OOC: A joint CptCommie and Khellendrosiic production.
BIC: The corner of Smithson and Melangu was strangely empty today. Few people came and went from the butcher's shop which normally had great meat at low, low prices and even less came out of the crack den across the street. It seemed as though the entire area around the knocked over mailbox at the corner of Smithson and Melagu was preparing for a storm to hit. And they knew in advance because this storm always came at the same time every Tuesday and Wendesday without fail.
The strained sounds of Coolio's Gangstas Paradise echoed down Smithson as a mostly powder blue Stanza turned the corner and started driving past the butcher's shop. Now, this was no ordinary old powder blue Stanza. This was a crappy old powder blue Stanza. Where the tiny little boxcar wasn't blue, it was red from rust, and only three of its wheels had rims. The antenna was broken, the upper half dangling down and bouncing off the hood as the car hit a bump in the road and there was no CD player, prompting the rap music to be played out of an old and antique portable tape player that sat in the backseat, wedged between a pair of boxes. The last straw was a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror.
The Stanza slowly thumped its way to the corner of Smithson and Melangu and pulled into an illegal parking space permitted only to fire engines. The engine ceased its low growl as the driver turned the key and pushed the door open.
Skinny, black haired, and about as pale as a ghost with a musculature to match, Viktor 'Vik' Luther, the III, was dressed to kill in pair of baggy pants held up only by the oversized bullet shaped belt buckle he wore. His long black t-shirt bore the words "Nemesis is my homeboy" on it and a red bandanna was tied around his forehead.
Out of the passenger seat came another prime example of white sub-urbia. William 'Bubba' Robertson was dressed much like his partner Vik with baggy blue jeans that were artfully destroyed by several rips and tears over the knees. Although his pants were held up by a normal sized belt, his bright white t-shirt read "Playa" on the front and had a bright cold coin on the back. A pair of Ray-ban sunglasses sat on his head and shaded his eyes from the sun as he slicked back his messy red hair and scratched at a pimple on his nose.
Thumping the Stanza on its hood for good luck, Bubba walked around to the back and pulled out a soapbox and two stacks of colorful pamphlets. Vik went to the trunk and popped it open, revealing another pair of thin boxes and a pair of trumpet trunks, which he pulled out and carried with him to the corner.
Setting up the soapbox and placing the trombone cases on the ground, Bubba stepped up and opened his mouth, shouting several words that were drowned out by the music still coming from the tape recorder. Swearing, Bubba motioned for Vik to turn the music off, which he did, enabling the other man to keep doing what he was doing.
"Greetings fair people of the Edge!" Bubba shouted, throwing his arms out wide.
"Sup mah Edge homies!" Vik shouted out from just behind and to Bubba's right.
"We bring you the word of Nemesis and all the glories that he can bring you!"
"We be representin' Nemesis and all his peeps, dawgs. Nemesis can hook you up with tight [censored], brothas."
"Nemesis can provide for the safety and security of all people in the Edge as long as you give him your support! He can drive out the Family and bring an end to their black market dealings and drug rings!"
"Nemesis can protect all your alls [censored] as long as you be reppin' Nemesis too! He can school all those Family playa hata's and end all the drug lords and all their crew!"
"All Nemesis needs is you, my fellow Edgenites! Sign up for the Nemesis Army today and bring about a greater future tommorrow!"
"Nemesis just needs all his homies in da projects! Holla at the Nemesis Army today and reap the rewards tomorrow!"
The half hour long speech continued in this vein until Bubba finally ran out of things to say and Vik had given Nemesis Army pamphlets to everyone in sight. The people waiting in their houses just waited until the two undercover Nemesis soldiers left, taking the fear of eventual Family retribution with them.
Statesman said let there be heroes, and there were heroes.
Lord Recluse said let there be villains, and there were villains.
NCsoft said let there be nothing, and there was nothing.
"Ssssure thing, Two Ton," Shannon hissed. From his sleeves he produced two eight inch daggers. They gleamed in the light as did his fangs. He began sliding the daggers against each other making, what most in the Edge know as Fang's 'Rattle', a "ssshink" sound.
Sasha giggled and stood next to him, flexing her claws. She pulled out a metal file and sat down, filing her claws on the step. She looked up at the massive man, and yelled over to him...
"I'll cook ya dinnerrr, if yerrr not in th' hospital, misterrr wall."
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
[ QUOTE ]
Mo and Bin watched Frankie step out of the alleyway and ran over to him.
"Run. Now," Bin said, passing him.
[/ QUOTE ]
Stepping back quickly, Frankie pressed his back against the wall and pulled open the alleyway door beside him. The needles struck the door with a chorus of metallic clinks, some actually coming out the other side of the thin metal door.
Frankie raised an eyebrow at the lodged projectiles and then closed the door. He glanced back at Mo and Bin briefly.
"You okay?" he asked with all the warmth of an iceberg.
"Damn you Fang!! It's Triple T. Not Two Ton. I ain't gonna tell you 'gain." Tyler teased." Damn straight you'll cook me dinner putty tat, unless your scared of the big bad buzzer? As for you Needle, better get lost before Shannen Doherty, over dere', get's all Scare Tatics on you?"
When Tyler was all done talking he turned his back toward Shannon. Raising his arm in victory and raising his middle finger in defiance.
"F'in gangbangin losers" Tyler mumbled as he walked away.
Sasha giggled and flipped Tyler off playfully, and stuck her tongue out at him before looking over at Shannon.
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
[ QUOTE ]
"F'in gangbangin losers" Tyler mumbled as he walked away.
[/ QUOTE ]
Frankie cast a disinterested glance at the departing man. Typical of the loudmouthed posturing idiots that were all too common in the neighborhood. Never passing up a chance to beat their chests in some futile display of machismo.
Jonah claimed otherwise, of course; his big unification theories. Frankie just didn't see it. But then, visualizing wasn't his job. Chewing absently on his toothpick, he turned back to Bin and Mo.
"We're fine," Mo answered both questions, "Bin here's never been hit by Needle. Not that he's hit anyone himself. Ever."
She said this with a glare at Bin.
"Hate fighting," Bin said, shrugging.
"Anyway," Mo said, turning to Bonehead and running over to him and punching him in the gut.
"Ow, woman! Dat be mah onlay weakness, yo!" he exclaimed, doubling over in pain.
"Only weakness my cute lil' [censored]! You're vulnerable everywhere EXCEPT your head, [censored]! Especially HERE!" she proceeded to kick him in a place that caused most men to experience the voice of a woman. For Bonehead it just made his already annoying voice even more high pitched.
"Why yo hittin me anyway? Needle da one dat shot evertin!"
"Because YOU TOLD HIM TO! Bruiser and Needle only listen to YOU asswipe!" Mo said, kicking him again.
"And so the one called Strings asked the little one called Mo why she did not mention his name," Strings said to absolutely no one. As usual.
"Because you don't listen to anyone," Mo added, still kicking Bonehead everywhere except his head.
"The one known as Strings understood the midget named Mo's point. He then ceased speaking," Strings said, again to seemingly no one.
"Weirdo," Mo said to no one in particular.
Suddenly Bruiser stood up and screamed HUNGRY at the top of his lungs, and charged off in a random direction.
"Damn," Bonehead said, standing up, "Now ah gotta chase afta heem! C'mon you two!"
Thus, 'Over the Edge' was off once more on a bizarre whirlwind adventure to the local pizza joint.
"Glad that's over with," Mo said, turning back to the others, "You guys wanna grab a bite? Donny's is have a Root Zoot Riot sale or something on pancakes."
(OOC: Yes that's a reference to Denny's)
Amilia Burnheart looked out of her window at the comotion below as her landlord, an odd snake-type kid named Shannon, faced off with some of the other gangtypes all too common in the Edge. It was that exact commonality that made life for the prositute... interesting. Bringing a customer back who was a member of a rival gang always generated some tension in them.
"Are things cooled down enough yet?" The red-head asked. Though no one else would be able to see them, her cat ears flicked nervously under their illusion of normality. "If so, I still have a few hours to work before I get stuck with all the creepy low-life wierdos that can't pay."
Pinnacle
Heroes
When in danger, or in doubt; Run in circles, scream and shout.
Wyld Pyre saw all this from his perch on the apartments. He saw the leader of the Edge Serpents, Fang Strike...He saw Over the Edge, and the family get toasted by his former gang. No one was touching his turf. No one really knew about Wyld. He lloked like an Outcast and they ate up all the credit. He was fine with it. He preferred it. Now his next move would be to make sure the Family doesnt come back tenfold thanks to Needle and Company. Well...Time to plan. (Maybe i can keep up this time)
Self-Proclaimed Number one Fanboi of the RP Forums and it's writers.
Me: How about "Zeus, The Pimp God"?
A friend: It'd be too hard to dress him up like a bull
(OOC: If you can't keep up I give you permission to go on a solo mission against the Family)
Sasha looked up at Amilia. This one always left the scent of the familiar (unless the illusion masks scent) but Sasha couldn't quite name what it was...
" 's alright, red. Rock-head's bunch's chasin' after stomach. 's all safe."
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
Now that Tyler had ridiculed most of the Gangbangers in this area it was time to eat and he was starving. Sniffing the air Tyler could practically smell the butchers shop almost a block away. In all reality Tyler and the butcher had always been good friends even after Tyler became Two Ton Tyler. Tyler increased his pace as his mouth became flooded with drool.
Old Man Conly was a strict old buzzard. Always forcing his two boys to work the counter and slaughter the animals. Tyler remembered Ted the oldest having so many rules to live by, it was natural that he became a lawyer. Only Ted couldn't represent people who knew him as the Butcher's boy, so Ted became the best prosecuter this town ever saw. Tim, Ted's younger brother still ran the butcher shop, with his four boys. Jake the oldest, James the brightest, Joseph the religous freak, and Jesse the youngest and probally the best damn butcher's assistant since the original Old Man Conly.
When Tyler pushed the doors open, he was happy to see Jake's and Jesse's asain faces.
"Hey dad, Triple T is in the hizzy." Jesse said.
"What be a hizzy, lad?" Tim said.
Tyler loved the mix of red headed irish boys with asian faces. It made him laugh every time he came in here.
"Shiat, Pops hizzy is what we live in for reazzy." Jesse said.
"No shizzy." Jesse said while flashing the west coast sign.
"I can'nae understand des ladd'ies, they be speakin' the ebonics in skewl." Tim said.
Tyler chuckled as he inspected the meat. "Can I get four pounds of pidgeon, two pounds of rat and some ground sewer alligator?"
"Ack man, why ye be always askin fer that?" Tim replied. "Ye know we only sell quality meats here, sides the pidgeon is in the back."
Both men shared a great laugh while the boys ran around to get Tyler's usual order.
"That'll be 234.49 Triple T." Jesse said while wrapping the last full chicken.
"Umm....funny story....I lost my wallet in a fight last night. Any chance I can put it on my tab, you know im good for it?" Tyler said smiling.
All three Conly's enjoyed a laugh as they said in unison "No."
"Ughh can I get a sample...please im really hungry." Tyler begged.
"Please ****** this aint a soup kitchen, for reazzy." Jesse replied.
"Get a job, Triple T ain't no one like a broke [censored] cracker." Jake said sarcasticly.
"Boy's ye can'nae be talkin to de customers like this. Even if Tyler is a broke [censored] cracker. Jessie laddy, get out friend Tyler some of yesterdays meat. Take it upstairs and cook it real good."
"Thanks Tim. I owe you."
"Don't ye fret none Tyler, ye can always pay us without money. Remember that new sub shop opening up down yonder. Conly's Cuts is the only place people in the edge can get good sammich meat if ye be knowin what I mean?"
Baneshadow looked over the corpse in the warehouse disdainfully.
"Well," she demanded.
Death's Head Simmons nodded, handing her the wallet with Jimmy Cox' ID card.
"Mother [censored]," Baneshadow spat. A pale and boney hand smoothed down her long, midnight-colored hair. Deft fingers tightened the strings of her matte black mask, then idly stroked the upside-down blood red heart on her left cheek. Not many women made it into the Skulls. Most of them never made it beyond the dubious distinction 'girlfriend,' and fewer still ever rose to such a prominient position like 'Bone Daddy.' It gave her a certain liberty to deviate slightly from the standard uniform.
She also derived deep and profound pleasure from telling those people who thought her handle should be 'Bone Mommy' to go [censored] themselves to death.
"I dunno what coulda went wrong," Simmons said, "It was a standard purchase."
"Don't matter," Baneshadow said irritably, "All that matters is that the Family double-crossed us. Killed one of our guys. We either gotta find new supplier, or find a place to hole up till the troll's withdrawal rampage blows over. After that; Payback."
Baneshadow began to march herself out of the warehouse.
"What about the body," Simmons asked.
She stopped and glanced fom side to side.
"I think this building would make a suitable pyre for a Skull, don't you?"
Simmons chuckled with approval as they exited.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
An anonymous homeless man, who was no longer Jimmy Cox, listened from across the alley. Beneath his knitted cap, and behind his upturned coat collar, he allowed himself the luxury of a slight grin.
They bought it.
OOC: >_>
Poor Vik and Bubba, nobody loves them.
Statesman said let there be heroes, and there were heroes.
Lord Recluse said let there be villains, and there were villains.
NCsoft said let there be nothing, and there was nothing.
(OOC: Don't think anyone's in the same part of town as them...)
((Aw, come on now, don't give up. I'm working my way there!))
A nameless man sat in the shadow of a dumpster in the alley behind the butcher shop. He had walked for quite some time and wanted a place to rest for a while. It was strange watching people celebrate your death, but rather an honor that it should be done with a magnificent fire.
The wind blew a crumpled leaflet down the alleyway from around the corner, and it came to rest on the nameless man's shoe. He cast his eyes down, lifted it, and spread it out flat on his knee.
"Nemesis...?" he said in a curious tone.
He crawled silently to the edge of the alley and peeked around the corner. There were two men with a soapbox extolling the virtues of enlistment into the army of Nemesis. Now that he was around the corner he could hear them very clearly. Odd. The wind howling down the alley must have drowned them out.
He stood and quietly made his way to the recruiters. The man was fairly tall, about six foot four, and had the lanky body and toned physique of a swimmer or distance runner. His black hair was shaggy and disheveled, and he as dressed like a vagrant.
To the trained eye, however, he did not move like a vagrant.
"Tell me more," he said in a dry-throated but authoritative rasp. He didn't speak like a vagrant either. His words sounded like he thought he was doing them a favor by speaking.
"Assss ssssafe asss it get'sss 'round here," Shannon hissed, as he returned his daggers to their wrist sheathes. He looked around at all the others standing in front of the Serpent's apartments, "Sssseems my ssstoop isss quite popular today."
Sasha purrchuckled at this, and slipped a few of the needles out of a hidden pocket, holding them up to Shannon.
"Yeah, feel th' love, shake-boy. Hey, y'think y'can help me with these? I wanna little -extra- onnem. Ferrr my blowgun, y'know? Can ya help me give em a lil kick?"
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
"I wouldn't do that," Mo explained, "Needle's needles dissolve after about 24 hours."
"Damn. Ah well, was a good idea at th' time" Sasha smiled and dropped the ones in her hand, pulling the others she'd scrounged out of her verious pockets and dropping them into an out of the way corner.
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
"Yeah, I figured it out when he gave them to me to hold up my top once," Mo said, letting their imagination fill in the rest.
Sasha chuckled at that, she could imagine how irritating it was when the needles disolved and.. well...
"Sounds like a rrreal fun time, that."
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
"Not as fun as the time he pretended to be a tailor," Mo continued, an angry smile on her face.
Tyler was lucky he shielded his eyes and groan with a his basket ball size hands. Had a needle pierced those delicate parts Tyler would be feeling it for days. It was strange how his powers worked. He could heal from almost any fatal blow in a matter of minutes maybe even seconds but a sprained ankle took days unless he made it worse. Lots of people took advantage of that and used less then lethal force on the big man. His other power was truly a gift though. He was stronger then most on the streets except from Bruiser.
"Way to go Over da Edge, retards" Tyler said as he clapped his meaty hands together. "I guess you girls want the family to move in."
Tyler knew he was pushing the envelope but he hadn't been in a fight since yesterday. "Want me to take out the Ziggy trash, Fang? Only cost a meal." Tyler said while licking his lips.