SONJA
Mike Johns, the League's primary hand-to-hand instructor, would be embarrassed to see this fight. Sonja knew just enough about fighting to know she wasn't very good at it. With no real idea of Sarin's skill level, all she could think to do was throw herself at the other woman and drag them both to the ground. It was not a Brazilian match, either. There was no technique in their grappling as the writhed on the ground, raining blows on one another and grasping for the throat and sensitive eyes. There was no science to it. Just two cats in a sack trying their level best to kill each other. The plus side, if you could call it that, was that several of the other heavy-hitters stuck around to watch. At least whenever help arrived they'd be able to recapture a couple.
Sonja felt a fist crash into her jaw and tasted blood. No, more than that, her mouth was swimming in it. She spat, only slightly accidentally into Sarin's face, saw a tooth flying among the spray. She hardly registered the pain, instead twisting her long fingers in Sarin's hair, getting a good grip.
She smashed Sarin's head against the concrete floor as hard as she could. Then she did it again. And again. And again.
SIXGUN
Might as well eliminate the obvious, just in case. Sixgun stepped directly over to the guards in front of Fontana's unoccupied room. "Evening, gents," he said politely. "Fletcher Ross is steppin' out to get hisself a pack of smokes. Want me to grab anything from the shop for you fellas?"
If it turned out he was free to leave at any time, he'd save himself a lot of hassle. If he was meant to stay here, then he'd know to be careful. At any rate, couldn't hurt to ask.
Polyphemus Member
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In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
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12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Locks, like rules, are meant to be broken. That was Cooper "Halfpipe" Harley's thoughts on the matter. His plan was simple. Kick in the door and go confront those who needed to be confronted. If they weren't there, sit and wait in the dorm, gun in his lap. They'd return sooner or later, and he'd set the record straight. Simple, direct, foolproof.
Up until it came time to kick in the door. Movies make it look easy. One quick thrust of the leg and the door comes entirely off its hinges. It's not quite like that, turns out. Harley fruitlessy smashed his Chuck Taylors twice against the solid wooden door before giving up. He whimpered as he gently set his foot down on the floor. Looks like they weren't going to call him "Doorkicker" Harley anytime soon.
"Alright, you're an intelligent man," he muttered to himself, looking around the hallway. Didn't seem as though anyone had heard him just yet. "Figure out some way to get inside." He lifted a corner of the mat with a toe. No key. Well, that was too obvious anyways. Nobody with any brains would put a key under their welcome mat. Did he own a welcome mat? He couldn't remember. Probably not.
He surveyed the deserted hallway of the dormitory, unconsciously grinding his rotting teeth, looking for some way of breaking into the room. Preferably before the RA noticed he was here and kicking doors for no real reason. Muttering curses, he halfheartedly twisted the knob, found it was unlocked. Well, that would've been helpful to know earlier. With everything going on, he was surprised anyone would forget to lock their door. Grief does odd things to people, he supposed.
Cooper "Housebreaker" Harley walked inside the small room, found it unoccupied, had a look around at the tasteful decoration. He had been here once before, but he hadn't really taken the time to appreciate the decor. His mood had been somewhat altered at the time. But he had definitely been here, when he dropped Maria off at this place after the party.
He nodded to himself, pulled out the AMT Backup from the small of his back. Lowering himself into the desk chair, he gently placed the pistol on the surface of the desk, in easy reach. Now just to wait for Lillith Adams to return home. They would have a chat about what happened to Maria.
Up until it came time to kick in the door. Movies make it look easy. One quick thrust of the leg and the door comes entirely off its hinges. It's not quite like that, turns out. Harley fruitlessy smashed his Chuck Taylors twice against the solid wooden door before giving up. He whimpered as he gently set his foot down on the floor. Looks like they weren't going to call him "Doorkicker" Harley anytime soon.
"Alright, you're an intelligent man," he muttered to himself, looking around the hallway. Didn't seem as though anyone had heard him just yet. "Figure out some way to get inside." He lifted a corner of the mat with a toe. No key. Well, that was too obvious anyways. Nobody with any brains would put a key under their welcome mat. Did he own a welcome mat? He couldn't remember. Probably not.
He surveyed the deserted hallway of the dormitory, unconsciously grinding his rotting teeth, looking for some way of breaking into the room. Preferably before the RA noticed he was here and kicking doors for no real reason. Muttering curses, he halfheartedly twisted the knob, found it was unlocked. Well, that would've been helpful to know earlier. With everything going on, he was surprised anyone would forget to lock their door. Grief does odd things to people, he supposed.
Cooper "Housebreaker" Harley walked inside the small room, found it unoccupied, had a look around at the tasteful decoration. He had been here once before, but he hadn't really taken the time to appreciate the decor. His mood had been somewhat altered at the time. But he had definitely been here, when he dropped Maria off at this place after the party.
He nodded to himself, pulled out the AMT Backup from the small of his back. Lowering himself into the desk chair, he gently placed the pistol on the surface of the desk, in easy reach. Now just to wait for Lillith Adams to return home. They would have a chat about what happened to Maria.
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
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12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
BlackSam3091 said
Maybe that's it then. On an RP related note, who do you think should join Sixgun under cover. I reckon Killshade would be the best choice.
Killshade would be a good logical choice, or maybe Petya. Someone with a lower power set, really.
Really, though, just whoever's willing to have their character be undercover as a good ole boy gangster.
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
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12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
I think Ozzy did a cover on one of his solo albums, so that's probably what you're thinking of.
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
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12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
SONJA
A good magician knows how to work an audience. A big part of showmanship is carrying along the audience, getting them to think or believe something they might not otherwise. If necessary, to do something they know is foolish.
Sonja knew there was no point in the charade anymore, the Kansas City Shuffle wasn't going to work once Sarin blew the lid off. With some relief, she stopped doing the voice trick- it was a massive strain under the magic dampening field anyways. So, she had managed to get herself alone in a room with about a dozen of the most powerful and dangerous criminals in the entire country. Good work, girl. She had been thinking of headlines and talk show interviews, her own action figure line. Now, inevitably, hospitals and funeral homes were coming to mind.
"That's your plan, huh?" she snorted derisively as Sarin dissolved in front of her. Sonja knew Sarin wanted her to show fear. Even though her heart was pounding and she felt sick to her stomach, she still managed to keep her voice steady. She wasn't going to grant her that. "You really are a chickenshit, you know that, Sarin?" Sonja said as she took a few steps back away from the looming cloud of gas. "You didn't need my help to become a national joke, because you already are one. Look at you. Yellow's the right color for you. You're so scared of me that the only way you dare to attack me is with a bunch of other guys backing you up. Not only that, but you wait until your buddies cancel out my magic and then turn yourself into gas. What a bunch of bullshit," she scoffed. She took another nimble step backwards, gently set down the baseball bat. "What's this going to prove, huh, Sarin? That the only time you can win is when you've completely stacked the odds in your favor? No one's going to look back and say 'Wow, what a victory.' No, what they're gonna say about you is 'Wow, what a pathetic coward.' Because that's what you are, Sarin. If you had any guts at all, you'd go solid and fight me one-on-one." Sonja ridiculously waggled her small fists. She wasn't at all a great fighter with just her own two hands. But a small chance was better than no chance, right?
SIXGUN
"Alright, here's the skinny," Sixgun whispered, hoping whoever was on the other end was listening. "Marconi asked me to bring up more muscle from the South. This gives us a chance to insert someone else, and I can't say I'm averse to having a partner. Start shopping for someone on your end."
"Also, there's this," he said as he pulled out the vial labelled "Apex", then took a good hard look at it for the benefit of his handler. "Some kind of snake oil. I'ma gonna hang on to it for now, but let me know what you want done with it. Also, I want a background on La Sombra and the Witchfinder. Something tells me those guys are going be tougher nuts to crack than the Irishman, or maybe even the Chicago boys. Music is the one to watch for, he might make a leadership bid." Sixgun stashed the vial beneath his mattress. He'd find a better place later. Then he got up and carefully listened at the door. Hearing nothing, he opened it, stepped quietly into the hallway. Time to have a look around, see what he could learn.
A good magician knows how to work an audience. A big part of showmanship is carrying along the audience, getting them to think or believe something they might not otherwise. If necessary, to do something they know is foolish.
Sonja knew there was no point in the charade anymore, the Kansas City Shuffle wasn't going to work once Sarin blew the lid off. With some relief, she stopped doing the voice trick- it was a massive strain under the magic dampening field anyways. So, she had managed to get herself alone in a room with about a dozen of the most powerful and dangerous criminals in the entire country. Good work, girl. She had been thinking of headlines and talk show interviews, her own action figure line. Now, inevitably, hospitals and funeral homes were coming to mind.
"That's your plan, huh?" she snorted derisively as Sarin dissolved in front of her. Sonja knew Sarin wanted her to show fear. Even though her heart was pounding and she felt sick to her stomach, she still managed to keep her voice steady. She wasn't going to grant her that. "You really are a chickenshit, you know that, Sarin?" Sonja said as she took a few steps back away from the looming cloud of gas. "You didn't need my help to become a national joke, because you already are one. Look at you. Yellow's the right color for you. You're so scared of me that the only way you dare to attack me is with a bunch of other guys backing you up. Not only that, but you wait until your buddies cancel out my magic and then turn yourself into gas. What a bunch of bullshit," she scoffed. She took another nimble step backwards, gently set down the baseball bat. "What's this going to prove, huh, Sarin? That the only time you can win is when you've completely stacked the odds in your favor? No one's going to look back and say 'Wow, what a victory.' No, what they're gonna say about you is 'Wow, what a pathetic coward.' Because that's what you are, Sarin. If you had any guts at all, you'd go solid and fight me one-on-one." Sonja ridiculously waggled her small fists. She wasn't at all a great fighter with just her own two hands. But a small chance was better than no chance, right?
SIXGUN
"Alright, here's the skinny," Sixgun whispered, hoping whoever was on the other end was listening. "Marconi asked me to bring up more muscle from the South. This gives us a chance to insert someone else, and I can't say I'm averse to having a partner. Start shopping for someone on your end."
"Also, there's this," he said as he pulled out the vial labelled "Apex", then took a good hard look at it for the benefit of his handler. "Some kind of snake oil. I'ma gonna hang on to it for now, but let me know what you want done with it. Also, I want a background on La Sombra and the Witchfinder. Something tells me those guys are going be tougher nuts to crack than the Irishman, or maybe even the Chicago boys. Music is the one to watch for, he might make a leadership bid." Sixgun stashed the vial beneath his mattress. He'd find a better place later. Then he got up and carefully listened at the door. Hearing nothing, he opened it, stepped quietly into the hallway. Time to have a look around, see what he could learn.
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
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12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
BlackSam3091 said
Lol reading MrD's and Poly's latest post and what comes on my radio? 21st Century Schizoid Man!
King Crimson has always been one of my favorite bands.
Sounds good, go ahead and make a CS.
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
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12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Well, things don't look good for Sonja.
The names and occupation are accurate.
In
The Poisonville Auditions- a game of assassination and crime
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12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
This is still open, by the way.
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