Date: 10/20/2001 11:47 PM Central Daylight Time
From: TarethThrn
Another cool Rhydin night saw his shadow stretching, shortening, and stretching repeatedly on the pavement under his boots as he wandered through the puddles of light cast by the lampposts along Red Dragon Way. Again, without the excuse of a cigarette to busy his hands, they were jammed down in the heavy coat's massive pockets, meditatively fingering the smooth glass of
one of his peculiar explosives.
He had been officially downgraded in the ranks, about damn time too. That opal was beginning to get oppressive. He had a goal to accomplish, the longer he held on to one stone the longer it would take him to attain the next.
Two left. Anubis and Casey had them now, though there was no guarantee they still would by the time he'd be ready to try and wrest one away. That was something to worry about later.
On a sudden thought, he pauses for a brief moment, stuttering the previously even pattern of his footfalls. When a fall sounds in beat anyhow from behind him, it verifies a sneaking suspicion that had been knocking on the back of his brain for the last few lights.
"What do you want?" He said even as he turned to face his shadow... or in this case, shadows. There were three of them and they all had the look of the standard modern hired goon; all of them were bigger than him, clad in flak armor, black tees and denim. One of them was smart enough to have unholstered his weapon in advance this time.
"Whaddya think we want, genius?" sneered the smallest of the three, keeping the gun level as the other two advanced to either of Tareth's shoulders. A quick once-over of the signet on a breastplate confirms a disgusting thought. The blank mask in front continues, "Let's see your hands, nice and slow."
"I'm gonna kill her, I'm gonna kill her..." Tareth mutters as he carefully brings his empty fingers up to massage his temples, hoping to stop the sudden twitch that had developed in his left eyebrow.
"Let's go tough guy." Gruffs the goon on his left, latching on to Tareth's forearm... an action that earned him an acidic glare.
"You're gonna want to let go of me, real quick." The words seep through clenched teeth.
The goon didn't have real good reflexes, or Tareth was just that pissed off... either way about a split second later he yanked the bigger man a step forward, bringing hunter between the quarry and the gun. Twisting his body and using the first goon's grip as a focal point, Tareth throws himself into the air with his leg extended, catching the mask of the second goon in the back of his knee.
The first goon still hadn't thought to let go at this point, so as Tareth fell, everyone else went down with him, though the second goon caught all the impact on the back of his helmet by virtue of being on the bottom of the pile, trapped beneath Tareth's leg.
A shot rang out, followed by two more.
Of all four dark bundles on the sidewalk, Tareth was the first one to get up, a silver glint winking dully from the Walther in his left hand. Goon 1 also scrambled to his feet, hands immediately going for his sidearm, until another shot ripped through the fleshy webbing between his thumb and forefinger.
"Goddammit!" The goon falls back against the side of the building, clutching his bleeding hand in the undamaged one and lifting a reflective mask to the prey-turned-attacker.
Tareth was busy, looking between the two unmoving men, the standing one, and an elf passing by on the other side of the street.
"What are you lookin' at?" Growled Tareth, aiming and firing another shot into the goon just to spite the onlooker, who hastily scurried by and down the next cross-street. When Tareth finally focused on his victim again there was only another dent in the armor over his thigh.
"Tell Mora... " he trailed off, trying to appropriately arrange all the seething hatred in his thoughts into some sort of coherent message. A few moments pass as he does this, the goon silently bleeding in front of him.
"You know what? Forget it. I'll tell her myself."
Once more the report of the Walther echoes off the building walls, the shot imbedding itself into the faceless helmet's brow. The impact of the bullet smacked the goon's head back into the wall, dropping him to the pavement like his buddies.
Voluntary Unemployment
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Re: Voluntary Unemployment
Date: 10/21/2001 12:28 AM Central Daylight Time
From: TarethThrn
The first sign of something being wrong was the door bursting into splinters, the second was the fact that the guard that was thrown through it was the one that was supposed to be patrolling the foyer.
Mora rolled in her bed, clutching a sheet to her otherwise unclad body. As Tareth strolled casually through the broken doorway, she set her bare feet on the cold floor and shivered, standing. As she went, the cover went with her, forcing the other occupant of the bed to scramble for other bedclothes to cover herself with.
Before the redhead could open her mouth, Tareth spoke.
"You know, you'd think you'd learn with the condition I sent the first set of goons back in. You'd think you'd get the clue when the second set doesn't even come back and they have to report from the hospital a week later. But when I get another tap on my shoulder from your endless goon squad, I figured I had to get to the root of the problem."
He took up a lean on the undamaged of the pair of doors, crossing his arms in front of him as he spoke from under the wide brim of his hat, which he didn't bother to remove. He wasn't even going to give her the satisfaction of seeing his face.
"You don't return my letters, you never come calling... how else am I supposed to get in touch with you Tareth?" Mora purrs, altering her course. She'd previously been heading toward him, but sensing this wasn't a good time to be near, she turned for the miniature bar near the window.
"Either of them would have been a better messenger." His hat tips upward, indicating two lumps in Mora's bed.
"Aww, Tareth, I thought I was the only girl for you." Mora trills, pouring a glass of amber liquid.
"Maybe when your heart starts beating again, I'll think about touching you with a ten foot pole."
A long pause ensued while Mora sipped at her drink, Tareth waiting for some sort of response. When none made itself immediately apparent, he went straight for the point, the bitterness evident in his tone.
"I told you we're done. I'm not working for you anymore, get that through your thick skull. If I so much as suspect anyone connected to you even coming in the same room as me, I'll come back here and kill you myself."
"You wouldn't hurt me..."
She didn't even get to finish her sentence before Tareth's Walther appeared in his hand and a familiar crack rang through the room. Driven by the impact, Mora's body flew backward into the bar in a cacophony of breaking glass.
A moment passed before she moved again, reaching up first to rake her scattered hair away from her face. Looking down, she absently pokes a fingernail into the new hole bored in her chest just next to her sternum. Oddly enough, there was no blood on either her or the surrounding area.
"Next time it won't be lead, Mora." Leaving that as his last statement, Tareth twirled around the door, disappearing from the room as the state of shock wore off and Mora's enraged screams pealed through the space behind him.
From: TarethThrn
The first sign of something being wrong was the door bursting into splinters, the second was the fact that the guard that was thrown through it was the one that was supposed to be patrolling the foyer.
Mora rolled in her bed, clutching a sheet to her otherwise unclad body. As Tareth strolled casually through the broken doorway, she set her bare feet on the cold floor and shivered, standing. As she went, the cover went with her, forcing the other occupant of the bed to scramble for other bedclothes to cover herself with.
Before the redhead could open her mouth, Tareth spoke.
"You know, you'd think you'd learn with the condition I sent the first set of goons back in. You'd think you'd get the clue when the second set doesn't even come back and they have to report from the hospital a week later. But when I get another tap on my shoulder from your endless goon squad, I figured I had to get to the root of the problem."
He took up a lean on the undamaged of the pair of doors, crossing his arms in front of him as he spoke from under the wide brim of his hat, which he didn't bother to remove. He wasn't even going to give her the satisfaction of seeing his face.
"You don't return my letters, you never come calling... how else am I supposed to get in touch with you Tareth?" Mora purrs, altering her course. She'd previously been heading toward him, but sensing this wasn't a good time to be near, she turned for the miniature bar near the window.
"Either of them would have been a better messenger." His hat tips upward, indicating two lumps in Mora's bed.
"Aww, Tareth, I thought I was the only girl for you." Mora trills, pouring a glass of amber liquid.
"Maybe when your heart starts beating again, I'll think about touching you with a ten foot pole."
A long pause ensued while Mora sipped at her drink, Tareth waiting for some sort of response. When none made itself immediately apparent, he went straight for the point, the bitterness evident in his tone.
"I told you we're done. I'm not working for you anymore, get that through your thick skull. If I so much as suspect anyone connected to you even coming in the same room as me, I'll come back here and kill you myself."
"You wouldn't hurt me..."
She didn't even get to finish her sentence before Tareth's Walther appeared in his hand and a familiar crack rang through the room. Driven by the impact, Mora's body flew backward into the bar in a cacophony of breaking glass.
A moment passed before she moved again, reaching up first to rake her scattered hair away from her face. Looking down, she absently pokes a fingernail into the new hole bored in her chest just next to her sternum. Oddly enough, there was no blood on either her or the surrounding area.
"Next time it won't be lead, Mora." Leaving that as his last statement, Tareth twirled around the door, disappearing from the room as the state of shock wore off and Mora's enraged screams pealed through the space behind him.