[center][U][B]A Foreign Exchange[/B][/U]
[I]Midday
 Loom's Ghetto[/I]
[I]Slade and yoshua171[/I][/center]

Urban shitholes were the worst. Nothing but broken glass and shitty concrete crumbling all over the place making a mess. Plus unlike the jungle, you couldn't just pick a fruit somewhere off a tree or shoot some animal when you were hungry. Well... jungle food would have some unhygienic consequences for those not used to it, but it wouldn't have done Rhett any harm. But of course in this shit excuse of a city, the only thing one could eat here is something out of a dumpster or perhaps some rat that crawled out of a drain pipe for a sun bath. And Rhett wasn't hungry enough to go dumpster diving or clawing at some rat bigger than his face. He could easily go without food for a few more days and be fine. Though his flask was going to start running low soon. He had swiped a half a bottle of gin in the last city and was using that but due to the small amount he had been rationing it. Taking only a few small gulps every so often, enough to keep the withdrawal at bay. But not enough to keep himself content. Which explained his grumpy nature, well grumpier than usual. If his belly was full of warm booze he wouldn't give two shits about this depressing ghetto of a city, but his focus was just on how absolutely shite it was. And its name was fucking dumb too, what kind of name was Loom and why was it still standing. It looked like a boring version of one of the cities he had stormed while he was still in the army.

 Rhett sighed as he sat down on a pile of rubble for a drink break. He wore steel plated boots along with camo cargo pants, which while rugged and worn out. Obviously still looked like it was made out of a military quality fabric. His pants were tucked into his boots, which seemed oddly neat considering his wild unkempt black beard, hair and face. But it was a habit from his soldiering days that had never died out: one always tucks their pants into their boots. Always. His top was a simple long sleeve black shirt that wrapped itself tightly around his shoulders and chest. Around his waist was a brown leather belt with a sheathe attached to it, and inside that leather sheathe was a machete which looked wicked in its appearance and its rubber grip had begun to wear away. Implying that it had been used many, many times.

Rhett pulled out of his backpack a small metal flask and slowly poured a small amount of gin down his throat. It tasted so satisfying. If only he could have more.

[I]"Whatcha got in that flask, Stevie,"[/I] a voice said from the young man's periphery. Leaned against a wall was a man who looked more his age, with a smug grin on his features. Rhett's senses may have very well informed him of several others nearby who thought themselves fully hidden --he had been a soldier after all. Nonetheless, this smug [I]kid[/I] was questioning a man that he rightfully shouldn't have been. It'd sure be terrible if that'd been a [I]grave[/I] mistake on his part.

[b]“It ain't your Pappies beer, I'll tell you that much”[/b] he said sneeringly, his accent thick enough to cut it with a knife. It was obvious he wasn't from around here, hell it was obvious he wasn't from the same continent. His dull red eyes glared at the boy, the dark bags under them and his worn down face made him look easily like a middle-aged man. The fact that he hadn't even reached his mid-twenties was another story altogether. Still relaxing in his chair of rubble he shakes the flask mockingly at the man, as if daring him to come and take it.

[b]“Of course, that's assuming you and your friends sneaking around got pappies at all. Fuark off kid, go play tag with someone else.”[/b]

[I]Pappy?[/I] the kid thought to himself before it clicked a few moments later and he spit on the ground, pushing off the wall and signalling even as he approached the man. He was just some homeless sod, he'd take the flask and maybe give him a good beating to teach him a lesson. Yeah, that oughta do it. Several other figures dropped down from portions of the alley, some human...some not so much. [I]"Tch, hell you think this is, a fuckin' homeless shelter?"[/I] Some of the other figures laughed. though one or two of them remained totally silent.

As if to accentuate the disdain he obviously held for the foreigner, the fool decided to get in his personal space, walking up beside him and then attempting to snatch the flask from the man. As he did so, two of the others exchanged glances silently after which one of them faded into the shadows entirely and vanished.

[i]Snap![/i] the others in the group could barely hear the noise it had happened so fast. They looked around wondering where it had come from before they looked again at Rhett grasping the young man's hand and with a twitch of his thumb had broken the index finger. They saw a blur of Rhett flickering his ring and middle finger and another resounding snap was heard, this time it was the man's thumb that had been broken. Before the man could let out a yelp, Rhett pulled him in and headbutted him. His forehead making contact with the bridge of the man's nose, breaking that as well. He let go of the man's disfigured hand and grabbed his neck, dragging him down and smashing his head twice onto the rubble. By the time he got to the third one, another man was moving in to help his friend. Rhett refused to let go of the first one's neck though, simply squeezing tighter for a better grip. Rhett turns slightly and puts out a simple low kick, hitting the second man in the knee cap, displacing it with a loud pop. The second man goes down with a loud groan and is put out of commission when a boot smashes into his groin.

 Rhett turns his attention back to the first man, now struggling with his good hand to break free of the grip around his neck. The gurgling noises are put to halt when Rhett just simply smashes the man's face onto the concrete for the fourth time except this time he doesn't lift him back up. He places his other hand against the back of the man's head and presses him hard against the concrete. Then he begins to grind the boy's face against the jagged edges of the crumbling concrete. The boy lets out a mewling sound, not having enough room to fully scream. Rhett can see large flakes of skin slowly peeling off his face. Rhett feels another figure rushing up behind him, its fast. Too fast for most humans. Rhett rolls his eyes as he lets go and swings his body around, his fist making a direct connect to another's jaw, whose teeth seemed a little too large and whose eyes seem to look at Rhett as food more than anything else. Well that was just great, a fucking bloodsucker.
 
 The creature staggers back, not expecting some random human to have such reaction time. Though Rhett doesn't give it the opportunity to strike again. Within a moment, Rhett's Machete has dug itself deep into the Vampire's neck, with a thick, black blood oozing down to the ground. Rhett looks it in the eyes and see's the life slowly fade away. Rhett nods his head. Satisfied, he slowly pulls the machete out of it's neck, producing a slick, disgusting sound and a slow cry from the creature before it falls over. Very dead.

Rhett looks about the ghetto. He knew there were more of them somewhere. He wondered if any of them still wanted to play their dumbass game. He looks down at his clothing. A bit of blood on his boots as well as piss from when he groin stomped that one man, still aching behind him. But his eyes widened in annoyance when he saw a blotch of the vampire's blood on his trousers.

[b]“AWW sonofabitch!”[/b] He roared with his accent almost incomprehensible to make out in his annoyance.

[b]“I just had these fucking things cleaned!”[/b]

[B]"Oh, don't mind the stain,"[/B] said the refined voice of a man who, unlike the others, was rather well dressed. [B]"I will have you quite handsomely reimbursed for your trouble,"[/B] the black haired man stated, his eyes locked on Rhett's face, rather than looking down over his grungy clothing. As he approached Rhett, still several meters away, the man's foot bumped into one of the fallen bodies, causing a sigh to issue before he took a step back.

Glancing down at the body, the raven haired man regarded it with a sort of disappointment and loss. It was almost like he was looking at a mildly valuable object, rather than a person. [B]"Besides, I think their run in with you has given you some opportunities,"[/B] the man's eyes raised back to meet Rhett's, or at least try to. Through his mind ran a series of considerable possibilities for it seemed he had just come across a man who might very well replace those he had just dispatched, though his facial expression remained serious, as it had been since his arrival. In fact, he presumed that this fellow would be infinitely more useful to him, if only he could tread carefully around him. After all, the individual was quite obviously dangerous...he just hoped that a certain Hatter would not show up while he dealt with him.

That could be disastrous, though mostly for him, considering that Falair could hardly fall against a human of this one's caliber.

Snapping his fingers and whistling once, Rhett would hear movement. [B]"They were waiting for orders they'd never receive,"[/B] stated Crow, as he kicked a soda can out of his way where it skidded against a wall slightly. [B]"The name's Crow,"[/B] he said, an essentially imperceptible shift occurring in his manner, [B]"...what's yours?"[/B]

Rhett didn't immediately respond to Crow, he instead walked back to his little chair of rubble and picked up his backpack and flask, he eyed his flask for a moment before he shrugged. [i]Fuck it[/i] he thought as he did a slow gulp of the rest of the contents. Drinking the stuff like someone else would drink water. He should have been smart and rationed it like he had planned, it would have lasted him another day. But he was tired of feeling pissy all the time. Plus it wouldn't be hard to swipe some more along the way.

 When he finished the gin he threw the flask into his backpack and strung the strap along his right shoulder as he began to walk slowly to Crow, stopping in front of the body, only to bend over and wipe the blood of his machete using the body's shirt. He had kept this thing in good condition for years and he would be damned if some bloodsucker's blood got it rusty. Military habits prevented him from keeping any of his weapons dirty.

[b]“My name is Rhett”[/b] he said casually, sheathing his machete after he had cleaned it off. He then stood up and faced Crow, they were at arm's length now. Rhett's body language seemed relaxed, but there was something quite noticeable about his posture. His shoulders were held high, his back was straight, the heels of his boots clicked together and his hand rested tentatively in his machete grip. All of this was done habitually, without thinking or feeling. As if this had been drilled into his psyche for years until it became part of his everyday existence, like breathing or pissing.

It was almost as if the man had been a soldier for a very long time.

[b]“Were these your boys?”[/b] Rhett asked coarsely [b]"Because they're rather shit if you ask me.”[/b]

Nodding as the man identified himself, Crow glanced at the flask, then upwards while Rhett seemed to gather his things and then close the majority of the distance between them. Eyes moving back down to train themselves on Rhett's form, Crow chuckled lightly at his word and then shook his head with a sigh. [B]"They're no one's boys now. They're just casualties to the force of progress. You're right tho', they were rather shit,"[/B] glancing at the machete for a moment, Crow turned his attention back to Rhett. [B]"You looking for work...and a good drink?"[/B] His expression was serious again, though there was a question in his eyes.

Crow was a businessman through and through.

Rhett narrowed his eyes at Crow as he relieved an itch in his beard, his fingers digging deeper into the thick beard.
[b]“Ay, I need more than a good drink, I need a stockpile for a good long while. And work eh? Well it depends on what I'm doing. Some things I'm not cut out for, other things... well”[/b]

Rhett gestures to the bodies lying around him, the black blood of the vampire had begun to dry up and form an unpleasant crust around the neck wound. The smell was also rather foul, but Rhett was too used to far more unpleasant smells to give it much thought.

[b]“Well I suppose you've seen a few of the things i'm good at. What have you go in mind?”[/b]

[B]"Yes, I suppose you could say I have,"[/B] the businessman responded, glancing around quickly before his eyes locked on Rhett once more. [B]"Simply put, things very much similar to this. Rhett, you seem very good at this sort of thing, and while I have several truly useful people under my wing, I'm always looking for more."[/B] Crow tended not to directly involve himself with violence, but that hardly meant he was opposed to it. To him it was just one more tool in his kit. [B]"Is that all you'd require? If it's only for a job or two I could understand such meager rewards, but I'd be pleased if we had a more...long term partnership. No strings attached as long as no one hears any word of your employer unless they're meant to of course. Perhaps get yourself a mask? Hard to walk around without the authorities catching on if you murder people with the same mug that you use in every day life."[/B]

He knew this from personal experience. He'd had to change his appearance several times in the past, or just lay low for awhile afterwards. It was a good thing that his ability to manipulate essence was so developed. It had been well worth the time and effort required to master the art. In fact, he was so good at it now that no one was the wiser. In fact, it was likely that Rhett, even if he had any sort of supernatural senses, would be unable to tell that the man he was now speaking with was a demon.

After all, Crow was in truth a nightwalker, even though he looked and felt like a human. Such was a testament to his skillful use of essence manipulation. Hell, even an arch angel would've had trouble telling that he was a demon, let alone a hellion or a nightwalker. His ability was impressive to say the least. It was a good thing too, because humans distrusted demons somewhat, even in this day and age. It was simply easier for them to trust one of their own, the same for angels. Demons on the other hand did not tend towards trusting one another, not usually. They did not have [I]family[/I] though they sometimes had friends. A demon was always watching their back, waiting for those closest to them to try to stab them, double cross them.

It was normal for them. However, unfortunately for those who would wish him dead, or a failure, Crow did not have these weaknesses. He appeared vulnerable, he appeared relatable, but in truth he was just another demon.

Luckily, very few people knew that...and the nightwalker intended to keep it that way as long as possible. It would be fun to see how long he lasted.

[b]“No, you're right,”[/b] said Rhett, grinning darkly [b]“I do require a few tools, booze is just extra.”[/b]

Rhett looked down at the body and kicked it slightly, of course it didn't have anything useful on it. Not even a crappy pistol that would break after two shots, still looking at the body, he spoke demandingly to Crow.

[b]“Weapons, I need weapons: Pistols, silencers, assault rifles, sniper rifles, smoke grenades, remote controlled plastic explosives, the works.[/b]

Rhett sighed as he looked back up in Crow's eyes, his dull, muddy red eyes were sunken in and the dark bags under his eyes gave his pupils the effect of a low, ominous glow.

[b]“Gear as well, and good military grade gear. Not that improvised shit you shady types like to put together. That makeshift stuff falls apart quickly”[/b]

Fuck it, if Crow wanted to offer him more, Rhett would take full advantage of that. He missed actually having decent equipment. Instead of the lousy crap that idiots he had worked for before considered “weapons”. A real weapon doesn't have to be held together with duct-tape. Rhett found it increasingly inappropriate that the best quality weapon he had gotten his hands on in the past year was his machete, and that thing was over two decades old!

[b]“No mask”[/b] Rhett said [b]“I don't need it, when buildings are getting blown up and people are getting shot. No one cares whose doing it all, they just want to run.[/b]

Rhett spit on the corpse below him in mock disdain. Perhaps Crow now knew that this wasn't just a particularly mean-spirited thug. This man was something else, something far worse than just some bruiser. One could see it in those dull red eyes.

 [b]“Because anyone who does care gets killed.[/b]

His head tilted slightly, but it was not so much a look of curiosity, rather than consideration that Crow had donned. In his head he was counting figures and they had risen swiftly, but they had not hit the upward limit yet. [B]"Is that all? Weaponry, supplies, a place to hideout, plenty of booze, and the amenities?"[/B] The most subtle of smiles was on the man's face, [B]"Not too lavish, though I can say that your taste in equipment is worth mentioning. Would you like any hex-tech? I have connections everywhere, getting my hands on normal weaponry is easy. Getting my hands on magical weaponry is barely harder."[/B] His small smile had turned into a pleased grin. It seemed the hardest part about this man would not be keeping him content, but rather making sure that he didn't destroy, or kill, someone that he ought not to.

It would be a simple matter of finding a way to maximize the man's talents through tailoring the missions he was sent on. Still, if he was going to supply the man this well, he'd better make good use of him, otherwise it would certainly not be worth the expense. "I will not ask you to be discreet, I don't imagine you're the type. However, if there [I]is[/I] something particular that I need you not to destroy, or slaughter, can you follow that directive as long as it does not put you in an inescapable situation?"

This was a key question. If Rhett answered in the positive, then there would be little trouble for Crow, but if he answered in the negative, making use of the man would be more difficult. Nonetheless, he would take the chance. He could always sell all of his equipment back, excluding the ammo and explosives of course. Still, Crow knew how to make a pretty penny. It was all about choosing the right people to deal with. It could be tiresome, but it was worth it.

[b]“That won't be a problem”[/b] Rhett answered casually, not thinking too deeply into the matter, in matters of warfare he was a professional and he would take orders and jobs in such a manner.

[b]“Hex-tech? Well I've used the stuff a few times. But give me what you've got in mind. I'll be taking it all apart anyway at some point. I like to know what kind of weapons i'm using.”[/b]

Rhett looked around the ghetto. God what a fucking shithole.

[b]“Let's get a move on, this place sucks”[/b]

His smile filled out and, as per usual, he reached his hand out for the man to shake. [B]"If it's not too much trouble,"[/B] he stated, glancing down at his hand and then back at Rhett.

Rhett looked down at Crow's hand and then back at his face, eyeing him with a degree of suspisicion. Then gave Crow his crooked smile as he shook his hand. Though Crow noticed his other hand still placed in a relaxed manner on the rubber grip of the machete. Rhett was always prepared for trouble.

[b]“Pleasure to do business with you”[/b] Rhett said, his accent so completely foreign, and yet hard to pinpoint exactly where it came from. Perhaps Crow would find out someday, in a later time.

Chuckling lightly and giving the man a firm handshake, he let go when it was appropriate and then whistled once more. Several nightwalkers appeared from the shadows and began picking up Rhett's mess. [B]"Can't leave these here. It'll cause trouble,"[/B] he explained, [B]"Oh, and they weren't here the whole time. I don't need body guards,"[/B] he smiled at Rhett and began walking down the alley. [B]"I have a place in mind for your hideout, if you don't mind me calling it that. I've already called a ride over. Nothing to conspicuous. I don't think it suits you, and it makes it easier for people to spot me. All the better it be...normal."[/B] With that a car pulled up. It was rather plain looking, nothing special. Crow climbed climbed into the vehicle and waited a moment while Rhett did the same.

This had gone rather well. Unfortunate that those men had died, but oh well. You give and you take. It really was a very successful day.

Though, there was one thing Rhett didn't know. Mere contact with Crow was like signing a contract...and the moment that he broke it, Crow would know, no matter where he was.