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Word of warning, folks- I've been called on an unexpected business trip over the weekend, so might be a little while until I can get something up.
Colm, still unsure about the whole thing, was more than a little startled when he was confronted by what appeared to be the last standing member of the Rat Pack. "Uh, hi," he said, his tentatively outstretched hand enthusiastically pumped by the newcomer. "Colm Davies. Here from Seattle. Yeah, I think I saw you." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "I'm not much of a morning person, to be honest. Hope I didn't seem rude or anything."
He gave a polite grin as Tallah showed up as well. Reinforcements- at least he knew this one's name. "Hey, Tallah, good to see you again. Guess this town is small enough that we keep, uh, running into people," he said. Colm groaned inwardly, tried not to make it too obvious that he was staring off into a corner. Of course. He wasn't in the habit of going to churches, but nothing had led Colm to think the Great Mouse Detective was one for staying off holy ground. There it was, just chilling, casually leaned up in a corner. If it had eyes (well, to be technical, it had hundreds), they'd be innocently studying the ceiling.
Another young man joined the group, but he seemed to be exclusively speaking to Tallah. This limited Colm's options- talk to Dean Martin here, or possibly edge slowly out of the small group and make his way back to the table for some more coffee, carefully positioning himself so as not to see his ever-present stalker. Colm chose to do the second one. A little more caffeine- he didn't want to doze off.
A couple more people came in. Colm recognized one- the desk clerk from the inn, the tall girl with the dark hair. Siobhan, he was pretty sure. How about that. The other man cut a more imposing figure, though. A big, broad, black man in a beautifully tailored, absolutely spotless white suit (did anyone in this town wear a normal suit?). The suit wasn't what caught Colm's eyes, though, it was the tall, almost luminous white top hat he wore. Colm watched as the man shook hands with Deacon Blue, and the two seemed to have a quiet but warm exchange. Colm thought nothing of it. At least, not until Blue pointed directly at Colm. The man in the top hat shot a sly smile at Colm, and then started to quietly pad over.
Colm was a little taken aback as the man came over, placed a big, heavy hand on his shoulder. Slowly, deliberately, the man winked at Colm. "Welcome to the invisible world, Colm," he said. Unlike the man at the hotel, this one did have an accent. Colm had once spoken to a CI back in Seattle on a marijuana racket. The guy had been Haitian, and had sounded similar to this fella with the top hat. Sure, that worked.
Colm wasn't sure what to say, or what was expected as the Haitian gave his shoulder a squeeze, then reached into the cage of mice, gently picked one up. He stroked it with a finger, cooed softly at the terrified animal, and then bit off its head. Colm stepped back involuntarily, at the spurt of blood staining the white lapels of the man's suit. "That's fucked up, dude," Colm found himself saying, because really, nothing else seemed to fit. The man grinned at him through reddened teeth, then stepped over to the other little knot of people to wordlessly take another bite.
Colm, transfixed, looked around the room. Deacon Blue grinned inanely over by the door, flanked by what seemed to be an orangeish light wearing a coat and a winged shadow. Over by Frank Sinatra there was someone that hurt to look at.
What in the world was going on here?
He gave a polite grin as Tallah showed up as well. Reinforcements- at least he knew this one's name. "Hey, Tallah, good to see you again. Guess this town is small enough that we keep, uh, running into people," he said. Colm groaned inwardly, tried not to make it too obvious that he was staring off into a corner. Of course. He wasn't in the habit of going to churches, but nothing had led Colm to think the Great Mouse Detective was one for staying off holy ground. There it was, just chilling, casually leaned up in a corner. If it had eyes (well, to be technical, it had hundreds), they'd be innocently studying the ceiling.
Another young man joined the group, but he seemed to be exclusively speaking to Tallah. This limited Colm's options- talk to Dean Martin here, or possibly edge slowly out of the small group and make his way back to the table for some more coffee, carefully positioning himself so as not to see his ever-present stalker. Colm chose to do the second one. A little more caffeine- he didn't want to doze off.
A couple more people came in. Colm recognized one- the desk clerk from the inn, the tall girl with the dark hair. Siobhan, he was pretty sure. How about that. The other man cut a more imposing figure, though. A big, broad, black man in a beautifully tailored, absolutely spotless white suit (did anyone in this town wear a normal suit?). The suit wasn't what caught Colm's eyes, though, it was the tall, almost luminous white top hat he wore. Colm watched as the man shook hands with Deacon Blue, and the two seemed to have a quiet but warm exchange. Colm thought nothing of it. At least, not until Blue pointed directly at Colm. The man in the top hat shot a sly smile at Colm, and then started to quietly pad over.
Colm was a little taken aback as the man came over, placed a big, heavy hand on his shoulder. Slowly, deliberately, the man winked at Colm. "Welcome to the invisible world, Colm," he said. Unlike the man at the hotel, this one did have an accent. Colm had once spoken to a CI back in Seattle on a marijuana racket. The guy had been Haitian, and had sounded similar to this fella with the top hat. Sure, that worked.
Colm wasn't sure what to say, or what was expected as the Haitian gave his shoulder a squeeze, then reached into the cage of mice, gently picked one up. He stroked it with a finger, cooed softly at the terrified animal, and then bit off its head. Colm stepped back involuntarily, at the spurt of blood staining the white lapels of the man's suit. "That's fucked up, dude," Colm found himself saying, because really, nothing else seemed to fit. The man grinned at him through reddened teeth, then stepped over to the other little knot of people to wordlessly take another bite.
Colm, transfixed, looked around the room. Deacon Blue grinned inanely over by the door, flanked by what seemed to be an orangeish light wearing a coat and a winged shadow. Over by Frank Sinatra there was someone that hurt to look at.
What in the world was going on here?
enkas said
Why not use photoshop? C:
Time, effort, expense, pick one.
I kinda had to fudge the picture, to be honest- he had the physical appearance that I wanted, and even the Ranger beret and flashes. But that CIB and especially that wedding band are really at odds with the character I had in mind.
Maybe I'll just ditch the picture altogether.
Maybe I'll just ditch the picture altogether.
Added a couple more, and will start doing some for Phoenix, AZ in a bit.
Oh, cool, another Army CI character! High five!
Jeong had received the summons from an understandably upset Grey, smoothed his ruffled feathers with a pack of Redwoods. The man had done his job, he had earned them. Ignoring his complaints, Jeong set out for Borodin's cell for the sit-down. Despite his. . . bellicose manner, Borodin had agreed to talk. If it was a trap and Jeong was shanked to death, then so be it. But the fighting would end there. His men would come out alright. That was the important part.
"Thank you for agreeing to this," he said without preamble or greeting as he stepped into Borodin's cell. He had come alone and unarmed. He was a businessman, and that meant certain conventions had to be observed. "I apologize for sending an intermediary first, but you understand that was for everyone's safety. I wanted you to know I was not coming to attack and I wanted your assurances. Consider Mr. Grey a white flag."
"Now, to business. That unpleasantness in the yard- that was in contradiction to my very explicit orders. You and your men were to be unmolested. Instead, these idiots let youthful high spirits get in the way." Jeong sighed. "They did not see the big picture. They have been punished for their insubordination. It's strange how injudicious some orderlies in the infirmary can be, especially when it comes to administering painkillers. Those three men are due to be buried in the potter's ground shortly. I'm sure the service will be very moving."
"With that, I hope we may put this fruitless bloodshed behind us and reach some sort of compromise. A deal, as it were, to keep our organizations on the outside profitable. So, Mr. Borodin, let me put this to you. I have numerous connections in Laos and Vietnam. They provide me and me alone with genuine, top-shelf Golden Triangle opium. Here in the United States, specifically Alderney, my people cut it into high-quality heroin. And now, the train stops there, sadly." Jeong sighed. "We have been plagued with bad luck, Mr. Borodin. We have heroin, warehoused and ready to go. And we have no one to sell it. Fighting the Italians and the Dominicans has left us critically understaffed, our street dealers have been unceremoniously gunned down."
Jeong smiled once more. "Do you see the merits of this proposition, Mr. Borodin? We wholesale product to you, at a price both of us can agree upon, and your people bring the street profits directly back to you. Think of me as a rancher who sells beef to Bleeders," the Korean chuckled.
"Thank you for hearing me out, Mr. Borodin. Please, give my proposal some thought. You know where to find me- after all, neither of us are going anywhere."
"Thank you for agreeing to this," he said without preamble or greeting as he stepped into Borodin's cell. He had come alone and unarmed. He was a businessman, and that meant certain conventions had to be observed. "I apologize for sending an intermediary first, but you understand that was for everyone's safety. I wanted you to know I was not coming to attack and I wanted your assurances. Consider Mr. Grey a white flag."
"Now, to business. That unpleasantness in the yard- that was in contradiction to my very explicit orders. You and your men were to be unmolested. Instead, these idiots let youthful high spirits get in the way." Jeong sighed. "They did not see the big picture. They have been punished for their insubordination. It's strange how injudicious some orderlies in the infirmary can be, especially when it comes to administering painkillers. Those three men are due to be buried in the potter's ground shortly. I'm sure the service will be very moving."
"With that, I hope we may put this fruitless bloodshed behind us and reach some sort of compromise. A deal, as it were, to keep our organizations on the outside profitable. So, Mr. Borodin, let me put this to you. I have numerous connections in Laos and Vietnam. They provide me and me alone with genuine, top-shelf Golden Triangle opium. Here in the United States, specifically Alderney, my people cut it into high-quality heroin. And now, the train stops there, sadly." Jeong sighed. "We have been plagued with bad luck, Mr. Borodin. We have heroin, warehoused and ready to go. And we have no one to sell it. Fighting the Italians and the Dominicans has left us critically understaffed, our street dealers have been unceremoniously gunned down."
Jeong smiled once more. "Do you see the merits of this proposition, Mr. Borodin? We wholesale product to you, at a price both of us can agree upon, and your people bring the street profits directly back to you. Think of me as a rancher who sells beef to Bleeders," the Korean chuckled.
"Thank you for hearing me out, Mr. Borodin. Please, give my proposal some thought. You know where to find me- after all, neither of us are going anywhere."
Jig said
Looks like Danny and Stuart are going to be at loggerheads - a lot.>:D
Functional teams are no fun.
Sonja sighed as she glared angrily at the paparazzi, brushing her way past them, maybe a little too closely. Once the two bouncers nodded them through, she burst into giggles as she shoved her hand into her pocket. "You'd think they'd learn by now!" she chuckled, holding her hand up so Volt could get a look. She clutched several rolls of film, a few SD cards from digital cameras. "I didn't even have to use actual magic, just good old-fashioned sleight-of-hand. Learned to do that back in junior high." With a snort, she tossed the stuff into the nearest trash can. "Next time give it your A game, jackasses."
As they passed through the foyer into the club proper, Sonja's breath caught in her throat. She had never actually been to the Fortress, despite her minor celebrity status and partygirl nature. She had been to several metahuman-friendly clubs in her time but. . .this. Wow. She had met other sorcerers who had claimed to travel to other dimensions, parallel worlds far beyond the comprehension of normal men.
Sonja had never been to any of those places, but she felt the Fortress might help prepare her for that.
She gawped about for perhaps a full minute before coming to her senses. She was going to have to remember this place. But in the meantime. . .
Sonja reached back blindly, grabbed Volt's hand, dragged him along to the bar. Even with the bartender's speed, it took a moment before he was able to get to them. "I'll take a vodka tonic, and whatever he's getting," she said with a point to Volt. Should probably keep it to one, just in case more trouble emerged. She tapped her credit card on the counter, intending to open a tab. Sonja considered a moment. Hell, it was a company card. She could write this off under her PR budget. "You know what, any League member comes in here tonight gets a drink on me. Just one, though- I want to still have credit in the morning." She felt generous, and besides, wouldn't hurt to get on her new teammates' good sides- her life might depend on them. "I'm sure they'll like that," she said with a smile to Volt. "Want to get a table up in the restaurant?"
As they passed through the foyer into the club proper, Sonja's breath caught in her throat. She had never actually been to the Fortress, despite her minor celebrity status and partygirl nature. She had been to several metahuman-friendly clubs in her time but. . .this. Wow. She had met other sorcerers who had claimed to travel to other dimensions, parallel worlds far beyond the comprehension of normal men.
Sonja had never been to any of those places, but she felt the Fortress might help prepare her for that.
She gawped about for perhaps a full minute before coming to her senses. She was going to have to remember this place. But in the meantime. . .
Sonja reached back blindly, grabbed Volt's hand, dragged him along to the bar. Even with the bartender's speed, it took a moment before he was able to get to them. "I'll take a vodka tonic, and whatever he's getting," she said with a point to Volt. Should probably keep it to one, just in case more trouble emerged. She tapped her credit card on the counter, intending to open a tab. Sonja considered a moment. Hell, it was a company card. She could write this off under her PR budget. "You know what, any League member comes in here tonight gets a drink on me. Just one, though- I want to still have credit in the morning." She felt generous, and besides, wouldn't hurt to get on her new teammates' good sides- her life might depend on them. "I'm sure they'll like that," she said with a smile to Volt. "Want to get a table up in the restaurant?"
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