Polyphemus Member
They/ Them
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- Old Guild Username: Vulture
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- Polyphemus 12 yrs ago
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In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Sixgun and Wire could yell encouraging things and have cups of Gatorade ready.
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
You guys know what would be neat? Fighting a giant monster sometime, like Godzilla-sized.
Coop is Zoidberg. That's basically what I'm taking from this.
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
SIXGUN
"Well, when you're a freelance hitter like Fletcher Ross, it pays to know who's worth working fer," Sixgun said by way of explanation, lighting a cigarette to duck any further questions from Wire. Luckily, Dozer screamed for quiet right then, and both men were shocked into silence.
The meeting seemed fairly orderly from then on, Sixgun trying to remember as much as he could on the off chance the small cameras he had discreetly placed around the room didn't work. He took maybe a deeper drag than he intended when Marconi made a throwaway reference to infiltrating the League. It'd be easy, Sixgun realized. They didn't exactly screen their people carefully, and their open-door policy meant very few applicants were turned away. Pariah, we've gotta tighten up, he thought.
However, some of the gang leaders didn't quite look happy, probably because they were being ignored. Ben saw Fontana gesture discreetly for him. Trying to remain inconspicuous, the man calling himself Fletcher Ross gave his partner a nudge, then unhurriedly worked his way through the crowd to Fontana. "I take it someone's going to need to be walked out," he said quietly once he reached the capo.
SONJA
Sonja leaned back in her chair, pulling a pen and paper from the air. She really didn't want to have cause to regret this pact, so she might as well start asking some questions. Pushing her designer sunglasses up, hoping they concealed her tired, bloodshot eyes, she started taking a few notes. "Let's talk leadership," she said. "Who's your direct report and where do you meet him or her?"
"Well, when you're a freelance hitter like Fletcher Ross, it pays to know who's worth working fer," Sixgun said by way of explanation, lighting a cigarette to duck any further questions from Wire. Luckily, Dozer screamed for quiet right then, and both men were shocked into silence.
The meeting seemed fairly orderly from then on, Sixgun trying to remember as much as he could on the off chance the small cameras he had discreetly placed around the room didn't work. He took maybe a deeper drag than he intended when Marconi made a throwaway reference to infiltrating the League. It'd be easy, Sixgun realized. They didn't exactly screen their people carefully, and their open-door policy meant very few applicants were turned away. Pariah, we've gotta tighten up, he thought.
However, some of the gang leaders didn't quite look happy, probably because they were being ignored. Ben saw Fontana gesture discreetly for him. Trying to remain inconspicuous, the man calling himself Fletcher Ross gave his partner a nudge, then unhurriedly worked his way through the crowd to Fontana. "I take it someone's going to need to be walked out," he said quietly once he reached the capo.
SONJA
Sonja leaned back in her chair, pulling a pen and paper from the air. She really didn't want to have cause to regret this pact, so she might as well start asking some questions. Pushing her designer sunglasses up, hoping they concealed her tired, bloodshot eyes, she started taking a few notes. "Let's talk leadership," she said. "Who's your direct report and where do you meet him or her?"
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
SONJA
A nagging voice in the back of her head whispered that was unfair and you're being rude to a valued friend, but she didn't care, she was already tired and keyed up. She ignored Hot Rod's apologies, though the same voice told her she'd have to make it up to him at some point. She simply stormed into Styx' room and began the interrogation. When the sorceress proposed a pact, she leaned back in her chair, briefly considering it. Magical pacts were devised at some point in the far and distant past, their seriousness respected even by the worst dark magic practicioners. However, there were any number of dodges. The classic one was deliberately vague wording- as long as you kept to your exact words, you couldn't be held as an oathbreaker. She would have to be careful.
"Alright, I'm willing. But I have conditions that need to be fulfilled first," Sonja warned. "One, I want you to understand that in exchange for League protection, you are to provide us with all the current information you have on Legion. Members, locations, intentions, abilities, dispositions. In as much detail as possible. Two, you are to renounce all use and study of black magic for the rest of your natural and unnatural life. In return, we are prepared to protect you from Legion and will intercede on your behalf with both the federal government and the State of Illinois as regards whatever crimes you have committed. If you're satisfied with these conditions, we may clasp hands and enter the pact." Sonja rested her hand on the table, as if challenging her to an arm wrestling match. I'm taking sole responsibility for this one, Thomas, she reassured Destiny in the other room, beaming the thought directly into his head.
SIXGUN
"Gawd damn and a half," Sixgun muttered to himself. "This is one hell of a collection of desperadoes."
And indeed it was. According to the placards somehow had thoughtfully placed on the table, more than forty different cities were represented here. Some of the biggest names in organized crime were present. Sixgun, under Pariah's tutelage, had gone through a who's who of organized crime figures, but never expected to see them all in the same room. Roman Maine, for one, and Christian Donovan. Between the two of them they represented most of the crime on the East Coast. His eyes widened as he saw El Rey come in, a familiar face from Phoenix, accompanied by his personal scientist El Tecnico. Bad. Sixgun's immediate thought was to blend in with the Road Kings once again, but the Indianapolis chapter he had familiarized himself with was currently chatting with those from Tacoma and Memphis. No way he could hide among them, especially not in this white suit. He edged behind a tall Korean gangster, hoping to make himself invisible. While he was confident in his mask back home the last thing he wanted was to be recognized here. Especially not here. All it'd take was one gunshot, one accusation, and this would turn into a massacre, the like of which would probably destroy half of Chicago given the presence of metahumans. Like Bomber Man. Didn't they guy tear up downtown Austin a year or two back?
The atmosphere was already growing sour, as bitter rivals found themselves in the same room. Sixgun looked away from the sight of Road Kings trading insults with the Cossacks MC, to see a Philadelphia mafioso coldly staring down his counterpart in the same town's Greek mob. Unless Marconi and Music could get them all to agree on something, tensions could very easily boil over.
Sixgun gave a poke to Wire, who seemed ill at ease himself. The man's body language seemed defensive, much like his own. Maybe he had also recognized someone here. Trying to make sure El Rey and the Panamanian could not see his face, he whispered to his partner. "This place is a powderkeg, man. Fletcher Ross got hisself an idee, though." He unobtrusively pointed out one individual seated at the table, a man who was very familiar to him indeed. "You seein' this fella in the black turtleneck? The one with the rent-a-cop types with rifles behind him. Serge Ionescu. Calls hisself Argus, after the giant with a hunnert eyes. I'm thinkin' if things go south, he's the guy to protect. The Bosnians will watch after Music, and Marconi has more men than anyone, not to mention La Sombra is watchin' his back. But this fella Argus is some kinda spymaster, see? Got informants and wiretaps and drones, that kinda thing. A knowledge broker. If anyone here has hard intelligence on Legion, it's Argus. So we keep him alive at all costs, get me?" His point made, he took a watchful position, jacket opened just enough that he could easily reach his revolver if need be. The .45 would be all but useless on some of these people, but it was better than nothing.
A nagging voice in the back of her head whispered that was unfair and you're being rude to a valued friend, but she didn't care, she was already tired and keyed up. She ignored Hot Rod's apologies, though the same voice told her she'd have to make it up to him at some point. She simply stormed into Styx' room and began the interrogation. When the sorceress proposed a pact, she leaned back in her chair, briefly considering it. Magical pacts were devised at some point in the far and distant past, their seriousness respected even by the worst dark magic practicioners. However, there were any number of dodges. The classic one was deliberately vague wording- as long as you kept to your exact words, you couldn't be held as an oathbreaker. She would have to be careful.
"Alright, I'm willing. But I have conditions that need to be fulfilled first," Sonja warned. "One, I want you to understand that in exchange for League protection, you are to provide us with all the current information you have on Legion. Members, locations, intentions, abilities, dispositions. In as much detail as possible. Two, you are to renounce all use and study of black magic for the rest of your natural and unnatural life. In return, we are prepared to protect you from Legion and will intercede on your behalf with both the federal government and the State of Illinois as regards whatever crimes you have committed. If you're satisfied with these conditions, we may clasp hands and enter the pact." Sonja rested her hand on the table, as if challenging her to an arm wrestling match. I'm taking sole responsibility for this one, Thomas, she reassured Destiny in the other room, beaming the thought directly into his head.
SIXGUN
"Gawd damn and a half," Sixgun muttered to himself. "This is one hell of a collection of desperadoes."
And indeed it was. According to the placards somehow had thoughtfully placed on the table, more than forty different cities were represented here. Some of the biggest names in organized crime were present. Sixgun, under Pariah's tutelage, had gone through a who's who of organized crime figures, but never expected to see them all in the same room. Roman Maine, for one, and Christian Donovan. Between the two of them they represented most of the crime on the East Coast. His eyes widened as he saw El Rey come in, a familiar face from Phoenix, accompanied by his personal scientist El Tecnico. Bad. Sixgun's immediate thought was to blend in with the Road Kings once again, but the Indianapolis chapter he had familiarized himself with was currently chatting with those from Tacoma and Memphis. No way he could hide among them, especially not in this white suit. He edged behind a tall Korean gangster, hoping to make himself invisible. While he was confident in his mask back home the last thing he wanted was to be recognized here. Especially not here. All it'd take was one gunshot, one accusation, and this would turn into a massacre, the like of which would probably destroy half of Chicago given the presence of metahumans. Like Bomber Man. Didn't they guy tear up downtown Austin a year or two back?
The atmosphere was already growing sour, as bitter rivals found themselves in the same room. Sixgun looked away from the sight of Road Kings trading insults with the Cossacks MC, to see a Philadelphia mafioso coldly staring down his counterpart in the same town's Greek mob. Unless Marconi and Music could get them all to agree on something, tensions could very easily boil over.
Sixgun gave a poke to Wire, who seemed ill at ease himself. The man's body language seemed defensive, much like his own. Maybe he had also recognized someone here. Trying to make sure El Rey and the Panamanian could not see his face, he whispered to his partner. "This place is a powderkeg, man. Fletcher Ross got hisself an idee, though." He unobtrusively pointed out one individual seated at the table, a man who was very familiar to him indeed. "You seein' this fella in the black turtleneck? The one with the rent-a-cop types with rifles behind him. Serge Ionescu. Calls hisself Argus, after the giant with a hunnert eyes. I'm thinkin' if things go south, he's the guy to protect. The Bosnians will watch after Music, and Marconi has more men than anyone, not to mention La Sombra is watchin' his back. But this fella Argus is some kinda spymaster, see? Got informants and wiretaps and drones, that kinda thing. A knowledge broker. If anyone here has hard intelligence on Legion, it's Argus. So we keep him alive at all costs, get me?" His point made, he took a watchful position, jacket opened just enough that he could easily reach his revolver if need be. The .45 would be all but useless on some of these people, but it was better than nothing.
"Son of a dick! I have fucking rights and shit, you know! I asked for a lawyer, goddammit! That's, like, in the Bible or the Constitution or something!" At intermittent points throughout the last several hours, Cooper Harley had yelled that to the uncaring walls, perfectly aware that police were listening to his every word, apparently hoping he would mutter the location of DB Cooper or the identity of Jack the Ripper. Nothing had happened the last eight times he had had an angry outburst, so Cooper was somewhat surprised when this time the door actually opened, admitting a bear of a man who smelled faintly of whiskey. A bad news bear of a man, to be precise, Cooper wanted nothing to do with the hulking brute. He looked gratefully to the second, smaller man, an older fella, who looked more like one of the professors on campus than anything else.
"Jesus, dudes, you're fucking wasting time with me! Motherfucker's gonna kill again! Look what he did to me!" Cooper pulled down the neck of his polo, showing livid bruises on his throat, clearly in the shape of handprints. That got the detectives' attention, he could see, but also confused them. Coops took a deep breath, forced calm on himself, started from the beginning.
"Alright, dudes, you know that party upstate where you busted me, right? I took a chick up to that. That same town, it's the one Mari grew up in. Maria Todd," he added helpfully. "I decided to drop in on the church she attended, have a look around. Just curious, right? But that fucking place is full of psychos! Just sitting on the edge of their seats waiting for Jesus to come back. Seriously, that shit was creepy, man. They had more guns than Charlton fucking Heston! Seriously, there was machine guns and bazookas and shit. You guys need to get the fucking ATF or some shit on that church, for God's sake. Nobody is safe around those psychopaths." He shook his head at the memory of the discovery in the church. "I got proof, too. Photos on my phone."
"Anyways, this chick and I headed over to the party after that. Then lo and behold, this guy Reed shows up, drags my friend upstairs. So, y'know, I've been around, I think 'Hey, that shit ain't right', I follow them up. I go up there, find out Reed cold-cocked some poor guy, and is demanding to know what we know about Maria's murder. Dude was seriously intense, and violent as hell, he's pushing around my friend. I go to stop him, I start beating him down, but then his coward buddy sneaks up behind me and smashes a chair over my head. Two on one, nothing I could do. Last thing I see is Reed picking up my friend and carrying her off."
"Look, he said he didn't care about finding the real killer. It sounded more like tying up loose ends, y'know? Like he was trying to figure out what we knew about the murder so he could figure out what to do with us." Cooper smashed a fist on the table. Did he have a future after this? He couldn't remember. Probably not. Might as well go for broke. "Lillith Adams. He dragged her off by force. You've gotta find Reed, dude! Before it's too late! He's gonna kill someone else, I know it!"
"Jesus, dudes, you're fucking wasting time with me! Motherfucker's gonna kill again! Look what he did to me!" Cooper pulled down the neck of his polo, showing livid bruises on his throat, clearly in the shape of handprints. That got the detectives' attention, he could see, but also confused them. Coops took a deep breath, forced calm on himself, started from the beginning.
"Alright, dudes, you know that party upstate where you busted me, right? I took a chick up to that. That same town, it's the one Mari grew up in. Maria Todd," he added helpfully. "I decided to drop in on the church she attended, have a look around. Just curious, right? But that fucking place is full of psychos! Just sitting on the edge of their seats waiting for Jesus to come back. Seriously, that shit was creepy, man. They had more guns than Charlton fucking Heston! Seriously, there was machine guns and bazookas and shit. You guys need to get the fucking ATF or some shit on that church, for God's sake. Nobody is safe around those psychopaths." He shook his head at the memory of the discovery in the church. "I got proof, too. Photos on my phone."
"Anyways, this chick and I headed over to the party after that. Then lo and behold, this guy Reed shows up, drags my friend upstairs. So, y'know, I've been around, I think 'Hey, that shit ain't right', I follow them up. I go up there, find out Reed cold-cocked some poor guy, and is demanding to know what we know about Maria's murder. Dude was seriously intense, and violent as hell, he's pushing around my friend. I go to stop him, I start beating him down, but then his coward buddy sneaks up behind me and smashes a chair over my head. Two on one, nothing I could do. Last thing I see is Reed picking up my friend and carrying her off."
"Look, he said he didn't care about finding the real killer. It sounded more like tying up loose ends, y'know? Like he was trying to figure out what we knew about the murder so he could figure out what to do with us." Cooper smashed a fist on the table. Did he have a future after this? He couldn't remember. Probably not. Might as well go for broke. "Lillith Adams. He dragged her off by force. You've gotta find Reed, dude! Before it's too late! He's gonna kill someone else, I know it!"
In
The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
QuietThinker said
I'm waiting for Poly at the moment.I want Wire to catch Sixgun shift his weight as a result of seeing someone he doesn't want to see there...
I will attempt to have a reply up tonight. No guarantees, but I'll do what I can.
Will post tonight.
But no longer a literal loaded gun, sadly.
No prob, just let us now when you feel comfortable.
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