloud your judgement. It was too long ago, necessary, he'd gotten too ambitious and had to die, it's not your fault– She began to speak very quickly, closing her eyes. "If someone was to provide a woman as a token, drugged up on Heat, and he were to sleep with her, he'd absorb enough of the drug through skin contact that it would kill him. It's a quick, clean kill, can be explained as an accident, and won't kill anyone else but the target. It's not honourable, but it's damned effective."
You'd know, wouldn't you? Shut up. Just, shut up.
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