Roland
Elite Warrior
Posts: 95
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Post by Roland on Jan 17, 2010 23:26:32 GMT -6
As he rounded the corner, Roland eased off the throttle on the bike, slowing as he moved down the last block of his territory. He took a deep breath as he pulled to a stop, shutting off the engine as he dismounted the bike.
There was no point in taking the bike any farther. This was the edge of the New Empire's territory; once he crossed this street, he was in the Deathhounds' territory. He'd come alone; no sense risking what resources he had.
Double-checking his equipment, Roland gave a long glance at the bike. He was leaving the walkie behind, the thing was at the edge of its functionality as it was, and Scrap's continued chatter would only distract him from what he'd come to do.
As he crossed the street into his enemy's territory, Roland kept his eyes peeled. He'd spent the past 5 days talking with every former Deathhound in the New Empire, learning all he could about the gang, and more importantly, Eddie Crown. He'd learned much, but even with that knowledge to support him, Roland still found himself nervous as he trudged further from his turf. It wasn't a feeling he liked.
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Post by Pyrodeus (NPC) on Jan 17, 2010 23:38:50 GMT -6
A group of three men, all with tattoos of a snarling dog's head flanked with the letter D on the left and the letter H on the right on their right forearms, drove into Deathhound territory in a car they had recently stolen. The owner was stuffed in the trunk with a broken neck.
As the car sreeched around the corner, the men held 40-ounce bottles of King Snake malt liquor out the window, pumping their fists and wailing. The car stopped when one of them saw Roland walking.
The car squealed to a halt directly in Roland's path, and the man riding shotgun rolled down his window.
"You got some balls walking into our world wearing that armband, punk," he jeered. "You lost, or just stupid?"
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Roland
Elite Warrior
Posts: 95
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Post by Roland on Jan 17, 2010 23:43:46 GMT -6
Roland resisted the urge to smile at the man in the passenger seat of the car. This much, he was ready for. He knew the Deathhounds were fiercely territorial, though he suspected this encounter was more by luck than through any organized patrolling effort.
Speaking clearly, Roland held his hands out to his sides, palms open towards the vehicle to show there was nothing pointed at them. He doubted the reverse was true, but he knew it couldn't hurt. "Neither, at least not the first. I'm looking for the Big Dog."
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Post by Pyrodeus (NPC) on Jan 17, 2010 23:55:06 GMT -6
All the men in the car laughed at Roland's comment. "You want to go and find Crown?" the man in the passenger seat asked. "What, were you worried the ass-whoopin' we would give you wouldn't be severe enough?"
This was followed by some talking in low voices between the men in the car. They seemed to reach a consensus, and the man riding shotgun looked back at Roland.
"You know what, get in the car," he said. The right rear door opened, and a Deathhound holding a silenced submachine gun sat on the far side of the bench seat. "We'll take you to his front door. If you're gonna get your skinny little ass stomped by Eddie Crown, I wanna be there to see it."
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Roland
Elite Warrior
Posts: 95
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Post by Roland on Jan 18, 2010 0:12:30 GMT -6
Nodding, with an easy smile on his face, Roland climbed into the car. He planned to play the fool until he got to Crown. Then he could drop the act. Until then, however, he was glad that his slim physique lent itself so easily to such mockery. In times like this, it certainly paid to be underestimated.
As he glanced as the SMG he was sharing the backseat with, he was doubly thankful for the assumptions these men had made of him. His jacket was made with a special metal weave, layered over a flexible non-conducting material of his own invention. It was made as a failsafe against the electric current common in Reclaimer weaponry after he joined the faction, but more than once, Reclaimer agents had returned from raids claiming that the combined material offered some minor protection against small-arms fire.
Not that the jacket was bulletproof, by any means, but from what he'd seen, the article could mean the difference between a flesh wound and a mortal one. It would still hurt like hell, yes. But if things went sour, he'd be able to keep fighting until they got his legs or his head, and that knowledge was a small comfort indeed.
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Post by Pyrodeus (NPC) on Jan 18, 2010 0:18:26 GMT -6
The man holding the gun said nothing, simply keeping it trained on Roland. The driver took a drink from his forty, but seemed to concentrate on his driving, just slow enough to maintain control of the large sedan.
The guy in the passenger seat turned around to face Roland. He took a drink of his forty, then spoke.
"If Eddie doesn't wanna talk to you, you're gonna die here. You know that, right? We're giving you a lift because we wanna see the fight, if there is one. But if there's not, we're going about 15 blocks into Deathhound territory. There is no way you would make it 15 blocks through our turf and back to that bike. Not alone."
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Roland
Elite Warrior
Posts: 95
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Post by Roland on Jan 18, 2010 0:35:15 GMT -6
Roland listened attentively, then nodded, but said nothing. He didn't have many words for these men. Honestly, he didn't have too many words prepared for Crown.
Part of him, the part that liked to be prepared, ready for anything, felt foolish as the punk in the passenger seat pointed out the flaw in his plan. But Roland knew it was a nearly essential one. Bottom line, even with the New Empire's near-quadrupling in size, a full-scale conflict against the Deathhounds would result in far too many lost resources, and there was a massive chance for failure, which meant lost territory as well.
Instead, Roland had decided to go it alone. There were none in the New Empire, with the possible exception of Scrap, that Roland believed could challenge Eddie Crown and win, and the robot was becoming further bound to the DWP console with each passing day. That left himself.
If he succeeded, the Deathhounds would be his, with no loss of life or resources other than that of Crown himself. If he failed, however, he knew the New Empire would stagnate, much as it had before. Darian would take it over again, and it would most likely retain its members and territory, at least until a new split-off from the Deathhounds won a turf war for a block here, a neighborhood there.
His entire vision rode on this. And it had to happen before any of his other plans could continue. The very real possibility of lost life when dealing with this City's Courier problem meant that he needed all the manpower he could get.
The only positive of the situation was the intel he'd gleaned from his new forces. From what he'd learned of Eddie Crown, the man's rise to control of the Deathhounds had been almost meteoric. One fight after another, Crown's opponents fell before him until he fought his way to the Big Dog himself. Obviously, Crown had won that bout. The man was powerful, a more-than-capable fighter in his own right, and ambitious to boot.
But the man also had an ego, and, as far as anyone knew, the man had yet to decline a challenge. Roland knew that was his ticket. His only chance. Find Crown, challenge him, use that ego to his advantage. After that, it was only the easier-said-than-done task of killing the behemoth.
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Post by Pyrodeus (NPC) on Jan 18, 2010 1:06:10 GMT -6
The car slowed rapidly, then stopped abruptly, lurching forward before settling and stopping completely.
"Okay, out of the car," the man with the gun said to Roland as the two men sitting up front both got out of the car as well. Once the car had emptied, the group walked into the large house the car had pulled up in front of.
As they entered, almost immediately upon entering the house they heard the moans of coitus coming from a hallway to their left. A few more moments' worth of furious moans accompanied by a rhythmic shaking of the furniture came to a stop, and a girl emerged soon after, her hair messy, her clothes obviously thrown on in a hurry. She closed the door behind her, and scurried out of the house.
"Got a minute, boss?" the man who had been driving asked.
"Yeah, come in," Crown shouted through the door. The door opened to Crown standing, just finishing up fastening his belt again. "What do you guys want?" he asked, grabbing his shirt off of the floor and throwing it on.
"We just got back from a dealership with a new set of wheels when we found this little shit at the border. Judging by the armband he's New Empire, said he wanted to talk to you."
Eddie looked at Roland, and smiled thinly. "You're the one who just weaseled his way into Darian's inner circle," he said. "The grid guy."
He then looked at the men who had escorted Roland this far. "He's a bold bastard, isn't he?" he asked them, grinning. He then looked at Roland. "You took a big risk coming all the way here, kid. Hope it was for something important."
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Roland
Elite Warrior
Posts: 95
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Post by Roland on Jan 18, 2010 1:49:36 GMT -6
Roland couldn't help but smile as Eddie joked at his expense. He'd forgotten just how massive the man was in person, but it seemed whatever jitters he'd had upon entering Crown's turf had worked their way out of his system. He was back to himself, at least, as much as he could be until he was done with this mess.
"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't. Darian and his inner circle are out of the picture. It's just me now. And I wanted to extend my offer again, to the leader of the only other gang left in this City."
Roland made sure to make eye contact with the man-mountain before him as he spoke. He knew the odds of Eddie accepting his deal were astronomical, but he couldn't come right out and challenge the man. At the same time, however, he realized that subtlety alone would get him nowhere. Instead, he had to find a middle ground, somewhere between fact and implication. Otherwise he'd just be killed on the spot.
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Post by Pyrodeus (NPC) on Jan 18, 2010 13:03:20 GMT -6
"So you managed to get rid of Darian," Eddie said, nodding approvingly. "Not bad. I'd be a little more impressed if Darian wasn't a coward and an idiot, but still, not bad."
His face then changed to moderate annoyance. "You're an ambitious sumbitch, and ballsy to boot. But I haven't changed my mind since your little meeting a few days ago."
Crown then looked at the three Deathhounds who had brought Roland before him. "Gentlemen, escort our guest out," he commanded them, making a shooing gesture with his hand.
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Roland
Elite Warrior
Posts: 95
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Post by Roland on Jan 18, 2010 14:05:18 GMT -6
As Eddie gestured to his men, Roland sighed, and dropped the civil act. As much as being underestimated might have worked to his advantage, it was time to be taken seriously. Training his attention on the man with the gun, Roland's hand shot into his jacket, pulling out a long, curved metallic cylinder from a modified shoulder holster.
Once, this had been one of his batons, but the devices never worked well in melee combat. Roland had modified this one, removing the barb and the launching mechanism, leaving only a split blade, nearly half the length of the baton itself.
Before the man with the SMG could get a shot off, Roland had carried the momentum of turning and drawing the blade through into a short run, ending with a bloody slash across the man's throat. Blood sprayed from the wound, flecking Roland and his two remaining 'escorts' with drops of red as the man fell to the ground.
Without missing a beat, Roland closed the distance to the driver of the car he'd arrived in, knocking the man's drink out of his hand and he plunged his knife deep into the man's midsection. Another spray of blood, thoroughly coating his hand.
As he looked to the last of his escorts, the talkative man from the passenger seat, Roland smiled, the white of his teeth contrasted against the dark red liquid on his face. Striding calmly over to the man, Roland was still grinning as the blade flashed briefly between the man's legs, cutting his femoral artery before Roland stepped back.
Standing up straight, Roland turned back to Crown, cracking his neck and seemingly unaware of the still-warm blood now coating him from head to toe. "I figured you hadn't changed your mind. Sorry about the carpet, but I wasn't finished."
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Post by Pyrodeus (NPC) on Jan 18, 2010 14:12:25 GMT -6
Eddie frowned at Roland as he laced his fingers together, cracking his knuckles. "I don't think you know just how finished you are," he told Roland, his right hand closing into an enormous fist as Eddie swung for Roland's face.
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Roland
Elite Warrior
Posts: 95
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Post by Roland on Jan 18, 2010 14:26:50 GMT -6
Roland's eyes widened slightly as a fist nearly the size of his head came flying at him. Dropping into a crouch, Roland narrowly avoided the punch, his hair still moved by the air following in the fist's wake. He knew he had to move, though, before Eddie could strike again.
From his crouching position, Roland burst into a low sprint, his blade leaping out and tearing through the right leg of Crown's jeans, marking the skin below with a stinging red line. Roland, meanwhile, was leaping onto and over the bed in the room, nearly getting his feet tangled in the sheets as he did. With the furniture between them, though, Roland paused, watching Crown carefully.
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Post by Pyrodeus (NPC) on Jan 18, 2010 14:33:21 GMT -6
Eddie looked down at the cut in his leg that Roland had left as he dashed past, and turned to glare at Roland. Without turning away from his foe, Eddie grasped the door handle and pulled it shut, locking it behind him.
Eddie grabbed a nearby dresser and lifted it over his head. With an audible grunt, he heaved the piece of furniture at Roland.
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Roland
Elite Warrior
Posts: 95
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Post by Roland on Jan 18, 2010 15:00:55 GMT -6
Roland threw himself to the ground to dodge the dresser, dreading the possibility that the thing would simply hit the wall and fall on him. Throwing several-hundred-pound pieces of furniture simply wasn't a tactic Roland had expected.
However, instead of a thud, followed by his being crushed, or a shattering noise signalling the destruction of the dresser, Roland heard sound that he could only describe as a krak-whoom-chink! Looking up, he saw a gaping hole in the wall where the dresser had punched clean through.
Peeking his head up over the bed, Roland confirmed that Eddie was still at least a few feet from him before pushing himself to his feet and hurling himself through the hole the dresser had made. On the other side, he landed with a hard chink on tile, numbing pain shooting up his arm from his elbow as he did.
Scrambling to his feet, however, Roland couldn't help but smile as he realized he'd just come through into a group shower, judging from the sounds of running water echoing off the tile walls and the silver spigots jutting from the wall opposite him. Moving as fast as he could, Roland moved to the nearest showerhead, and turned the water on full blast, soaking the dresser and the floor he'd landed on.
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