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The Creeping Shroud's Last Job[Open]

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The Creeping Shroud's Last Job[Open]

Post by Seeker of Carnage on Sat May 16, 2015 1:11 am

Light in the dark. A cinder ending the cigarette slightly illuminated the killer's face. His eyes slightly glazed by the ecstasy of his favorite duty. While the mob provided him all of his business and he was willing, there were a few operations they only trusted him with and that meant they wouldn't just let him go. He was creeping in the alleys, following a figure with his Ombra-9 concealed and the Ombra-R.50 mounted on a rooftop. In his hand was a syringe gun loaded with a magazine of fear darts. The figure wasn't going to simply be killed, no he was getting a proper send-off. Removing himself from the shadows, L'Ombra followed the pacing person along the cobblestone. If there were ever a Jack to rip life away from beauty, it would be L'Ombra. His feet calmly glided along the bricks forming a path. His right hand extended to his side, the killer kept his index extended along the shaft. The other fingers tightly rung around the handle, but the hand kept steady. The only people outside were those of dirty action. The rest knew to stay inside, and as approached the person he followed, they turned around to reveal a tommy gun. Almost instantly the creeping shadow shot a syringe bullet into the apparently man's forehead.

Stunned from shock and expecting to be dead, the man fell to the ground. His hands forcefully scratched at his face as the victim began screaming. The screams were a sweet melody to the many-faced ripper of lives. Watching over the man's fears engulfing him, L'Ombra just chuckled. "It's amazing how enjoyable these jobs can be. Sadly, you're part of the last. So many more ties to tie." The man continued to scream, mumbling on about random objects floating about and undead peeling away his flesh. The man himself just tore his own skin off of his face, just digging deep enough to peel the skin by itself. Blood oozed and muscle was revealed as what protected the orbicularus was now missing. The victim shook profusely as the pain increased from self-wounding. The man was weak-willed, however. It was no surprise that he would end up doing that to himself. Walking away, L'Ombra disappeared into the darkness as he was trained to do. Soon after, a flash from afar could be seen almost simultaneous to double-tap in the chest and forehead. L'Ombra cocked back the bolt on his rifle, releasing a second casing and loading a third bullet.

Turning himself, he looked into the distance to scan for a window containing his next target. Proning with the bipod released, L'Ombra saw another man that was quite well-dressed. Mounting the sniper on his back, he slid down a ladder and swiftly shifted from one side of the street to the other, making his way to the next rendezvous point. He hid his syringe gun and replaced it with the Ombra-9, concealing the syringe gun where the pistol was. One down. Three to go. As reckless as I can be without being seen, I need them to be seen. Only furthers my plans.

*Note: He is wearing a mask

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Re: The Creeping Shroud's Last Job[Open]

Post by Changeling on Fri May 22, 2015 10:11 am

A flash of darkness. A rip in space. A sphere of shadows to hide a new arrival. Zulu strolled calmly down the cobblestone streets in a brand new world, rifle on his back and a pistol at his waist. He found himself in a more familiar place in terms of architecture. It felt very much like a city of Dieon, it definitely fit their standards for tourism. But there was something a little off about the place, he just couldn't pinpoint what exactly... Ahh, that's right. Dieon didn't have disembodied screams echoing through the alleys. No, that was Alteria's thing, and to a lesser extent, Forge, but that was before he moved on with his life. He was pretty sure a lot of the syndicates and military laboratories alike were happy he was gone, finally finding peace and getting fewer bills for structural damage and stolen prototypes, schematics, and fully functioning weapons and augmentations.

Still, for old time's sake, he went seeking out the source of the tortured screams. Maybe he could even see how people here did their executions. He wandered into an alley where a man was furiously clawing his face raw, calling out nonsense. He must either been drugged or someone used a little magic to snap his mind. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. He walked over to the man, but after two shots pierced the writhing soul, through the heart and brain, Zulu had to click his tongue in disappointment. Why did the show have to end so soon? Using the blood splatters as a guide to the origin of the bullets, he managed to spot a figure climbing down from a rooftop. He seemed to be loaded as well, and it seemed the corpse in the alley was just one target.

Locking his gas mask and pulling his visor down, he decided to shadow the figure. He stayed close to the shadows. Vixen was strapped to his back and Bloodletter was in his hand, fully loaded with the safety off. Never follow another assassin without a weapon ready to let a few rounds fly at a single twitch. That's a lesson every cloak and dagger needed to know, and one that Zulu had learned through years of mercenary work. Never just trust in a person's good nature to hold a conversation with another when both can just as easily end the other. Got to treat them with a little respect; keep your guard up in their presence, and punish them for not doing the same. That's the game.

For now, he kept himself hidden at a distance, but had his eyes on the assassin and his target. Might even confront him once it was over. Who knew, only time would tell if that would be a move worth taking.

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Re: The Creeping Shroud's Last Job[Open]

Post by Seeker of Carnage on Sat May 23, 2015 10:47 am

When two masters of death come together, it's like the flowing fish of light and dark. The same but different, opposites but equals. L'Ombra stopped in his tracks and immediately whipped around with his pistol aiming at the one following him. The silence of steps was something that could trick an amateur, however it would be unprofessional of L'Ombra to let it be an oversight that someone was following him. As such, he smiled as he kept a hand on the butt of the rifle strapped to him. What stood in the night was a figure with robotic appearance, so he tried aiming for the eyes but did not shoot. "You know, it isn't wise to follow someone such as I. I have a job to do, things to kill. People to burn, the whole nine yards. So, if you wouldn't mind leaving that would be spectacular." Cocking back the hammer, L'Ombra kept a close eye on the figure. It was going to be an annoying night, having to send people into the infernos of noisy death rather than his silent methods.

L'Ombra was doing something to cripple the mob while he enacted the last job he would take, essentially bringing Gerald into the light so he can kill him midday. Gerald would fail the Don by not arranging the right situations for L'Ombra, a mistake made before. It could also be blamed that someone was following him now, so there is that to thank. The Don and him go way back, however the people will see him as L'Ombra intended to leave a final message on the most public assassination of one of the politicians they have in their pocket that had royally disrupted them. It was perfect, and little did he know the city would eventually be set afire so either way, the Mob will receive a blow. L'Ombra anticipated his work with Marigold, and the possibility that he has met someone like him finally. But looking back at the figure, he wondered what he might have to do. Killing was no issue, however it was never smart to have extra bodies on a job. It makes his reputation smear a little and it would make people think he's sloppy. But then there was a thought, which needed something confirmed. "If you work for them, tell me their name. The people who run this city. If you give me the right answer, I have a much more comforting way to resolve this without the tense gun-holding. If you know anything about my job, you know stacking up bodies is sloppy if they aren't the intended target."

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Re: The Creeping Shroud's Last Job[Open]

Post by Changeling on Sat May 23, 2015 2:48 pm

Heh, the guy was no pushover. He managed to detect the cyborg quickly and went on the trigger. Zulu smirked under the mask and did the same, aiming his own handgun at the masked assassin the moment he whipped about. If he had to guess, the guy probably had a pretty boy face under that facial cover too. Why else would he be wearing a mask? Heh. The other assassin was the first to speak, as expected in a situation where a person of Zulu's position didn't immediately beg for his life at the sight of a gun pointed at them. "I could guess by the guns you're packing. And unfortunately for you, I'm not one who leaves because someone asked nicely."

There was not a sight of fear nor hint of intimidation coming from the cyborg as both guns had their barrels making a straight line to both heads. Zulu's gun was held straight, none of that sideways gang-styled aim that a lot of people liked to use. No, he was holding it the proper way, with the sights aligned squarely on the target, and he could hold it like that until the next week arrived. Besides, what was the worst this guy could do? Kill him? Heh, yeah, good luck with that. If it were that easy, Zulu would have done that himself years ago. At the moment, he didn't have any reason to start a fight and ruin a good show, so as far as the cyborg was concerned, the assassin's life was hanging on his own decisions. If he chose to waste a bullet on a fellow gunman, not only will he fail at his mission, but he'd be putting his life on a knife's edge. Because although Zulu wasn't out to kill when he landed here, he had no qualms about executing anyone who dared fire upon him.

The assassin inquired something of him. Answers that would potentially diffuse this situation. Unfortunately, Zulu couldn't give such answers. But was he worried? Hell no. "Right now, I'm not working for anyone. I'm just a harmless observer who only just arrived and happened to catch sight of an execution. By the way, nice and bloody as it was, it was lacking on the finishing end. Personally, I'd have the guy rip his own eyeballs out and let him bleed to death, or maybe even force feed him his own ears, but that was your execution, not mine." He cracked the mechanical joints of his head before finishing his response. Yes, mechanical joints can still do that. It was a little modification he made to make him feel a little more natural to the eyes of the public. "If I knew anything about your job? Boy, don't make me laugh. Best to carry on with what you have to do while I sit back and enjoy the show. I know better than to mess around with another man's work. So run along before your mark evacuates, and I'll be at a respectable distance watching the whole thing."

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Re: The Creeping Shroud's Last Job[Open]

Post by Seeker of Carnage on Sat May 23, 2015 6:59 pm

L'Ombra smiled at the man, but didn't budge. It was a tense, pseudo-standoff, however the Shroud had to be on time and there was about a minute set-back while they bantered about. Raising his gun up and shrugged, the masked man became a lot less hostile. His gun was held in a way that complimented a trained trigger finger in case he had to lower it again. "Ah, well I apologize then. It's not like I have much of a reason anymore to protect these people who hire me. By the way, if you don't know this already, don't get involved with a mob. Find a nice, comfortable, private contractor. Much more cozy. You probably already know this but city life -- ugh, city life. They don't have any artistic kill spots." lowering the gun to his waist, the man decided to finish his words. "As for that? Yeah, it was sloppy. Time frame, it wasn't for art because I need to make messy, loud kills. If you'd rather be more than an observer, follow me. I get bored, these trivial amateur jobs they throw at me. You tie some knots and walk away? Pathetic." It was unprofessional, the way he acted. It was on purpose, and for the assassin community it hopefully painted a bad picture for working for the Del Ray family.

As the man began to walk off, he turned his head, knowing he would be followed. "I'll leave one for you to watch." Dashing off, the Shroud disappeared into the dark, found only if the man followed. Onto his next target, he entered through the back door of a bought-out bar and slipped a man a vial, rushing out. This had the same chemical within the vial that induced fear, and so it was slipped into a regular's food. That was pretty simple, pay off some employees ahead of time and watch the fireworks fall into place. Continuing forward, he made his twists and turns and climbed another building. Now he was really ready to make them trick shots. Readying his sniper, he was aiming at half a kilometer away, however his scope only provided a clear image of 100 meters. It was no matter, when he was already told how he would have to shoot the sniper. Standing, L'Ombra jumped across the rooftops when he decided a traceable shot would be more efficient. Shoot the gun around people so they can hear aiming down the scope, L'Ombra double-tapped a poor sap. Three down. Only one left, the big one. The politician. Dangling his legs over the edge after moving to another building, he expected the man to appear at any moment. Twiddling his thumbs, his pistol was kept on his lap just in case.

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Re: The Creeping Shroud's Last Job[Open]

Post by Changeling on Mon May 25, 2015 2:48 pm

Zulu lowered his sidearm as the assassin did so. A little gesture to punctuate his point that he didn't have anything against the man currently, but that wasn't enough to lift his finger from the trigger. He made himself look loose, chuckling as the assassin cautioned him about working for the mob, and complained about the availability of kill spots in big cities. Obviously, this kid lacked creativity. What he saw as a city, Zulu saw as a blank canvas ready to be stained in blood with different strokes and brushes. A window had at least three possible applications on its own, but paired with a flower pot, the possibilities would be tripled at the very least. Using what was available, be it a rock or a tank, there are many ways to make the surroundings a very lethal place for targets. One only needs to approach each variable with a touch of twisted imagination.

And on the topic of working for a mob? You just don't start with them. You've got to make yourself a luxury. Make the mob want you. Show them your potential. You'd never get anywhere with them if you simply made yourself as just one of their lackeys. The reputation of a mercenary is the greatest possession he has. Such a waste it would be to simply let it be used on catching little fish. Unfortunately, mobs don't often see potential in a higher scope, only seeing the potential that is currently shining, and forever see only that, like it was a photograph. And if you were to work for them exclusively, you'll only stagnate. That's not to say working for them is bad, just make sure you were on the market for other employers as well. Then they'll soon realize just how much you were capable of. And if they threaten you? Well, just send a bomb their way, hidden inside the severed head of their messenger.

In response to the Changeling's earlier quip, the assassin admitted to making the kill comparable to a dog walking on wet cement because he needed to be quick and messy. On purpose. Zulu let it slide, yet still questioned why exactly. He's only ruining his own reputation by doing such a thing. If he wanted to be loud and messy, Zulu would have chosen to use C4. Lots of it. But that wasn't any of his business.

Zulu would simply shadow the man as he intended, just a little bit closer because he was invited to tag along. He simply watched on, unimpressed, but a little curious on what the concoction the assassin gave the cook. He wouldn't have mind if he had such a potent fear serum with him. That'd make fights a little more entertaining. Hmm, would that work on the heartless? Maybe he'd have to ask the assassin about that later. Nothing like making the shadows afraid... It was so much more satisfying when it was literal.

A short while later after drugging the second target, Zulu continued to follow closely while still staying out of sight of the public eye. He saw another one drop dead with two bullets through the body. Not bad for being intentionally sloppy. The cyborg joined the assassin on the rooftop and would have commended him for his... skills, but he had yet to see something that truly enthralled him. So far, his fear poison was the only thing earning him novelty points, aside from his friendly personality. "How many more executions are we aiming for here?" he asked rather bluntly. Not quite casual, yet not quite professional either.

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Re: The Creeping Shroud's Last Job[Open]

Post by Seeker of Carnage on Sun May 31, 2015 10:15 pm

L'Ombra smiled devilishly as the man asked what else was on the menu. One last stop, however the assassin needed a quick preparation. He knows everything he's done so far wasn't too impressive, but now he can take his time. Hurrying can pay off with the allowance of time being expendable afterwards. Now he could really have fun with the finale. Sprouting from his hand was a group of seeds that injected themselves into the building. Crawling through, their roots sprouted soon after and their development came thenceforth. Plants containing pods on them sprang from the ground, prompting L'Ombra to take out a kit and begin extracting the liquids from within the pods. He needed a non-lethal dosage, loading a magazine on his sniper full of custom ammunition. It utilized the chemical from within the pods, which would soon reveal itself as an interesting cocktail of torture. Posting up on the corner of the building, L'Ombra lined up a shot from afar towards an open area. "Well, you might enjoy this at least. A man, writhing in pain. Pure pain."

Closing in with the scope, he would wait until the ceremony brought the politician to the stage, who had not quit yet been there. Viewing the crowd, two shots were fired with a dose that would take time to enact. Two background members were men who had their families' lives threatened if they said anything about what was about to happen. So as soon as the syringe bullets slapped their back and injected the fluid, they just fidgeted in pain. No one noticed, yet, and L'Ombra loaded the next bullet, however he sat back, knowing he had a few more minutes. "Well, now we just wait so I can really light the finale. Firework appetizers and such, it's a get-together to promote a new alternative source of water. They are going to be testing it and by the time the pain begins, it'll be a reaction to the chemical they are using. The politician is promoting a private think tank of sorts. Wish I had a few cold ones. I like watching them hurt. Simple, right? Not until you feel it yourself." he chuckled, simplicity had its perks sometimes. The different reactions, the different motions and the product that far-exceeded simple fear and illusion. 'Twas great.

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Re: The Creeping Shroud's Last Job[Open]

Post by Changeling on Tue Jun 02, 2015 12:19 pm

Zulu watched as the assassin dropped a few seeds, which interestingly enough, began growing the moment they settled. It must have been a genetically-modified plant of some sort. That, or this guy knew growth magic. Either or, nothing too new. The plants grew, sprouted a few pods, and the assassin pulled out the kit and extracted some liquid from them. Poison, most probably. Poison that he just loaded into bullets on his sniper.

The cyborg took a step closer to the edge as the assassin readied his shots, letting two fly after saying that Zulu would enjoy the outcome. Hopefully he spoke true. That whole process would have gone to waste otherwise, and all that hype he was talking about would be nothing but empty promises. Looking at the people the assassins just shot, he wondered how long it would take for his poison to take effect. Crossing his arms to let the time pass, he scanned the crowd for anything at all to be of interest. Nothing. Well, perhaps he was giving the place a hard time. Although it might look like it, this place wasn't anywhere close to the world he was once in. It had some merit, truth be told.

Looking over to the other assassin, he gave him a once over before speaking. "So how long have been in this business?"

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Re: The Creeping Shroud's Last Job[Open]

Post by Seeker of Carnage on Mon Jun 08, 2015 6:20 pm

No one would expect someone so young to give an answer such as L'Ombra would. Normally the "my entire life" answer was reserved for those who were well-aged and had been going since their teens. However, L'Ombra was truly running the death game since birth, unrivaled by the measly crooks of the mob. No, there was an art to what L'Ombra did, something he wouldn't dare share to the public. Sure, chemicals helped others see the terrors of what he could accomplish, but it was only a taste. No, he had a shroud unlike any other reserved for the most honorary victims. However, what was about to transpire was enough of a taste that it was like wine-testing. As two candidates were "randomly" selected to test the artificial drink, the two struck by the bullets had risen. Moving to the podium, L'Ombra turned his head and smiled under his mask. "Since I was a pup. Trust me, what you see isn't what you get. It's a good thing you are getting the full package, same for the rest of these poor sods. Now, let's enjoy the fireworks, shall we?" As the two began to drink, they started twitching. Indicating that they were about to begin falling to the pain, L'Ombra chuckled.

As the two dropped their drinks, they began convulsing and seizing, falling to the ground with screams. They writhed in pure pain, an ecstasy for L'Ombra ears to be teased with. Everyone sat in horror, watching as the two people who were perfectly fine before had now been dying from the torture of unfathomable pain. They crawled at the ground and the stress had eventually forced a hernia upon both of them. It was enough time for the assassin to reload his rifle with lethal bullets, taking aim and awaiting for attention to turn on the politician. Looking to the crowd, the politician shook his head. "So this is how it ends. Typical Don." A shot rung as a bullet impaled his forehead. Falling to his knees, the politician groaned as blood trailed down his face. L'Ombra packed up his rifle before beginning to walk away. "However, I must be off. Just remember, I am benevolent to those who remain blind." L'Ombra began to walk away, pistol in hand. Touching the door, he briefly turned to Zulu. "Oh, and good luck. There was probably a tip and the gestappos will be here any moment." He said before parting through the door. He'd disappear if Zulu wouldn't pursue him.

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Re: The Creeping Shroud's Last Job[Open]

Post by Changeling on Thu Jun 11, 2015 5:07 am

Indeed, Zulu didn't expect him to give that answer, however, he didn't express any emotion concerning that new information either, except maybe a sigh of pity. He'd been in that position and it only lead him to ruin, yet in a strange twist of fate or broken thinking, he knew that if he was given a chance to start again from square one, he'd end up in the same position, just maybe with a few changes here and there. One would wonder why, but Zulu had already got it figured out.

He leaned forward to watch the two tagged guinea pigs writhe in pain, bringing a grin to his face. Whatever the assassin injected into them, he'd have to ask for the formula. Though, he'd enjoy dishing out the pain personally rather than let a dart do it for him. Makes the experience much more enticingly personal. If he chose to let his victim survive, he'd knew his mark would have burned deep into their psyche. If he chose to kill them, that'd be another torturous memory to keep himself awake at night. For a while, at least. People would also learn to fear and idolize him, which was how the Crimson Shadows came to be; other mercenaries would talk about him on the underground, causing some esteemed individuals to approach him, asking him to be their mentor. Others, who he stood up against, simply offered to join him after one side (usually his) defeated the other. Eventually, what started out as a small group venture expanded to a full-blown contracting type of business, with none other than Zulu at the helm and his most trusted lieutenants at his side. He wouldn't dream of making something so big now. Not because of the dangers, but because it was too much work. Even though he enjoyed his position, he just felt empty inside. He guessed having other people do his dirty work just ripped the joy out of it for him.

Once the assassin's target had been picked out of the crowd, he went on to dispatch him, sending the whole crowd into a frenzy, igniting the uneasiness that had swelled after the two poor souls got a dose of source-less pain. Whoever was second in command for the ceremony had a lot of answering to do after what had happened. Noticing the assassin turning to leave, Zulu silently and stealthily passed his hand on a loose article of clothing, marking him in case the cyborg needed to get close in the future. Hey, there was no telling what time had in mind. Better to have a trump card at the ready.

After the assassin bid his goodbye, Zulu waved him off. "Don't worry your pretty little head. I got my own ways of disappearing," he said, looking back towards the scampering crowd. There was just something melodious about panicked screams and hysterical prayers to entities beyond people's perception. However, he picked up something as he watched on. A pair of hooded figures, looking up at him. They both had their faces covered in the shadows provided by the hood, but he could see that they were wearing gas masks. Half-faced. They were out of place in the crowd, but none minded them in the midst of the chaos. The next thing he noticed about one of them was that he was flashing him a look at his sidearm, as well as a red, circular token with familiar markings on the front. He recognized the token. It was what people used to get in touch with him directly, skipping the grunts he placed on the front desk. Why the hell did he have one of those?

No matter. A job was a job. He nodded to them and they disappeared into the alleys. "I shouldn't be bringing work to vacations, but whatever." A dark aura covered the changeling before he suddenly vanished into thin air, soon to reappear to where ever the token was.

=====

"How unfortunate. It seems Roy had lost a few toys after that deal with Triax... This won't do. He requires rearming. Comrade, prepare our little presents."

[EXIT]

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