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

There is only one Theme for Max Payne . . .


Max Payne
Dreamland
Chapter 1

"Wake up, Max. Wake up . . . they are going to do bad, bad things to you. And I am not meaning the kind off bad things you like . . ." It was Mona´s voice. I recognized it and cursed myself for hearing her in my drug induced sleep instead of my wave.

The cold laws of cause and effect.

Like a bullet shot six month ago and finally reaching it´s target.

Like death coming for me.

I found myself in my old house. The walls covered with the blood of who I love. All I love. Liters of blood. Blood every where. Blood. I feared it. The expression of all my terrors. Yet, who has ever spilled more of it than I did?

"Max? Dearest of all my friends!" I heard the Russian accent behind me. Turning Lem stood there. Still wearing the blood soaked white suit I had killed him in. Lem. My only friend. He looked just as I had seen him last time. Including the hole in his head where a hard shelled bullet had ripped apart his brain. My bullet.


"Lem, now I know it is hell." I spitted. And he laughed.

"I am sure even the devil fears you Max. The great Max Payne! Manslaughter, cheaper by the dozen!" Lem laughed, blood flowing from that hole in his head. The left part of his face missing. I turned my back on him. Just to face Mona.

"Time to wake up, Max. Time to wake up. You need to kill a few. Bad Guys. You love killing Bad Guys, do you?" She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You know I am not like this. I hunt them. It´s my job." I said.

Hiding behind my badge, again. Never worked well with Mona.

We both knew i was far beyond that.

But . . . She was dead. The bullet in her head had come to the end of it's slow-motion journey. In a nightmare all the choices you make are wrong ones. And when you wake up, you feel the fear, all you have been is really another dark dream.


"Then wake up, Max. Wake up." Mona smiled and kissed me. The moment I felt her lips the pain returned to my muscles and bones. I was somewhere I was not meant to be.

But that could have been called my biography.

Tag: Draco, Sith-I

 

Short Update for those who are already through with all their openers.

And some pictures keep on vanishing from their links. Well, one particular one I like. So, here is the link to my casting of Philip Mordell


Half Moon Motel
Harbor City, Second Floor

A neighbouring door was opened and a fat, unwashed guy came out, just as Miranda was slowly pulling her cable into the key-hole. She had been right. He did not care. He wasn´t even interested. "Crap, can´t sleep." He murmured and stumbled down the floor. That second Miranda´s display jumped alive and showed her what was going on inside. The two men kept on discussing.

"Okay, I´ll do it. Has he spasmed? He isn´t waking up is he?" The younger one asked and a familiar click could be heard. Miranda saw a young man ragged a weapon from beneath his L.A. Lakers sweater and pointed it to someone lying on the couch. A man in a half-long black leather coat. "He can´t woke up, man. we gave him almost double the usual dose." The elder, a bulky over-trained guy with an Uzi hanging at his side, barked at the younger. "So, get over with it, will ya? The Boss said this guy knows too much about her. So, let´s make him vanish and we can go and search for her." He shook his head. "Bad enough you had to do this massacre we now must clean up. Don´t go to far and bug me any further, okay?" Mr. Muscles said.
As the younger looked at the muscles-guy and protested Miranda indeed saw the man on the couch move his head. He was waking up.
The gun still to his face.

Tag: Sith-I-5, LordTroepfchen

---

[b]The House of District Attorney Philip Mordell
Venice Beach[/b]

Mordell looked at Creasy, than back to Malone. His face showed no emotion, again. Had to be terrible to play poker with a guy like him. As he spoke his voice was much moire edgy, though. Dedication and ambition mixed in it. His hand followed every word, as if making it clearer by cutting an unseen object in the air while speaking. "Okay, listen. Why won´t I kill you? First, I am the man taking care of nobody gets away with murder. I do not kill anybody. I am the damned law here. Not because of my power, but everyone ELSE reluctance to be anything like a leading figure." He sighed. "And even if I was one of them, if this girl has what the streets claim she has . . . I could take down a major crime boss in no time. I will do anything to protect her, actually. Arrangements with the Feds already made. Crown witness protection. Bodyguards. The whole program. I only need to get her before that army looking for her kills her." Mordell answered. "But I want you to stay with her, until she arrives in FBI headquarters, so you can make very sure of that." He added then. "Is that enough?"

Then he turned to Creasy. "That photo was made in an pharmacy, a few hours ago. Last place where she was seen. Middle of nowhere in Inglewood. Worst neighbourhood. She got some things for her daughter, obviously. We need to assume the little girl might be ill or having fever." Nodding, one could see that got under his skin. Despite his house not looking like a family house. No sign of children anywhere. "She was seen a gas-station nearby only a few minutes later. Rumors say, she got a boy friend. I kept that out of official channels, to give you a head start. It´s a chinese citizen, residing in China Town. His name is Miles Chang. An artist, as far as I know. He might be useful, too." Mordell nodded. "Other than that, I have no clues where she is and obviously nobody else has anything substantial. But for all we know, she could already be dead and feed to the fishes. Time is playing against us, you see?" Nodding to Colme. "Lt. Colme is my trusted advisor. He suggested you two to do the job. We will stay in contact through him." He said. Colme nodded. "When anything comes through the channels, I´ll let you know." He said. Nodding.

[b]Tag: renegade, rally[/b]

[b]Kill Quotas[/b] and comments getting out in a few minutes [face_wink]

 

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


Though on the surface, it looked like Miranda had ignored the dirty resident, she had kept a good portion of attention on him, in case he was not what he seemed, but then as he stumbled away, she took a look at the picture on the fluoroscope.

Two men, one in an LA Lakers jumper, the other quite well muscled. A guy on the bed.

She switched the view to X-Ray, which showed them in skeleton form, but also corroborated their words that the Clemency women were not present.

Miranda contemplated how to proceed. Using the ?scope to get angles on the two gunmen, she could pull the P-90, stand, and drop both of them in short bursts, and their victim would be safe as he was supine on the couch.

They were saying he knew something about their Boss, not her quarry, so she could not immediately see any benefit to keeping him alive. And there were advantages and disadvantages to killing these two.
Sure, she would get the extra weapons, but considering she was by herself on this, the act might draw unexpected attention from others, and impede her progress.
She was also likely to meet these ?holes later in the operation, so killing them now might reduce the competition.
Thing was, she was not a Double-O, no licence to kill, and that was because she never had, so it would be a big step for her.

The final option, of just packing up her ****, retreating to the car, and simply following these two geniuses, seemed to grow in popularity. Decision made, Miranda carefully pulled the light cable from the keyhole, bundled the fluoroscope back into her purse, and padded silently back out to the stairwell, heading back to the lobby.

On the way out, she stopped to look at the sleeping man at the desk. Unless the guys upstairs had intercepted the phone call made from here, like London had, it was likely that this man had dropped a dime on them.

With a glance at the staircase, Miranda leaned over him from the near side of the counter, got her Beretta and tapped him on the head with it, just enough to wake him, if he was indeed alive.

?Hey, Sleepy head.?

Tag: GMs

 

ooc: Okay it is opening day. I´ll update a second time . . .

Max Payne
Motel
Chapter One

Waking up. From a nightmare. The old fear, the nightmare begins now and reality is dying in the process.

Opening my eyes made things only worse. The light seemed to make my aching head much worse. "Mona?" I mumbled and then saw the Desert Eagle pointed right at my face. Two men were discussing. Their voices hitting my head like thunder. My body felt sore, numb. Tranquilizers of some sort making me slower that I usually was. Poisoning my already tainted existence.

A mixer is put on. Loud and rotating with liquid and more poison, I guess. Worse than voices even. The noise. Pain is such a reliable companion. I did not became addicted to painkillers, because I needed them, but just because I wanted to get rid of a pain. One they would not help me with. Obviously.

But killing pain was like all killing. A man had to try.

I realized they did not know I was awake. They thought it was impossible I could wake up so fast. 5 years of heavy addiction probably made me pretty resistant to whatever cocktail they had given me.

Sometimes your demons did not only haunt you, sometimes they saved your ass.

Closing my eyes again I wait for my chance to attack. I felt my guns absence at my side. The only weapon visible in the room was the one pointed at my head, swinging above me, like the inquisitions pendulum over the accused. Like that pendulum, the gun did not care if I was guilty. Actually I was. Of many things.

Tag: Draco, Sith-I (well, your downstairs, I guess, but anyway)

 

IC: Jacob Mare
Downtown, The Great Expectations, Door

Peanut butter chocolate. No, no...maybe milk chocolate this time. Or both. Why choose?

Certainly the extra money he was going to make by being here now would be enough to satisfy Jacob's sweet tooth. His candy stash was running a bit low and the couple bars that he had in his jacket pockets were nearly all he had left. And already he was getting that craving for a sugary-sweet, chocolatey bite. Well, good thing he had some connections that he could exploit in his quest to resupply.

Such an addiction to candy would probably make one of the more self-minded people concerned about their weight but Jacob wasn't. He kept some good exercise if the muscles that were packed into his torso were any hint. And with his bouncer and other side jobs, whatever calories that he tended to take in were just immediately used up.

Especially on more excitable days like the one he saw walking up towards him.

Ah...fun, the bouncer thought to himself upon seeing the group of seven men coming forward. Wearing coats on a hot day. Mirror-shaded glasses. Anyone who had seen at least one of those gun-totting action movies knew what was going on here. And Jacob happened to like those kind of movies.

Seemed like Mike did too. But unlike Jacob, who remained rooted at his station, his partner just moved off to the side. To think that he was going to split one of his bars of candy with that guy... Ah well, more candy and more fun for him.

Remaining where he was at the door, Jacob crossed his arms over his chest, not only creating an image of a statue of a muscled, broad-shouldered man that wasn't going to step aside but it was so that one of Jacob's hand was in easy reach for the HP Browning that he kept in his shoulder holster, hidden beneath his jacket.

"Kind of hot to be in those coats don't ya think?" Jacob started off pleasantly, a wide smile on his face. His one hand, the one that wasn't in reach of his pistol, raised a bit to make a slight wave. "Got some business going down here? I'm gonna need some proof of age before you get in though."

Those were the exact kind of lines made by someone who would get his face blown off when shown said "proof".

Might not be here to shoot up the bar despite the fact that these guys had to be carrying automatic weapons. Could just be here for business, maybe acting as armed guards for some deal or transaction that was planned to go down. It seemed unlikely but Jacob didn't really want some added distraction.

He still needed to get his candy after all.

TAG: Trimaj, Morkai, Peng, Draco

 

OOC: made a mistake in my post with the name. not sure what i was thinking. thanks to peng for pointing it out.

 

OOC: There's only one real way to Introduce Dante...

Devils Never Cry

Dante - Chapter 1
Across the street from Nakatomi Tower Construction Site
Five stories up

This was all too familiar, twice now had he received a phone call at his Investigation Office Devil May Cry. Twice now had he been hired to investigate killings progressing from organ removal to skinning. And twice now he was forced to work around the Authorities. This was one of the times when familiarity was not something Dante enjoyed. He'd never really stopped thinking about Beijing, not after all that had happened three years ago. Dante had seen plenty of things, but what went down in Beijing was down right gruesome.

It started off just like this, people disappearing at just the right time so they wouldn't be missed for a while, only to pop up later, gutted, in places where they'd be found. And then there were the writings, all over the walls. All of it was in blood, but the languages varied, Latin, Greek, French, Cantonese, several others from all over the world. Some of it was rambling, didn't make sense, while some of it, well it didn't take an expert to connect it to Demonic Worshiping.

Then the MO changed, it was clear it was the same person, or persons, but the gutting went to skinning, but that was the odd part. Whoever was doing the skinning was very good at it. Managed to do it in under a couple of hours, while keeping the victim alive, it was, something that Dante couldn't put into words. When it became clear it was a Serial event they called Him and several other investigators in the field of such things in to investigate. Investigation's didn't turn up much, other then it was suspected to be a sect of people, not a single person. Then they got to him.

Dante couldn't remember his name, be it from trying not to remember, or all the drinking he did afterwards, that didn't matter, what mattered, was what happened. He'd started looking into the various 'cultures' around Beijing, and came up with the theory that the sect was tied in with Beijing's young artists community. They hadn't given that any serious thought, in fact some of the others laughed at the idea, and then He turned up dead. Not just dead, but another victim. Then they gave his idea some merit.

They looked into his notes, and began working on the investigation towards the artist community, even came up with a suspected house where they thought the Sect had been hiding. Then the fire, just hours prior to the operation to move in on the house it burned down, not a coincidence clearly, but it didn't matter, by the time the fire had been under control evidence in the house was gone. And then there was the body, one last victim, skinned and dropped right in front of the Police Station.

That had been the end of that, they'd stayed, looked into it more, but found nothing, and eventually the Police and other authorities drove them out of the area. Dante had returned home, organized his notes on the case, filled it away, and got back to work on other cases, but he never forgot, and here, now, it was starting all over again. When Dante got the call he accepted right off the bat, he didn't even negotiate price like usual, this case was personal, personal like no other. This time he'd get them.

And that was how he'd found himself here, across the street from the Nakatomi Tower Construction Site. He'd been in town for only a couple of hours before setting up shop, and even then he'd been observing the site for well over two hours. A half empty pizza box and a few empty soda bottles sat at his side as he looked out the window through the Binoculars. Everything connected, the murders were the same, people of all walks of life, taken at a time that fit in with their schedule so they wouldn't be missed, splayed open, organs taken, and writings in blood on the walls. Then the same MO progressing into skinning.

It was just to damned convenient, it couldn't be a separate case, it wasn't that well kn

 

IC: Anita Blake
Chapter One: Under the Skin
L.A. 19th July 2002, Time: 0007

For once she would like to have a vacation. Instead Anita Blake, Federal Marshall, was heading to yet another crime scene. This one disturbingly gruesome but yet, not the worst thing she had ever seen. Pretty sad when one thought about how the scene she was heading to was for a human who had been skinned.

When she arrived she found officer Lt. Polaski. Most of the men she encountered at crime scenes looked at her 24 year old petite frame and instantly assumed she was dainty or not tough enough for this job. Well, Anita had a badge to shove in their face and several guns to shove into their balls if they couldn?t get over the fact that a woman is who they had to call in to investigate their crime scene. The last guy she had to do that to still covers his crotch when Anita comes around.

At least the Lt. had come to meet her beyond the tape. It was a pain to have to stand behind the crime scene line with reporters shouting questions at her and the guard cop attempting to stare her down. It was late and she didn?t have the patience for that tonight.
?So, it?s our third. Within three days. Feds said you might be of help. Might be from your area of expertise. Or just way beyond anything . . . ? the Lt. was saying. ?Obviously the victim was not killed here, but only dumped at the site. So, we can guess whoever did it wanted the body to be found.? Anita sighed softly and missed Dolph. While she tended to hate his testing of her every time there was a crime scene, she did enjoy the idea of being able to form her own opinions. Obviously that wasn?t going to work if she hadn?t been able to see the body yet. Anita always thought of the victims as bodies. If she thought of them as people, well?she?d never be able to do her job.

As she walked closer to the actual crime scene, she canvassed the area. Call her paranoid, but Anita Blake was a Federal Marshall and in her terms that was basically a licensed, paid, bounty hunter. Just call me Boba Fett she thought to herself. Because of this status, she sometimes found herself with bounties on her own head. Thankfully she had friends who were better than the hunters who came after her. Anita did not like owing her life to a certain man named Edward, but she did. Things seemed entirely too open at the construction site and her back felt exposed.

Paranoid? Who me?

Anita pulled herself back into the conversation and focused on what Polaski was saying. "I mean, who can skin a human completely?? Only the things of nightmares was what Anita wanted to say. Instead ?I?m not sure you want to know? is what she actually said. The smell of coffee hit her senses and she watched enviously as someone gave Polaski a cup of coffee. Sure, here she was doing a favor for these people and they couldn?t even offer her a cup of coffee. Anita thought about taking the coffee out of Polaski?s hands, but she restrained herself and suddenly wished for her office with her favorite mug which said ?Don?t bother me, I?m crabby? with a picture of a mean looking crab on it. Her boss didn?t find it amusing and said it wasn?t ?customer friendly? but she didn?t care. He needed her and dealt with her quirkiness.

Once again, the Lt. was speaking. This time it was about the guy who found the body and how he didn?t speak English. Anita wasn?t really paying attention. She never dealt with interrogations or that part of the cop business other than having been interrogated by the police a few times herself when the body counts started getting high. Instead she hunted people.

?So, any direction you might be able to point us to?? Polaski asked.

?I need to get down there.? She said while pointing into the hole. ?I don?t want to mess up the crime scene. Dolph, the detective I work with in St. Louis, normally calls me in last after everyone else has been there so I can get up close and personal with the victim. Sometimes I find clues that are overlooked that way.? She paused here and then attempte

 

IC: Rubi Malone
Chapter 1
The House of District Attorney Philip Mordell...

"Is that enough?"

You wouldn't kill me if your sources informed your sources informed you well enough. Rubi thought to herself with a smirk.

"What will we be communicating with," Rubi looked over at Mr. Creasy "am I going with him, or are we splitting up?" she looked back at Philip with an intense stare, she wanted to get to work. "And how much are we getting paid?"

Tags: Rally_Fan, GM(s)

 

IC: Tony Rodriguez
Great Expectations
Chapter 1

as the club disappeared into an uproar Tony spun around and grabbed ManDo by the shirt "We're gettin outta here man, you can tell us whats going on at the safe house esse" he said as he propelled ManDo towards Raoul and the door, the place was confusion as the three men barged their way through the crowd towards the exit, they needed to get out of there and fast or the cops would pin what happened to 1SHOT on them and Tony knew it.

TAG: All

 

ooc: Mini-update for the Construction site, as I got some input for Polaski


Tequila Yuen
Nakatomi Tower Construction Site
Chapter 1

"Imperial Nines, heh?" He asked and looked at the other cops. None of them new them, obviously. Nobody in L.A. would.
The once powerful Triad Gang had been absorbed by more powerful forces long ago, but still operated under it´s own name from time to time.
"What do you know about Io9? Hm?" Yuen asked in cantonese, a little more rough. The boy only shook his head. Yuen nodded. He would not talk unless they applied a lot more pressure on him. So what had an Hong Kong Triad Gang that vanished in the thirties to do with a skinned guy on the bottom of a construction site in Downtown L.A.? "Suspect." He said and pointed to the boy. "He. Suspect." He repeated, still playing out an inability to speak fluent english. He was quite fluent actually. But his colleagues had not made it easy for him. He was returning the favour. The boy would vanish if they let him go. Dead or back to China. Anyway, he would never get the chance to ask him anything, again. Stepping out of the ambulance, Tequila Yuen looked down on the army of cops in the pit. All looking for a lead and all of them would be too ready to ignore the one he just digged up. He made a note in his protocol and stepped down. Slowly approaching the group around victim. A new woman had arrived. Another advisor. Or specialist. He wondered where their specialists in solving crimes were. L.A.P.D. seemed to need those, desperately. For him this was all a goodbye. Leaving in 24 hours. He smiled. In Hong Kong his daughter was getting up now, probably. And he looked at a man skinned alive. Tortured to death, aware of what they did to him, perhaps.

Tequila heard the girl ask for Coffee and got two cups from the officer making htem some. He bowed five times, with both. Smiling retarded and stepping back. their cliche chinese. They did not even get, he was making fun of him. Then he stepped to the group down there. Polaski. Solid cop, but over his head here, listened to the woman. Skinners. Bejing. Tequila only got those two words. Beijing? Another Cop looked at him, probably wondering what he was doing there, but Tequila only smiled at him.
"Skinners? What makes you think they are more than one?" Polaski asked the young girl. A new arrival stepped to them. Officer Johnson, if Tequila remembered right, added something. Mumbling. The fat man seemed unsatisfied with a possible international aspect to the thing.
Tequila handed the girl, someone had called her Blake, the coffee. "Black, no sugar," he said and gave her dumb smile. Still playing the Chinese joke.
Johnson stopped mumbling into his beard. Saying out louder: "Our profile suggested a single suspect." Obviously Johnson believed in profiles. Tequila looked at the man. Their profile? Americans were incredible.
He had to make a call, but hadn´t Bejing been one of the Io9´s strongholds? It made still no sense. Dragon Claws had taken the Io9s into their ranks before tequila was born. A sub-group. He had encountered them in Hong Kong earlier. In the Dragon Claws services. The guys for small jobs. The foot-soldiers. Nobody used that name anymore for something like that, right? But a boy in an ambulance nearby seemed to fear it like the Demons of the Thousands Hells themselves. And considering what this victim had suffered through, Tequila even understood.

"So, this happened in China before, you say?" Tequila asked. "Was there any connection to organized crime, back then?" He asked. And the americans looked a little surprised about his suddenly accent free english. "And was it before or after the 1930ies?"

He sipped from his coffee, as if his questions made terrible much sense.


Tag: Sey, Draco

---

[i]
from Draco for Kahn[/i]

Bureau Building nearby
7th floor

The door almost broke in two, while violently swinging open. And right behind it f

 

John Creasy, Chapter 1.
House of District Attorney Phillip Mordell

---

*Mordell may have thought he had the ultimate poker face, but the stone mask he held bore no indication of what he was thinking during the exchange between Rubi, nor his own silent calculations as to the current hazy picture surrounding this Elena.

While he thought about it he also thought about other people, mainly soldiers and politicians, who had let ther ideals get involved in their jobs. Nearly all of them were dead by this point, and the ones that weren't were either corrupted anyway or had quickly learned to survive like Creasy had, that was to just do the job in front of you regardless of the politics around it, and let other people sort out what the results were.

Something Rubi said vyed for his attention, and was quickly processed as something she brought up. She wanted to know if splitting up was a good idea or not, something Creasy had his own ideas about.*[/i]

"Given that she has been sighted in multiple places with only one confirmed sighting, I'd say we should split up, cover more ground. And given that she was last confirmed to be in Inglewood, well I guess that makes me the only choice now doesn't it?
No more questions from me, if anybody needs me I'll be out front. Consider me on the job Mr. Mordell, I'm sure your lieutenant will be happy to tell you the price that you'll be doubling for my service."

[i]*As he turned and started to walk out of the room, he gave nodded his head to the side slightly in the direction of his old buddy Jordan Colme, indicating that he wished to have a private word with him before they ventured out into Los Angeles.

Closing the door behind him, Creasy pretended to be interested in the not-that-good modern art that was on display outside of the room that he had come from, obstinately to wait for Jordan but to also listen for anything the guards may be saying, and also to look like he had something to do other than wait outside of a room like some chastised school child.*[/i]
[hr]
[b]Tag: [/b]Phillip Mordell (GMs), Rubi (Renegade), Jordan Colme (GMs)

 

Mordell-Estate
The Living Room

Mordell nodded. "You strategy how you find her is yours to decide. I hired you as professionals on that job. And Mrs. Malone, I am very aware of your usual fees and as I said I double them." He then looked up, as Creasy made his way out. Mordell watched him and then looked at Colme nodding to him. The Cop smiled. "Back in a sec." He said and went out. He had not allowed his old comrade to wait for long. "As I said, money is not that much of an issue to him. Look at this. 1 million, I heard. His wife bought it for his birthday. he hates it." Colme grinned. "So, will you handle that? Might get nasty. If she has what she is supposed to have, a lot of guys will be out there to kill her, you know . . ."

Inside Mordell slowly walked over to the couch and sat down opposite of Mrs. Malone. "Ruby. Maybe you wonder why I double your fee? Because I honestly think half this city will be out there to kill that poor girl. And I send you two in to save her. If I have to visit your funeral I don´t wanna have to tell me, I bought your lives cheap. But I was told both of you do not fear . . . aggressive approaches. So, you seemed to be a good choice." He said and smiled at her again.

Tag: Renegade, Rally

---

[b]Half Moon Motel
Room 2004[/b]

The radio cracked and another guys voice came through it. "A Lady is down here. Sniffing around. About to find Ronny." It came through Mr. Muscles nodded and answered. "Dangerous?" The other voice needed a second then replied. "Got guns."
"Kill her, we´ll blame it on Payne." He only replied and the younger man standing above [b]Max Payne[/b] asked what it was about. "Nothing . . . MAN HE IS AWAKE!"

[b]Mr. Muscles[/b] shouted and shots were heard from below.


[i]The Lobby[/i]

Sleep head slided of his desk and to the ground. Revealing a little pool of red blood. Behind the desk the bodies of another two men were laying around. And from behind [b]Miranda [/b] heard the sound of a submachine gun, loading and setting it´s safety to kill . . .

The guy brought his Ingram Mac 10 up and pulled the trigger, bullets ripping apart the wood of the desk, wandering towards her . . .

[b]
Tag: LordTroepfchen, Sith-I-5[/b]

[hr]

[b]The Great Expectations[/b]
[b]Entrance[/b]

The men looked at him and their leader smiled. revealing a missing teeth. "I forgot mine, but so you think this one goes as well?" He asked and shove his coat aside. Revealing a factory new submachine gun.

http://rubayeet.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/bt-mp9-submachine-gun-pdw_1.jpg

"So, may I?" He asked and smiled again. That moment shots were heard from inside. All Asians drew their guns at once, the radio of [b]Mare [/b] shouted at him and his colleague to get inside, immediately.


Inside The locos were grabbing [b]ManDo[/b], finding him resisting. "Go with you, man I tried to help. But you´re dead. You´re already dead!" He shouted in panic at Tony. "1Shot was right, they´re coming for us!" They could not argue. Because suddenly a shout came from behind them. A black man, his [link=http://www.enemyforces.net/firearms/glock17_3.jpg]Glock 9mm [/link] drawn stood there, pointing on the dead 1Shot.
"Man, you shot our bro! We came to talk, man. Not to kill. And you crap-head shot him, just like that? Kill these freaks!" He screamed out and pointed his gun at [b]Raoul[/b]. Raoul returned fire. Another two of the new arrivals bos drew their own handguns and opened fire, as they suddenly appeared from the dancing crowd. [b]1Shot[/b] had obviously brought an escort.

[i]The Tribal Zone[/i], as the more wild part of the Great Expectations was called was pulsing with life. Already. [link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVNhZ1rNHGs]Midnight, the day had just begun here. [/link]
[b]Shadow[/b] heard the firefight break out, just as she saw the Asians at the door showing their guns. Nobody seemed to really care. It happened in the next room and that was another world. The entrance was tramsitted on a giant screen. Those

 

GM ooc: And my little update for Mr. McClane. Sorry I made you wiat, but work did not allow me to do it earlier, Mitth.

The Cobra Lounge
Table

"Straight to the point, John? Hm. Straight to the point." Al gave John another smile. It was none that looked to happy. And nodded sadly. "I come here often, these days. You know why? Politicians. It is the place were they meet their much younger associates. Very friendly associates, you know. And you know what that means? No ears, no eyes here. Only men, doing whatever they want to. This is the last place in L.A. where nobody wanted to have cameras or bugs, you know." Al smiled. "Pretty clever for an old man like me, hm?" He nodded. And finished his beer. One could see he did that often these days. "You know what, I´ve been looking forward to see you. I really did. Now that you´re here . . . I don´t know, if I should ruin your family days with an old mans silly problems. I mean, six weeks. Six weeks and I am out the uniform, man." He smiled. "You hear it. Retirement. Got a nice house in Key West for Susannah and me. Kids are out of school. Life will be good, right? You know what, let´s finish this beer and go to Cops Bar. I´ll show famous John McClane to the boys. Show off a little." Smiling he waved to pay. "And things will turn out good, right?" He asked, a little to desperate.

Tag: Mitth

 

John Creasy, Chapter 1
Mordell Estate

---

[i]*Creasy looked up at Colme as he spoke up. Though the house was ridiculous, the lunacy of the price tag was outweighed by Colmes statement in the face of what the two had gone through together*
[/i]
"C'mon Jake, we were in the 13th DBLE together, went to Algeria, Gibralter, Côte d'Ivoire, especially that last one, remember? The day LA becomes like those places is the day that I concede that last poker game at Cassion to you."

[i]*Creasy laughed a bit and gave Colme a hearty slap on the back, pointing him away from the bodyguards as they walked with no destination in mind. Single-minded as they were, he didn't want to chance one of them being more intelligent than your average bull and overhearing what he had to say*[/i]

"But, I do concede that the more organized groups can be a bit more trouble than your average thugs, so I'm gonna need you to do a few things for me. First im gonna need contact information for your friendly neighborhood equipment dealer. You know, stuff that you can't get in even the worst pawn shops in Oakland, as well as somebody who can make me badges and identification for every city department here that isn't the cops.
And last but most important, I'm gonna need half of my pay up front in case I really have to use the other twos service.
Now don't tell me you can't do that Jake, we both know you can, in fact that was something you had pride in a few years ago, right?"

[i]*While John ran that list down he gave Colme one of his famous penetrating stares, one that wasn't necessarily hostile or intimidating but one that made you suddenly very unlikely to refuse any of his questions.*[/i]
[hr]
[b]Tag: [/b]Colme (GM's)

 

Approved for taking the weapon. And with a pistol I have a Kill Quota of 2, so here it is. First blood.

Max Payne
Bloody Half Moon Motel
Chapter I

Shots. Yells. And a gun going off in the hand of the youngster. My kick had hit the desired target. Right between his legs. The worlds drifted into slow motion and the bullet began it´s journey again. Patient but nevertheless hungry for an impact. Only wood would be it´s victim. I denied myself to it´s simple demand. It missed my head, as I moved up. The muscle-guy raised his sub-machine gun, but I already had his young friends hand in both of my own hands. Twisting it in one violent move. The ankle broke, but the boy never screamed. His own comrade pumped another wave of bullets into the kid. They were meant for me. But lead was always indifferent, uncaring, undiscriminating. Like a hungry good it took whatever flesh it was offered.

The dead boy did finally let go of the gun and Mr. Muscle´s eyes widened. His own burst send the bullets over my head. Panic in his eyes. I leaped forward. His deadly shots missing me again. Turning in flight, the gun directed at the defined and broad breast of this man I faced it again. The necessity to kill.

Killing, was always a binary choice. You pulled the trigger or you did not. I was beyond the point, where it mattered anymore. My own messenger of death left the barrel of the gun. It shattered the mans breast, as I landed on the ground. My arm hurt from the weight of my body hammering it into the cheap wooden floor.

Meanwhile, the world recovered to normal speed. The gasp of pain came from my mouth is live and in crystal clear dolby surround. My ears were sending only a beep now. My vision was blurry. My heart pounding. On my tongue the taste of my own blood. I looked around. Searched the room. Looked for something that made sense in this Reign of Chaos. Shots. Shots from beneath told me what I already knew deep in my heart . . .

This day had just begun.

Tag: Draco, Sith-I-5

 

IC: Taliana "Shadow" Mardock/ The Tribal Zone/ The Great Expecations/ Downtown
Chapter 1 "Shadow's Rise"/ Health 1

Beat was everywhere, in the pulsing movement of the crowd, the flashing lights, even in the vibrations of the air that made their way into the very core of your being. It was really all one could do to not start walking to the beat, then dancing. To some degree she wanted to just throw herself into the dancing crowd and let come what may, but Shadow had the presence of mind to remember that she was still on a job. Regardless of if this was one of her places so long as she was working she was not safe. Not that anyone was ever really safe in this atmosphere. The violence, drinking and sex she could deal with, it was the drugs that were readily available that disgusted her about this scene. Here someone smoked a joint, there some idiot was shooting up, and over yonder was someone snorting a line off some girls stomach. Disgusting idiots. Frittering their lives away til they can't even think straight or they overdose on their idiocy. It was enough to drive her attention away from the pulsing crowds and to a mirror...

Nearly she froze, but that would have been a bad move on her part. Her training, her discipline allowed her to keep moving how she had been. Gunshots rang out where she had come from, and there was likely about to be even more from the looks of the camera focusing on the front door. None of that concerned her now as she tried to discern where the laser that was right that second pointed straight at the top of her shoulder was coming from. And therein was the hint she needed as she kept moving. The only way for something to remain at that angle as she moved around was if it was above her. The real question was why had the shot not been taken? What kind of weapon was it? Who it was didn't matter right then, who they worked for didn't matter as she had plenty of enemies.

Keep moving ran through her mind, get somewhere you can dodge if need be. But if it was an auto she would have a problem regardless of what she did. There was an opening to here left and she took it, ending up on the dancing floor. Letting her body take over, she kept an eye on the dot on her shoulder to see if it disappeared as she moved into the morass of dancing bodies where it would be very difficult to distinguish one person from another, even wearing her coat as she was. She was far from the only leather duster clad individual there, although some of the people wearing them had rather less on beneath.

TAG: DRACO

OOC hope i lost him. her. it...

 

IC: Rubi Malone
Chapter 1
The House of District Attorney Philip Mordell...

Rubi smirked as Philip continued, "I was told both of you do not fear . . . aggressive approaches. So, you seemed to be a good choice."

She took what was left of Philip's drink, finishing it off, and set it down as she stood up, putting her Katana over her shoulder, "The only funerals will be for the dimwit who gets in my way," Rubi paused at the door and half turned around, "I accept your offer, Mordell."

She walked past the Mr. Creasy and Colme, tying her Katana over her back. "I'm going after Miles Chang. Keep in touch." Slipping a piece of paper into Mr. Creasy's hand with details on how to contact her, she walked towards her motorcycle and secured her helmet. Rubi made her way to the gate signaled to the guard to let her through, and sped off towards Chinatown...

Tags: Rally_Fan and GM(s)

 

Dante's Office Battle

Dante - Chapter 1: Showtime!
Across the street from Nakatomi Tower Construction Site
Five stories up

As the door crashed in and Dante's right foot planted down on the floor his arms straightened, Ebony and Ivory at the ready. Then for a split second, Dante wasn't exactly sure if he'd stumbled in on some janitors or not. It was the overalls that threw him off, but it was the weapons that told him they weren't here to sweep the floors. When the overall sporting, 'professionals' took to moving, Dante made use of his advantage. Ebony and Ivory were already out, and already aimed.

Three shots rang out from each of the modified M1911 handguns. Six .45 ACP rounds tore through the air towards the two men unfortunate enough to have reached for their MP5s. Dante caught a glimpse of them staggering as he quickly spun to the side out of the door frame pressing his back against the wall. But that was all he got to see as rounds from man #3's glock tore through the air where Dante had just been. Dante listened between the sounds of him inhaling and exhaling for another shot.

He hadn't been able to hear the rounds, and thus couldn't tell the calibre. But if he had to guess, a professional would be running either a 9mm or 45. Either way, Dante had one advantage the man didn't. Guns Akimbo. Inhaling one last time Dante spun himself into the door frame bringing his pistols up as he did. He didn't hesitate, he just took aim and pulled the trigger. eight rounds later and the man fell back, collapsing into a heap, either from all the rounds to the chest or the one lucky shot to the brain. Either way he wasn't going to be making the mistake of shooting at Dante again.

Exhaling Dante ejected the clips from both guns and in a trained motion slid both back behind his back, just above their holsters. click. The noise echoed in the now silent room as two new magazines, snapped into place. About two years ago Dante worked out that little system to reload two guns on the fly. It'll probably save his life one day, maybe even today. But Dante wasn't thinking about that as he stepped into the room both handguns out again sweeping the room for movement, no he was thinking about the number four.

There had been four men in this room, and he killed three. The fourth had opted to protecting a laptop, probably meant he was either a cowered, or he knew something. Or both. Either way, Dante wanted him to talk. "Now." The red clad investigator said as he swept the room going in the direction he thought he saw the man dive. "You can do this the easy way, and give yourself up and tell me what I want to know. Or you can resist and probably end up like your three friends here. Its up to you, but you got ten seconds."

Tag: GM

 

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

The stuff was half bad, maybe the Gruber brother's just had other issues after all, because this stuff probably hadn't contributed. Downing a few gulps of the beer after that first tentative taste Al's gift of gab really took off, and before one could count to ten it had swung from politicians, a secret meeting he was apparently in with Al, retirement, and then stopping by a cop bar to be paraded around for free booze...the last part actually didn't bad.

Oh John, what are you getting yourself into now? He doesn't want to go there, just let sleeping dogs lie right? What's the worst that could happen?

Of course that last thought brought the Nakkitomi tower back to mind, trying to visualize Al being the person inside instead of the one getting a body dropped on his car...didn't make it past the second hired gun. Then of the incident at the airport a few years later...poor people never had a chance. Lastly of the ordeal he had had to go through just a few years ago with the last Gruber brother, except for the running he probably would have done better, at least he wouldn't of nearly been gang banged at the onset...still not a pretty ending though with the Twinkie man on the scene at least not if Al took the path he had.

"Not necessarily. Now what's going on man? I haven't even finished mine yet." he said with a motion to his own half drank beer.

TAG: GM

 

IC: Anita Blake
Nakatomi Tower Construction Site
Chapter 1

"Skinners? What makes you think they are more than one?" The Lt. asked.

Anita shrugged noncommittally. ?It?s one theory and what my mentor called the guys from Beijing. The amount of time and effort it would take to skin a human with this perfection and the number of bodies that were found makes it seem impossible for one human to have done it all. This is already your third one in three nights. You think one person can do all this??

"Black, no sugar," said an Asian looking man while handing a cup of heaven to her.

Finally! Someone had handed her some coffee exactly the way she liked it. Pure. Anita remembered to remove her now bloody gloves before accepting the cup from the nice office. My hero she thought to herself as she held the cup up to her face to inhale the powerful, comforting fumes.

"Our profile suggested a single suspect," another man interrupted Anita?s coffee time. Funny how even pulling the Lt. off to the side, people still managed to hear their conversation. No privacy was found at a crime scene.

?Probably more to curtail the nightmares of the investigators from the first time this happened. The thought of more than one person that can skin a man without leaving a trademark screw up or any screw up is terrifying.? There was no point in hiding how frightening this whole thing was. This had nothing to do with males and females; this had to do with the things of nightmares. No one was going to sleep well tonight.

"So, this happened in China before, you say?" Tequila asked. "Was there any connection to organized crime, back then?" He asked. "And was it before or after the 1930ies?"

?Beijing, yes.? Anita responded. ?The police followed the satanic symbols and assumed one person or cult was responsible. No one connected it to organized crime except for my mentor but he only said it to me and not the police. This was about three years ago if I remember correctly. I was fresh out of college and in training. My mentor thought the case was too dangerous for me so I got left behind.?

Funny how things work out. Three years later Anita was in L.A. attempting to track down the same criminals.

?If something like this happened in the 1930?s, no one mentioned it to my mentor when he was investigating the case in Beijing a few years ago.?

Out there, right now, someone else was probably already being skinned. And there wasn?t a damn thing Anita could do about it.

Tag: Fins and Draco

 

IC: Miranda Frost, lobby area. Chapter 1
Location: Half Moon Hotel


To say Miranda was surprised when ?Sleepy Head? slid away from her to fall out of sight as a dead, no pun intended, weight, would be an understatement. Her Beretta clattering noisily to the counter from numb fingers, only underscored the fact.

?I didn?t hit him that hard,? She muttered in self-reproach, natural curiosity leaning her over the counter to get a better view. ?must have had some kind of self-destruct mechanism.?

cli-click

Miranda palmed the counter and vaulted over at the innocuous sound from somewhere behind her, her body and legs horizontally over the wood by time a deafening ratchet of bullets started to rip the lower panels apart, and dropped into the relative cover behind the counter, eyes widened in silent pain as she knocked into an upset chair, pinched the inside of her thigh on the P-90's stock, and found two more bodies besides Sleepy's.

And dammit, she?d left the Beretta on the counter!

Not knowing what the assailant was doing, or how many there were, she squatted with her back to the slatted shelves that were a feature on this side, frantically dug under the skirt for the Belgian sub-machinegun, and pulled it free.
She spun round, laid the P-90 over the counter and fired a short burst, about ten slugs, to keep their heads down - BRIIIIIPP! ? and frantically crabbed her left hand over the splintered wood to find her dropped pistol, withdrawing both hastily as more slugs slammed into the counter from the other side, then cutting the air over her head to smash into the white plaster of the wall behind and above her, climbing up the wall, showering her with white dust and chips.

Of course, that was an overlooked feature of most SMG?s, because on full-auto, in most normal hands, the first couple of shots hit the intended target, after which, the barrel automatically climbed up, giving an effect that was more showy than lethal. If you were the fly on the wall, you were jam, but if you were standing in front of the shooter, you had a chance.

Keeping down, Miranda scrambled to the low wooden gate at the end of the counter, which the receptionist would use to enter from the lobby, if he were not the vaulting type.

The shooting stopped, and she heard the noise that told her a magazine had just been ejected ? thank heaven for the threadbare carpets.

She rose right there, poking her head over the top to orient herself while he was re-loading, and spotted the dark-suited male hunching behind a faded brown stuffed armchair, now sprouting white foam from a trio of hits that were clearly from her weapon.

Miranda spotted and grabbed up the Beretta, aiming it, saving the heavier weapon. ?F.B.I.! Drop it!?

Seeing a flash of Mexican-style moustache as he looked towards her, bringing his Uzi up, she closed one eye, and deliberately squeezed off a shot.

BOOM! In the shoulder. She saw the fine spray of blood before he went down, out of sight behind the chair.

Not dead. And with his two mates upstairs, likely to have heard the shots.

?Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.? She murmured frantically, adrenalin coursing through her as she reached the end of the counter, flipping up the top and pushing her way through the gate to hobble across the lobby whilst covering the stairs with the P-90. ?Oh crap, oh crap.?

Her stomach was doing butterflies!

She rounded the armchair, to find the gunman trying to sit up. He was dressed like a Blues Brother ? black trousers and jacket, white (and rapidly becoming red) shirt, thin black tie. Definitely looked Hispanic with a well-groomed drooping moustache.

They saw each other at the same time. She noticed his hand resting on the stock of the Uzi in his lap.

?Suelta la pistola, zorro.? He gasped at her.

Miranda allowed herself the freedom to raise a sardonic eyebrow. ? Drop the gun? I

 

The Cobra Lounge
Downtown

Al sighed, than shot another of these heavy-hearted smiles. "Oh John, it´s just . . . I am not getting any younger. You remember my son?" He took out a photo and put it on the table. Showing a young man smiling, wearing a basketball dress. "He is sporty. Hard to believe he is my son, hm?" Al laughed a bit, but then grew serious. "He wasn´t always like this. You know. Had real problems. Few years back. Got his stuff together after he almost went to prison." Al sighed. "I helped him, back then. Few friends of mine made the whole thing . . . go away, you know." Al nodded. "Nobody knew. Nobody cared. It just vanished and my son . . . he got back on his feet. He is a good boy now." Al looked up. "A week ago, I was contacted. And they made clear it was now time to repay. Dammit, six weeks, except protecting my son, I have never done anything. 40 years in the force, man. I never even touched a dirty dollar." He nodded. A depressed recognition he was in trouble. "I can´t deny them. They could take my pension. Even worse, they could throw my son into jail, probably." Al looked up. "You see my problems?" And as a dry smirk appeared on Al´s face, he looked at his friend for any comfort.

Tag: Mitth

---

[i]
Updating myself and Sey for now. Draco gave me NTCS, until we move on. [/i]

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

[b]"Oh nevermind. Only a hunch."[/b] Tequila said smiling politely but he listened closely, as Mrs. Blake spoke. Her mentor had investigated. Three years ago. So recently. And now the same in L.A. and a frightened boy naming a suspect he shouldn´t even know? It made no sense.
Polaski spoke up. "This is Officer Yuen from China. You know these school exchanges were kids from Ontario go to Canada? Well, L.A.P.D. is doing this, too. With China. And that is what we got." He made it no secret, he disliked the colleague from Asia. Tequila ignored it so far. Instead he looked around.
[i][b]"No signs this time? Why?" [/b][/i]Jackson asked. And Tequila turned to Mrs. Blake, ignoring his American colleagues.
[b]"What organisations did your mentor thought these killings were connected to?"[/b] He asked, as if nobody except Mrs. Blake had spoken.

A mystery. 24 hours before he escaped boring and difficult USA he was presented a mystery. And he was just not the kind of cop who left his colleagues alone with it. Not if it called out to him, like this one. [i]Imperial Nines.[/i]

Somehow [b]Tequila[/b] had the feeling he wouldn´t leave L.A. before shed some light on this strange coincidence.

[b]Tag: Sey (watch out for PM from Draco), Draco[/b]


[b]Bureau Building nearby
Copy Room[/b]

Only now that the dust settled and the dead lay around, the room revealed it´s function. Copy machines. "I surrender!" The man who had went into hiding declared and stepped out of his cover behind a huge laser-printer. Looking at the window. A strange installation was there, carrying a camera. It looked like an automated system to be remote controlled. The man had his Laptop no more. And slowly lay down his Glock, as he looked around at his comrades. "Man, you have no idea what you just did." He sighed and gave Dante a long look.

[b]Tag: Kahn[/b]

 

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

At the onset of this with Al's sigh it just got worse, not that he really expected it to get any better. Nodding with an 'Yah' in the right places he listened as Al told his tumbling story of woe. Which basically came down to that he had made a deal with some shadowy 'friends' that knew people in need of a 92FS enema, and that probably had some high up double crossers in the LA offices. Now of course they had come to collect.

As Al finished he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigerettes and his zip lighter, that gave way to a moment of quick muscle memory driven actions, from the double tap to the shielded light he was taking his first deep inhalation. After a moment he exhaled blowing the smoke upwards before looking back at Al.

"You screwed the pooch for your kid." he replied solemnly, staring straight ahead. Probably would have done something similar if he was stuck in the position and knew the kid would turn around like Al's apparently had done.

Yup, life was going to be interesting for a while, probably the whole next week. Turning his head back he gave a classic grin as he took another puff, the tip glowing red as he faced his friend from long ago..."So," he spoke as his first word came out in smoke as it grew to a smile, "what's the plan Sherlock?"

TAG: GM

 

The Cobra Lounge
Downtown

"I would usually do it the hard way, you know. Deny them, turn myself in, cut a deal for my kid. But these people who helped me . . . they are no gangsters. I do not know any gangsters, John. They´re cops. Good cops, actually. I think they only ask, because they are under pressure, just as I am . . ." Al looked up. "I actually got a plan. The only thing I need is someone to watch over my . . ."

He did not finish that sentence, as suddenly shots thundered through the room. They came from a submachine gun fired into the ceiling. By a man who seemed to come out of nowhere. A man with a ski mask disguising his face. Also a man who brought friends. Five, to be precise. Swinging around MP5K´s and Shotguns and wearing Skimasks. "OKAY LADIES, GENTLEMEN AND THOSE OF YOU IN BETWEEN!" Their leader announced, just as two of the gangsters made their way toward John´s and Al´s table. "THIS IS A ROBBERY!" He told them the obvious. "NO COP! NO ALARMS! YOUR MONEY AND NO TROUBLE AND WE´LL AND ESPECIALLY YOU RICH FREAKS WILL ALL GET OUT OF HERE ALIIIIVE!" The man shouted. Al gave John a fearful look.

Tag: Mitth