He just has to think his way out of a fight then, more ways to end a fight than with a fist, sure as sure.
Eisenhorn
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Most Recent Posts
Heh, the dynamic duo, kicking ass and stopping the (big) crimes for the good of Domino City. Or some such nonsense. But yeah, he'll show him some tricks, and not just in a fight, though since I'm basing his close quarters stuff off Krav Maga, some tricks from that too, as a general reference. Its a rather fun style, I promise.
@Rithy
Pfft, nah, but he has an uncle, who is an archaeologist who specialized in Necrons, and vanished shortly before a tomb world woke up. So THAT won't bite us in the ass at all. Ever.
Pfft, nah, but he has an uncle, who is an archaeologist who specialized in Necrons, and vanished shortly before a tomb world woke up. So THAT won't bite us in the ass at all. Ever.
@Rithy
Is it bad I've already started another CS, since I am kind of expecting Stukov to explode sometime soon >_>
Is it bad I've already started another CS, since I am kind of expecting Stukov to explode sometime soon >_>
Gregor Cross
Gregor was half asleep at his desk, cup already drained of coffee, feet propped up on the desk while he snoozed. His coat was hung up on the coat rack next to his desk, burnt out cigar resting in the ash tray while its owner was clearly not overly invested in the days activities. It was an off day, he wasn't on any specific case and he didn't go out on beat patrols anymore, he wasn't sent usually and kept around just in case. More like to keep a close eye on him, he would tell most folks who asked, and his rifle and gear was in the armory right now, he usually didn't even bother having to go through grabbing the stuff since most days ended with him heading home, having done some paperwork, maybe some interrogations or footwork. Made him regret taking the detective billet some days, but hell, he had enough good times to put up with the slow bits.
"GREGOR!"
Gregor snorted, nearly falling out of his chair, feet landing with a heavy thud as he spun the chair around to face his boss, an easy smirk on the detective's face. The man wasn't the overall, powers that be boss, but he was above him and usually dispatched him just to get him to go away. Which worked just fine with him. "Mornin' boss, interrupted a rather nice dream. And she was getting to the good bit too..." The man looked like he was trying to not smack Gregor, or try to, they both knew he would never have laid a finger on him without the detective allowing it. The man tossed a dispatch report, seemed like Child activity was on the rise, and he was getting sent out to do a witch hunt, as the old saying went. "Finally have something for your lazy ass to go do today. Reinhardt is off on his personal crusade again, so that leaves you to show some new guy the ropes. Head out to see if Reinhardt needs a hand, yes he's still your superior, and try not to get the rook killed, please?"
Gregor mockingly groaned, rolling his eyes and leaning back in the chair, feet going back up onto his desk. "You're letting some young, impressionable rookie come out with me? Boss, you shouldn't have. I love making new friends, I'll teach him everything I know." The older man scowled angrily at the detective, grinding his teeth briefly before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. Gregor still had his amused expression, clearly having too much fun cranking up the man, who's temper was rather well known. "I swear to any god that is left, Gregor, if you do anything stupid, I will string you up by the short and curlies from the office flagpole, you hear me?!" Gregor, just to spite the man, just gave him a knowing grin before walking off, waving vaguely in the man's direction. "Let rookie know to meet me in the garage, I'll have the patrol car warmed up, if he feels like tagging along after whatever you decide to tell him."
Gregor was casual to walk into the armory, most of his gear wasn't terribly complicated. His ace came from his genetics, not his equipment, unlike ol' blowhard Reinhardt. That man was teched out to holy hell, Gregor kept to a rather more old school, yet no less reliable, system of genetic augmentation and external attachments to his gear. That, and his rifle was probably the finest tuned in the precinct, which gave him an edge at a couple paces out, relatively speaking. Grabbing said rifle, and a couple magazines to stuff into his vest, he walked back past his desk to grab a couple miscellaneous items, the old Fog Detector, thing, included. He preferred visual evidence to this glorified Geiger counter, but hell, if it worked, it worked. Heading back down to the garage, he hopped into his patrol vehicle, an older model of hover craft that could still swap over to wheels instead of being purely hover. Sure, the hover wasn't nearly as smooth a ride, but it was nice to have back ups. Cycling channels on the radio, he worked on finding ol' Reinhardt before giving him a call, if he could find him. "Hey Rein, its Greg, how are you holdin' up, boss? Listen, some rookie and I are about to be heading out on a spin of the Industrial Rim, need a hand with that lady friend of yours?"
@Invader Len
The rookie and the rather, ahem, flexible in terms of legality detective, oh this couldn't possibly go wrong haha
Almost done with the post, I'll tag you in it when its done.
Almost done with the post, I'll tag you in it when its done.
Hmm, I plan to post having Gregor heading out to respond to some stuff, he can be told to meet up with a rookie first, give you something to work with @Invader Len
"So, friends and guild masters, what of the new beings that join this competition over a house of cards?"
Far secluded from the squabbles and arguments between other factions was the closet, known as Q9 by the beings that struggled for ultimate control over the House, was perhaps one of the oldest factions within the House. The South Arachnos Trade Guild, deal brokers and merchants within a system dominated by warrior tribes and other such, violent beings. Oddly enough they almost never went to war, nor waged it openly, often times content in their homes, spun of web and the most prestegious territory in the corners of the ceiling. Very few could ever reach them, without a spider's consent, and reasonably threaten them, but they did not wage war. They knew better, if the Spiders were to take up arms en masse and go to war, they would succeed in uniting the other disparate factions of the House against them, and be wiped out to the last. The Assassin Bug, and most successful of her kind, spoke first, apparently kind tones belying her status as the second most dangerous member of the Council.
"Broker, some of my own have watched from afar and brought us tidings. Hornets and Wasps, lethal flyers and deadly fighters. Should they prove violent to us, I would recommend cutting down spider silk exports to further reinforce the webbing that protects." The Broker, and de facto leader of the Guild, Guildmaster Xenth, nodded his arachnid head, eyes blinking calmly while the other three spoke amongst themselves. They were traders all, and cutting spider silk production for export would cut into profits. But being obliterated would do so, far worse, and the Wolf spider spoke up next, his tone far gruffer then any other. "We are in agreement, should the bold merchants that go first be slaughtered whole sale, we will prepare to defend ourselves." The other two seemed content to leave that be, so the rest of the meeting mostly covered their rising profits, the first merchants to be gifted trade rights to the newcomers, so on and so forth. Eventually the meeting was adjourned, and within a surprising time, the first caravans of trade spiders, and their guards, marched out.
The caravans of traders were known across all lands, often trading on the side to whomever was willing, and did not openly brandish arms like the soldiers did. But, tribes that had attempted to scale the walls and strike the spiders found lethal results, spiders literally coming from all directions, specialists in glass blades, six limbs wielding a dervish of razor sharp glass, honed to a fine point. That was key, their trade of glass weapons to violent tribes. The fine examples, not the best which was reserved for spider soldiers and their assassin bug allies, traded for anything of sufficient value. Something, Guildmaster Xenth hoped, would be readily apparent to these newcomers. Trade with the other tribes would continue, no official allies or enemies, each trade spider free to deal with whom they will, so long as loyalty remains ultimately to the Guild. Once the Council meeting was adjourned, Xenth sat alone in his chambers, overlooking the bustling trade webwork, literally, sprawling beneath him.
"Hornets and Wasps, hmm... War would cost much, even a webbed stinger is still deadly. I do hope they see reason in trade, as all others have."
The spider trade cities, secluded above the reach of most any others, continued like nothing was different and, indeed, it really was not. Trade caravans left and returned, with goods to trade with, as visitors, merchants, and envoys of other nations made their approaches and departures, guided by a sophisticated band of spiders gifted with unusually strong web, capable of lifting up and returning the bustling traffic to and from the webworks. Defenses were not apparent, though present, and to most outsiders it was indeed a loose coalition of traders instead of a unified nation, which was precisely what one would prefer to hope to be seen as. It made a unified front forming that much more surprising.
Far secluded from the squabbles and arguments between other factions was the closet, known as Q9 by the beings that struggled for ultimate control over the House, was perhaps one of the oldest factions within the House. The South Arachnos Trade Guild, deal brokers and merchants within a system dominated by warrior tribes and other such, violent beings. Oddly enough they almost never went to war, nor waged it openly, often times content in their homes, spun of web and the most prestegious territory in the corners of the ceiling. Very few could ever reach them, without a spider's consent, and reasonably threaten them, but they did not wage war. They knew better, if the Spiders were to take up arms en masse and go to war, they would succeed in uniting the other disparate factions of the House against them, and be wiped out to the last. The Assassin Bug, and most successful of her kind, spoke first, apparently kind tones belying her status as the second most dangerous member of the Council.
"Broker, some of my own have watched from afar and brought us tidings. Hornets and Wasps, lethal flyers and deadly fighters. Should they prove violent to us, I would recommend cutting down spider silk exports to further reinforce the webbing that protects." The Broker, and de facto leader of the Guild, Guildmaster Xenth, nodded his arachnid head, eyes blinking calmly while the other three spoke amongst themselves. They were traders all, and cutting spider silk production for export would cut into profits. But being obliterated would do so, far worse, and the Wolf spider spoke up next, his tone far gruffer then any other. "We are in agreement, should the bold merchants that go first be slaughtered whole sale, we will prepare to defend ourselves." The other two seemed content to leave that be, so the rest of the meeting mostly covered their rising profits, the first merchants to be gifted trade rights to the newcomers, so on and so forth. Eventually the meeting was adjourned, and within a surprising time, the first caravans of trade spiders, and their guards, marched out.
The caravans of traders were known across all lands, often trading on the side to whomever was willing, and did not openly brandish arms like the soldiers did. But, tribes that had attempted to scale the walls and strike the spiders found lethal results, spiders literally coming from all directions, specialists in glass blades, six limbs wielding a dervish of razor sharp glass, honed to a fine point. That was key, their trade of glass weapons to violent tribes. The fine examples, not the best which was reserved for spider soldiers and their assassin bug allies, traded for anything of sufficient value. Something, Guildmaster Xenth hoped, would be readily apparent to these newcomers. Trade with the other tribes would continue, no official allies or enemies, each trade spider free to deal with whom they will, so long as loyalty remains ultimately to the Guild. Once the Council meeting was adjourned, Xenth sat alone in his chambers, overlooking the bustling trade webwork, literally, sprawling beneath him.
"Hornets and Wasps, hmm... War would cost much, even a webbed stinger is still deadly. I do hope they see reason in trade, as all others have."
The spider trade cities, secluded above the reach of most any others, continued like nothing was different and, indeed, it really was not. Trade caravans left and returned, with goods to trade with, as visitors, merchants, and envoys of other nations made their approaches and departures, guided by a sophisticated band of spiders gifted with unusually strong web, capable of lifting up and returning the bustling traffic to and from the webworks. Defenses were not apparent, though present, and to most outsiders it was indeed a loose coalition of traders instead of a unified nation, which was precisely what one would prefer to hope to be seen as. It made a unified front forming that much more surprising.
Such a friendly bunch of comrades, with no reason any of them would have issue to try and fight, right?
@Rithy
It has, but dont let the Black Fleet know, I miiight have redirected them. A couple times. Just as planned.
It has, but dont let the Black Fleet know, I miiight have redirected them. A couple times. Just as planned.
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