A Collaberation between Hillan and Pacifista.


[b]Back District, a short while ago[/b]

Pair going deeper into the district through its many alleys, things were rather quiet. Kohl in particular seemed to be trying to speak, fidgeting a bit, but saying nothing, before eventually seeming to give up, keeping single eyed gaze forwards.

Chester strolled along with Kohl, in one hand he carried the currently half-full bottle of rum, and the other was positioned on his shoulder, holding onto a strap that his backpack was attached to. Out of the pack one could see the cloth-covered form of his katana being janked down the bag. While obviously intoxicated, Chester's ability to walk seemed to be mostly unaffected, as he could walk straight and notice his surroundings with little problem as the duo strolled down the road.

After a short while, a figure appeared on the lip of a building, before dropping down. Standing tall at almost eight feet in his long, dark coat, Mott looked over the two and nodded, before greeting, "Well, I believe that's almost everyone." Pointing his finger at the path ahead, he said, "A right, then a left, if you would." With a hop, he returned to the rooftop, before slinking out of sight. Kohl watched him go, before letting out an impatient sigh.

"He said forward and then left, right?" Chester asked, taking a swig from his bottle, his question was drenched in alcohol induced sarcasm, as he headed towards the path that the guy in the coat had suggested, Kohl following along wordlessly. Chester was slightly curious to find out where the guy had gone, but that was a thought for another time.

Turns taken, the duo's destination was quite clear, as they lumped up with roughly a dozen men, mulling about a short, wide stretch of road, each of them somewhere on a sliding scale of shady to grimy and everywhere in between. At the head of the pack, Mott stood, nodding, before waving everyone forwards as he began to walk at the lead of the imposing group.

Mott began to speak, words carrying to the others, "So, you've made is this far, but we've yet to really begin. Your task will be quite simple: all you must do is reach 'base'. Be warned though, as it will take brains and brawn to manage."

Two of the others in the group spoke up: "Huh, what's he talkin' about, Dansky?" "Be quiet! We haven't started yet! I guess."

"Base? The heck's a base?" Chester spoke up, turning to Kohl for a moment. "You got any clue what he's on about?" Kohl shook his head, Chester chuckled. "Course you wouldn't. Stay here, I'mma try and find out." He said, walking straight forward, when the burly thugs ahead were blocking the way, Chester scoffed, swigging from his stiff drink as he walked straight through the crowd, making his way to Mott.

Just as Chester reached him, Mott came to a stop, not paying him any mind. From the path ahead came the sounds of footsteps as another group approached. At the front was a bulky man in a white suit, several scars on his person. As he came within a few meters of Mott, he and his band came to a stop. Looking over Mot's group, he sneered, "What, you bring all them to carry the stuff, right? 'Cause I'm not seeing any of that medicine."

[i]We were supposed to bring medicine?[/i] Chester thought in response, he leaned backwards and dropped his bang down into his hand, for easy access to his weapon. 

An eye on his wristwatch, Mott was quiet for a moment, before he began, "I'm afraid the deal has been called off. We're no longer interested in transaction with your people.

Eye twitching, the leader growled, "What was that!?"

"Our brief partnership has ended."

The was muttering from both sides. From a few men back, Kohl managed to say, [color=ed1c24]"Th-then what are we doing here?"[/color] Another asked, "You didn't bring us here to fight, did you?"

[i]Better not have.[/i] Chester thought.

As the other group shuffled, as if to prepare, Mott, eyes still on his wrist, chortled, "Oh, heavens no! I've already given you your instruction." With a brief salute, he bid, "Good luck." Striding away, eyes followed as he casually slipped in between two buildings, heading off.

The leader of the other side, blinked, before grumbling, "Shit, now someone's gonna have to die."

He took a step forwards, before there was a thundering of steps and the sound of doors bursting open. From in between the two groups and behind each of them came more than two dozens of men in brown, each brandishing rifles. There was a series of clicks as even more were pointed out of the windows from above.

"Halt!" ordered one of the island's soldiers, "You are all under arrest!"

The doors flung open, the island soldiers all came around, it was a sting. Was a Don really one to work with the law like that? Seemed unlikely. Mott must have done this against the Don's wishes, Chester figured. He had to respect that, after all. But instead of trying to fight, Chester did what he did best, he faded into one of the walls, and decided to head after Mott, he didn't appreciate being setup.

Tramping through the alleyways, Mott grinned, head swerving as he scanned for potential threats. All about the district, soldiers (and perhaps mercenaries, if Mott's intel was correct) were active, fighting anyone they laid eyes on. Turning, Mott hopped over a low fence, he continued to watch his surroundings, checking front, left, right and back, but as he turned his head back forward again, he thought he saw something in the corner of his eye, stopping, he turned full-body to the right, scratching his bald head, before turning around again, where he was met by the almost equally tall form of the young man who he had met before.

The sudden appearance of Chester scared the man senseless, as he let out a surprised high-pitched cry, as he fell backwards on his behind. Panting for a second he tried to catch his breath. Chester looked at him and calmly took a swig from his bottle that was now just about empty. "Sup." Was the only greeting Chester gave.

Mott climbed back onto his feet "Oh, you're the kid! What are you doing here?"

"Well.. I really wanted to ask you where the heck this 'base' place is. But now, I feel like you might've tried to set me and the other guys up." Chester said, taking another mouthful of alcohol, before giving out a sad sigh, turning the bottle upside down, showing there was nothing left. 

Mott's face tightened in frustration for a moment, before he explained, "It's a test you nimrod!" The sounds of soldier's footesteps hustling on the other side of some wall went by, and once it faded, Mott hissed, "And don't follow me!"

Mott dashed away before Chester could completely register what he had said, but once he did, he soon caught back up with him, popping out of a wall next to Mott while the two were still running, he tapped the man on the shoulder. " I'm here to repay my debt, not do some stupid test, and besides. Don't proctors watch over the testee's, not running away like a snitch?"

Mott slid to a stop, glaring at Chester before sneering, "I don't care if you live or die! But if you say one more word, it'll be the latter."

Chester stopped in his tracks right behind Mott, the older man clearly annoyed. Yet, with his threat, it only brough up one emotion within Chester. [i] Glee.[/i]. "Word." Was his comeback, as he hunched down and unveiled the cloth from the handle of the katana, drawing it in a exact motion towards Mott, slashing towards the taller man with a diagonal angle.

Eyes widening, Mott raised his arm, the blade clashing against it, a sound of metal against metal clanging out. Grimacing, he hopped back, wincing as he shook the struck arm, along with his other, before two rods slipped out. Slapping them together, he brandished a short spear, hissing, "Your debt be damned: you'll be paying it in your blood!" Pointing his spear to Chester he...bolted off once more.

Ready for Mott's attack, Chester was taken by surprise by Mott running off, in fact, so surprised that he didn't follow him this time, despite seeing where was heading. Instead, he sat down and began laughing, it started as a slight chuckle, but quickly errupted into a heartfelt abdominal muscle-training laughing season. "BWAHAHA, Guy's more of a chickenshit than I am!" Chester cried while holding his side laughing, tears forming in his eyes from the laughing.

Stopping a few meters away, Mott stopped, stamping his foot as he snarled, "You were supposed to follow me you..." Vein throbbing in his forehead, he raised his hand, before grabbing the collar of his coat, before running it down, releasing each of the buttons, unveiling an undershirt, black pants, and within the innards of his coat, a number of matching short spears. Reaching for another one, he held them at the ready, when from behind Chester, a troup of soldiers arrived, raising their rifles as they cried, "Stop right there!"

Still laughing and wiping tears out of his eyes, he barely even noticed the two front-war that was about to be launched on him. Well, untill the soldiers shouted. "Hehe.. Chickenshit.." He said, now with a tired grin on his face from all the laughing. "Is there a officer, problem?.. I mean- Screw it." He rambled to the officers, before the sunk into the building below them, down to the floor below the roof, someone's house. It was one heck of a mess. Grabbing a bottle of beer that they had on the counter, he opened it before he quickly dashed to the other side, and jumped up through the roof again, appearing just behind Mott, now with his sword resting on his shoulder, and the beer in his hand. "This is where I would ask what was up, doctor. But, I don't think you practice medicine."

Sweating a bit, Mott looked between Chester and the soldiers, frozen a bit in confusion at what they had witnessed. "You little-"

"Fire!"

As rifles were raised, Mott shot his two spears out, each of them embedding themselves into a solider. As the others shot, Mott rolled to the side, drawing another pair, before chucking one at Chester.

Chester turned the bottle upside down between his lips as the soldiers fired at Mott, whom seemingly rather easily could dodge. Before Chester could finish the bottle, Mott threw a spear at him, Chester dodged to the side, but upsetting for him, his beer wasn't so lucky. With the hobs flavored alcohol spilled on the rooftop, Chester got annoyed. 

The spear was impaled in the wall behind Chester, and thus he turned around and grabbed the spear, chucking it back at Mott. With a wave of his other spear, it was knocked aside, clattering on the ground. Mott retrieved it, before charging at Chester, crying, "Run from this!"

Chester froze in place as Mott charged at him, the spear piercing his upper abdomen, and hitting the wall behind him. He made a shocked facial expression, and opened his eyes widely, before shutting them and having his head go limp on his shoulders. A second later, a grin crept up on his face, revealing that the spear had gone [i]through[/i] him. Looking up at Mott, he smiled, his eyes sunken in from the booze and still slightly red from the previous laughter induced crying.

".. You really don't get what I can do.. Do you?" Chester asked Mott, as he took a big step forward, walking straight through Mott.

Head over his shoulder, glaring, Mott sputtered, drawing out his spear and stabbing the wall repeatedly, snarling in frustration as he ripped a section of it apart. Standing straight, he turned to face Chester, crying, "I'll stab you a million times if I have to! You can't stay...like...[i]that[/i], forever!"

Gawking, one of the remaining soldiers gestured incredulously, muttering, "Who the hell are these..."

A more senior one demanded, "Aim carefully..." They raised their rifles and waited while Mott continued to seeth at Chester, not making a move.

While Mott was waiting for Chester to do something, the man turned towards the soldiers for one second, "Oh shit. You guys are still here?" Chester asked, quickly turning his attention back to Mott, he had to make a move here, he couldn't stay like this forever, despite what he would like everyone else to believe. Becoming tangible again he drew his sword in a swift motion to lock the blade of the weapon with Mott. Not how he usually fought, but Chester used both hands on the katana to get a steadier hold and to be able to match the older man's grip.

He heard the bullets get fired from behind him, and instantly shifted, allowing the bullets to pass throug him, and hit Mott in the shoulder, sending the man down onto the floor. Chester looked at the soldiers, than at Mott, and then back again. "Dude. I swear, I didn't even dodge that time, they missed!"

Flailing on the ground, Mott roared, voice cracking, "I HATE YOU SO MUCH I'M GOING TO THROW UP!"

"Y-You want a drink to swallow all that anger?"

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" Mott shrieked, eyes twitching and the vein in his forehead looking like it was about to burst. Mouth open, a glob of blood coughed out, landing on the roof, before his body went limp, eyes rolling up, pupils vanishing.

"I-I think he's knocked out cold." Chester remarked, turning to the soldiers. Yelling, "Hey, guys! I think he's out cold!" He continued "Why did you shoot him? He was clearly having a pretty rough day."

The younger soldier looked at his superior. "Uh.. Sir. What do we do?"

Eyes glazing over, his expression clearly tired, the older one said, voice hollow, "You get off this time."

The third one shrugged, "I don't think the cuffs would work anyway."

"Wait, really, you're not gonna chase me or nothing? Remind me to buy you lot a round at the pub later."

Laughter ceasing, pain erupting in Chester's side, another spatter of blood hit the ground.
Noticing the piece of metal poking out of his lower chest, right under his ribs, he looked down on the oddly pleased face of Mott. "That's not funny." Chester began, groaning. "That's not funny at all."

As Chester stumbled away, Mott let his fingers slip from his spear, clattering to the ground. Pointing a finger, eyes bloodshot, he laughed, "AAAH HAH! Gotchagotyagotagota! AHAHAHAHA! Gribuckedyoulil-EHEHEHEHEHEHE!" As the man gibbered, his breath came short, and his mouth began to foam, his face gleeful as he slipped back, bald head thumping onto the rooftop, laying still.

Chester pulled the spearhead out of his torso with a groan, tossing it on the ground. Looking at the head, he thought about it. "Motty, I don't think you got me more than a fleshwound. A stiff drink and I'll be good as new. It could do you some go-" He stopped himself, while looking at the passed out man. "Then again, maybe you'd prefer to rest a bit."

Digging into his bag, he found a rag to use to pressure the wound to stop the bleeding. "Wait, crap! I forgot to ask him where I was supposed to go." 

Walking back over the Mott, he delivered a swift kick to his ribs, prompting the unconcious man to cough up more blood. "Shit, he's completely out." Turning to the guards, he whistled. "You guys don't happen to know anything about a.. Base?"

Staring, the older guard pointed off, blurting, "Er, there's an old base in the Back District, that way."

"Two rounds for you." Chester said, waving the guard off. "Oh yeah, and I think this guy is like super criminal. You might wanna arrest him, maybe."  Finishing up with the soldiers he was heading off in the way the soldier had pointed to find the base.