[center][h1][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjk2LjZmNDgwYy5WbTk1ZENCVWFHVWdSM1Z1YzJ4cGJtZGxjZywsLjAA/go-2-old-western.regular.png[/img][/h1][/center] ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “Hrgh.” Voyt grunted to himself as he gripped his left arm and forced it back into place, luckily Justin’s kick hadn’t completely dislocated it but his arm had been throbbing ever since he disappeared into the streets. Ordinarily Voyt would go straight underground or anywhere to lay low with authorities prowling the streets but with this tournament taking place all manner of odd people prowled through Rio, a cowboy wasn’t much out of the ordinary at present. Voyt was much more concerned with the fact that his target had eluded him, well annoyed would be more apt. He’d had the MAVERICK runaway all but dead, one shot to the temple and he’d either be dead or nursing a very splitting headache, either one didn’t matter to Voyt. Then he’d take the body and the robot back to his employer, naturally things didn’t go as planned. But he’d catch up again with Justin - besides he had others on his list to deal with in Brazil. Unfortunately, Voyt had to “check in” with his employer who was currently residing in Rio, Voyt guessed he preferred to be close to call if anything went against his wishes. A status report wasn’t necessary but Voyt’s employer had paid extra to include it so Voyt would oblige, even if he’d rather continue on with his job. Voyt made a mental note on who he’d dealt with and who was left as he moved his left arm around, ensuring its movement was satisfactory with a slight crack. The gunslinger squinted his eyes at the sun before continuing down the barren street, sand being kicked up by his steps and his tattered poncho blowing in the wind like a cape. ____________________________________________________________________________________ [center][h1][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLjY3MzcxNC5XV1ZoY25NZ1JXRnliR2xsY2csLC4w/go-2-old-western.regular.png[/img][/h1][/center] ‘I may not always love you… ...But as long as there are stars, above you.’ [i]First words I ever hear, they play it whenever I’m awake on an old record player, favourite song I think. I look at them through orange liquid and smudged glass, talking amongst themselves as they half heartedly check screens and push buttons. Memories flooding into my mind, see medals pinned on my chest and see myself dying in myriad of different ways, another body amongst the foundations. But they aren’t me, realize that after they flash by, begin seeing the old west. Sometimes saving someone, sometimes stopping bank robbery, sometimes killing a man, sometimes bragging about things over dying campfire. Always die at the end, never ride off into the sunset. Reality of the situation hits and I scream, can’t breathe and body in agonizing pain, they don’t look up, flick a switch and some clear liquid rushes from a tube into my neck, I don’t wake up.[/i] ‘You never need, to doubt it… ...I’ll make you so sure about it…’ [i]acrid smell assaults my senses, sour, firing a gun for the first time. Compact assualt rifle in front of a desk, shooting at cardboard bodies, aim for head. Every shot, every bullet, fired in a straight burst, right through where a man’s forehead would be and then the wall behind it, no spray or missed round, all deadshot's going right through the first created hole. Scientists behind me crack open a bottle of champagne and congratulate one another, one of them playfully slaps me on the arm and says something about gold. I eye the other guns on the table, a sub-nosed silver revolver lies amongst advanced automatic weaponry, I reach for it and begin firing at the range whilst the celebration continues behind me.[/i] ‘God only knows what I’d be without you. God only knows what I’d be without you.’ [i]Red lights flashing as hands clasped around scientists’ throat, one of the heads, Thurman I think. Watch with gaze of a wild animal as the life drains from his eyes and he tries in vain to claw at my face, blood along the walls as screaming travels through the distance, look back at dead mercenary, go to take rifle before stopping and gazing at the practise armoury. Shuffle forwards like zombie and claw through a box of pistols, see .22 caliber Colt Diamondback, black as midnight. Pick it up and roll the cylinder, loaded, begin walking in direction of screaming; red lights flashing all the way.[/i] ‘God only knows what I’d be without you.’ __________________________________________________________________________________ Voyt tried to open the door to a run down apartment yet it wouldn’t budge, he pushed it again yet it stayed stubbornly in position, Voyt glared at it for a moment before slamming his shoulder into it causing the door to fall completely off its hinges instead of simply open. Voyt gave an annoyed sigh as he stepped over the door and disappeared up the stairs of the building. Voyt wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting but he still raised an eyebrow at his employer. A rail thin man with receding hair and a neatly combed moustache, sat on a silver and black wheelchair with a brown brace around his right leg. The man spoke with a soft English accent and tapped his cane as he spoke, Voyt took one look at him and assumed he was a man of considerable status and didn’t enjoy wasting time. “I’m a man of considerable status.” he said barely above a whisper. “And I don’t enjoy wasting time.” “You’re late.” A man in a black suit who stood next to the employer said with a frown to Voyt. “You were expected a half hour ago.” Voyt shrugged “Had machinery problems on the way here.” The man in the wheelchair raised an eyebrow but continued on. “You may recall my name from those who contacted you. For the duration of our time here, you will call me The Jackal, a simple codename to ensure my identity and presence is kept a secret.” “Don’t I get a nickname?” Voyt quipped with the same bored face he always carried, this was met with another frown from ‘The Jackal’s’ associate who opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by his boss. “I called you here for a simple update as well as a small readjustment to the contract” He said, ignoring Voyt’s mockery. “Who have you dealt with thus far?” Voyt remained quiet for a second before speaking, his voice slightly hushed. “I killed A before he left for Brazil, wasn’t compliant, had to be done. D and Y traveled in a pair, D is dead but I subdued Y, she’s in the agreed upon dead drop.” “And the rest?” The Jackal asked with some concern in his voice that confused Voyt for a moment. “Pending.” Voyt replied. “I almost caught J and S but the locals swarmed in before I could collect. Either way they don’t know who specifically sent me so I assume your secret will remain quiet, they have no reason to suspect you.” The Jackal nodded “Kill them next time they are encountered anyway to be safe.” His face grew serious as he moved on. “Now onto the readjustment… I have a request, from now on after you’ve dealt with a target…” Voyt raised his eyebrow “I wish for you to extract a small drop of their blood, living or dead it’s no difference, but soon after they’re dealt with.” Voyt stared at him for a second to assure that The Jackal wasn’t making a joke. “Their blood?” Voyt said disbelievingly “What do you need it for?” he asked, for once curious of a client’s intentions. “That doesn’t concern you.” The Jackal said stoically, his knuckles turning white as he tightened the grip on his cane. “Your employment carries a no questions asked policy provided the agreed upon terms are met, and in this case they are. I will provide you with some vials and an extractor, as well as a small bonus for this unforeseen change in circumstances.” He continued on, which slightly annoyed Voyt and he said so. “I pick and choose my jobs, I’m freelance. Either you tell me what you want Nomad’s blood for or I walk” He said, voice still low but with a slight edge of life and defiance to it now. The Jackal smiled. “You are free to, but despite your personal opinion of me I [i]do[/i] carry influence to my name, even just a customer of yours I can spread the word of your negligence. Perhaps word gets around that your bought loyalty comes with random insubordination, perhaps even betrayal if the client is paranoid again. Your livelihood comes to a screeching halt, you are left a killing machine with nothing to kill. A mad dog with nothing to keep it in-line.” The Jackal’s smile lessened but his tone was no longer as cutting “I will not divulge my intentions to you, but you do have my word that it is nothing malevolent, it is for… Personal reasons.” Voyt didn’t buy it and looked over and lingered at the door. “It is merely a small bit of extra work for a larger payout, no added preparations for you either, it has all been dealt with.” The Jackal added, seeing that he had more or less dissuaded the gunslinger from any rash decisions. Voyt stayed put and went back to his standard demeanor of indifference. “You’ll be given the items required in the lobby. Deal with the others specified and that couple from earlier, I'm sure most of the people you seek are lounging around at that tournament.” The Jackal said giving a dismissive wave. Voyt stared at him for long enough that The Jackal’s associate began to inch his hand towards the holster in his coat pocket but Voyt left without word or complaint. “Good dog.” The Jackal said with one last self satisfied smile. “Shall we?” he asked looking up at his associate who took the handlebars of his wheelchair and began to take him into another room, both of them disappearing into the darkness of the unlit motel room.