Act I
Blood is smeared about the room, on the floor, the walls, ceiling, and even the windows. On the 16th floor of an office building in downtown, two exiles lay dead, their bodies twisted and deformed in a grotesque manner. The scent of blood fills the room, and only two people remain. A man with a black trench coat, a coat that flows down and stops inches from the ground, as if to tease it, stands tall unafraid, with his left hand firmly griping the remaing exiles throat, and his right, firmly on his gun pointed to the exiles right temple.
A black car pulls up to the building. It's a total black government looking car and two suits step out. They glance at each other and say nothing, They turn their attention to the crowd. "Would Mrs. Jenkins please step over to us?" The crowd looks around and eventaully Mrs. Jenkins spproatches sheepishly.
"Everyone else, proceed to your homes. There's nothing more to see here." The other one says to te crowd. After a few minutes the crowd desperses, not many want to tango with government agencies. Once the crowd disperses the Agents turn to reguard Mrs. Jenkins.
"Please tell us what happened here. Do not worry, you are not in any trouble and will not be harmed. We only want the truth."
"Tell me where to find him!" The man in the black trench coat demands to the exile. The proud exile doesn't budge, but matches the mans intense stare. His face is brused and bloodied, but if he can slip by he will survive. The only thing stopping him is that wretched gun. His followers had died horribly with a single shot of that revolver, the one that can kill with a single bullet.
"Trayden, Agents are in the building!" , the operator chimes in urgently at the climax of all this into Trayden's ear-piece. He adds, "You might want to hurry this process along." he adds rather sarcasticlly.
Trayden intensifies his demeanor and his grip, both on the gun and the exile. He can feel the exile's throat struggle aginst his grip. "Tell me! Where is Dwornik!" The exile says nothing further complicating matters.
"The Agents are at the door! Get out now if you can!" the operator says. Upon hearing this news, Trayden decides on a different approach. He roughly grabs the exile, swings hims around with his body so he and the exile is both facing the door, with one arm under the exile's chin and revolver in hand aginst it's head. The door opens and the two agents walk in.
"Hello Mr. Pellegri," one of them says nonchalantly. "You've cause quite a disturbance today with your episode." Trayden laughs to himself. Now the gears are spinning and he can see how he can escape, both alive and with his information.
"Tell me where Dwornik is or I'll hand you over to," he nods slightly toward the agents for emphasis, "Them." He whispers to thie exile. Upon hearing it the exile tenses knowing the final outcome.
"Don't worry about the "disturbance" men. I'm just cleaning up the trash in the building." He jerks the exile violently to prove his point. The agents nod.
"Hand him over, we shall take care of things from here." They demand again, holding their hand out as if to recieve something.
"Now or never. Your choice!" Trayden says to the exile. At this point the exile says not a word in fear, but slips a business card in Trayden's pocket.
"Mr. Pellegri?" the agents ask again.
Satisfied there is some kind of clue on the card he pulls the gun from the exile's head, and then kicks him hard toward the agents. He then bolts toward the window and jumps out of it the glass shattering and Trayden falling many floors to the ground below.
Trayden taps his ear-piece. "Exit!" he breathes heavily into it. The operator responds, "100th and 64th! hurry!" Trayen makes his way the best he can with a twisted knee. The pain is searing, but he's got to make it. He knows the Agents aren't pleased about his apparant lack of reguard of the bluepills in the system.
He snakes his way through the streets, trying not to draw attention to himself, to keep the agent alert low. He gets to the line and jacks out to his hovercraft quickly, not wasting timt to see if the Agents cared to follow.
"Is this of and use?" Trayden asks as he holds up the card.
"Hm... Let's see...." The operator pauses as he decrypts the code on the card. "It takes you to an abandoned wharehouse in Bathory Row. Not much else to say about it."
"Take me to the closests hardline, I'm going back in." Trayden says.
"What!? Why?" The operator asks.
"It's time to hunt..." Is all that is said.
Blood is smeared about the room, on the floor, the walls, ceiling, and even the windows. On the 16th floor of an office building in downtown, two exiles lay dead, their bodies twisted and deformed in a grotesque manner. The scent of blood fills the room, and only two people remain. A man with a black trench coat, a coat that flows down and stops inches from the ground, as if to tease it, stands tall unafraid, with his left hand firmly griping the remaing exiles throat, and his right, firmly on his gun pointed to the exiles right temple.
A black car pulls up to the building. It's a total black government looking car and two suits step out. They glance at each other and say nothing, They turn their attention to the crowd. "Would Mrs. Jenkins please step over to us?" The crowd looks around and eventaully Mrs. Jenkins spproatches sheepishly.
"Everyone else, proceed to your homes. There's nothing more to see here." The other one says to te crowd. After a few minutes the crowd desperses, not many want to tango with government agencies. Once the crowd disperses the Agents turn to reguard Mrs. Jenkins.
"Please tell us what happened here. Do not worry, you are not in any trouble and will not be harmed. We only want the truth."
"Tell me where to find him!" The man in the black trench coat demands to the exile. The proud exile doesn't budge, but matches the mans intense stare. His face is brused and bloodied, but if he can slip by he will survive. The only thing stopping him is that wretched gun. His followers had died horribly with a single shot of that revolver, the one that can kill with a single bullet.
"Trayden, Agents are in the building!" , the operator chimes in urgently at the climax of all this into Trayden's ear-piece. He adds, "You might want to hurry this process along." he adds rather sarcasticlly.
Trayden intensifies his demeanor and his grip, both on the gun and the exile. He can feel the exile's throat struggle aginst his grip. "Tell me! Where is Dwornik!" The exile says nothing further complicating matters.
"The Agents are at the door! Get out now if you can!" the operator says. Upon hearing this news, Trayden decides on a different approach. He roughly grabs the exile, swings hims around with his body so he and the exile is both facing the door, with one arm under the exile's chin and revolver in hand aginst it's head. The door opens and the two agents walk in.
"Hello Mr. Pellegri," one of them says nonchalantly. "You've cause quite a disturbance today with your episode." Trayden laughs to himself. Now the gears are spinning and he can see how he can escape, both alive and with his information.
"Tell me where Dwornik is or I'll hand you over to," he nods slightly toward the agents for emphasis, "Them." He whispers to thie exile. Upon hearing it the exile tenses knowing the final outcome.
"Don't worry about the "disturbance" men. I'm just cleaning up the trash in the building." He jerks the exile violently to prove his point. The agents nod.
"Hand him over, we shall take care of things from here." They demand again, holding their hand out as if to recieve something.
"Now or never. Your choice!" Trayden says to the exile. At this point the exile says not a word in fear, but slips a business card in Trayden's pocket.
"Mr. Pellegri?" the agents ask again.
Satisfied there is some kind of clue on the card he pulls the gun from the exile's head, and then kicks him hard toward the agents. He then bolts toward the window and jumps out of it the glass shattering and Trayden falling many floors to the ground below.
Trayden taps his ear-piece. "Exit!" he breathes heavily into it. The operator responds, "100th and 64th! hurry!" Trayen makes his way the best he can with a twisted knee. The pain is searing, but he's got to make it. He knows the Agents aren't pleased about his apparant lack of reguard of the bluepills in the system.
He snakes his way through the streets, trying not to draw attention to himself, to keep the agent alert low. He gets to the line and jacks out to his hovercraft quickly, not wasting timt to see if the Agents cared to follow.
"Is this of and use?" Trayden asks as he holds up the card.
"Hm... Let's see...." The operator pauses as he decrypts the code on the card. "It takes you to an abandoned wharehouse in Bathory Row. Not much else to say about it."
"Take me to the closests hardline, I'm going back in." Trayden says.
"What!? Why?" The operator asks.
"It's time to hunt..." Is all that is said.
Syntax:
Euforia (lv50 SMG)
Trayden (Lv26 Karate)
Euforia (lv50 SMG)
Trayden (Lv26 Karate)