Thriller Max Payne 3: A Bad Day in L.A.

Max Payne
Half Moon Motel
Chapter 1

Whoever the guys had been, I had a quick glance and knew they had come here with a kill plan. For me.

A look from the window and my Nightmare unfolded. Pain pills in a mixer with Wodka. Dead men. Hot water works better, but like in many other ways, they were no professionals. Blood. Smell. Guns. It had begun.

This wasn´t New York. This wasn´t even Jersey. My head hammered from the aching pulse in my head. My stuff is in a plastic bag nearby. Blood on the floor. And shots down somewhere. I do not seem to be these guys only victim. I take my gun. My badge. My pills. I take two and my aching head eases. They had tried to give me more of them. Blood. A trace leading to the bathroom. I knew the whole story already. Cop kills innocent, takes overdose. But did I need to know. Who? Why? Of course I did. All part of the puzzle.

My survival depended on a string of senseless questions, I had to find an answer for.

And so I did. Still having the Desert Eagle in my hand I opened the door to the bath room by pulling against it with the barrel of the smoking gun. The shots from below have stopped. So someone would come for me, or I would have to leave before police arrives. Anyway, my time was running out.

And somewhere out there was Elena. L.A., that´s where I am.

City of Angels.

Felt like hell . . .

Tag: Draco for bathroom, Sith-I-5 should we have any sort of interaction

 

Dante - Chapter 1: Showtime!
Across from construction site

"That so?" Dante said carefully holstering Ebony before reaching over and sliding the man's glock out of his reach. "Looks to me like I walked in on some very illegal activity, and simply responded in Self Defense. But ok I'll bite. What is it I've just done, and while I'm at it maybe you should tell me why you're here, who your working for and what the hell that thing is by the window. Oh, and where your little laptop went. If I like your answers, I might go easy on you. If I don't..." With his thumb he pulled Ivory's handle back, "Lets just see to it that I like your answers. Ok?"

Tag: GM

 

IC: Anita Blake
Chapter One: Under the Skin
Nakatomi Tower Construction Site

"Oh nevermind. Only a hunch." the Asian man said and Anita didn?t believe it for one minute. There was something more going on here, some information that maybe if known years ago would?ve prevented these very murders by helping her mentor to catch these men.

"No signs this time? Why?" the other cop asked.

Anita shrugged in response. She didn?t have an answer and thankfully the Asian man who Polaski had just introduced with distain as Officer Yuen from China cut in again.

"What organisations did your mentor thought these killings were connected to?
?The Triad. He believed that the murderer was protected by this organization and possibly was one of them. What a Triad member would be doing in L.A. one can only imagine. Moving the crime organization here, going for a big target: human or valuable, etc? Anita offered up with a smile. She wasn?t sure what had gone down between Yuen and Polaski but she hated when cop?s egos got in the way and she wasn?t going to be in the middle of it.

Tag: Draco and Fins

 

Otto West
Chapter One - Great Expectations at the Bar

Someone had taken Otto's drink.

Otto didn't like that.

Otto got angry.

When the bullets started flying elsewhere, though he didn't actually notice it, he pulled out his own gun and began shooting bottles at the bar's back wall.

"Hello!"

Another shot.

"I want my drink!"

Another shot, another bottle of ABSOLUT vodka shattered. He grinned at that. Soviet ditch water!

"Some insect took mine! I demand recompense!"

Otto kept on shooting.

Tag: Trim, Draco, those at the bar

 

IC: John McClain - Chapter 1
The Cobra Lounge, Table

The world just strank to a moment, merely taking an instant as the first mask fired his machine gun into the ceiling, causing a small part himself to twinge hoping no one was up there. Having been in that position himself he definately sympathize if someone was.

For crooks they were well armed sporting MP5K's and Shotguns designed for being shot from the hip, five so armed was a bit outlandish for a simple robbery. Definately not their first.

His initial instincts rang out to topple the table, pull the Beretta 92FS from it's holster and drop the two headed towards them. There were civilians though in here, true some of them were politicians that he couldn't care less about in a bar shootout, but still there were at least as many normal folk, if not more. Looking to Al he saw his friends worried look, and that cinched it.

He couldn't pull anything now and risk his friend who was asking for his help. If he pulled a gun they would be tied up for the next eight to twenty-four answering questions, he might get escorted out of LA and Al, Al would end up the one hung out to dry when he really needed his help.

Nodding to Al, he let his cig hang from his lips as he pulled out his wallet, and pulled out all the cash inside. Speaking around the cigerette he nodded to Al, "It'll be ok, just give em' what you got, nice and easy." Turning his wallet over he shook it to show that it was empty, although careful to keep his police ID facing himself before setting it closed infront of himself. Hopefully Al would follow suite and these heavily armed men would leave.

TAG: GM

 

IC: Miranda Frost, bullet-ridden lobby.
Location: Half Moon Hotel

The Spanish-speaker had no more clips on him for the Uzi, nor a secondary weapon, probably assuming the SMG would be enough to solve all his problems.

Understandable.

She prised off his nearside winkle-pickers, which was how she thought of his pointy-toed black kid leather shoes, revealing a long white sock. She pulled that off too, for it was what she had been after in the first place.

The contents of his pockets were poured into the sock for later perusal, and the open end threaded through the metal band of her SEKSY Ladies Watch 4275, knotted so it swung freely from her pale wrist.

The P-90 was safetied and re-attached to the velcro strapped inside her thigh, the Uzi deposited in a knee-high terracotta vase playing host to dessicated soil and a long-dead succulent, that looked like the mother of all spider plants.

She grabbed up the Beretta and her purse and with the gun pointed ahead of her, headed for the staircase again.

Agent Frost would have liked nothing more than to go sit outside in her car, but the fact was, she was no closer to finding the Clemency pair, and yet had almost had her hair parted for her troubles.

She had to at least check out room 2004, n, see if it offered any clues as to where the fugitive had gone.

Never Tommy Lee Jones when you wanted him.

Miranda reached the bottom of the stairs, and got a double handed grip on the snub-nosed automatic to point it up while keeping as much of herself hidden from any eyes up there as possible.
"I want a hard target search." She muttered to herself, just to break the deafening silence. "Every dog-house, out-house....anything that looks like a house."

She stepped slowly onto the first step, then the next, slowly ascending the staircase, hoping against hope that Laker T-Shirt and Muscles had cleared out of the room before she got there.

Apart from one step that started to creak as she put weight on, causing her to step off and climb up two, she managed to reach the floor without making any more sound, and was quite proud of her achievement.

The agent kept herself to a slim target profile by walking by the wall opposite to the door she wanted, noticing that while shut, it had gained a few bullet holes since last time, the exit holes complete with vertical strips of wood missing above and below, corresponding pits in the wall opposite.

She could hear panicked snivelling through the thin walls of adjacent suites, and just had to hope that no 'have-a-hero' opened his or her door and tried to blast her.

Miranda paused and tried to listen for activity from within the hotel room.

Tag: Max Payne

 

Cobra Lounge
Downtown

The leader of the gangsters turned around patiently. To patient. It was not the kind of guy who felt tense about threatening people with a gun. He obviously felt confident about it. Someone who maybe had more of a problem when adrenaline was not pumping through his system.

Al took out his wallet and lay it on the table. Raising his hands, he looked at the guy coming over to him and grabbing the wallets, taking money from it. Their leader turned towards them, while all others covered the room.

"Who´s your friend, Al? Hm? Who is he?" The man who had taken their money asked, pointing his sub machine gun at John. Al looked up and shook his head. "He is nobody. He is hiring. Watchmen. Night Watch. For underground garages." Al said and looked at the man. The ski-masked guy turned his head to John, then back to Al. His MP5K never leave the spot right before John´s face. Al looked over to their leader.
"Gordon, he is nobody. Everything is fine.I´ll do it!" Al said and their leader rested his shotgun on his shoulder. The man behind the ski mask looked from Al to John and back. The man at their desk gave his Boss a look. They decided what to do.

They decided if they killed them or not.

Tag: Mitth

---

[i]Draco takes over Nakatomi from here again. Sorry for any confusions that have risen. My last GM update, before I become a simple player here . . . [/i]

[b]The Nakatomi Tower Construction Site
The Pit[/b]

?The Triad. He believed that the murderer was protected by this organization and possibly was one of them." One of them? The triad ruled through fear. Tequila gave the man another look and wondered if that was something else entirely. Something he had not seen before. He had marvelled at the cruelty and perversion of that serial killer the town hunted. Was it not about joy, but about intimidation? A message to those who understood? Retribution? He had seen members of gangs do terrible things to traitors. Not that terrible, but it was probably a matter of skill.
"What a Triad member would be doing in L.A. one can only imagine. Moving the crime organization here, going for a big target: human or valuable, etc? Tequila looked at her and Polaski sighed. "Is there any reason why we think the non-existent L.A. branch of the triad is behind this? No victim was Asian, no hint beyond it being identical to this Beijing group. Copycats, probably. The case seems to be rather famous." Polaski concluded and Jackson nodded in agreement.
Tequila looked at Blake, then at Polaski. They had no clue what it was about. And they probably had no way to find out. Whoever did this would carry on until he was done and then vanish. Just like it had happened in Beijing, probably.
"You´re right. Triad. Makes no sense. I am only the exchange cop, right?" He smiled. "Good luck." he said then and bowed slightly before Blake. "Polaski. Jackson." He did not give the more than a nod and turned around. He had barely touched his coffee, but now dropped it, while climbing out of the pit. Looking above, where the media was preying for pictures of the murder in their swarms of helicopters and then at the crowd of curious civilians and over-eager new-journalists, kept in bay by an army of policemen, he took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. "Smoking forbidden." A young police officer said to him, who appeared at his side. Tequila stared at him. The man stared back. Long three seconds, then he looked down and hurried away.

It was not a question, if he was on the case. He knew he would not be able to leave L.A. without knowing what was going on here. Not for his love for his colleagues. But the people living here deserved to be protected by people like these skinners. And right now, nobody else was better suited to do so than him.

[i]Hiding behind your badge, Tequila.[/i]

"Hey, you!" He shouted out at one of the younger cops. "Chow Ho Yuen. Get me a cab, I am with homicide and need to get somewhere, fast." He said and the young cop nodded and ran away. Staring at the crowd of people so eager to get a look at a

 

Mordell-Estate
Gallery

He knew that look from the brown eyes, the cold features. And Colme only nodded. Creasy still got fire. He had to admit that.

Jordan Colme looked at his old colleague and nodded with a smile showing he knew what Creasy wanted. "The guns, I know people who can supply you with that." He searched in his pockets and got a few cards. Running through them, he finally gave Creasy one. "Jason Petrovich. Helluva crazy Russian but he can get anything from a kitchen-knife to a Stinger Rocket." Colme smiled. "Tell him it´s on me and he won´t charge you any money, as long as you are reasonable. And that´s a shaky term when it comes to him." With that Colme took out his mobile. "The IDs will need a little, but everything is closed now. So you won´t need ´em ´til the morning. All official offices are closed anyway. I´ll get ´em at nine and give you a call."

With that Colme brought Creasy to the door, giving him the keys to his car. "But one thing you are wrong about. You think Angola is bad? That was us stone cold professionals against lots of scums with a bad attitude. If you mess up here, they send no scum after you. They hire stone cold pros. Like us, John. You would not believe how many formers are serving on the other side these days. I heard even Bergmann is now out-for-hire. And Bergmann was the best of us." With that Colme clapped his friends shoulders.
"Be careful. I-wood at that time, is a rough place. Especially for Elena if she is there."

Tag: Rally-Fan

---

[b]Harbor-City
Normandie Ave[/b]

Miles Chang had an apartment not too far away from the Torrance Airport. Penthouse in Harbour City was not like a penthouse in Downtown, but it was not cheap, either. The house itself had a lobby and a sleeping night warden. Cameras that were probably not even recording. Elevators, so old fashioned one was afraid they might never make it up there.

Once on the top floor Ruby found the Apartment opened, the door-lock was damaged. And someone was inside. The lights were on, movement could be heard and someone was talking. In an Asian language.

[b]Tag: Renegade[/b]

[hr]

[b]The Half Moon Motel[/b] was updated via PMs.

I´ll give those who did not yet reply to their "[b]Great Expectations Club[/b]"-tags another day to do so, then I´ll update. I regret to announce [b]Sarge221[/b] has left the game for now, due to RL commitments. His space will soon be filled with someone from our waiting list.

Speaking of which. With my next update some people will be joining us: [b]Hero_Of_The_Force, Republic_Anvil, LordPollus[/b] and [b]TheSithGirly [/b].

My waiting list is cleared therefore and anyone interested in joining the game, should contact me or Fin soon.

[b]Draco[/b]

 

all info provided by Draco


Max Payne
Half Moon hotel
Chapter One

All bad things in my life began with the death of a woman. This one was no different. As the door slowly swung opn I saw who they wanted to make my fake victim. Whose murder I wasn meant to have committed, once their scenery was perfected. A young girl. My heart prepares to break into parts, but my eyes save it. No. This is not Elena. Though she is her age. The stuff of the girl lies around every where. I found her passport and wallet next to the bathtube. She had been beautiful. Her corpse did not show that anymore. Beaten to death. Going through her wallet I find her address. And pictures. Two girls smiling in the summer sun. Days of happyness, now long gone. Distant like a dream in the reality that has become a nightmare for both. Sarah Mitchell is the dead girls name. The other girl is Elena. If I ever saw a copy of her mother, that´s her.

I took her picture and ID and prepared the Desert Eagle by loading it through once more. Whoever had fought don there would come up here. Because he wanted to kill me, or because he wanted to kill the guys I had already got rid of. If it was wsecond, fine. Then I had to find out how this person thought about witnesses. And what she knew about last few missing hours.

Boarding to L.A., my last memory. Why me? The question every individual bugged the universe about once in a time. Universe had never answered it, of if it ever had . . . did not care to anymore.

Tired of waiting for death, I ecided to go and look for my old friend. Exchanging the Desert Eagle for the left over Ingram Mac and grabbing his two extra mags I go to the door. I moment of silence leaning against the wall allowing pain to take over, then I step to the door and rip it open. Gun first, I am stepping into the corridor behind.

Prepared to do what Max Payne odes best. Kill anybody on my way out.

I was a natural in that.

Always had been.

I only wished I had taken an extra pill of pain killers.


Tag: Sith-I-5 (in the corridor)

Ammo:

Desert Eagle 4/9
Ingram MAC 19/40 + 2x40
Beretta 92 16+2x15

 

Action

Dante - Chapter 1: Showtime!
What's soon to be a crime scene

"****!" He had almost forgot about the cops. This wouldn't do at all, he couldn't be arrested, but he couldn't exactly let this guy escape either. With a swift motion Dante planted his shin right between the man's legs as he slammed the butt end of Ivory's grip into the mans temple. "Hope you enjoy group showers. Try not to drop the soap." Holstering his gun Dante fled the room, grabbing his two discarded clips as he went. Last thing he needed was for them to trace it back to his guns.

Rushing down the hall he nearly knocked the door down to the the room he'd been using all night. He quickly closed up his Guitar case and tossed a match into the metal waste basket he'd put his discarded cups and pizza in. There'd be no DNA leading to Dante on this night. Wanting to do more to protect his identity but knowing he didn't have the time Dante ran. He ran out of the room, and he ran down the hall. He rounded the corner and kicked through the door to the stair well at the back of the building.

He still had time, they'd only just now be entering and they'd be doing it from the front moving back, he still had time. He charged down the stairs, half way and just tossed himself over the railing to the next flat. He still needed to hurry, it was only in bad TV shows that cops were slow, he knew they'd get to the stairs eventually, he didn't have time to take them all at once. For five floors he did this, halfway down a flat of stairs, leap over the safety rail to the next flat down. It was a rough way, but it was fast.

Doing it this way it took him just about a minute to get down to the ground floor. Out of breath he ran, down a hallway towards the rear of the building. Thats where his escape route was. Running he leaped into the exit door with all his body weight forcing the door open. As he passed through the door and was met by the cold L.A. air he skidded to a halt on the concrete and asphalt just before slamming into the passenger door of his waiting car. Putting his case in the passenger seat he ran around to the otherside and jumped in.

Thankfully the car started without a problem and Dante put the car in drive and drove. Carefully, and quickly Dante made his way around the buildings behind the Bureau building, through parking lots and alleyways till he came to West Pico Boulevard. Pulling into traffic he made his way way down the Boulevard, trying to catch his breath. Why the hell had those men been there? What was all that equipment for? The Skinners hadn't used professionals in Beijing, were they using them now? Or was something bigger going on?

These thoughts filled his mind as he drove the two or so miles down the road before making a right onto Westwood Boulevard and pulling into the Sky Hotel's parking lot. Careful to park behind the building, out of sight Dante grabbed his guitar case and made his way into the Hotel. The receptionist looked up at him and recognized him. "Good evening Mr. Redgrave. Back so soon?"

Dante put on a goofy grin and nodded, "Yeah, couldn't find my muse anywhere. Nothing came to me, no new songs or ideas, so I just decided to come back."

The young woman smiled, "Well maybe next time then? Have a good night."

"Yeah, thanks, you too." Dante moved on down the hall and around the corner and let his face switch back into its previous solemn look. Pulling a key card out of his pocket and slid it into the slot of Door 113. Stepping inside he locked the door behind him.

"Ah, Dante. You're back."

Instinctively Dante drew Ebony and aimed it at the voice but after a second he sighed and put the gun back, "Oh, its just you Morrison." Dante relaxed at the sight of his liaison and put his Guitar case in a chair next to the door. "You find anything, or are you in here to run up my Room Service bill?"

"Neither I'm afraid. I don't have any contacts in L.A. and those Contacts I do have who have Contacts... well its taking longer then expected." The man frowned and adjuste

 

IC: John McClain - Chapter 1
The Cobra Lounge, Table

McClain focused on the machine aimed at his face with a will, leaving his options open as he stared at the mechanisms on the gun, taking in all that was the MP5K from the wrong end. He knew that if he stared past the gun, stared at the man behind it he would give his experience away, so instead he focused on the weapon, and how it was being held.

Al was giving a good cover for the story, that he was merely a nightwatch guard, but when it came down to it...his life was on the line as much as Al's. These perps meant business, and he at least was starting a roster from the name Al spoke out, of people to look up later.

His one hand laid on the table just between his wallet and beer, as he brought the second one up to the cigerette in his mouth. "I think I'll quite now. No jobs worth this." he tried to get his words to come out with a bit of edge of fear as he stared at the machine gun.

TAG: GM

 

POSTING FOR DRACO who has problems with the board

The Golden Swan Restaurant
Chinatown

combined with Fin´s post originally planned, which is the first part of it and my addition in the second

[image=http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2101/3569672434_e5a603d22c.jpg]

The Cab had brought Tequila straight to the Golden Swan Restaurant in the heart of the expanding regions of China Town. Tequila had known there would be one. Every major city had such a place. It was a well known meeting place for the Triad Members of various gangs. An Elysium. A place to talk. Not always these talks ended friendly. So it was good to have place you controlled if you wanted to do them, undisturbed.

Three tall men guarded the door, behaving as if they were anything than hired, armed goons. They seemed to recognize him. Cops were not so different, no matter where he they came from.

"Mat ye si a?" The biggest of them asked. A giant for an Asian, with broad shoulders and arms like other men had legs. Tequila did not recognize the mans accent, but somewhere from the south of China, he assumed. Not from Hong Kong.

"Ngoh yau góng wäi gam boh si." Tequila replied and held up his badge. The three men looked at it and laughed. "Expired." The leader of them said. In broken English. Tequila raised his brows and realized it was true. It had been his last day. It was one o´ Clock so he was now a Cop in hong Kong again. despite being trapped in L.A. for another 23 hours. He sighed. "I want to talk, anyway." He said and smiled.

"Bat jun sai yap." The man only replied, grinning broad. Tequila nodded, then drew his gun, before any of the other three could get his hand on theirs.

"Go ahead, punks, make my day." Tequila said and grinned to them.

---

[image=http://www.daktvn.com/images/actor/full/271_995_tony_leung_001.jpg] [image=http://www.lovehkfilm.com/features/ax7846/leslie_cheung.jpg]
[image=http://assets3.likeme.net/36603/large/lim_s_chinese_restaurant.png.jpg]

As they entered the Restaurant was almost empty. Only two men were sitting a lounge area in the corner with dozens of empty tables, where no customer was sitting. One of the two men wore a black suit and sat in the huge armchair next to the fireplace, while the other was wearing a white suit and was making himself comfortable on the couch. Both smoked and had expensive brandy nearby. both looked at him entering with a gun with tired looks. The man in the black suit smiled. "[b]Gung[/b], let him in. Officer Tequila is an old friend of us, aren´t you? I think I never had the chance to thank you for removing James Wong. My name is [b]Ho Chung Sung[/b], and this Gentleman here is [b]Mr. Hong[/b]. Would you like to join us? And give my men your weapons, please?" He said with an patient smile. He waited until Tequila had done though and a waitress appeared.

"Tequila with Soda on crushed ice, right?" Sung asked and smiled. "You did not think Hong Kongs most notorious police man would enter my city without me knowing it, did you? I am a business man with great interest in my old home country, Mr. Yuen." He explained and folded his arms. "So, how can we help you?"

[b]Tag: Fin[/b]


[hr]

[b]The Great Expectations
The Area II[/b]

[b]Taliana[/b], or Shadow as she was referred to when on job seemed to have lost the red point. Allowing the dance floor to absorb her, surrounded by a hundred pulsing, sweating bodies. Just as she though she had lost him, had survived, something warm and wet touched her face. The man next to her collapsed. A second bullet missed her, but hissed past her head next to her ear. She could see the flashes of a fired gun above and then the red line, as the laser sight did get turned on again and it´s line became visible in the cloud of steam.
The fog machine probably saved Taliana, as it pumped smoke onto the dance floor. A random effect, popular in such clubs. More bullets hit through the air and people began to scream, as dead dropped everywhere. Whoever tried to kill her, did not care a

 

IC: Miranda Frost, opposite wall outside Room 2004 Chapter 1
Location: Half Moon Hotel

Never hesitate.

Hesitation can kill.

Miranda hesitated. Her minds? eye had flashed with the image of the man she had shot, her first kill, his black suit jacket splayed to the sides so that she could pat him down and search the pockets.

There had been no second gun, so why had he been wearing the shoulder holster. Who wears a shoulder holster, but forgets the gun?

The door to Nadja?s temporary abode ripped open, hanging awkwardly from the doorframe by the lowest hinge, and a silhouette in a black trenchcoat glided in front of her weapon.

Miranda blinked, and found herself staring down the business end of a Ingram Mac.

This would never have happened in England. Guns might not kill people, as some of these Colonials insisted, but as one more astute commentator had pointed out, they did make the bullets go very fast.

The agent glanced at the face above the SMG, and her breath caught.

It was Sofa Man, the supposed victim that she had been willing to let die.

She could not believe he was alive. She could not believe what he had done to the door.

?We-ell,? she drawled uncertainly, wondering what the hell to say while she aimed the Beretta Tomcat in a two-handed grip aimed at his chest. ?I like to make a dramatic exit as much as the next diva, but I must bow down to the Master.? Miranda nodded at his weapon. ?At least I would if you were not aiming a MAC-10 at me, Mister...?

She deliberately left the opening for him to identify himself.

Tag: Max Payne

 

ooc: I was just online to look if you updated

Max Payne
Half Moon Hotel
Chapter 1

"Payne, my names Officer Payne and you already missed your best chance to kill me, so what do you think about lowering your gun and tell me what you gotta do with this scum, hm?" I did know she was none of them. The english accent, the way she held her gun, the axiety. She was afraid, on some subconscious level. The other guys had thought they were invincible. That was why the other guys were dead she still lived. Immortality was a thesis you were wrong about only once. And hten for good.

"Or we can begin to shoot, but I think I got the better cover." I nodded to the room. Advantage was on my side. Rare enough that happened. "And a real FBI Agent would have yelled who he was first, then he would have held up his ID. And would only then have shown to be a wisecrack. Just for the future." I probably smirked, but my Ingram MAC would not leave her. Aim to her stomach. Ingrams were wild ones, the following bullets would hit higher. "Lower yours, I lower mine." I added and knew if she did not do it, I would have to hit the trigger. Never been good in shooting at woman.

Then again, women always seemed to die just by me being around.

Tag: Sith-I-5

 

GM APPROVED

Franchise ? Léon (Aka: The Professional)
Name: Mathilda Lando - Ghost

Mathilda's Intro

Age: 20
Job/Rank: Cleaner (Hit..Woman)
Appearance: She stands at 5'3" slim build, shoulder length black hair, normally wears tight slacks, a white halter top, long black vest, knee high boots, round sunglasses, and a dark red knit cap. Sometimes a knee length black coat with a flared hood.
Weapons: A pearl handled switchblade, a 5? Ka-bar fighting knife, two throwing stilettos, garotte wire, 2x Kel-Tec P-11 9mm with silencers, 2x Compression grenades, 2x Stun Grenades.
Resources: Tony?s cousin Angelo. He lives near Elysian Park. He can provide weapons and information.
Skills: A master of Silat, and Aikido. Is incredibly stealthy, hardly ever seen when stalking her targets. Is in peak physical fitness.
Biography:
Leon once said that revenge is not good, once you're done. Back then she had argued the point, but never really won. Neither did he, for she never forgot what happened to them.

She let the hot water of the shower ease the memories from her.

Damn him. He lied to her. He left her.

He left her no one to extract her revenge.

The explosion of their apartment building was all over the news. Over two hundred cops had been there, hunting down a cop killer. One was posthumously decorated for his courage and sacrifice in order to bring down the bad guy. Both were at the center of the explosion, which was enough to bring the building down in a matter of hours. Tony told her all of this. Explained to her that was why she couldn?t stay with him, why she had to go back to school and forget the last couple months. Forget all about Leon.

Tony was true to his word, he gave her money as she needed it once a month. The orphanage made sure she had the essentials, food, a bed, education. She never encouraged, and deliberately offended, anyone that showed interest in adopting her. She did not need a family; she had grown up that day her family was slaughtered, now she just got older.

She threw herself into training. Aikido, Silat, gymnastics, ballet. At sixteen she joined a gun club, claiming she was twenty-one. She worked hard, she became hard, and she formed few attachments. She dated, but just enough to avoid attention from her peers. None of them stayed around longer then a second date, something about dating a cold fish.

Her first time was the day after graduation, it was a little sloppy, a little rushed and all passion. Stopped by a cop in a neighborhood that could recognize a gun by the sound of its report. He smelled of sour whiskey and he was free with his hands. Her anger had risen to a boil, and she didn?t remember pulling the pearl handled switchblade. It was Leon?s, the only thing she had left of him. She bared her teeth at the Officer, he must have taken it for a smile of encouragement. As he approached, her slash took his throat. Blood spurted and ran hot down her face. It was sloppy, but the thrill of it, the thrill that her dream of revenge could be fulfilled, at least in part.

She started to hunt them, corrupt cops. She started to accept money for her work. She would kill anyone, but the thrill only came with the blood of Crooked cops. She had one rule? his rule. No women; no kids. It wasn?t long before Tony caught wind. By that time he could no longer persuade her to stop, not even for Leon?s sake. What little innocence she had left was gone.

Tony gave her a job.

More followed, until eventually he entrusted the young girl with his most important tasks. By twenty she was a wonderful cleaner, the best.

Mathilda stepped out of the shower, dried off and dressed, and returned to the main room of her darkened apartment. From the side of her eye she saw him, sitting in the corner. He was silent and she ignored him. If she looked directly at him he would not be there and she like it when he watched over her. She poured a glass of milk and drank it down in one go. ?Nev

 

The Cobra Lounge
Table

The man in the ski mask, Gordon, looked at John then back at Al. "Shall I believe you two, Al? Shall I believe this guy is from some night watch?" His words were hissing. He wanted to pull the trigger, one could hear it in his voice. And his Boss stood behind him, looking at him through half closed eyes. "Gordon." He repeated his name, as if reminding the guy, he was already revealed. "The wallets."
Gordon looked at the boss and took them, both. Pulling them into a bag. Then his eyes glimmered feverishly and his MP5K raised again. To shot. Right at John. He did not make it far, as he hurled around.

Shots thundered through the lounge and a white haired guy had jumped up. "You think you can steal from me? where I come from we know how to deal with scum like . . ." The man shot from his .357er Revolver five of his six shots. The man who had taken his wallet was hurled into the aquarium behind him. Then the white haired guest flew away into the opposite direction. As the Gangsters leader hit him with his assault shotgun. Chaos spread immediately. And before John or Gordon could react, Al had his .38 Special out of his pocket and shot twice at the man who threatened his friend. Gordon collapsed and two subs of the remaining Gangsters began to fire - spitting bullets into the room - shattering the inventory, while searching for John, Al and anybody else who might be a danger.

Tag: Mitth

 

GM Approved

---

[b]Name: [/b] Nathan Drake
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[image=http://img215.imageshack.us/img215/631/editorial12.jpg]
[b]Weapons:[/b] Arriving on a [b]boat[/b] has [i]some[/i] advantages;
[i]x2 [link=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SIG_P210]SIG P210[/link]
x1 [link=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/.44_Magnum].44 Magnum[/link]
More will be added to his collection.[/i]
[b]Link:[/b] [link=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncharted]Wiki smiles upon you.[/link]
[b]Reason to be in L.A.:[/b] Research on a new expidition.

 

John Creasy, Chapter 1
Inglewood Gas Station

---

*[i]Creasy had silently thanked Colme as he took the keys and programmed the contact information for Rubi and Petrovich. You didn't have to express everything with words after you went through the things they had together and lived through it, albeit not unscathed. Not all wounds are purely physical, some lash white-hot against your brain and sear and blacken your soul after things like that happen around and to you...

It was because of this that Creasy reflected on Bergmann, another fellow Legionnaire that they had known. Colme had been right in one respect, Bergmann was a talented killer to say the least. However it was uncomplicated by any sort of moral filter, and Bergmann had more than once committed acts that had long been banned by any convention or rules of engagement. Nobody was able to confirm it with anything other than hearsay of course, and nothing had come of it, proof that as sadistic as Bergmann was he was also good at covering his tracks.

He was also thinking of some form of logical cover story as he drew ever closer to Inglewood. Trying to pass himself off as a cop was out, he didn't have a badge, same went for federal agent because he didn't have the right poise and attitude.
By the time he got to the gas station, he had it, as well as a name.

The place was like any run-down fill station with an attached market. In fact you could have transplanted it, and the the not-at-all unscrupulous looking people out front that his mother would have called hoodlums, into his native Shreveport Louisiana, or just about any rough part of town. Neighborhoods had their own feel within big cities, but places like this were an almost universal thing. Even in far-flung places like the ones he had been to there were places like this to some degree.

Before he got out he went over his assumed names a few times in his head in order to ensure a fast recall of it rather than his real name, as well as thumbing through his myriad of identification cards till he found on that would at least pass as something other than a drivers license. The rest of course was down to attitude and a bit of mental leverage.
Stepping out of the car and locking it, he gave the rough characters in front of the market a look that spoke volumes of the hell that would be dished out to them on a rather democratic basis if they had so much as an evil thought about the car, let alone doing anything to it. Granted the police probably gave it to them on a regular basis, but then again Creasy was no uniform for the LAPD either.

The place was like any run-down gas station quickie-mart. Disorganized, jumbled, odd stains on the walls and ceiling, and Creasy really did not want to venture why his boots stuck to the floor occasionally. Still it could have been worse, could have been like wading through things he didn't want to know about in Kosovo all over again.
The cashier was of course engaged in watching a small TV with the sound off, god only knows what was playing, so Creasy had to resort to banging on the pane of bulletproof glass between them in order to get his attention.*[/i]
"Hey, need your attention for a second!"

[i]*Creasy had gotten the mini-fold of his IDs out of his wallet as well as the picture of Elena, and as he spoke he flipped the fold open and closed quickly in order to imitate a quick flash of an ID (which was really his old French drivers license)*
[/i]
"[link=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crimson_Tide_(film)]Ron Hunter[/link], LA County Social Services. Has this woman been here in the past 24 hours? I need to get her and her child to a hospital and every second counts."

[i]*Creasy pressed the photograph to what looked like the clearest, or at least least scratched and dirty part of the glass. Despite his inherrent cynical nature Creasy dared to hope that the casheer was at least lucid enough to have some sort of memory of her*[/i]
[hr]
[b]Tag:[/b] GMs (Draco, Fins)

 

IC: Miranda Frost, second floor, outside Room 2004. Chapter 1
Location: Half Moon Hotel

?Payne, my names Officer Payne and you already missed your best chance to kill me, so what do you think about lowering your gun and tell me what you gotta do with this scum, hm??

A pang of guilt flashed across her face. She cared not for keeping a low-life alive, unless he had information or services or skills that she could use, but she would definitely have intervened if she had known he was a cop.
She decided not to reveal she had been up here already.

Ah crap. He?s a cop. The police for this city had been famously corrupt, but she did not know if that was still the case. London had warned her against trusting the LAPD on this.

?Or we can begin to shoot, but I think I got the better cover.? He nodded to the open door, a bit optimistically in her opinion. ?And a real FBI Agent would have yelled who he was first, then he would have held up his ID. And would only then have shown to be a wisecrack. Just for the future.?

Truth be told, Miranda had been considering yelling that she was FBI, to reassure the residents on this floor; give any heroes an excuse not to come out blasting; and to give Payne?s assumed killers an impetus to clear off.

As for waving an Bureau badge-wallet, her purse was just that, not a TARDIS. She?d been lucky to get the fluoroscope and Beretta in there, together, to be honest. An FBI identification that would pass muster, was in the car. Right now, her Nissan felt a lifetime away.

Wisecrack? Sod you, mate. Miranda silently watched his eyes. He smirked, and she heard, ?Lower yours, I lower mine.? but the eyes said: BRING IT!

This was a warrior before her, she recognised, despite his place on one of the lowest rungs on the force. One, two steps above meter maid?

?Alright then,? She conceded, feigning reluctance, but not drawing it out too long. ?On three. One. Two. Three.? She lowered the angle of her straight-arm grip on the pistol, from horizontal to near vertical, applied the safety, then lifted the hem of her black sweater to tuck the weapon into the back of her skirt.

She was definitely relieving Moustache of his shoulder rig. It was almost the same shade of brown as her boots, and would look, at first glance, like she had colour co-ordinated, which pleased her.
Not enough to smile, but this was business.

?Name is Frost, Miranda Frost. My employers had a good professional relationship with Elena Clementy. Enough to task me with finding the daughter, Nadja and extracting her safely from the city.? She nodded back towards the visible banister of the staircase. ?You got three civilians, and one Bad Guy, dead in Reception. If this is your case, you are going to be here all night.?

None of that was a lie.

Now, Miranda challenged him. ?Your turn, Officer Payne. Your connection to Nadja, if any? Who hired these mooks? And while we are on the subject of badges, how about you flash yours??

Tag: Max Payne

 

IC: John McClain - Chapter 1
The Cobra Lounge, Table

The world slowed, or at least felt as if it had as the uncarefully bumble he and Al had tried to slap together fell apart. The MP5K raised in Gordons hands and McClain knew the gig was up, not only that but that he had nowhere to run despite the cover all around. He was trapped, breathing deep breaths he sat there hand on the table, the other slowly grasping his cigerette. A stray thought running through his head, Great, they can make my epitaph read: Died from a bad lie in the line of idiocy, one step from Alcoholism.

As the man spun languidly around, his eyes burning with that unmistakable fire, McClain imagined going for his gun, but he doubted it would do any good. Instead he slowly pulled out his cigerette, dropping it in his beer bottle. As the gunman went to open fire, no turned to return fire on a white haired man with a .357 six shooter who had gotten five out of the barrel sending the perp that had taken his wallet to fly backwards into an aquariam. The glass seemed to fracture, splinting out as the water slowly oozed through between the spreading glass before pushing once more with it's rushing waters the fallen form out onto the floor.

Before the fish even had a chance to miss the confines of their tank and flop on the exposed ground the leader fired his assault shotgun, the large ploom seeming to form with the boom that lifted and carried the white haired man back through the air before dropping him on a dry patch of carpet that the aquarium water slowly advanced on. John quickly worked on a route as his hands began to move to their inevitable destinations as he began crouching the chair out behind himself.

Chaos seemed to irrupt from this endless moment, patrons all began to react to the death of one of their own, the sound of gunshots mingling only spurring panic in what is mostly a mindless population attempting to move with a sole purpose of survival.

He went for his Hero Berette 92FS, standing to flip the table onto its side as finally stuned muscles once more began to work in this slowly churning death trap, but Al beat him to the punch. No cop would have believed from the way Al drew his .38 Special out and put two into Gordon, each making the mans body jerk like a marionette jostled by its strings before collapsing onto the ground, that he had ever been too hesitant to draw the weapon once upon a time. But that was the past, and death was in the present as the warm grip of the Berette and gunfire kept reminding him, while the screams in the background said he should feel fear, he had no time to listen.

Two subs of the remaining goons opened fire, indiscrimanitely raining hot lead upon the cramped quarters that the interior of the gaudy establishment. Objects broke before and behind, the wood of the now toppled table began splintering as the bullets ate away at it's substance. Each shot creating a small cloud of splinters.

He ran ducking low firing a couple of shots high to make the shooters flinch enough to not aim, though still their bullets chased him as he ran from the table and jumped over the back of a booth. A few bullets rustling the air about his bald head, others shattering more of store, as a few bit out tufts of cushions into the air where they lazily fell from their gravity defying flight.

As soon as a pause came in the fire he popped up, he fired two more shots taking down one of the nameless MP5K wielding goons, as he took in the sights to make sure the coast was clear behind the second he looked over. Although before he could fire he quickly dove back down as another wave of bullets flew at him as the goon began moving for cover of his own.

Then as he sat behind the booth and the world once more took on a normal pace, "Ya, 'Come on down John, have a few beers, it'll be fun.'"

TAG: Fin

 

Max Payne
Half Moon Motel
Chapter 1

I lowered the Ingram, too. And brought my stainless old badge from my left pocket.
"NYPD. Not my jurisdiction, not my case." I threw at her and passed her. Looking down to the street. Looked like everything was calm now. Without a doubt the next storm was gathering. What was my connection to Mrs. Clementy. Yes, what was it?

"And I am just trying to help out a damsel in distress." I smile as I look at my reflection and that reflection, it looks back. Hollow eyes seem to accuse me for another woman's death. I point to the room I was just in. "A dead girl in the bathtub. Looks like they wanted to blame it on me and drugs, when death came by for a visit."

I did not even remember how I got here. Don´t know who these men are or what this is about. All I know is someone will die, if I don´t kill a lot of bad men first. My biography. Dead woman and me failing to save them. I did not get any smarter. I still tried to.

Turning to Mrs Frost, which means freezing in German, if I am right, I look at her. She got something cold about her indeed.
"And if your friends get her, will they protect her or drop her like a hot egg, once they got what they want?" I ask. Sounding probably sharper than I wanted to.

Who am I trying to deceive here? I am no hero.

Tag: Sith-I-5

 

IC: Miranda Frost, corridor outside 2004. Chapter 1

?NYPD.?

Miranda nodded, recognizing the sunburst design of his shield.

?Not my jurisdiction, not my case.? Payne retorted as he moved in the direction of the stairs, putting the ?Ten, and his badge, away. ?And I am just trying to help out a damsel in distress. ?

His voice sounded haunted, in a way she had heard before, from agents who were at the end of their useful field service. Moved to desk duty, and a good job too.
She started to have reservations about asking to pool their resources to find this missing daughter.

The New York officer pointed back to the open door. ?A dead girl in the bathtub. Looks like they wanted to blame it on me and drugs, when death came by for a visit.?

Miranda made a move for the doorway, intending to check it out herself. Until London intercepted another call from Nadja, the trail stopped here, unless she could cultivate another clue from the room.

Officer Payne?s halted her at the doorframe. ?And if your friends get her, will they protect her or drop her like a hot egg, once they got what they want??

It was a good question, and she contemplated how to answer. The most expedient would be to assure him of the girl?s future safety, even though she could only guarantee up to a point.

?I cannot speak for them, Officer.? She conceded, glancing back to the man. ?But if I find her, she will be out of the city, and safe. ?

Miranda did not really know if this man?s ?damsel?, and her quarry, were one and the same person. ?Do you know where Nadja Clementy is?? She asked him, on sudden impulse.

Tag: Max Payne

 

IC: Anita Blake
Chapter One: Under the Skin
Nakatomi Tower Construction Site

Anita tripped as she turned around and fell back into the pit. ?Ooof!? she exclaimed as she hit the bottom. That was going to hurt tomorrow morning. Gah! Make that later today. She picked herself up off the ground and attempted to wipe most of the dirt off. This hopeless task she abandoned after a few swipes and she turned back to the cops who had joined her to make sure she was ok.

?I?m fine,? she growled.

"Is there any reason why we think the non-existent L.A. branch of the triad is behind this? No victim was Asian, no hint beyond it being identical to this Beijing group. Copycats, probably. The case seems to be rather famous." Polaski replied moving on.

"You´re right. Triad. Makes no sense. I am only the exchange cop, right?" Yuen smiled before bidding them farewell before Anita could get a word in. She scowled at his retreating back before turning her attention back to Polaski. ?That?s very narrow minded of you to believe that it can?t be the Triad. Not many people can skin a human so that there are no mistakes. You better hope it?s the same people as before because if this is a skill that anyone can learn, you?re going to have your hands full of skinned bodies over the next decade.? She retorted angrily. Angry that she fell into the pit. Angry that the Asian man knew something but instead of sharing he just walked off. Male egos. Anita thought to herself again. At least she had a name now, she?d call some of her contacts later to find out if they knew anything about this Tequila Yuen.

The crackle of a radio interrupted Anita?s musings. "Shots on the other side of the streets. Our men are getting in, now." She heard from Officer Jackson.

"You wanna join?" Polaski asked as he hurried away without waiting for an answer.

Anita shook her head and yelled out ?No thanks!? at the officers? backsides. Once again she found herself looking at the backs of officers and she was tired of it. She wasn?t a trained cop, she was a hunter, and would only be in the way of the cops if they were on a routine call investigating shots. Plus, Anita was getting too trigger happy for most cops. She tended to shoot first and ask questions later which went against all cop training. In her line of work though, shooting first usually meant her life over the life of the person who was trying to kill her.

Instead of following after the cops, Anita walked around the pit again, eyes to the ground looking for clues she knew weren?t there but feeling better about looking anyways.

She was staring at the dirt, her mind miles away and years ago rifling through information about the Beijing incident when her phone rang.

Tag: Kahn

OOC: A combined post phone conversation from Kahn and myself will come next (GM approved) so no need for an update til then. Thanks!

 

OOC: I was doing college apps and ASVAB work the past few nights, which is why I've been away.

IC: Rubi Malone
Chapter 2
Harbor City, Normandie Avenue. Apartment of Miles Chang...

Rubi looked around as she entered the apartment, she heard voices in the main room, she walked slowly down the small hallway. There were three armed men and there, sitting terrified, bound to a folding chair, was Miles Chang. One of these men was holding his handgun to Miles' head while the others were threatening him, as far as Rubi could tell; she didn't understand the language.

Taking out her special revolvers, Rubi fired a shot into the head of the man holding the gun to Miles. As his body hit the floor the other men were scrambling in surprise to take out their own guns and shoot at her as she lunged and opened fire. A few shots hit one of them in the torso, hitting him in the heart. As Rubi landed her aim was thrown off and she hit the third man in the crotch. He screamed in pain, cursing her as he fell onto his cohort. She fired the finishing shot to put him out of his misery.

Miles sat stunned and afraid in the folding chair. Rubi stood up and holstered her pistols. "Behind you!" He shouted, but it was too late a larger man grabbed her from behind and held her in a chokehold. "What do you think you're doing here kid?" He said in broken English. Rubi struggled, the man was obstructing her reach to her Katana. Anger flowed through her, she stomped on his foot, finally breaking off from him. Drawing her Katana, Rubi glared at him as he stumbled onto the floor. She raised the Katana and dealt a swift and lethal blow.

"You're insane!" Miles shouted as he struggled with his bonds. "Naturally." Rubi replied as Miles tipped over.

"Hold still."
"I don't even know you." he said as Rubi set him upright and untied him. Once he was free Miles tried to run away. "Not so fast." she grabbed his shirt collor and pulled him back to the chair. "Your girlfriend, Elena, right? Where is she?"

"Not this again..." Miles said in a light accent.

TAGS: GM(s)

 

Tequila
Chapter 1
The Golden Swan

He sat down, looking at Mr. Sung (his real name) and Mr. Hong (certainly not his real name) and waited for his drink to come. "Good to know I am popular with the chinese citizens. Protect and Serves, you know. The Americans think that is their police duty." He sealed the tumbler with his hand and shook it once, so the soda was loosing it´s gas. Then he took the glas and took a sip. Looking as if he relaxed, while doing so.

"I fly back tomorrow, did you know that? Yes, I actually do. So, this is more a polite visitation, because my american colleagues are so clueless. You would not believe, but they are forming a special investigation unit together with the FBI for Triad operations. Against the Imperial Nines." He laughed. "You know, I told ´em they were gone ´til the thrties, but they believe in their American ignorance they know better. Ridicilous, is it?" Tequila took another sip. "So, I try to help these fools a little, you know. Make a good impression. For our country. They tie that all to these skinnings and all I need to do is get them a real lead. Something solid and not exterminated since the beginning of last century. But I am still new to town. Even after three month. I hoped a man like you, Mr. Sung, could offer me advice." Tequila looked at him and exed his drink. Then suddenly turned to Mr. Hong. "Or maybe you, as a visitor as well?" He guessed Hong was coming from China, the way these two met, told him he was higher in the food chain than Sung. The white suit hinted of great status, actually. So, he might have stumbled into the nest from which the killer bees were coming. Did these men have an interest in skinning victims alive?

Tag: Draco

---

[b]Cobra Bar[/b]
[i]Downtown[/i]

One man down, seemed to make the remaining gunner only more agressive. Screaming he unloaded his magazine into John´s cover as the fifth of the crew shot from two pistols, trying to circle John. Al hadn´t stopped shooting back and forced their leader to take cover while he was now dragging Gordon out of the building.

Just as John could have taken a shot at them, the man with two pistols jumped up and on the table and fired at him. Almost hitting his head, as he leaped from one table to the next, without stopping firing. They were covering their retreat, but in a very aggressive way.

[b]Tag: Mitth[/b]