Gun Kata - Late afternoon. Wednesday 4th of April.
[Certificate 15. Very gross fight scenes, not suitable for anyone under the age of 15]
Pistol and Spruk had had an eventful day beating up a mole and assassinating a threat, but they now stood outside a large Freakshow warehouse not too far from the Mansion. Over thirty thugs accompanied them, armed to the teeth with machine guns, assault rifles, pistols, knives and even a firemans axe.
The operation is simple said Pistol, addressing the armed mob. You go in, kill everything in sight, destroy their precious new super-weapon and get out
An explosive clip somersaulted graciously through the air, it approached a large metal gate and just as it collided with steel, a trio of gleaming bullets struck it hard, triggering a small explosion so powerful, the steel gate crumpled and fell with a loud clang. An army of bionetically modified punks stood and glared at the invading gang.
The gang is here! screamed the mob, marching into the ranks of the Freakshow Everybody cower in fear came the follow-up line, ushering in a storm of gunfire. An enforcer whips out his dual machine guns and sprays down a line of steel-clad freakshow, tree punks leap out from behind him; one wielding a machete, he runs directly into a tall freakshow and slices him in the knee, and as the man bent over in agony, the thug leaps into the air and brings the knife down on his neck. The second thug swung an axe in an arc, slicing a freakshow in half; he follows through on the momentum and spins with the axe, taking out another freakshow who ran in from the back. The boy must have been sixteen, yet the firemans axe was deadly in his hands, continuing with the same momentum, he had built up enough speed to flip himself over, axe first; as he lands back on his feet; he brings the axe in over his head and strikes a tank swiper across the forehead with immense force. The third kid brandished a magnum, sniping away at every metal-armoured freak that came his way. One tried to sneak up on him, he was welcomed with a pistol-whip that sent him flying across the floor.
The raid was going well, the invading gang had cleared a path for Pistol and Spruk without any casualties, yet they kept going; relentlessly mowing over the oncoming tide of freakshow.
Hows family? Pistol asked Spruk, making conversation as they watched the slaughtering like mundane entertainment.
Familys good. My dads getting on my nervous though he hates what I do.
Heard you broke some guy out of the Zig the other day, word is, your dad saved your butt from Commander Beet.
Oh is that what you heard? said Spruk, sarcastically.
Well, its nice seeing you alive and poisoning. You should come by the Mansion more often. Didnt you get the invite for yesterdays party? asked Pistol, but Spruk couldnt answer. They had reached the end of the warehouse, where a small gas canister laid, shining in the sunlight from a nearby window.
This is? It doesnt look much like a weapon to me said Spruk.
I dont care. Dragon, burn this place down, Pistol ordered. Just then, an ocean of Freakshow jumped down from several platforms above the warehouse, surrounding the mafia mob.
When I heard you were here Pistol, I couldnt believe it came the voice of a female freakshow, stood on a high platform near the warehouse ceiling. I thought to myself, why would the Godfather walk into my warehouse?
Sparkette. If Id known you were gonna show up, Id have brought your husbands head. Pistol spat, her voice was cold and spiteful. I killed Crash, just this morning. Turns out hes not as loyal to me as Id thought
Pistol expected some sort of response, but Sparkette remained oddly silent, perhaps she was upset. Pistol braced herself for the worst.
Im assuming this gas canister behind me is flammable. I dont know what kind of super-weapon its supposed to be, but on this island, I always make sure I have the upper hand over my rivals, and my enemies. Sparkette, years ago we could have been friends, but that time has passed. I am truly sorry about your husband, but, you know as I do, that its a dog-eat-dog - Pistol was suddenly cut off her sentence, as the gas canister received a thunderbolt, shot from Sparkettes bionetic armour. In the time it took for a fly to bat its wings, Pistol activated her mutant aura, an impenetrable field of pure energy, simultaneously, she deployed a similar field which spread across the room like an umbrella over her thirty henchmen. Just as the canister exploded, an invisible energy field consumed it into nothingness. For the first time in the day, Pistol broke a sweat. Bad move Sparkie she uttered, panting.
Hundreds of electric shocks and spinning discs shot from the ocean of Freakshow, but they merely bounced off Pistols mutant energy fields. Gang, annihilation formation! screamed Pistol, and the mob tightened up into two single files, circling around Spruk and Pistol, the front line were gunmen and melee fighters hung back. One-two, fire! screamed Pistol, lifting the field slightly to allow a whole round of gunfire into the ocean of Freakshow. Reload she screamed and the melee fighters leapt out, slashing and hacking at those who slipped through into the umbrella force field. One-two, fire! the melee fighters ducked to the ground and watched as a hundred bullets raced through the air from a 360 degrees line of fire. Reload and they leapt into the air, stabbing and slicing away, climbing over severed machine and human body parts.
Minutes later, the last of the Freakshow ranks were gunned down and the melee line chased hungrily after runners. Sparkette had stood watch over the massacre of her men. Pistol looked up into her eyes and smirked. The Vahzilok are on their way here, they will claim the bodies of your army and nobody would know this ever happened said Pistol, ever so coldly. Im
so sorry
Sparkette turned on her heels and disappeared through a back corridor. Suddenly a whining noise is heard, followed by Sparkettes headless body flying across the ceiling. The frame of a huge afro-American squeezed through the corridor and onto the platform. Sorry Im late said the man.
Axel! screamed Pistol, happy to see her ex-husband. Axel absent-mindedly kicks down Sparkettes severed head into the mound of other Freakshow corpses and leapt over the platform, landing on the ground with a mighty thud and a small crater. Pistol gives him a hug and asks him to improvise an exit. So he punches a whole in a nearby wall.
Lets head back to the mansion, Spruk said Pistol. I dont mind hearing more about this guy you broke out of prison. Maybe over a nice glass of wine
Sure, why not he replied. Youve walked me throw an action-packed day, we definitely should hang out more
Hatesman and the Secret Society - Early evening. Wednessday 4th of April.
Pistol and Axel arrive at the Mansion on a harley. A messenger approaches them in the garage.
"We've done exactly as you said boss" he reported. "Hatesman is in the guest lounge with a bottle of wine and four glasses. One for him, yourself, Mister Hunter and Master Spruk. Will there be anything else?"
"I'll let you know Anthony" Pistol replied, following her ex-husband up into the guest lounge.
Spruk stood at a window looking outside, his hands in the pockets of his green trench coat. He smiles kindly, almost looking like a nice guy if it wasn't for the crude stitching around his eyes, lips and nose where the face had been attached. He seems distracted, watching something out the window.
I am the Blaster, I have filled the role of Tank, Controller and Defender
Sometimes all at once.
Union EU player! Pip pip, tally ho, top hats and tea etc etc
A Wolf in Sheeps Clothing
A heavy set, bald man in a medium length black coat sits patiently in the grandoise Mafia Mansion. Grasping a glass of Red Wine in one hand, sitting quite casually, he slowly swirls the liquid. From behind a set of Mirror-Coated Sun-Glasses, a pair of eyes watch the blood red wine, one eye, the right, bears the mark of a large scar running vertically through it. Drawing the glass to his nose, the pale skinned man breathes in the aroma, without pause and without taking a single sip he places it on the table to his side. Quite content to go without.
The man raises his right arm upwards, checking the time on a rather impressive, and scientific looking Silver watch. From beneath the unshaven stubble around his face which eventually extends into a pointed grey goatee, his mouth twitches into a scowl, one that seems sown into his every emotive expression, and only lessens slightly as the look of dissatisfaction leaves his face, back to status quo.
Put simply, he does not wear the clothes of a would be leader of Super-Villain, his attire is far more "casual-formal" wear. Anyone would assume he was nothing more than another crackpot running operations from his garage in the isles with a handful of tin-soldiers, were it not for reports of his sightings with a few of the latest and greatest to bust out of the Zig. Nor should anyone suspect he was once an adversary of Marcus Cole, the Statesman himself, unless they had read a small newspaper article in the Paragon Times back in 2003 and could place his face to his real name... Proffessor Hermann Oswald.
It takes Chaos to move the world to Action.
Pistol enters the room in an elegant catwalk and gently settles in an old leather sofa eight feet across from the man refered to as Hatesman. She notices Spruk at a nearby window and assumed he was watching the Family mooks beating each other up. Turning her attention to a bottle of white wine, she pours herself a glass and stares inquisitively at the man opposite her.
"This building was built early twentieth century by Alexander du Bute, a French architect" said Pistol, breaking the ice with a few interesting facts. "Its quite the example of Art Nouveau at its finest. To be honest with you, its the furnishings that did it for me; luxurious Flemish and French tapestries, Damask curtains and Turkish carpets." Pistol drew a satisfyingly long sip of her wine and waited for some sort of a response.
"Well you certainly have a taste for the finer things in life don't you? An impressive statement of success if I should say so." Hatesman's voice has a natural growl to it, as if he's been singing american death metal for the past 50 years and washing it down with hard whiskey. "Forgive me, but I'm just not one to recognise such objects of desire beyond their monetary worth." He smiles with a genuinely amused grin. "Some may simply call me single minded..."
Hatesman offers his greetings quite bluntly, yet with an air of respect. "My name is Mr. Oswald, I call myself 'The Hatesman' for the reason of drawing the right attention to my cause." Pausing to grin quite fiendishly, he continues, "It seems to have worked if I have the infamous New Mafia approaching me about such things as alliances. No?"
Hatesman rests his elbow on the sofa, allowing his hand to fall before his mouth, covering it slightly. His cold eyes look upwards towards Pistols for a response, accompanied by a creepy half smile and a raised eyebrow.
It takes Chaos to move the world to Action.
"Call me Pistol, Mister Oswald" said Pistol, her sicilian accent evident in her voice. "So you believe freedom is the right of all sentient beings... freedom to do as one wishes without Law or order, because that is what human instints are, have I understood you correctly?"
"Yes, quite, and an emphasis mainly on the Anarchist view of 'Without Law or Order' in particular the imposed and compulsory kind. Take your 'family' for example, the Mafia has been doing as it pleases for almost a century around here, if the rumours and movies are anything to go by atleast." Mr. Oswald smiles. "Not without punishment either. I understand you and your men, like me have spent time in Fortress Ziggursky for your free-thinking actions... no?"
It takes Chaos to move the world to Action.
Spruk mutters something under his breath, he walks across the room and sits on a wooden chair in the corner, he watches Hatesman with darkend eyes. "The Zig is a pain in the [censored], but we almost owe it our thanks.." He then licks his lips, his gaze staying on Hatesman.
I am the Blaster, I have filled the role of Tank, Controller and Defender
Sometimes all at once.
Union EU player! Pip pip, tally ho, top hats and tea etc etc
Pistol simply sat and watched Hatesman. Several moments passed as she imagined this man's dreams play out. She thought of a world where men simply behaved as they wished. Amongst other things, she saw sex crimes, theft, armed robbery, murder, terrorism, racial genocide, suicide, poverty and starvation. The vision confirmed what she believed - mankind needed the Law; barriers and rules to seperate them from the monster within - the anarchist. As difficult as life may seem today, at least the world had progressed beyond barbarianism.
Pistol snapped back to reality and broke eye contact with Hatesman. She felt her fingers on the wine glass and took another prolonged sip. "Hatesman" she said, her voice silky and soft, yet the tone was cold and sharp as a blade, "what is your grand plan?"
Hatesman raised an eyebrow turning to question Spruk's declaration. "You, owe, the Ziggursky...?" Hatesman chuckled patronisingly in his heavy sounding, arrogant American accent "...yeah pal, of course you do, and someone owes you a beating to your senses, if you think you owe that cage anything."
"Alright, Pistol. My 'Grand Plan' as you dub it is simple. I'm constructing an Organisation of Gifted Meta-Beings, Super-Powered individuals who think like I do. We believe that Might means Right. If you're not fit, strong or gifted enough to live on this planet in a state of lawlessness, you don't deserve to live here at all..."
Hatesman rose to his feet, calmly walking to the fireplace, to inspect the items on the mantle, his hands held tightly behind his back. "This world stands on the brink of disaster. Thanks entirely to the homosapien. Since I acquired my powers 30 years ago the global population has doubled from three to six billion people. It's unheard of in all of the planets history for any large animal to be so, successful... it's simply unnatural, and that's down to society. Anyway, it's certainly not unfair to say the Human race is replicating like a bacterium. Spreading over this planet, swiftly Crushing and consuming it." Hatesman brought his hand level with his face and clenched it into a fist on those last words, accompanied by a shift in his voice tone to that of hate filled determination.
"It cannot be allowed to continue like this, that is an unquestionable fact in my mind. There has to be an end to the simple-minded human beings idol and thoughtless ways before these ways bring about the end of us all!" Oswald continued, punctuating his speech with firm hand gestures. "Governments sit on the edge of releasing Nuclear Annihilation every second thanks to Mutually Assured Destruction strategies and the ice-caps melt more and more each day threatening a total flooding of the planet and every one of it's inhabitants...
Hatesman turns to face Pistol directly staring at her.
His voice returns to a normal tone. After a swift and catastrophic end at the hands of the brain-dead masses, nothing will matter, as we'll all be gonners, super-powers or not. I intend to stop this before it's allowed to creep beyond the point at which it cannot be stopped." Hatesman reinforced his next sentence with the determined tone from earlier. "I'll tell you now, that I'll do this with or without the wider support of other groups like New Mafia or Arachnos.
Crossing his arms in front his over-grown chest, Hatesman stands before Pistol and Spruk radiating a sense that he feels 'untouchable' in their presence. His slightly above-average height only serves to accentuate his Super-Physique, in his black jacket he now stands like a club bouncer with a fuse shorter than his beard.
Alright Pistol, let's cut to the chase. What do you want that I have to offer you? And more importantly, what do you have to offer me in an alliance? You invited me here for the discussion of a coalition, so far you've only inquired into my motives and plan, while your lackey interjects, with notions I really don't care to understand. How about some input so I know what I'm doing here?"
((Hatesman's personality style has had a change... I've noticed I've been using the type's of words a Gentlemanly English Hatesman might use when he's actually a Rough and Ready American. He's more aggressively spoken and arrogant now, ignore the switch if you will... thank you please.))
It takes Chaos to move the world to Action.
Spruk listened to every word Hatesman had to say. All the way through his speech, the air Spruk breathed out was slowly turning green and a thick green ooze started to seep from behind his lips. Soon as Hatesman ended, Spruk got up from his seat and walks out the room with a trail of green air and a few dots of slime on the ground which fizzed as they burnt their way through it.
He continued outside of the building, walked up to a nearby ground of Mooks then released a putrid looking sybstance from his mouth. The thugs screams were silenced as they quickly fell into several heaps of dissolving flesh and bone. He then flew away to somewhere, a thick green smog trail following him through the sky.
I am the Blaster, I have filled the role of Tank, Controller and Defender
Sometimes all at once.
Union EU player! Pip pip, tally ho, top hats and tea etc etc
Pistol watched as Spruk excused himself, she hoped he would return later for a chat. Suddenly, from a shadow in the corner in the room emerges a woman, a splitting image of the notorious Pistol. She walks across the room and takes a seat at the table.
"Hatesman, meet my twin sister the Falcon Blitz" said Pistol.
"To answer your question Mister Oswald" said Falcon, "we already have everything we need and require nothing from you. In fact, we cannot and will not have the New Mafia linked with some Anarchist group, it goes against everything we stand for. Lisa invited you here to find out what you're up to and I must say... you are one deranged lunatic." Finishing her string of abuse, she turns to her sister, "you were right, we'd better keep an eye on him"
"Yes" Pistol agreed, looking from her sister to Hatesman. She finished the last of her drink and rose to her feet, meeting eye-to-eye with the large man. "I didn't think you'd answer to my invitation had I not offered something of interest to you, but I'm afraid, as it seems, our perspectives, our values, our believes... our persons are somewhat different. In fact, they're at a clash. I see no reason to work with you Mr Oswald."
[ QUOTE ]
((...I've noticed I've been using the type's of words a Gentlemanly English Hatesman might use when he's actually a Rough and Ready American...))
[/ QUOTE ]
((Probably subconsciously influenced by Pistol's neat and well-spoken personality))
Hatesman stared at the pair of women with widening eyes and a large almost chaotic grin, it was as if someone had removed the mask hiding his true self and beneath it was a madman revelling in pure Hatred.
"You tricked me?" he said through gritted teeth, eyes wide and bloodshot, assuming a stance of defense. The veins in his kneck pulsated heavily as his feet began to make creaking noises against the floor boards as if his weight had suddenly tripled. Fist's firmly clenched a dark black aura pulsated outwards from his skin, he shook violently as his muscles tensed under extreme pressure. The vibrations were enough to bring his wine glass on the table crashing to the floor.
Then as if nothing had happened his entire posture reverted to an upright position for a split second, the room felt as though it stood still in time and utter silence. Red Wine from the shattered glass spread out over the floor like blood from an open wound. Hatesman mouthed something to Pistol in Latin, flicking his eyes to Flacon and back again to extend it to her also, "Ut sementem... feceris ita... metes." Then within the heart beat of a wasp the large window looking out onto the courtyard behind him exploded into a rain of glass fragments and wood chippings, the explosion rocked the room, sending over lamps and funishings with the sound of a Sonic Boom. A hail of debris rained down upon Spruk and the bodies of the decaying Mooks outside.
As the dust clouds parted, the sun in the clear blue sky shone through the empty shattered window into the room, a second sonic boom could be heard many miles away.
Hatesman was gone, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake and a long white vapour trail in the clouds, plotting his course clearly westwards over towards mainland America...
It takes Chaos to move the world to Action.
"I think we've upset him" said Falcon sarcastically, looking onwards through the hole in the fenistration. Pistol however didn't look too amused. She withdrew a gold plated Mark XIX Desert Eagle, cocked it and took to the air, following in Hatesman's trail.
"As far as I'm concerned, somebody owes me for building repairs"
Spruk flies down and walks into the room wearing his usual, badly sewn together leather uniform. He looks at the mess created during the chaos, the deadly green ooze starts to seep from his mouth and the look of murder fills his eyes, he turns to look at Pistol.
"Just say the word, and he's dead.. Or worse." He looks at the carnage again then wipes the goop from his bottom lip, waiting for orders.
I am the Blaster, I have filled the role of Tank, Controller and Defender
Sometimes all at once.
Union EU player! Pip pip, tally ho, top hats and tea etc etc
Falcon Blitz turned to Spruk and smiled "wrong twin, Pistol went after Hatesman"
A thick green smog started to come from Spruk, he snarled and turned around, walking away. The ground he walked on slowly melted even after he had moved away from it. He looked into the air and snorted, then flew up and charged in the direction that Pistol left.
I am the Blaster, I have filled the role of Tank, Controller and Defender
Sometimes all at once.
Union EU player! Pip pip, tally ho, top hats and tea etc etc
The Long Halloween
Jan Sionis was born into one of Paragon citys elite families, to parents who were wealthy and utterly self-absorbed, caring more about their social status than their son.
During his childhood Jan was attacked by the familys guard dog whilst playing at his country estate. The incident was covered up and Jan was forbidden from mentioning it to anyone, out of fear that it would make his parents look irresponsible.
Further adding to the cauldron was his father's "friendship" with Daniel Miles; both of Jan's parents disliked the Miles and were quite vocal about it in private with their son. However, to their son's dismay, they continued to associate with Daniel and Lisa Miles and pretended to be friends with the couple, to the extent of literally forcing him to become friends with their son, Jason. His parents' hypocrisy had a deep impact on him, who hated and resented them and the "masks" they wore in public.
When he graduated from high school, Sionis was given a high ranking position inside Bludhaven Chemical, the chemical company his father ran. It was here that he met Nicole, a young working class secretary that he fell in love with. His parents disliked her and made it clear to their son that they wanted the romance ended. Enraged, Sionis took matters into his own hands and burned down his family's mansion, killing both of his parents.
He inherited the family fortune, as well as the family's business. But he wasn't good with business and he began squandering his money, running the firm into the ground with his icreasingly dangerous chemical mixtures.
However, there was a brief light at the end of the tunnel, as childhood acquaintance Jason Miles offered to bail out the company. But Mile's help came with a price, as he demanded that Sionis must give up control over the company and allow Jason to install his own board of directors. Sionis agreed, but was furious at the humiliation and dramatic loss of face he had suffered and, to add insult to injury, Sionis' fiancé Nicole dumped him in front of his entire staff.
Enraged, he went to the family mausoleum and broke his father's ebony coffin lid. Sionis had always been obsessed with masks, and the idea that when a person dons a mask, they become someone else. He took a large piece of the coffin and carved a mask from it, becoming more than just a man.
Sionis found he had an amazing aptitude for crime, and he soon had a large gang working for him. Calling them The Society, the one requirement was that all members must select a mask from his collection and wear it at all times when on the job and in his presence. They were successfully gaining power in the Paragon underworld, until Sionis decided it was time to take his revenge on Jason Miles. He began kidnapping Miles Enterprise executives, putting masks on their faces that were coated in the deadly chemical once made by Bludhaven Chemicals. He also targeted Nicole and forcibly disfigured her with the chemicals in order to force her to reunite with him. Nicole eventually took her own life, driving Sionis into further insanity.
These kidnappings drew the hero Starshots attention, and he began hunting down the Society. He slowly began to dismantle the organization until he finally found Sionis in the ruins of his Family home. Jan lit the wreckage on fire trying to escape, but was caught in the burning house. Starshot was able to save him, but the mask had been burned onto his face and left him disfigured.
Sent to the Zig, Sionis used his contacts on the inside to carry out his attacks on the Miles family. Over time his name ran through the criminal ranks of Paragon City, turning him into one of the citys most ruthless crimelords. The guards tormented Sionis on his appearance but he took no notice. Believing his scars to be a sign of his strength and determination to survive, he created a cult whose trademark was ritual scarring, killing anyone who refused to join.
During a prison break Sionis managed to slip out amongst the chaos. Sionis had lost much of his power base, and it took him some time to rebuild his empire. He began a drug trafficking ring and decided to move his organization into the Rogue Islands.
Moving in on Marcone territory it wasnt long before several gang wars errupted between the two organisations. Deciding that he wanted to remove the problem Sionis blew up several of the Marcone estates, hounded him, and kidnapped his brother and sister-in-law. Sionis tortured Marcone's sister-in-law brutally in front of his brother, and then made the man eat pieces of his wife's corpse.
Marcone arrived to find his sister-in-law dead, his brother insane, and his consigliore on the verge of being tortured.
He attacked Sionis, and the two of them fought across his penthouse. At the end of the battle, Sionis fell from the top of the building, leaving everyone to assume he was dead.
A year or two passed and the name Sionis had become nothing but a scary story people tell their children to get them to sleep. Unaware to the world Sionis had returned, now looking to strengthen his Iron Grip on the city once again, he saught out the one person he thought could help him regain is power. Alicia Hunter.
The Long Halloween (Continued)
[A storm is brewing over Cap Au Diable. A gunshot is heard echoing through the twisted alleys of Devils Coattail. A patrolling police officer rushes towards the noise, turning around the corner he sees a man kneeling over a body with a phone to his ear.]
Is he ok, what happened?
[The figure kneeling over the corpse stands to his feet slowly turning to face the officer. A black wooden mask covers his face, cloaked in a long black trench coat he pulls out a Desert Eagle pressing it up against the officers forehead.]
You!?
[Another gunshot echoes through the alleyway masked by the incoming thunder. Placing the smoking pistol back in his holster he removes a small combat knife and disfigures the corpses face. Still holding the phone to his ear he wait for an answer on the other end.]
The Phonecall - April 14
Since meeting Sionis, the New Mafia syndicate had acquired only one other valuable associate, but after Sionis's wordless interview, Pistol herself had welcomed him into the gang.
She was overseeing an interogation in Nerva Archipelago, outside the Mansion, when her cellphone rang. The henchman called Eagle produced the cellphone from a trouser pocket and quickly checks the caller display.
"Boss, its Sionis" he said, offering the phone. Pistol took the call.
"Speak" she ordered, wondering if Sionis can actually talk.
"It's been a while" came a darkly scarred voice, a pitch so deep the words were hard to distinguish.
"Cut to it Sionis, I'm busy" said Pistol, interjected by the sudden sound of a gunshot over the phone. "What are you doing?" she questioned, in a patronizing tone.
"I need a favour" Sionis replied. In the background, Pistol heard a masculine voice followed shortly by a second gunshot, then what must have been thunder.
"Meet me at the Mansion within the hour, no heat" Pistol commanded.
[The mansion bulks up beneath the moon and cloud-ridden sky. The plaque on the wall is warn and rustic. Its a bad dream house whose windows are lit with a weird, delirious light. A mystery in stone and timber, best left unsolved. Sionis shadow is thrown back. He walks in down the gravel path, bits sticking to his shoes from all the blood.]
Marcone. He growled, I want you to help me track him down.
Pistol sat comfortably at her desk, looking across the room at Sionis like a queen from her throne.
"Sionis, its an honour to have you in the syndicate, but you have alot to learn" said Pistol, her voice carrying a silky undertone. "When you talk to me, especially when asking a favour, you have to show some respect."
One of the henchmen standing guard over at the door walked up to Sionis and whispered two words.
The Assassination Ring - Mid-afternoon. Wednesday 4th of April.
Spruk and Pistol enter the Guest Hall, at the east wing of the New Mafia Mansion, where the Carnivals of Shadows rehearsed their mind tricks and illusions. Spruk signalled for his gang to ready their weapons, but Pistol interrupted. This has to be a clean hit; we dont want to cause uproar in the Guest Hall. First thing is to find their leader Muse, but to avoid detection, I will cloak us all.
Individually, the notorious Pistol cast a purely reflective energy shield around the assembled thugs and within seconds, she and Spruk were racing through the building in search for the Carnival boss, Muse.
Found her, over here Pistol whispered. Get into position, but be careful, these clowns have a few clever tricks up their sleeves, if they detect you.
Slowly and quietly, a dozen gunmen surrounded Muse, guns raised and pointed at her head. Slowly, the energy fields fell away revealing, to Muses horror, New Mafias signature assassination formation. The fear on Muses face lifted Pistols ego well above the stars, she cat-walked through the circle of gunmen and stopped short of Muses face, ready for another speech as the new Godfather of organised crime.
I bring you into my house and you threaten me you disrespect my honour and you betrayed my act of friendship. Muse butted in with pleas, and cries, Please, Alicia, were one of a kind you and I, we had a deal and I swear to you I have not betrayed it, please but Pistol showed no mercy.